Attention Those Of You Invading In Gambit:

Destcember Day 23: Royalty

I've noticed that anyone who gives themselves a title of royalty, no matter their title or race, always seem to end of mad or dead. There are examples from every faction and species. The Eliksni have the Kells for royalty. As far as I know, they are all dead. Hopefully Variks and Mithrax will do better. The Cabal have have Emperor Calus, dethroned and probably more than a little mad, and Dominus Ghaul, dead at our hands. The Hive have the Osmium King, lost to the madness of the worms; King Oryx, Prince Crota, Prince Nokris, and the worm god Xol, all dead at our hands; and the worm god Akka, killed by their servant Oryx. The Vex have their pseudo-god the Black Heart, killed by us. Most of the Iron Lords have died horribly. The Hunter Vanguards have a terrible survival rate. Even the Awoken have had royalty follow the pattern, with Queen Mara Sov dying and Prince Uldren Sov both going mad and dying, though death seems to have been a bit more lenient for them. So, you should probably never take a title, as you are almost guaranteed to be a victim of madness, regicide, deicide, or some combination of the the three, probably by one of us guardians. Personally, I plan to follow my own advice and never get roped into ruling anyone.

Destcember Day #9: Nine

The topic of the Nine can be a touchy subject for some guardians. I mean, they are invisible magical planets that have an unknown amount of power and goals alien to our own. At least with the Hive gods we know we can kill them with enough concentrated firepower. We can't even hurt the Nine unless we are willing to remove all life from the solar system then blow up a few planets.

This especially annoys the Vanguard, the control freaks that they are. If the strategy of "throw teams of six at a problem until it stops breathing" followed by "steal everything shiny that's not nailed down" fails to resolve the issue, then they try to use bureaucracy. They try to keep us from associating too much with them. "Don't talk about classified information around Xur or the Emissary" this and "Don't trust trust the Drifter" that. I'm pretty sure they are the ones who got the Trials shut down too, but that's a conspiracy theory at best. Not that it matters anyway, considering they're probably omniscient.

Personally, I think that having them around is in our best interest. Aside from the fact that I support peace and friendship with anyone not actively trying to murder us at this point, from a utilitarian perspective, they need us more than we need them. If we die, they die. If they die, nothing happens to us. Of course, they are working on that and I wish them the best of luck, but for now our interests are required to align. And considering every other species that we've encountered has actively tried to murder us all upon first contact, that makes us practically best friends.

Destcember Day 26: Sweet Dreams

Every time I sleep I have the same dream. I doesn't matter if I take a five minute nap or sleep for twelve hours, I dream of this and nothing else. I am standing in the a field of purple millet, stretching as far as I can see. There is a cool breeze at my back, pushing me forward. Behind me is the setting sun. In front of me is a tower, reaching up above the clouds. It is not The Tower, but is somehow just as familiar, even though I have no memory of ever being here while awake. I have to walk towards the tower, because the dream will never end otherwise. I have tried standing still, walking away, and even having Yew wake me up as soon as I fall asleep, but I only wake up once I walk into the tower. After a few minutes of walking, I reach a clearing. Across from me, the ornate doors of the tower stand, both imposing and inviting. But between myself and the doors, there is a massive yew tree, glowing slightly from within. Beneath the shade of its branches, there is a wooden table, two chairs, and a chess board, set just as I left it last time, white for me and black for her. Sitting across the table, reading a book and waiting for me, is the ahamkara Ephialtes. I have never seen her reading the same book twice and I have never found or heard of any of the books while awake, but she assures me they are all real. She doesn't always look the same, but across all her forms she retains her startlingly purple eyes and slightly too sharp teeth. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we play, but always she tries to strike a deal. Usually I refuse, but on a rare occasion, we can come to an agreement. Once we are done or I get tired of talking, I walk through the tower doors and wake up. I used to dream of other things, but I traded that away in our first deal. Hers were the strongest of the bones that I had collected, her whispers invading every waking thought while I was anywhere nearby. But, she was too knowledgeable and powerful, so it would have been an unbearable loss to rid myself of her. So I made her a deal. She would no longer whisper to me without consent and would use her power to suppress the whispers from the rest of my collection, and in return, she could inhabit my dreams, negotiating with me every night, and I wouldn't put her bones inside a silver lined safe and drop it into the Mariana Trench. She agreed and now I dream of this and nothing else. It isn't all bad. My old dreams were not that great and Ephialtes isn't bad company, if a bit manipulative. Enjoy your dreams, if you can. Sweet dreams.

