#the red war

[eosofspades]

godddd thinking about the red war first couple missions and going insane . that was so good and for what

[brontios-helm]

Destiny 2: The Man Before

[archivists-trove]

Failsafe's Haunt - Viewed from atop the wreckage of the Exodus Black on Nessus.

[letiel]

The Red War - Destiny AU

CW: Violence, Depictions of War

The parade of Guardians in their ceremonial armor and citizens in their festival best wound their way towards the Traveler. Garlands and flags hung from every door, every streetlamp, every fence, and every wall in such abundance that every breeze funneled through the city streets featured dancing petals along the cavalcade. Distant storm clouds rumbled but unfiltered sunlight still bathed the Traveler and her City in a golden late afternoon glow. Joviality charged the air with energy to spare as the entirety of the City gathered to celebrate her defenders at the anniversary of Six Fronts.

“I have another call coming in for you,” Dienekes said from over Ty’s shoulder, but the Titan waved a hand dismissively.

“Ignore it.”

“That’s three in the last 20 minutes���”

“Who’s calling?” Khadan asked as they marched along. Khasar was trailing behind them, catching flower petals from the air to stealthily stuff into Ty’s collar.

“Ywa. Again,” the Ghost chirped.

“She’s always calling,” grumbled Ty.

Dienekes sighed, “Because you don’t pick up.”

“It might be important,” Khadan agreed. He fell back a step to add a couple petals to Ty’s belt, stuffing them in around his Titan mark.

“It never is.”

“…She’s trying to call again,” Ty’s Ghost complained.

“Why isn’t she trying to call us?” Khasar huffed, perhaps a little hurt that they weren’t sharing in the harassment.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to tell you when you had messages?” Pontos asked and his pair popped up beside him.

“That’s just when they’re sleeping and eating,” Pontus corrected.

“So, when do we give them messages??”

“…are you two keeping messages from your Guardians?” Dienekes asked, somehow managing to look agitated with the twist of his shell.

“We give them when they ask!”

“How many unheard messages do they have?”

“Total or just this week?” Pontos asked.

Dienekes twisted in place and the light on his core slowly dimmed at the top and bottom in a squint. “Total.”

Pontus and Pontos looked at each other for a long moment. “We’d rather not say.”

“If it was important, I’m sure they’d tell us,” Khasar reassured Dienekes.

The Ghost chirped to himself and then grumbled towards Khasar, “they should still be telling you things more often than they do and stop putting petals in my Guardian’s armor!”

“Wait what?” Ty managed before a rumble switched all three of them from silly to serious. The crowd bustled with mixed energy now, uneasy. The hairs on the back of Ty’s neck stood on end, every muscle coiled, ready to spring into action. Next to him there was a crackle of arc energy as Khasar bounced a bolt briefly through his fingers.

The three of them spread ever so slightly, heads on a swivel, scanning the crowd, searching through the unease for a threat. Their ghosts moved into the space between them, a practiced circling of the wagons. Each brother watching their third, trusting the others to alert them.

“Clear,” Khasar said after a long breath.

“Clear,” Khadan echoed.

No immediate threat, maybe a rogue firework a district over? The crowd started to calm and continue on their route but the three of them held still.

“It sounded like…”

“Mortars,” Ty agreed.

And then there was another rumble, immediately followed by distant screaming. The panic rippled through the citizenry like a tidal wave. In the distance along the wall, black smoke and the glow of orange flames swallowed the Tower. The storm clouds that had seemed so far away loomed on the tails of Cabal Warships, billowing over the wall, turning the afternoon sun from yellow to a sickly orange filtered through industrial dust.

“I hate being right,” Khadan growled. Void energy swelled from his palm and covered his hands when he clenched his fists.

“Dienekes,” Ty snapped urgently.

“I’m trying, all the channels are static!”

The crowd was screaming now, people were starting to run. The City streetlights clicked on automatically as the afternoon started its early transition into evening, oblivious to the hellfire that was starting to rain from the sky.

Shells rained down a few streets over and the three of them braced themselves as the shockwave surged down the street.

“Thresher fire,” Khasar noted. He clenched a fist and slammed it into his own palm at his chest and little bolts of arc energy flickered around his fingers. He rolled his head to crack his neck and stomped a foot, sending little jolts into the stone.

