Hunter's Retreat

   The tower was splashed in bright sunlight that fateful afternoon. I say fateful, because it was that afternoon, after listening to the Speaker, that I finally knew my path. I haven't wavered from that path since then, but enough of that, I first need to tell you of the Speaker.    Well, no, let me take this in order. First I went to the gunsmith. Banshee, what a name and what a character. I found out later that the banshee was a legend from ancient earth, a ghost with a terrifying voice and otherworldly power. Somehow the Hive Wizards come to mind when I think of them, but that is a tangent I will follow some other time. Banshee's voice grated like that of someone who had smoked cigarettes for thirty years. To me that seems funny more now than ever - Banshee is an Exo, and noone has smoked, really smoked, in a few hundred years. And of course, I shouldn't have any idea how a smoker's voice should sound, yet somehow, somehow, it was all too familiar. Memories, and m

  The Tower is an amazing place. The hustle and bustle of a thousand guardians, vendors, faction leaders and others running about in various directions fills the air with constant chatter. Space and air crafts of various shapes and sizes buzz in and out adding to the ever present noises of the various machines that keep everything operating.  The colors were such a contrast to the dull, sad Cosmodrome. Ghost let me stand and soak it in for a moment before pushing me toward a downward stair and hallway to the north.   "Time for you to meet the Vanguard." Ghost floated ahead.   "A vanguard? This place doesn't look quite big enough for a whole army." I retorted.   "Don't be silly. These are the guardians who head each class of Guardian in the Vanguard." Ghost sounded impatient.   "I'm not being silly, words have inherent meanings you know. Besides, how am I to know yet what you mean - I don't really have a context for what you are