Destcember Day #4: The Dark Side of the Moon

You know, it's funny. Before the Golden Age and the Collapse, we used to look up at the Moon with a sense of wonder and fascination. My past life even had the pattern of the dark side engraved into the metal of my back, along with a few stars. It was always a source of serenity, a nightlight to brighten the dark. It was our beacon in the dark that outshone any star out in the inky black. But now the dark has taken it from us.

Now, when I look the Moon, I feel a twinge of fear take hold. It feels like there is a gun leveled at my head that could be fired at any moment. The Hive crawl all over its surface and through its caverns, desecrating it with their filthy rituals and larvae. They swarm like bees, ready to sting at any moment, needing no provocation or reasoning other than the chance to spread their grasp and slaughter the innocent. At the center of it all, there is the queen. They are just one being, damaged and trapped, but still they have spread their Nightmares everywhere. They are just the first of many to come.

From my room in the City, I can't see any of them, but I know they are there. Every time I look at it, I remember how powerless I was against just one of those Pyramids and imagine how many more their are. I can still feel the brush against my mind and body as the Nightmares drew close and the ship possessed my ghost. My best friend was taken from me and all I could do to get her back was follow the instructions her puppeteer gave. It toyed with me and I couldn't do anything.

I used to love the dark side of the Moon because I could never see it. Now I love it because I don't have to.

Destcember Day 22: Drifter's Gambit

The Drifter walks a fine line, a tightrope made of the sharpest razor wire. On one side lies the forces of the Light, with the forces of the Vanguard and the Man with the Golden Gun ready to strike if they suspect that he has gone too far. On the other, the forces of the Dark, ready to consume him or break his mind if he makes a mistake. If he wavers, he will fall to one side or the other. Too late to stop or turn back, he walks on, hoping to eventually reach his goal. He uses the the Dark to fight the Dark, using Guardians to kill the enemies of humanity and collect the Motes of Dark that fall from their corpses. His menagerie of constructed monsters and summoned horrors slaver to consume, accepting motes in lieu of consuming a guardian's light to turn their path of slaughter where the Drifter directs. But I've noticed however many motes he uses to conduct his games, there are always far more collected than used. I don't know what he plans for them, but I want in. I understand that it may take more than the Light to beat the Dark. So I work with the Eliksni and bargain with the Ahamkara. And I do his bounties, and earn the ranks, and bank the motes. I use weapons of the Dark Age and forged a new Weapon of Sorrow. I will earn his trust, even if it puts me on Malphur's list. Because I believe that the Drifter's Gambit will pay off, and when it does, I want to have been a part of it.

Destcember Day 21: High Stakes

"Hey Ash."

"Yes?"

"I've been meaning to ask you. Where did you get that Fallen mantle that you're always wearing?"

"Oh, I got it from a high stakes on a Fallen Captain."

"Come on, you can't leave me with that. Tell me the whole story."

"Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about this, alright?"

"I promise."

"So do you remember a while back when I helped an Eliksni Captain named Mithrax fight of a Hive Knight and he left me the reactor he was going after as thanks?"

"I do."

"I felt bad about taking the reactor that he needed so badly, so I search around and managed to find an alternative one. It wasn't nearly as good, but it was enough to get myself in his good graces. Since then, whenever I have fought any Eliksni and found extra either on them, I take it to Mithrax and his crew. I have managed to bring quite a lot. He has grown somewhat since we first met, probably from that extra either, and as thanks for my help, he gave me this mantle that he outgrew."

" ...You know that if the Vanguard found out about this, they would probably call it treason, right?"

"I do. That's why I said it is a gamble."

Destcember Day 28: Ironborn

I was born three times in my life. Once of flesh, once of iron, and once of Light.

