As the lone guardian trudged through the sands of the ancient red planet, he beheld the marvel that had ignited his quest. Before the man stood a necropolis, the remains of a grand city constructed in technological splendor. The spires of archaic buildings glimmered in the light of the distant sun. Intrigued, the human strode towards an exposed aperture, treading confidently over Martian fauna. Upon entry, the guardian felt a flurry of images enter his mind, echoes of the events that lead to the city's downfall. Screams pierced the warlock's ears as he stepped closer to a charred bed frame. Succumbing to the antediluvian shrieks, he kneeled down on the ground, clasping his sweating temples. As the wails subsided, he noticed a slight sparkle in the ash around the bed frame. Upon investigation, he found a bronze key with an inscription engraved on the side in an alien tongue. Paying it no heed, the guardian began to look for a keyhole nearby. On a slight bulge in the wall, he found the fissure that he sought. Without remorse, the man twisted the key, expectant of rewards. A basement of sorts was now open to him. The guardian walked down, activating his Ghost for illumination. What he found was far more macabre than he could have possibly imagined. Bones of human infantry lined the walls, positioned in such a way as to indicate physical detention. All valuable possessions had been stripped from them. A feeling of dread entered into the warlock's thoughts as he contemplated what had happened here. Uneasy, the guardian exited the basement, content to leave empty-handed. The lone guardian trekked out of the building and away from the city. He boarded his ship and headed for Earth, curiosity tickling his imagination. This adventure called for a fire team.