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Destiny

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Edited by CentauriAlpha67: 3/11/2015 9:00:30 AM
42

The Battle of Twilight Gap "Epilogue"

[b]Epilogue [/b] “If there is beauty in destruction, why not also in its delivery?” asked Feizel. Saladin watched the gunsmith run his hand along his latest creation—a rocket launcher of unparalleled grandeur. Its body and barrel black, twisting with ornate inlays, was enclosed with a sculpture of spun metal that resembled a work of classical art. A wolfhead rested at the top in a burst of plumage. “Very fine sentiment, Feizel,” he said, nodding. “But its almost too beautiful to be used!” The small man laughed, looking at him through convex lens of absurd thickness, through which irises showed rheumy-blue and gigantic. He waddled closer and pointed. “I made this with more than looks in mind,” said Feizel. “I’ve built it with smart drift control, second-generation tracking technology, and light-weight components that make this rocket launcher one of the easiest to draw in action.” His voice lowered to a whisper, reverent. “And every warhead is fitted with [i]wolfpack [/i]rounds. If somehow by extreme luck the target dodges the blast, tracking cluster missiles will finish the job.” “That is very impressive,” said Saladin, brows raised. “You honor the survivors of the Twilight Gap. You also honor the men and women that fell and gave their lives defending this City.” The ones Shaxx had helped kill. Saladin respected his protege for successfully leading the counterattack that pushed back the Fallen, but by taking the last of the battle frames with him, the South had been at a terrible disadvantage until the Vanguard forces arrived. Many had perished. He glanced across Feizel’s workshop to where rows upon rows of tables rested. The armor of the fallen Guardians lay on top. Helmets were scored and bloody, breastplates and gauntlets eaten away in places from being devoured by Arc energy. Feizel’s frame assistants took them in order, tossing them into several blast furnaces, melting them down to use them for the rocket launcher construction. “What will you name the weapon?” asked Saladin. Feizel chortled. “Gjallarhorn.” The word was foreign to the Iron Lord so he simply stared. “According to ancient myth, Gjallarhorn will be used to summon the gods and their warriors at the onset of some cataclysmic event. Most of the details are lost to time, but it was said that a cruel giantess will give birth to a pack of wolves that will tear down the very heavens.” Feizel shrugged. “It’s some end-of-times tale. I thought it a perfect inspiration.” Saladin turned his cheek and an Exo stood next to them who hadn’t been there before. “I have come to transport the new weapon shipment for screening,” said the Exo. “Ah yes, that’s right,” said Saladin, remembering he had ordered the Guardian. He pointed to a cart stacked with rubber crates that held a good supply of Gjallarhorn launchers. “You can take those there.” The short gunsmith mumbled, probably annoyed at the need for screening, but even a famed man such as himself needed his weapons vetted for defects and the like. The Exo took the handle of the cart and walked towards the door to leave. Something wasn’t right. Saladin released his Ghost and his split-second thought prompted the machine to scan the Exo leaving the workshop. The inspection revealed a hobbled, flickering form. A dark form in a robe. The figure, flashing between disguise and identity, waved a hand and a black portal formed. “Halt!” roared Saladin. He concentrated Light into his left arm and it crackled with a rush of electricity as he sprinted across the workshop. The alien intruder shoved the cart into the portal and glanced at Saladin, back hunched, with a single almond-shaped eye of haunting gold. Indistinct tendrils rose out from its shroud, licking the air. It turned around. “No!” Saladin’s fist passed through the portal as it winked out of existence and into the heavy metal door. It spiraled out of its hinges, through the Tower courtyard, and over the railing. The entire wall of brickwork crumbled to the floor leaving a cloud of dust. Feizel blanched. “M-my door…” he whimpered. Saladin ignored him and lowered his arm. [i]What was that thing?[/i] [b]Hey guys, yes that was Xur. Thanks for reading another one of my series! I'm glad I have such great followers! I have just come out with a new story about Dredgen Yor so check it out at the bottom! Read, Bump, and Enjoy! [/b] [b][url=http://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/92779240/0/0/1]EPISODE ONE[/url][/b] [b][url=http://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/93092612/0/0/1]EPISODE TWO[/url][/b] [b][url=http://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/94013318/0/0/1]EPISODE THREE[/url][/b] [b][url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/95269586/0/0/1]EPISODE FOUR[/url][/b] [b][url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/96203881/0/0]EPISODE FIVE[/url][/b] [i][b]DISCLAIMER: THIS SERIES IS A WORK OF FAN FICTION, SO CREATIVE LIBERTIES HAVE BEEN TAKEN. DO NOT TAKE THIS STORY AS CANON. DUE TO A LIMITED AMOUNT OF LORE, I HAD TO SPECULATE ON WHICH CHARACTERS BELONGED TO WHICH CLASS AND SO FORTH.[/b][/i] [b][url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/100362914] DESTINY FAN FICTION ARCHIVE[/url][/b] [b][url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Clan/Forum/823422]JOIN OR FOLLOW GROUP FOR FAN FICTION UPDATES[/url][/b]

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  • Bump! Even though I think in Gjallarhorn's description it was used in the battle, either way very good! Gotta love Xur's collection of the shinies

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