Previously, on No Longer Neglected:

Tell the story of your Ghost finding your Guardian.

We had some great entires, and a series of Haiku. Choosing a winner was tough! In the top three were Mankitten’s “most inept Guardian of all time”, breizen’s “Out of Darkness”, and Krony’s “The Third Pillar.” Although they varied in tone, each offered a great look at a Ghost finding its Guardian. Ultimately, Korny’s fireteam’s search for a Hunter barely edged its way to victory with its blend of humor, lore, and gameplay-related silliness.

So, Korny, choose either the Exotic weapon poster or the plush Ghost and find some way to contact me with your address and I’ll send your choice your way!

Now, for the 2nd No Longer Neglected prompt, we have something a bit special. cheapLEY generously donated a copy of the Art of Destiny to this Fan Fiction cause, so I offered him the chance to choose what we’d all write about next. Here’s the result:

The City has been in existence for perhaps hundreds of years, yet we’ve seen so little of its architecture or its people. Change that by writing three scenes detailing life in the City during each of the following important time periods:

- The Dark Age that followed the collapse when Guardians were rare, Light-bearing warlords held distant populations within their grips of terror, the Fallen raided and pillaged all too often, and the City, while relatively safe beneath the Traveler, had yet to see its walls built or its power consolidated.

- The City Age or the Age of Triumph, where the City and its Guardians pushed back the hordes of unfriendly aliens and eventually became one of the few organized powers left in our solar system.

- The age that we find ourselves in post Red War, where the promise of the City’s walls and Guardians has been shattered, yet the renewed Light of the Traveler once again offers hope to civilians and Guardians alike.

Your three scenes can be interconnected if you want them to be. It might be interesting to look at how a specific location or Guardian changed over the centuries. Or you could give us a different location and point of view for each scene, perhaps delving into the aspects you think would have been the most interesting in each time period. The choice is entirely up to you.

The winner of this round will have their choice of the aforementioned Art of Destiny book (which is really great) or a Bungie mug. You have until Jan 1st to enter!

Oh, there is one more thing... Writing and sharing stories is great, but kinda disappointing if nobody ever comments on the thing you put time and work into. That’s not going to happen here. I’ll be leaving a comment on every story once they are up on the DBO Fan Fiction site and I highly encourage others to do so as well.

And, this being No Longer Neglected, I’m offering that encouragement in the form of the exclusive Bungie Store Black Friday emblem “Darkest Day.” The best / most helpful / most constructive comment left on either a story submitted as part of No Longer Neglected or a story that’s already up on the DBO Fan fiction site but currently has no comments will win the emblem code. From now on, commenting on stories and winning a smaller prize will also be a part of each No Longer Neglected round.

So, good luck storytellers and helpful commenters. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Turns out the 2nd half of December is a busy time. I’m doubling the length of this round. New official end date is Jan 15th. Write something. Or else.

- No text -

Yeah, consider this a 2nd extension. This round closes at the end of January. I have a thought or two of how to promote the next round better in February. Post stories, win stuff.

...could we get the other two pending stories approved? Thanks! :)

It the early days when I first crossed the great mountain range and caught my first glimpse of the Traveler, the Wall amounted to very little. Its most enduring feature was the streams and tributaries that marked the very beginnings of the heart of the City. In many places that’s all the wall was. Natural obstructions in the land that slowed the crossing of ground bound Fallen. In a few other places, there were actual walls. Entrenched choke points made primarily of wooden posts and stakes. In the best of places there was barbed wire or metal sheeting or electrified fencing powered by solar powered fusion batteries. Watching a Fallen Captain’s shields spark and pop as he tried to scale my section of the wall is one of my earliest memories of defending the City.

Slowly brick by brick, casting by casting, our City’s great walls inched forth. What had been the smallest remnants of our last civilization gradually transformed into a wonder of our present and future. From the Battle of Six Fronts to the Battle of Twilight Gap, our walls were tested and at times were even strained, but they held. When the Hive and the Vex and the Cabal’s expeditionary forces came to our system, they challenged us on many fronts and took from us entire planets and moons worth of territory, but never once did they challenge our wall. INdeed, for more than five hundred years we were the last unconquerable City, in large part thanks to our walls. In our Age of Triumph we felt secure. And that was almost our end.

When the Red Legion came, our walls were turned from one of our most important assets into one of our gravest mistakes. Vanguard doctrine, my doctrine, called for civilians to take shelter within the spaces and bunkers we designed into our walls while our unkillable Guardians dealt threats in the sky. The Fallen had long learned the hard way what a group of determined Guardians would do to any who threatened our City. But Ghaul and the Red Legion had bigger, better plans. When they came and suppressed the Traveler’s Light, suddenly there were no Guardians to clear the skies. All we had were civilians all in highly visible, easily discovered spaces. Many of those spaces no longer exist or if they do, they are still smoldering from aerial bombardment.