“Harvesters too,” Khadan tilted his head, pointing to the sky with a nod.

None of them were armed, even the Ghosts had left their equipment behind, safe in the Tower Vaults, now burning on the horizon. All the Guardians in the City were limited to ceremonial armor that was built for show and quick production rather than practicality. The sidearm provided equally so.

“I can’t get through to anyone,” Pontus reported.

“Same,” Pontos added.

“We need to get people to-“ Ty started to say and then froze, eyes wide. All three of them listened to the whistling for half a second before Khadan dived into the road to put up a Ward of Dawn over his brothers and a few civilians that had very nearly been crushed. The Cabal drop pod crashed through the Void light, shattering it as it altered trajectory, narrowly missing the young woman Khadan was standing over. The ground quaked and the buildings shook, collapsing stalls and filling the air with dust. The massive pod creaked and hissed and then Cabal were racing from it.

Khadan spun around but Khasar got there first. His shoulder slammed into the first Legionary, sending it flying in a wave of blue sparks. The second Legionary had barely lifted his weapon when a flaming hammer slammed into its face, the solar energy swallowing it before it hit the ground.

“What the hell is happening?” Ty snarled, he hurried to help a kid back to his feet while Khadan helped the woman.

In the skies, Guardian gunships were starting to engage but the onslaught continued. Bombs and fire pelted the city indiscriminately. An army of black and red Cabal was swarming the streets, gunning down any movement. War beasts patrolled, eagerly racing, and snarling their way through the slaughter. Massive machinery was advancing on the Traveler who hung in silent juxtaposition.

Guardian resistance was swift. The vast majority of the Vanguard’s forces were in the city for the celebration and even without their equipment, the Light tore though the enemy. Heavy, black smoke blocked the sun and ushered in an early night. Automatic lights flickered on in the streets. Flashes of gunfire made the Traveler glow and flickered in the smoke like lightning. Hunters were already starting to guide the populace to safety as Titans rallied to erect barricades and Warlocks rained their retribution on the enemy.

And all the while the cabal warships advanced, escorting a massive star-shaped ship towards the Traveler. Revelry shattered in a matter of minutes.

Ty and Khadan each had injured people on their backs and Khasar had one under each arm when they finally made it back to the temporary safe house on the far side of the city. Their boots clicked on the road as they ran, gliding over debris, always wary of their precious cargo. Experience made them move on auto-pilot even as the stress gnawed at their bellies. Combat on the home front, felt different than combat on distant worlds.

Ty’s boots hit the ground on the far side of a ruined building with a delicate tap and then he was running again. Every step like the beat of heavy drum trying to keep up with the rapid tempo set by the symphony of distant destruction. He turned his head to look at the Traveler as he ran.

Please, he prayed, wake up! Do something!

The Cabal war machine was curling around it. Six prongs and long cords, spread like a star, delicately reaching around the source of their Light, ready to snatch it from the sky.

“What are they doing to it?” Khasar mumbled beside him, under his breath or to his Ghost, Ty couldn’t tell.

“…it looks like a net,” Dienekes whispered near his ear.

Please! If not for us, fight for yourself!

The woman on his back gasped in pain as she was jostled and Ty turned his attention back to running, focusing on Khadan’s back ahead of him, until they were sliding into the lobby of an office building where the citizenry huddled.

“Did we miss anyone?” Khadan asked when they handed their charges off to their families.

“That was the last of them from that district,” said Ty.

Khasar caught his own fist again and more arc energy sparked. “Good, time to fight.”

“Not without equipment. Dienekes, can you tell where the fighting is? Any reports?”

“It’s really scattered. It sounds like the apartment is still quiet. No fighting there yet.”

“If we can get there…” Khadan mumbled.

“Would at least be a fairer fight,” Ty agreed.

“So, we get our guns and then I can hit something?”

“Sounds like it, Khasa-,” Pontos chirped and then the chirping stuttered.

Dienekes twitched and dropped a foot in the air, light flickering. Pontus too started twitching.

A wave of fearful chatter spread through the city folk as they pointed at the Traveler. Ty saw it in the corner of his eye out the window: a ripple of orange and yellow light surged between the cables, engulfing it completely.

