6

On the eighth day of Rise of Iron, my true love gave to me:

Eight reasons to fight.

Lord Saladin strode through the small hallway and back into the full light of the Traveler's Walk. There were some promising competitors in the Iron Banner competition this month; three in particular had caught his interest. Fireteam Herp-a-Derp (he'd gotten a good laugh from that one, he wondered who came up with the name).

He smirked at the thought of them, and his smile grew as he came further into the courtyard. Across the way from his usual station, a group of roughly eight children, the children of Guardians, were playing. It was some sort of tag game, one of them had a pair of cardboard wings strapped to his back, and a box on his head had the front rim cut out to form teeth.

He jumped out at them from behind the pillars, where they had been creeping along, giggling.

"ROAR!" he boomed in his tiny voice. The other children squealed and screamed, scattering.

"Ahamkara, Ahamkara! Ahamkara on the loose! Look out!" Several of them squealed, running as the boy charged after them. Squeals, screams, and happy laughter filled the courtyard, and he saw no reason to tell them off for playing in a Guardian-only zone. He was the only one here, after all, and he only saw a few Guardians a day. Today, in particular, was a rather quiet one for him. His smile turned sad as he realized one of the little girls bore a great resemblance to Jolder.

A flash of copper caught his eye, and he turned his head to see two Guardians making their way towards them. They regarded the children on the far side of the yard with mild amusement, before continuing on their be-line for Saladin. He didn't recognize them, he couldn't remember having met them before. They didn't look like Crucible champs to him.

"Ahem, I hear you're the guy to talk to about extreme Crucible stuff." The Warlock began. Saladin nodded, though the tone he detected in the Guardian's voice was not one he liked.

"If it is Lord Saladin you're seeking, you have found him." he nodded. The Hunter shifted nervously on his feet.

"I was just wondering...what's the point?" the Warlock asked boldly. Saladin tipped his head to the side, confused, and the Hunter looked like they might be thinking this was a bad idea.

"The point of what?"

"The Crucible, the Iron Banner. Why fight? Why spend time fighting each other when the Darkness festers? Don't we have better things to do?"

"Why do we fight? Think; if another Dreagen Yor rose, who would be able to defend themselves against him if they had never fought another Guardian before? Guardians spar, but unless they perfect their weapon skills without hinderment, they will not become more skilled. When fighting the Darkness, you know you may not be comeing back if you are killed. But when fighting another Guardian, you are assured of your survival."

"Why do we fight? Look over there, Guardian. Watch those children." he waved a hand in the direction of the game. "They are playing a game, oblivious to the Darkness pressing in on them. Joyous, free. Free of worry, free of strife. The most they must be concerned about is if they have enough money to buy lemonade. They are the reason you fight, Guardians. They are what you must practice protecting. For one day... they will be you. And they will protect you, for you shall be old and gray."

"That, is the reason you fight."

I was feeling a bit noble with this one. *derp*

I'm spending most of my weekend trying to get the Dawncaller shader... I have no time to play during weekdays, so this is my last chance for MoT... Wish me luck. Also, go check out the epic SIVA profile pic I made! Took me two days to get it right...

Next stop is the Iron Wolves. Enjoy.

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