What we learned, what I learned, is that the walls and Guardians of our City are INdeed formidable, but they cannot be our only defense and they should not be a thing that only serves to limits the freedoms of the people we claim we want to see thrive and prosper. Perhaps we will always need walls of a fortress to shield us in our darkest times, but now I see that our people also need to be free to spread far and to achieve their Destiny.

- Zavala

...there are some minor prizes for those who post feedback to others’ stories on the DBO fan fiction site. I’d rather people target stories that have zero feedback, but all feedback submitted from December to the end of January is eligible for the smaller feedback prize. (It’s an exclusive emblem, if knowing what it is matters to ya.)

A Golden Trail

"Let me learn you something. You can never trust a rumor."

A gnarled, strong hand gestures out from under a cloak toward a distant mountain pass.

"They used to talk about a Caravan. About a trail leading back to our Golden Age. Promises."

Both as emphasis and a curse to the the idea of promises, a rope of salive is spit unceremoniously onto the ground of the town square. The words weren't spoken to any with any expectation of response. Sam the Spitter wasn't known for caring who listened so long as someone did. It had been years since any outsiders had ventured to Bear's Pit. The elders had decided that based on the old maps that it was nestled near what used to be Montana of the Old United States. It's nestled back up near an edge of a butte overlooking a rather large lake that doesn't quite line up with anything from the old maps.

Bear's Pit isn't a large settlement. It isn't the smallest. Mostly it keeps to itself. In part due to the land formation it is on and in part because there are still some elders who sing songs of Warlords burning those who would stand down with cold fire and thunder made form. It isn't regular that people believe those stories, not anymore. What kind of man or woman could do such a thing? Sam the Spitter wasn't done talking though.

"You can't trust a rumor, though," a wetness grated on the edge of the ears of everyone in the square, "It'll just turn out a lie. Last promis this town got left four dead.

Sam was exaggerating. They lost two goats and no one was sure they were dead. It was a trade deal made by a trusting farmer to a smooth talking traveler. Sam spit again with even more distaste.

"But it's what they're saying right now. What they're talking about."

The Wise Council has been debating what to do ever since a girl was brought in with a fever, raving about a train to the Light. A trail to the Golden Age. It was an old story but she spoke of it like it was as tangible as the spit on the edge of Sam's mouth.

"There's rumors of a Caravan."

Pirates

The sun has already risen and is slowly warming the moisture off the grass and leaves and rooves and streets of Bear's Pit. The day animals have started to rustle. Work will need to be done soon. Lilac had been proactive the night before however. So those tending to her farmland would already be well accomodated with hearty food and refreshing, clean water. Her pride and joy, an old Golden Age food and water processing unit was still running circles around the other kitchens in the settlement. She called it Aura. Both because it glowed when it hummed to life and as a reminder of where it came from. She had traded for it with someone who needed more supplies on their way to some promised land. A fabled city. Stories for children she thought.

"Ma'am Lilac!" a voice pierced the morning stillness. One of the working children, no doubt. However, there was something offputting about the tenor of the voice. A banging at the door and again, "Ma'am Lilac!" She waddled over and undid the clasp. The child who stood before her, Skef or Skorf or something equally silly, was in a panic.

"What is it child?" a moment of calm reasurance as she adjusted her white hair out of her eyes and into a bun. Usually preperation for work needing to be done.

"Cloud Pirates," Skruf was not calming down. A moment of cold terror passed through her spine at the words, however. Not since she was a child had she seen them close. Mostly stories about raids on other towns. She liked to talk with the other elder women in nearby towns when the season permitted travel. Stories of abhorent masses of chittering carapace, like an insect that didn't understand its place in the world, riding dark clouds of strange shapes blocking sunlight and raining lightning down on anyone foolish enough to be in the open. The stories made them out to be a force of nature. She new better.

"Get inside child. Get down. Now where?" a shivering finger points toward town square, "Now stay here," a motion to enter a cellar as she lifts the handle on a hatch in the floor, "And wait for me to come back for you. If I'm not back in an hour, get out and run." Skruf nodded vigorously and hid. Lilac picked up her shotgun. She new better because those pirates, those Eliskni - a name which burnt the inside of her nose to think - took her home from her as a child. Left her for dead when they attacked a caravan passing through her old Village. She wasn't losing this home.

She hobbled to the town square, shotgun still in hand. Loaded and ready. But those dark clouds weren't stopping today. They were passing over. This was something new. Something different. Those fallen creatures were fleeing.

She had given up cover and was bewildered by shapes traveling overhead. Not slowing for an instant as they passed. Others in the square were worried that they were just scouts and that something worse would follow. Lilac knew something worse would follow. Not for Bear's Pit, though.

As a new shape entered the sky above the town it turned back. She stared in wonder as others shrunk in fear. This new shape it circled one more time then came close. In front of her appeared a form. Tall and hard. Armor. A banner at their waste and a rifle in their hand. For a moment she felt fear, but that soon faded.

And that form spoke and she was left speechless.

She quitely reminded herself, "There's rumors of a City."