“Ty-“ Khadan startedto say and then all three of them were gasping in alarmed pain. The feeling of dread twisted into a panic, buried under the shock. An uncomfortable tug ripped through Ty’s chest and then throughout his body, screaming along every nerve for the second it took to physically rip the Light from him. All three of them briefly saw themselves in a shimmer, a literal phantom self, torn from the flesh to linger in the air before fading into nothing. It took all their strength with it. All of them stumbled. Khadan dropped to one knee. Ty slouched, propping himself up with his hands on his knees.  

“Khasar…” Pontos started and then it stopped moving entirely.

Dienekes chirped, trying to talk but it too plummeted to the ground next to Pontos and Pontus, dark, heavy, and cold. Any strength left to stand left with them, and they all collapsed next to their Ghosts.

“I-I can’t move,” Khadan wheezed.

Ty tried to roll to his side, but he felt heavy. His body wasn’t cooperating. Somewhere near him, Khasar whimpered and shuffled, dragging himself across the floor to his Ghost. Ty did the same, reaching for Dienekes and pulling the shell in close to give it a squeeze but there was no response.

He curled around the Ghost. It was like a hole had been punched in his chest. The closest that Ty could describe it was the emptiness of grief. It felt like years of longing and loneliness condensed into a few agonizing minutes. With surety, he was imploding, collapsing into the void in his soul too rapidly for tears. His body was too exhausted for tears.

“Khasar?” Ty breathed, barely a whisper.

“…yeah…” his brother whimpered, so softly he questioned if Khasar has spoken at all.

“Khadan?”

“I’m here.” Equally soft. “Ty, what’s going on?”

It was a minute that felt like forever. The sounds of bombs and collapsing infrastructure were distant. He barely noticed the displaced citizens hovering over them, torn between a desire to help and their fearful need to cower. His brothers were shifting, rolling on the floor, searching for strength to stand. It was dark aside from an orange glow from the windows and the flickering blue of a distant light. Naught but quiet in this single dissociative moment.

We have to fight!

“We have to get out of the City,” Ty finally said, snapping himself from his trance. Khadan and Ty locked eyes, wordlessly sharing their fears, and wordlessly setting them aside for a better time and place. Experience and adrenaline compartmentalizing their agony for another time.

Khadan made it to his feet first and then he was helping Khasar up by the arms. Both were visibly shaky, leaning on each other for support. The latter was cradling his Ghost in both hands, stroking the core of it with a thumb and mumbling soft encouragement but there was no response.

Ty pulled himself up with one hand, the other still clung tightly to Dienekes. He had never seen the Ghost so still, little more than a paperweight in the absence of the Light, the weight of mortality visualized. He put the shell in a pack at his waist. There was no time for mourning.

It felt like walking through a bog, but he at least had his footing, and an experimental step didn’t send him to the ground. He tried to summon solar energy to his hand, but nothing happened.

“Need better weapons,” Ty said.

“We can’t fight this!” Khadan growled, “not right now.”

“We have to get them to safety.” He nodded with his head to the people who were thankfully organizing amongst themselves.

Ty took another breath and clenched and unclenched his fists. Some of the strength was coming back but still no connection to the Light.

Khasar was taking it the hardest. He was still staring at his Ghost.

“Khasar.”

No response.

“Khasar,” Ty repeated. Still no response.

Ty reached out and grabbed Khasar by the collar of his armor, giving him a firm shake that snapped him out of his trance.

“Focus! You can’t help him until we know more about what’s going on. Put him away.”

Khasar blinked at Ty, shaking like a kicked puppy.

“Put him away, Titan!” he snapped, commanding, and then more softly, “we will get them back. Eyes up, Guardian. One foot in front of the other. What do you need to be doing, right now?”

Khasar’s armor creaked as he squeezed the Ghost and then the Titan was tucking Pontus away in one of his packs. He put a hand on Ty’s arm and gave his brother a reassuring squeeze until Ty let go.

“Let’s take them out through Botza District,” Ty decided, “there are weapon foundries in the area and the Schnell building will have mass transportation options.”

Khadan nodded his agreement and pulled out his sidearm to check it. The magazine came free with a click, and he pulled it out for a second before pushing it back into the gun with the meat of his palm. “Four shots isn’t enough to get out of the City.”

