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Lore:Ghost Stories: Difference between revisions
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"Shoot. YOU found the greatest Guardian of all time." | "Shoot. YOU found the greatest Guardian of all time." | ||
==Who Guards the Guardians?== | |||
All around me, the pitter-patter of desperate steps. | |||
The thump-thump of armor-piercing microrockets. The cries and screams that fill the air. | |||
I feel… nothing. I am filled with… nothing. Just frozen. Empty. Soulless. Lightless. | |||
The Red Legion has come and taken it all away. | |||
Eventually the desperate steps diminish. For a few minutes, the Last City falls silent. Then… The low growl of their breathing. The clanking metal of heavy slug throwers against their crimson armor. The tremors of their heavy booted steps as they draw near. | |||
Thud. Thud. Thud. | |||
Mortals ask themselves the same question all the time—that question about meaning. About their place in this universe. | |||
But WE don't. Perhaps at first, as we tried to make sense of the day the Traveler pushed us free from itself, but no, not anymore. We know our purpose. Why we're here. | |||
In ancient times, humanity dreamed of gods and heavens and winged protectors that watched over them, kept them safe from uncontrollable and unpredictable harm. In this age, I believe humanity sees that in the Guardians. Yet, when the Guardians meet with trouble… who guards the Guardians? | |||
Thud. Thud. Thud. | |||
They're close now. If they think I'm not going to stay by my Guardian's side to my own bitter end, even though she's already met hers, they're deathly mistaken. | |||
I AM meant to do this. My Light WILL return. She NEEDS me. | |||
Thud. Thud. Thud. | |||
Those heavy, red-booted steps come around the corner. (I will not move.) We're face to face. (I will not abandon her.) They raise their weapons. (I will not let my purpose go unfulfilled.) | |||
A rush of light… Can it be?! Yes… The Light! Haha! I can bring her back! I can bring— | |||
BANG! | |||
==Whether Windmills or Cranes== | |||
We set out "to challenge the unknown," he'd say. His quest was to become legend—to slay beasts and conqueror terrible lands. His quest was honorable… though, in the end, misguided. No, not in the end. Much sooner. | |||
The flaw in his ambition became evident shortly after we crossed the western mire. At first I took his flights of fancy as playful enthusiasm—frivolous aggression free of consequence, a means of honing his focus and skill in advance of the dangers to come. But quickly, oh, so quickly, I found his mind was not in tune with reality. He was driven—pulled?—by his imagination. | |||
Where any other would see the crippled ruins of an old-world crane—the snapped length of its long arm creaking in the breeze—he would see a demon, and in the cutting shrill of the swaying metal's cry he would hear a monster's ravenous shriek. | |||
He had long talked of the adventures of his life past. "I am an anomaly," he would decree, "The lone Guardian whose past rings true, whose history is his guide." | |||
He spoke about that dead life with such passion, in such detail, I not only wanted to believe… I did. | |||
But as he charged the crane's age-poked carcass, I knew a truth that had haunted me since the carving of the Wicked Wood, some months gone: he was broken. His mind—unsettled. His truths—unfettered by fact, unbound by reality. | |||
He had named the Wood, as he had the Howling Hills, the Dead Man's Crevasse, the Gorgon's Maze. All mundane landscapes marked as hazards to be conquered, enemies to be slain, as he weaved a mythic tale of his own grand—and as I would find, delusional—design. | |||
In the Hills, he slaughtered wolves; he called them Hounds of Hell. In the Crevasse, he burned the remains of long-dead "survivors"; he called them Foot Soldiers of the Necro-King. Down in the Maze, he covered his tracks so that the Stone Mother would not—could not—follow. | |||
He did all those things and none, because none of those things were true outside of his fraying mind. The wolves were simply rabid. The bones, no threat beyond a reminder of all we'd lost. The Maze? Just a canyon—one way in, one way out, a straight shot through. | |||
As the crane fell and my Guardian issued his "killing blow," he laughed and then turned to me. His eyes… I could see he was gone—the one I'd returned all those cycles past replaced by a hollow shell filled with madness. | |||