Fist

"Girls can't be Titans!"

An unfriendly taunt frequently leveled at Juniper. When they'd play with sticks in the forests around the edges of town the older children would tell her to go "play Warlock" in the square with the other babies and the girls who refuse to be Hunters. Juniper didn't understand why she had to be a Warlock or a Hunter, and no answer ever satisfied her.

"Can, too! I can be just as much The Wall as you are, rock-head." Jasper did not being stood up to very well. He squared up and shoved her hard into a tree.

"That's just a rumor. You can't even plant your feet right. That's why girls can't be Titans," kicking moss of the roots of the tree at her to punctuate his remark. This infuriated Juniper. She was tired of getting bullied, and the adults of Bear's Pit didn't seem to see it as an issue. She was tired of being dismissed. Only Olive, the lonely woman on the edge of town with the best kitchen - it glows when she cooks like magic - would ever listen to her. She'd tell her stories about her great-grandmother and The Last City and how Bear's Pit is on top of a Golden Age structure so a deal was struck to allow the people to stay but The Last City would watch over the settlement.

Tears streaked through the dirt on her face. The same dirt all the other kids had. Tears of frustration. Nothing she knew about the Risen - Guardians - could make sense of these boys not wanting a girl to play as a Titan.

It was in this moment she was reminded of some of the stories told to her by Olive or overheard at celebrations that have filtered out into the wilds from The Last City. Stories of angels made of light and angels made of darkness. Guardians and Space Rhinos and the Rhino who wanted to be a Guardian. Juniper stood and stared down Jasper. She balled her fist. A glimmer of satisfaction in her eye. Olive's favorite way to tell that story ended with a gauntlet and the words: THE LAST AND SUREST ARGUMENT.

That evening her fist hurt, but she was satisfied. Jasper had a broken nose. Of course she was scolded, but most of the town was proud. The other kids appreciated Jasper being taken down a notch. And she gets to play Titan. Not just a rumor.

Lost Journal Fragments

IV-I:
Days have turned to months which have turned into years. I can’t even remember the proper year anymore. I was just a boy when it happened, our world torn asunder. Being so far from the Traveler, we can only speculate as to what terror brought on the darkness. Jesse figured it was these Fallen, but Jesse was prone to making up all kinds of stories. I miss Jesse… I wonder if her family made it to the Cosmodrome?

…

XII-II:
Our pilgrimage to the Last City has gone relatively well. Lara’s grandmother, died the other week, frostbite and age I think. It’s been two moons since we’ve seen any Fallen. I mean, we see their ships more often than that, but out being out in the frozen wilderness, they don’t see us or seem to care. Still, I’d like to get the chance to go toe to toe with one of those devils that burned our city.

…

I-V:
We lost mom yesterday… Fucking Trevor alerted a patrol of Shanks. Lost him and four others too. We had to move all night, no doubt they’re looking for us. Luckily this old city is large and I think we’re well hidden. We’ve got the two entrances set with some trip mines, courtesy of the Fallen patrol. Rest in peace mom, miss you already.

…

XXV-VIII:
I thought I’d enjoy killing Fallen… the Shanks were easy. We ambushed this group of three Dregs… Fuck. I can’t even… We tried to do it all quiet like. But I screwed up, missed the heart with my dagger. I’ve looked into the eyes of dying animals before, but this was different. As it bled out through a half dozen stab wounds, it writhed in pain, its eyes stared at me with terror. Like I was the monster… Am I a monster?

…

VI-I:
We came through the mountain pass today and saw it, for the first time. The Traveler. This city is… well, not exactly what I expected. It’ll still take us a few days to get down there, but I have hope, more hope than I’ve had most of my life.

City Patrol

Zahn’s eyes snapped open, and he glanced at the window, the moonlight was beginning to fade. Under the window, on the table was his ghost. The ghost immediately lit up, ready to start the day. Zahn quickly dressed and headed out the door. Just down the street, he bought a loaf of bread and some jelly from Sarah in the market. He had been building up the courage to talk to her, but like so many other days, he just couldn’t find the words. Maybe tomorrow.

By the time Zahn reached the hanger, he had finished his breakfast, he hopped in his Phaeton and took off. As he leveled off and turned back toward the traveler, the sun crept over the horizon and light poured into the city below him. His fellow Guardians were already hard at work on the city walls this morning, apparently, they were only halfway done. He couldn’t imagine what it would look like when it was completed.

Home

Hannah walked back through the gates for the first time since the Cabal invaders had been pushed out of the city. It was surreal. Only feet inside the city walls she collapsed, tears running down her face. The destruction was more real than the day of the attack. Her fiance Marie knelt down and embraced her, "I know, let it out." Hannah cried a little longer. She glanced up at the traveler, radiant, its broken pieces swirling above them. "Look," Hannah said with a smile on her face, "It's healing itself!" Marie's eyes began to water, "And so will we." The couple stood, hands intertwined, their sorrow transformed to joy. They were home.