“We’ll avoid a fight.” Ty stared right at Khasar as he said it.

Khasar still seemed distracted. There was a dullness to his golden eyes, staring straight ahead at something only he could see. One hand rested over the bag on his belt, the other was held around his torso, afraid that without his Ghost to hold him together, he could shatter at any moment into nothing.

They needed to know what was going on. Communications had been down from the beginning of the attack before they lost the Ghosts. Without them it would be even harder to get answers. For Khasar’s sake, for all their sakes, answers were more important than their lives. Ywa had been calling just before shit hit the fan. The witch had her own network of information and likely saw this coming. Maybe she had more insight on what was happening with the Traveler, where the Vanguard were, and how to set things right.  

“I’m not going with you,” Ty decided. He pulled his own sidearm to check it. Seven shots. It would have to suffice.

“What?”

“You and Khasar lead them to Felwinter’s Peak, tell Saladin what’s happened.”

He started shuffling to the exit and Khadan shuffled after him.

“Slow down,” Khadan huffed, “Ty, we can’t take them there. The Plaguelands are still overrun with Splicers.”

“Go around the south.”

“We would still have to take them up the mountain without a landing zone.”

Ty tsked.

“EDZ,” Khasar suggested, “there aren’t any Hive there.” Both the brothers turned to look at the youngest of them. Khasar still looked unsure, but he was trying, and Ty needed that relief like a shot of adrenaline.

“Fallen patrols-“ he started to argue.

“Not as many since the House of Kings was deposed. It’s a good place to hide,” Khadan agreed.

Relenting, Ty said, “…fine, but if it isn’t safe, you take them to the Iron Lords. A hike up the mountain is a small price to pay for safety.”

“Where are you going?”

“Owl Sector.”

“Ywa.” Khadan understood. “That’s a long way.”

Ty looked at Khasar again. He hadn’t seen his brother looking so vulnerable and quiet since the day he pulled him from the sand on the day of his rebirth.

Once again, Ty grabbed the front of Khasar’s armor and pulled him in so they could touch their foreheads in an affectionate headbutt. Khasar grabbed Ty’s shoulder and leaned into him. “We’re gonna be okay.” He waited until Khasar was nodding with him to let go and then he turned to Khadan.

Khadan didn’t need to be grabbed but Ty did it anyway, bashing their heads together. They each clasped the other’s shoulder, holding still in support of the other.

“Be careful,” Khadan growled.

“Take care of him,” Ty growled back and then they were pushing each other away in a little poof of flower petals as a couple of stray flashes of color dislodged from Ty’s collar and belt. The pink and white seemed very out of place in the orange and black, mixing with the ash on the floor in the wake of Ty’s footsteps as he jogged out the door, running back into the heart of the fray.

---

After they had separated, Ty worked his way through the city to Owl Sector to find it destroyed. The civilian run information network was a crater. It took him an additional two days to escape the city without running afoul of the rampaging Cabal, and another day to secure a depot outside the city to recover weapons, armor, and a jumpship.

But before he went looking for people, Ty took the time to collapse.

For the first time since he awoke well over a hundred years prior, he was completely and utterly alone. The floodgates opened and Ty took the time to openly sob in the cockpit of the ship. The weight of the days past felt so heavy that he couldn’t bare to move aside from pulling the dirty Ghost shell from his belt to cradle in both his hands.

“Come back…” he whispered to it, vision so blurred by tears that Dienekes was little more than dark blue blur in his lap. “Please wake up. I need you.”

He rocked back and forth as he wept and begged, contorted in an ugly grimace of unrestrained emotion. Curled, tense fingers clawed at the ill-fitting chest plate to try and get at his aching heart, so completely buried in lonely despair that Ty was certain it would break if he couldn’t physically free it from the tarry mire.

He should never have left his brothers. In the moment it hadn’t occurred to him what the separation would do. Ty couldn’t remember a time when he was truly alone and more than once he caught himself turning to talk to his Ghost and finding instead a vociferous silence that strangled his words in his throat.

Ty screamed in the safety of the cockpit. Anything to make the silence stop, to not feel so alone and small. He felt like a child, helpless, at the mercy of others, and so very afraid. What if Khasar and Khadan hadn’t made it? Were his last words to Khasar a lie? The kind of lie that they told the dying, reassurances to ease their passing, hopes that turned to begging when spoken aloud as though muttering a spell. Let any god hear them and by conviction and will make things okay.

