The Legend of the Mask of the Speaker, Chapter One

Guardians, Hunters, Warlocks, and Titans alike crowded about a lone figure in the Tower Watch, one whose gilded tongue was famed across the Solar System as a man whose skills with words earned him renown and glory. In fact, rumors abounded that he killed a Fallen Archon by talking so much to him, that the Archon killed himself rather than to deal with a moment more of his words. The man's name was Pahanin Errata, and his gun gave everyone some super good advice. Something that Pahanin was more than happy to demonstrate in the Crucible, much to the delight of the numerous spectators who were willing to watch. In the brief moments that followed, Pahanin Errata made the first biggest mistake of his life. “... Which is why, to this day, the Vanguard refuses to send anyone to Australian sector. However, they say if you head into Outback's fallout sector, you can find some bushes, cleaved in two... Like they'd been chewed in half!” Pahanin exclaimed, raising his arms for effect. Several younger Guardians gasped at the conclusion of his tale, while several of the more experienced ones just nodded and frowned. “Don't tell me, that's what really happened at the Australian Outpost,” A voice called out, causing Pahanin to turn to look behind him, to see where the voice was coming from. From there, he could see the Hunter Vanguard striding towards him, flanked by his dual apprentices. “Andal Brask!” Pahanin shouted in mock surprise, clapping his hands together as he hopped up, turning fully to face the Vanguard and his pets, “Come to listen to some more of my wonderful stories, yes?” “Something like that... I'm here to put a stop to this ridiculous charade,” Brask said, his hooded face radiating disapproval, “You need to be taught a lesson in respect Pahanin.” “What, you're gonna have your little minions beat me up?” Pahanin said with a forced laugh, “Please... You know that wouldn't be a fair fight. For them, I mean.” One of Brask's apprentinces bristled at the statement. From what Pahanin could see, he was an Exo, blue and dull gunmetal. He had a single horn atop his head, which in Pahanin's opinion made him look ridiculous. His name was Kate. Or something like that. No- It was Cayde. Yes, that's what it as. Pahanin didn't think he appreciated being called a minion. “No, they're not going to be doing that... No, this lesson, I'll teach myself,” Brask said, striding forward until he was face-to-face with Pahanin. “I'm scared, old man. I'm petrified. Terrified. Shaking in my boots!” Pahanin howled, a wide grin on his face. “I challenge you to the Vanguard Dare,” Brask's cold voice reverberated in the open air, as a hush fell over the crowd surrounding the two hunters. Pahanin's smile grew even wider, but his blood began to run cold. Hunters were largerly a lawless lot, with little desire for rules and organization. In fact, they couldn't even decide on who they wanted to lead them, since that would require someone staying behind and running the most cursed and lightless job of all. A desk job. So the Vanguard Dare was created. In short, the current Hunter Vanguard would issue the dare to another Hunter. Often, the dare was an impossible task, designed to pass the position off to some other unlucky schmuck, but every so now and then, someone would succeed. Then the joke would be on the Vanguard. Pahanin as a great Hunter, in his own opinion, but only three people had ever beaten the Dare before, and almost none of them were still alive. Other than Reaver, of course. Pahanin knew he was trapped. Brask had him trapped between a Ketch and a sharp place... Pahanin could back out, and his reputation would be stained forever as a coward, or he could accept the dare... Which there was almost a certainty that he would fail. It was nothing but a calculation. Accept the dare, and get saddled for being Vanguard for a few years, or be labeled as a coward forever... Or he could win. “I accept your challenge!” Pahanin exclaimed to the crowd, his arms raised in triumph. Several older hunters sighed, while many other Guardian's palms met their foreheads. “Excellent,” Brask noted, a wolfish smile upon his face, “I dare you to steal the Mask of the Speaker.”