The Electromagnetically Enhanced Blowgun

by ZackDark , Not behind you. NO! Don't look., Tuesday, May 07, 2013, 20:14 (4003 days ago) @ Cold

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.

Born and raised under the shadow of the Traveler's ship itself, Roger was considered a spoiled little mommy's boy by his fellow colleagues, born with a platinum spoon in his mouth. Always under his father's shadow, the greatest Warlock in the City's history, Roger never could quite achieve the necessary level of abstraction to successfully be trained in the dark arts of wizardry and so he was reluctantly inducted into the Guardian infantry, such as to not completely shame his father into political disgrace.

Excelling in the crafts of Huntership, partly due to his royal upbringing, partly due to his inability to make friends, Roger was rapidly dispatched to the Advanced Scouting Program, a program infamous for its high mortality rate.

His first day of duty had him orbital dropped halfway across Earth, in the midsts of the surviving Amazonian Forest, Earth last natural bastion. His briefing suggested there were possibly hidden pre-Traveler treasures within, relics from the Golden Age space endeavours, gifts from the humans of the past of incalculable worth to the City. Roger was to search and find them, securing as many as he could and placing beacons for future Titan incursions.

Day one was possibly the worst day of Roger's life. After swallowing up a bug bigger than Roger's foot, his Pike lost all its air-worthiness, sucumbing to a simple night heater and immobile power pack. By staying at one place for so long, Roger was easily tracked by the local fauna, which quickly made short work of Roger's rations and portable equipment. Luckily, he had carefully studied the briefing datapad, so he had deep knowledge of which plants could be used as poisonous barbs to fend off the bigger animals, the ones that would consider Roger for dinner.

Day two was a bit better. Even though he stayed up all night, Roger found the sight of the sunrise among the forest canopies the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Making good use of the Sun's hard stare, he scouted out the surroundings and was pleased to find a river. He quickly cleaned himself up and, with much effort, managed to drag the downed Pike to its margin, setting up a much more resourceful camp than the crash site. Protected by the rivers strong odors and sounds, Roger was able to peacefully sleep that night.

Day three began with a heavy downpour. Due the peculiar geography of the reagion his Pike crashed, the river suddenly turned into a raging rapid, so fast Roger had no time to escape its fast and forceful claws. Much to his chagrin, the Pike didn't even bulge and so Roger was relentlessly threw downriver away from his only source of sustenance and security. A mere hour later, though it felt like years, Roger was washed up beneath a massive stone ruin. He, correctly, observed the ruins must have predated even the Golden Age humans, certainly predating space flight. Excitement quickly recovering his energies, Roger set out to explore the ruins.

At night, Roger finally stumbled into a chamber that promised to be more than a simple dining hall. It was a room about 10 meters underground with a single pedestal, two meters across, sitting in the disconcertingly precise middle of the chamber. His excitement could barely be contained, given he found the symbol of the Traveler. The symbol of the Traveler! Buried beneath clearly pre-space flight ruins! Roger could all but keep himself from touching the pedestal. His whole perception of self suddenly shifted. The room was no longer. Roger was now standing on the Traveler, several kilometers above the City. A sense of dread filled him, but it was not his. A golden god, clearly the personification the Sun told him of the imminent threat locked in stasis beneath the City. One of the Terrors. Roger, being the only one told with sufficient advance, would be the only one capable of stopping the threat. Thrown back into the pedestal room, Roger found himself surrounded by similarly golden people, each holding a small tinker in their grasp.

The first, the personification of the Moon, gave him a cup of the poison that could kill the Terror long enough to put it back into stasis. The second, the personification of the Nature, gave him the only dart sharp enough to pierce the Terror's hide. The third, the personification of the Stone gave him the magical stones that could accelerate the dart fast enough to keep the Terror from dodging the attack. Finally, the fifth, the personification of the Sun, gave him the Cerbatana, the ancient weapon that the Terror's terrible curse could not break. The five, together, chanted the Song of Distance, transporting Roger back to the heart of the City, where the Terror was now bursting from the ground, its ominous song crushing the heart of the bravest Guardians as far as the Wall.

As the Song of Distance's chanting faded into the back of his mind, Roger heard the urging: "Go, chosen one. Blow the Dart of Salvation into the Terror's hideous form! Save the world from its grasp another thousand years!"

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.

He finally had the chance to be a greater hero than his father. To finally break the image of a mommy's boy he always carried. To be properly treated among his peers. To have his name written on the inside of the Wall.

Roger, the Hunter Guardian, couldn't believe his luck.
After all, he was an Exo. And Exos don't have lungs.