{{
`${userDetail.user.displayName}${userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode ? `#${standardizeBungieGlobalCode(userDetail.user.cachedBungieGlobalDisplayNameCode)}` : ""}`}}
{{getUserClans()}}
3/2/2016 12:18:05 AM
72
[b][u]An Unlikely Turn Of Events | 0560 Hours[/u][/b]
Traitors. Blithering, spineless, mind-twisting traitors.
He had been one of the most successful Sentient Minds throughout the Purification, amassing armies of fleshy, organic filth, and driving them to their own demise; eagerly yearning at each pathetic life that gave itself to Vulcan only to be reborn minutes later as Solarium-encased fire and death.
It was beautiful. Like watching a Phoenix rise from its own ashes.
Not so to the Council, it seemed. They viewed such an army as heresy; blasphemy in the eyes of The Great Conquerer which needed to be destroyed.
And they had turned to the makeshift militia's source as its root.
They failed their mission— his living was testament to that much.
But [i]why[/i]?
He existed in their realm, in their "time," so [i]why[/i] was he still alive? He should have been stripped of his Memories, scrapped down to metal and rust, rotting in a Recycling Vacuum until they needed more scrap for alchemy or parts.
No matter. He would sit in this pod and ponder the question for a little while longer, until someone inevitably found him and he made a new army out of his rescuers.
Cain would have vengeance on the Council. Of this, he was certain.
[spoiler]Open.[/spoiler]
English
-
[b]a basic fighter comes zooming by, forces the pod to dock with it, and zooms toward the infinity [/b] "O hai der." [b]a strange voice says over a speaker[/b]
-
Edited by Wretched Cain: 3/3/2016 4:23:07 AMWhat? Huh? Who? Cain had snapped out of his trance, completely unaware of what just happened. [i][Who... What... What did you just do...?][/i]
-
Edited by Cosmic: 3/3/2016 11:04:05 AM"You Sir, are aboard the CSC [i]Rustbucket[/i] and appear to have floated you way into the cargo. Let's get you home."
-
He taps on the armrest on the inside of the pod. If his metal face could smirk... He'd be smirking. [i][And where does "home" entail?][/i]
-
"A planet not far from here."
-
[i][Your vagueness annoys me, Organic.][/i]
-
"Too late." [b]the pod is thrown from the cargo hold by a massive launcher and launched toward a planet full of small civilizations [/b]
-
[i][First pirates, and now this!][/i] The sphere rotates to face away from the planet, and a series of purple rings forms behind the pod. [i][I've dealt with enough riffraff for one day!][/i] The rings give off a bright flash, and the sphere abruptly jerks forward back in the general direction of the cruiser.
-
[b]the ship is long gone [/b]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/2/2016 12:58:34 PM*a nearby fighter scans the pod and opens a channel to it "Let's see what we've got here. Pod, this is Quickblast, of the Alliance. Please identify yourself."-Quickblast *he scans the pod
-
Edited by Wretched Cain: 3/2/2016 1:38:41 PMHis servos tensed for but a brief moment, before he let out an artificial bout of laughter. Of course it had to be [i]them.[/i] Why wouldn't it, though? The chances of anything else entirely was infinitesimally small, a mere fraction of a percent. It was the Law among these chaotic strings of exotic matter that passed for Time here; just as he had once lied in wait for those who dared wander into unyielding Ignus Law, so too were men such as these deemed the Protecters of this unruly dimension. At this point, though, they were his only chance to strike back— an unlikely chance, but it was the one the Laws presented him. Inside the cockpit of the one-man, spherical craft, Cain connected with the hailing channels. [i][This is Unit Label "Cain" responding to Alliance Communications. I no longer possess Rank, Serialization, or Categorization of any sort other than my name. I wish to speak to whoever commands your vessel, and have no choice but to speak with who I am presented with.][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/2/2016 2:22:47 PM"Hello Cain. I am the only person on this vessel. Where did you come from, and what did you mean when you said you had not rank?"-Quickblast
-
[i][Let us simply say that my title as Ambassador has been rather... [b]Abruptly[/b] stripped of me.][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/2/2016 3:07:15 PM"Ambassador? To who? Who stripped your title from you?"-Quickblast *he scans the ship to try and find a matching configuration in the Alliance database
-
Several files begin popping up on the board, side by side with labels such as "Ignus," "Exalin," "Mind," "Sol Alliance," and several other cryptic labels. [i][You must be joking.][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/3/2016 3:09:21 PM"You knew Exalin? My friend was a teammate of some of its members. I know a bit of the Sol Alliance, but what is this Mind and Ignus files?"-Quickblast *he opens the Mind and Ignus files
-
The "Mind" file opens, and the screen begins displaying diagrams of the planet Exalin, which appears in the split diagrams to have some sort of... Giant machine in the center. [i][Good lord, have you been living under a rock? Divine Armada of Vulcan? Eaters of Time? Enders of Life?][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/3/2016 4:38:08 PM"...Yes. I have heard some stories about such beings. Are you saying you are an Ignus?"-Quickblast *he scans the craft again, specifically the occupant
-
The craft is barely able to register, graphing trillions upon trillions upon trillions of parts smaller than atoms— some mechanical, others electrical, and more still [i]living[/i] parts. Then the scans reach the occupant, and things only serve to get even more cryptic. The occupant is indeed machinery, and several files pop up upon scanning his parts detailing theoretical science ranging from near the dawn of humanity to present day. As the scans approach his center of gravity, the system begins to glitch, slow, and freeze, unable to comprehend the pieces inside. [i][That would be correct. I am Cain, former Ambassador of Koldraxion/Human Affairs.][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/3/2016 11:19:09 PM"Interesting. Nice to meet you Cain. So, where exactly were you going? And what the heck is a Koldraxion?"-Quickblast *he reconfigures the scanners and scans Cain again
-
Edited by Wretched Cain: 3/3/2016 11:24:29 PMThe scanners are met with the exact same results. [i][I'm not sure exactly where I'm headed.][/i] Silence over the Comms. [i][What "Alliance" do you belong to?][/i]
-
"The Intergalactic Alliance. If you want, I might be able to get you to my friend. I'm was on my way to meet him right now. You are welcome to join, if you like."-Quickblast
-
[i][My fuel reserves are low, and I doubt you have any Exotic Matter lying around. Permission to dock?][/i]
-
Edited by SilverPulse620: 3/4/2016 12:00:34 AM"Granted. And, if you are looking for exotic matter, my friend is the one to see. He has more experiments then anyone else in probably the rest of the universe."-Quickblast *he docks his fighter with the ship, and stands at the airlock, waiting for Cain to walk in, his energy SMG at his hip just in case
-
[spoiler]I FINALLY found the image I was looking for.[/spoiler] The spherical pod begins to shift, the front dividing into several pieces as they begin to fade from existence, fragmenting in what appears to be small crystals before disappearing and revealing the figure inside. [i][Ugh... Do you have oil? I must've been sitting in oxygen for days... I feel disgusting.][/i]