My first birth was of flesh. This is the one that I know least about. I know that I was born a human boy, with parents and a family. I likely had a home. All of that is gone now. I cannot remember anyone or anything from that time, not even the way I looked.

My second birth was of iron. Taken from my human body and turned into and exo. I cannot be sure why I did it or how, but I think it was a choice that I made of my own free will. If I did choose it, it would have been to extend my life or to improve myself. That seems like what I would have done, if I were the same person then as I am now, which I am not entirely sure of.

My last birth was of Light. Revived as a guardian to serve humanity and live my third life. Thankfully, this life at least I can remember. Though my life ends almost daily, it never truly does, thanks to the power of the Light and my ghost. Since it is the one that I live now, it is the one that matters most, but if I were given a choice, I would learn all I could about my other two lives.

So, I was born three times. Born, reborn, reborn. Human, Exo, Guardian. Flesh born, Ironborn, Lightborn.

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Sorry for the brevity and below average quality. I had an extremely busy day today and didn't have much free time to work on this.

Destcember Day 12: Last Man Standing

A warlock stands in his friend's apartment, dreading having to ask for his advice. Although his friend is less academically inclined, he is no less passionate in his work. Asking him for advice will inevitably lead to a two hour lecture including several charts, but what must be done must be done. Apparently, these thoughts dragged out long enough for the silence to become awkward, so the titan takes the initiative and breaks the ice.

"So Ash, what brings you here? Usually you just call when you want to chat, so it must be important."

"Well, you know that I never got a Recluse."

"Really, I could have sworn you had one by now."

"Nope. Furthermore, no amount of bribery will get anyone with one to give me theirs. I can hold my own in the Crucible, but not well enough to convince Shaxx that I deserve his ultimate weapon. So Buloke, what I'm asking is can you give me some tips on the Crucible."

With this the Striker's eyes literally spark with excitement. He sprints out of the room only to return several seconds later with a corkboard covered in in pictures, thumbtacks, and enough red yarn to knit a sweater.

"I'm so glad that you finally asked! The current meta is quite complicated, so I'll start with the basics. You are going to want to bring a shotgun. There are a couple choices, but I prefer the Last Man Standing for its perks. You see..."

As Buloke begins his rant, Ash finally starts to realize what it is like to be on the other end of one of his manic speeches about his research. Although he is grateful to his friend, both for so easily agreeing to help him and for so frequently listening when he got in a similar state, as the lesson just finishes with the shotgun tips at around the half hour mark, a part of him begins to regret every decision that he has ever made.

"That gun had better be as good as they say it is," he mutters internally.

We did it guys. We finally got Mara to express a strong emotion. Unfortunately it was terrible, burning anger, but still. Baby steps.

Also, Ghost deserved that chewing out just a little bit.

Edit: For the record, I still think Ghost is great. I just really hope that Mara has good reasons for her choices and has a sliver of goodness buried deep inside. Maybe. Possibly.

Destcember Day #2: A Glimmer of Hope

In a cluttered study tucked away deep in the Last City, an exo bangs his head on the table. The slight force imbalances several stacks of notes and books, sending a cascade of work into the floor. Nearby, a ghost floats, watching with mild amusement. Still with their head down, the exo mutters to his ghost.

"Yew, do we have any more ideas on how to break the curse on the Dreaming City."

"Well, there was the one about singlehandedly killing Dûl Incaru while empowered with a massive quantity of Light."

"Didn't we decide not to try because it was likely a trap or trick to waste our time in addition to being nearly impossible?"

"Yes, but I only mention it because someone reportedly just did it. It apparently took weeks of constant work and preparation. Quite impressive."

The exo's head shoots up in surprise, looking hopefully at his ghost.

"Really?! Did it work? Please tell me it did"

"No. Furthermore, there seem to be reports from guardians about hearing strange laughter and experiencing memory loss following the attempt."

Wordlessly, the exo stands and walks to one of the many displays flowing through the room. While the rest are cluttered with notes, this one has just two words and numerous tallies. One side reads "Guardians" and lies empty. The other side reads "Savathûn" and has far too many tallies for comfort. With a sigh, he adds one more to the count. The ghost snickers.