I do not know what broke him, or if he had ever been whole to begin with, but in that moment, as he spoke—the conquered husk of the Dragon of Summers' End, which wasn't really a dragon but simply a fragile old crane, lying defeated in his wake—I knew I would have to let him go… to end his slide into uncontrolled folly. | |||
"[[Panza]], old man," he started. "The Dragon is gone, but he yielded his treasure to me in a whisper… A secret so dire it may just save us all." He leaned closer and said in a hushed voice, as if sharing a confidence, "The Traveler is no gift—it is a lie… A beacon for death and destruction. Within be dragons, nurtured by our suffering, weaned on our hope. All dragons must die. The shell must be cracked till its yolk drowns those who worship its deceit. Our last great conquest. The crowning battle of our legend writ large." And then he shouted, "For Light to endure, the Traveler must perish!" | |||
He was smiling. Confident. Manic. | |||
Two days later he took a fall while challenging the Mountain Troll of Gallows Rock. It was a boulder. There was no troll. It crushed him. And though it caused me great pain—still to this day— | |||
I did not return him. How could I? | |||
His diseased imagination would surely doom us all. | |||
—Panza, lamenting the unfortunate necessity of leaving his Guardian to remain unreturned | |||
==Batteries Not Included== | |||
What follows are simple things. Use each as needed. Use each as you will. | |||
These are not your strength, but may they bolster your might when the weight of expectation falls down upon thee. | |||
When the wars rage around you, find your peace.<br> | |||
The Light is not of you, and you are not of the Light, and yet you are one.<br> | |||
Give of yourself, and you will find all that you fear is missing.<br> | |||
You are a hammer. You are a shield. Know the difference. Know yourself.<br> | |||
Trust is a weapon. Handle with care.<br> | |||
The burden is not yours alone, no matter the burden.<br> | |||
Should Darkness call, answer true, and it will shrink from the Light.<br> | |||
Wear your confidence with pride, but know it is a tool, not a weapon.<br> | |||
Be mindful of the joy found in victory—it is earned but should never be the aim.<br> | |||
For all you will see, all you discover—never lose the gift of curiosity.<br> | |||
The Darkness would bend you to its will, but the Light bends to yours.<br> | |||
Failure is an opportunity to learn.<br> | |||
If the bones talk, do not listen.<br> | |||
I am your guide and your friend, your ally and your tool. Use me.<br> | |||
I will never leave you, but should I fall, remain vigilant, remain true. | |||
This isn't the whole of my life advice, but it's something. We'll add more as we go along. | |||
—An unknown Ghost's life advice for an unknown Guardian | |||
==To Map the Unknown= | |||
His neck snaps. He's dead on impact. I get him up and ask him how he feels. He says, "Fine." I ask him how it felt. He says, "Can't remember." I ask him if he learned anything. He says, "Nope. Let's go again." Same drop. Same distance. For the fifth time today, from this drop. This go, his trajectory is less headfirst, more parallel—on purpose, I think—varying the instance for a broader range within the experiment. | |||
He hits almost flat. The sound is squishy—wet. Death is instant. I get him up, ask the same questions; get the same answers. | |||
We've tried it all. | |||
The sudden deaths—live fire, through every type of round and range imaginable. The gradual—asphyxiation from force, liquid, vacuum. The biological—super bugs, hazardous materials, radiation. | |||
We've varied the duration of dying from immediate to over the course of years—multiple years. Time squandered on a quest for discovery that could have been better spent anywhere else. | |||
I wasn't always skeptical, but there's an old saying about "learning from your mistakes" or "when to quit," or something like that. I don't know. But I do know futility when I see it. | |||
We've tried it all. Nothing was learned. Others say differently. Others claim to have journeyed on the other side of death. "Where's your proof?" I say. "Death isn't the answer when life is right here, staring you in the face." | |||
I say a lot of things. But here we are. My Guardian is soup at the base of a cliff two times the height of the Tower, and when I get him up, he is going to say some variation of, "I'm fine. Don't know. Let's do it again." | |||
And we will. Because mapping the unknown means the answers you don't have could be the answers hiding on the other side of "one more try." | |||
—A Ghost questioning the repetition of his Guardian's [[Thanatonaut|thanatonautic]] technique | |||
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[[Category:Lore]] | [[Category:Lore]] | ||