Guardians didn’t fear death. They weren’t supposed to fear death…

He wept and screamed until his voice cracked and what strength he had left drained away. The jump ship, on autopilot, chimed softly of their impending arrival at Felwinter Peak, and Ty carefully and systematically regained his composure. The glimmer of hope that his brothers were here, waiting for him, sparked kindling in his belly.

Ty’s steps up the mountain began with a hurried fervor and slowed when something didn’t feel quite right. The old pathways were covered in snow and the wind was already erasing the proof of his passing, but there was a loneliness clinging to the walls, and when Ty passed through the courtyards of Vostok Observatory to peer across the bridge to the Temple of the Iron Lords his worry turned to panic.

The braziers were lit, but only just, not the roaring fires of a camp for refugees.

Panic and denial.

Ty hurried across the bridge with his auto rifle in hand. The Temple was the safest place, there had to be someone here.

He tripped on the steps twice and hurled his body at the massive stone doors. The shield on the door promised succor to those who needed protection. Ty dropped the rifle to hang on its sling so he could brace himself with both hands on the door. It barely budged and the reality of his weakness was promptly buried under stubborn necessity. He snarled and slammed his shoulder into the stone again until the door creaked and slowly opened.

Ty stumbled into the darkness, leaving the door open to hurry through the dark corridor to the hall.

It was quiet.

His footsteps echoed in the tomb.

A single brazier was lit, as always, in the middle of the room. The tiny flame flickered helplessly as the wintry air billowed in behind the Titan and Ty felt in it a kindred spirit. Barely hanging on, alone in the dark.

He dropped to his hands and knees with a clatter of armor and mumbled under his breath, “no no nonono.” They should’ve been here by now!

He heard it before he saw it. The rustle of fabric and the quiet cocking of a hand cannon. A shadow moved out of the corner of his eye and suddenly Ty had swapped to combat mode. He very slowly moved a hand to his auto rifle and clicked off the safety. 

Silence. A held breath.

Both moved in the same instant. Ty rolled back to crouch on one knee with the auto rifle raised, finger resting lightly on the trigger, barrel pointed at center mass. The Hunter had moved a few paces in front of him, glaring down from standing, hand cannon raised in one hand aimed at his head.

It was in the second that Ty was pulling the trigger that he recognized who it was and was able to catch himself before the auto rifle fired. Wearing all black, he was barely distinguishable from the shadows, if not for the flicker of the fire, he may have even gone unnoticed entirely. But his eyes nearly glowed in the dark, gold on obsidian from under the hood, helmet left behind somewhere in the dark.

“Kai…” Ty whispered, and the barrel of the rifle lowered to point at the floor between the Hunter’s feet.

Kai didn’t move. His hand cannon was still pointed at Ty. There was a wild look in his eyes, the desperation of a cornered, injured animal. His lip was curled back away from his teeth in an agonized, angry grimace, a visceral aura of vengeful distress. This was a man too long removed from society turned force of nature. In his other hand, Kai was clutching his Ghost, holding Erebus tightly at his side. It wasn’t moving.

Ty slowly let go of the rifle and raised both his hands to remove his helmet. He gently set it on the ground in front of him, staying on his knees, and looked at Kai with a tired expression. Ty could hide things from his brothers but never anything from Kai. The sorrow was plainly written in his sunken eyes worn from grief. The grime and filth of combat still clung to his clothes with the smoke of burning debris.

Kai’s eyes narrowed and his grip on the hand cannon tightened. He did not lower the weapon, but he did raise his Ghost to his chest where Ty could more easily see it.

With a voice raspy from disuse, Kai growled in a low and threatening tone, “What the hell happened?”

“Please help us.”

[slayanyhivegodslately]

"I can heal you, but I can't resurrect you. Not since..."

*Journey kicks in*

[destinylegendrpg]

Join us LIVE NOW on our twitch as we play another session using our custom ttrpg system inspired by Destiny!

This week, our heroes are flying off after defeating Ghaul to investigate how the Cabal managed to bring the Vex under their control during the Red War...

