So Chorizo is hosting a Destiny-related writing competition. Thing is, all it has to do is [i]relate[/i] to Destiny and follow the given theme. [b][u] It doesn't[/u][/b] have to follow the established canon of the game, so I'm bring a little more reason to the game, i.e Guardians aren't able to be revived by ghosts. Here is the story so far: The low hum of the dropship traveling through slipspace eased Rythe’s mind. He checked over his auto rifle once more, as they’d be breaking Mars orbit within the minute. The guardian across from him broke the momentary silence; “Any intel about ore opposition sarge?” The NCO turned his head to face the young Hunter. “First team’s gone dark ever since we broke Earth orbit, there’s no telling how many Cabal will be there when we hit.” The Sergant, a gruff well aged Titan who we presumed went by the name of Duncan, turned back to his datapad. The Hunter, now worried, began sharpening his bayonet to distract himself from the task at hand. Rythe didn’t have much experience himself either. If he ended up living through this mission that would make this his second real-combat encounter in the field. Rythe felt the savage jerk as the dropship jolted from slipspace into the surrounding debris of Mars. Both Guardian and Cabal ships alike peppered the surrounding area as far as one’s eyes could see, torn to pieces by skirmishes and the Cabal’s in-atmosphere Orbital Acceleration Canon. After initial contact, fleets were sent to the Guardians aid, only to be torn asunder upon exiting into normal space. Smaller craft however, could easily slip past the defenses and reach the ground. That’s what happened when those lucky enough to escape the fleet’s annihilation crashed upon Mars’ surface. The Cabal soon located and swamped the remaining survivors. Outnumbered seven to one, a couple Warlocks jury-rigged a transmitter and sent out a distress call to the tower. Within eleven minutes the signal vanished, just as the last few transports were entering slipspace. The faint reddish-orange hue of the planet seemed to contrast immensely with the thoughts racing through Rythe’s mind. The planet, steadily growing larger and larger by the second, then rattled the craft as a beast does its cage. He could feel the bulkhead’s heat as they began the steep descent. POW! PING! The dropship shook as a Cabal anti-aircraft rounds began to ricochet off the energy shields. “Hang on,” cried the warlock pilot as she evaded fire to the best of her ability. The dropship had to be stripped of most its weaponry to accommodate for the cram-packed amount of troops. KA-THUNK! One of the engines had just received a fatal blow, critically handicapping the craft. The ship began to pitch drastically in the direction of the blown engine. “I can see the landing zone,” stated the co-pilot, “they’re still kicking down there.” Rythe moved his head to get a view out the cockpit. Sure enough, he could faintly make out gunfire in the distance. There was a loud explosion as the smoking engine burst into flames. The dropship then shifted almost instantly 30 degrees to the right before snapping back with a thud. The pilot had purposely hit a sand dune to stabilize the vessel. There was a crack as the craft then struck the rocky surface, preforming a spin before ultimately coming to a silent halt. “Everyone alright?” The sergeant’s question was soon followed by a thick cough. “Yeah.” “Same here.” “I think so.” Responses sounded off one after another confirming a safe landing. “Okay, let’s move people,” sounded off a titan corporal as he hit the release for the landing ramp. “Base camp‘ll need all the help they can g- A cabal slug let off a loud SZACK as it flew straight through his neck. “MOVE,” shouted the sergeant! Shots pinged off the ship striking Guardians one after another, dropping into the now blood soaked sand. Rythe grabbed his VANQUISHER VIII auto rifle and sprinted out of the dropship as fast as he could. At the door he picked up a corpse and held it outstretched in front of him, acting it as some sort of meatshield. The sickening shush of hot slugs penetrating the dead Guardians armor echoed in Rythe’s mind, but he didn’t care at the moment. All that was on his mind right now was living.