[thehollowtarnished]

They should remaster the Red War campaign with a Legendary difficulty. The destruction of the Last City and its people will be great symbolism to how Bungie is treating Destiny currently.

[eosofspades]

just... a thought

[brontios-helm]

Destiny 2: A Variety Of Tangles

[archivists-trove]

Wreckage of the Exodus - Taken from the Aft of the Exodus Black, now crashed on the Centaur, Nessus.

[seratlantisite]

Nice try Bioware, but I know the state of Southern Thedas better than you do.

First off, it matters if the Hero of Ferelden is alive or not. When the First Warden recalled all wardens, our hero knew that was a bad call and refused, finally splitting off from Weisshaupt after years of mismanagement and taking scores of wardens with them. Their presence and leadership makes all the difference, rallying southern Thedas once more against the blight. If you have only an Orlesian Warden Commander in Amaranthine they’re less inspiring, but as long as you’ve done Awakening they are a boon nonetheless. There is someone to lead the fight against the darkspawn while other focus on the Venatori.

If you 100% completed Awakenings and also Soldier’s Peak, the Ferelden wardens have never been so prepared. They’re organized, they’re outfitted and they’ve been ready for this for years. Also, if you allied with the Architect then you have scores of strange research to give you an edge.

If Merrill completed her Eluvian then she moves south once again and joins the effort. She’s managed to cleanse the blight before and she’s ready to try it again. And her knowledge of the crossroads gives the south an edge on their movement and supply lines. If Hawke’s sibling is a Warden they accompanied her.

If the Inquisitor let Briala have power in any way, the Dales become the leaders in the war against the Venatori, forming a formidable alliance with Ferelden, Orzammar and the Marches, the likes of which have never been seen. And if you completed Jaws of Hakkon then their alliances with the Avvar and Chasind are stronger than ever.

Of course, if the Inquisitor kept the Wardens around after Here Lies the Abyss then their numbers are bolstered. It may cost Wiesshaupt later, but that’s Rooks problem. And if you completed the Descent, then the Inquisitor and Warden had a much better idea of what was coming and spent ten years getting ready.

They will not be broken.

They will weather this storm.

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[sayruq]

Israel is also bombing Southern Lebanon

[frogcroaks]

The four heads of the wyrm god

[tossawary]

This is petty fandom salt, BUT... I've been chewing on this phenomenon that I've been calling "Fandom's Darling". It is related to things like "Author's Darling" and "Mary Sue / Gary Stu" and "Protagonist Halo" and all that jazz, where one character gains a peculiar narrative weight in a story.

"Author's Darling" is when a writer has a favorite character, and the world and all other characters sort of get... warped to put the Darling in the spotlight. It's most noticeable in TV shows with multiple writers, when a character you personally like suddenly has their previous characterization destroyed to make another character look good somehow. Every other character might become weirdly incompetent. The Darling's feelings are treated as The Most Important Feelings in any given situation. The logic of the fictional world seems broken past suspension of disbelief in order to validate this one character's beliefs or skillset or some other fantasy. And so on.

"Fandom's Darling" is what I've been calling the pattern where a fandom essentially crowns a New Protagonist for their fanfiction stories (it's often a side character rather than the original protagonist, but it can also happen to protagonists). This character becomes the self-insert for all sorts of indulgent fantasies, gaining special powers or backstories, and/or becoming the focus of extreme whump, and/or hooking up with all the various hotties, starring in all sorts of tropey AUs, and so on. They're not always an obvious Mary Sue version of themselves, but the character's original personality and interpersonal relationships tend to get warped or dropped completely, and other characters tend to become a little flat around them. I call it "Fandom's Darling" because it's not just one self-indulgent fantasy fic (you do you! Have fun!) with characterization choices that I don't vibe with (I have neither the time nor the desire nor the authority to police anything, I am just venting), but rather a prolific mini-fandom of sorts revolving around this empty doll / fanon version of the chosen vessel character, so it becomes a little unavoidable.

I am salty about this (mildly frustrated) (imagine a soft sigh of disappointment before I just go do something else) because you are FUCKED if you actually liked the canonical version of this character and their interpersonal relationships. It's almost worse than liking an obscure character that no one cares about. There's about a thousand fics starring your fave, but maybe only about a dozen of them are actually rooted in any kind of recognisable canon.