Eddy stuff

After the Collapse of the Golden Age, the first signs of Guardians began to show, come to live in an unorganized manner among a newly sprung, chaotic world. These were the Warlords, immortal beings that fought for control of land and resources, against the tidal wave of Fallen that sought to claw at the Great Machine once more. Edward was one of these Warlords. He went by many titles since that day. The Lionheart, the Bastion, Warlord, to Iron Lord. He wandered for many years since escaping the massacre at the SIVA facility, fighting aimlessly, and protecting the weak, and weary, until his ears caught wind of a new home. A City, the Last City, settled right under the Traveler's shadow. His arms carried the materials among his fellow Titans who helped to raise the walls. He stood valiantly at the Twilight Gap, as the horde of Seven Houses descended to them, acting as the Pillar that the walls would lean upon. Its then he came upon his final title for some time. Guardian. Protector of Humanity, the void in his arms outstretching to be the wall he's always promised to be. The very wall that Darkness shattered, much like Saint-14, and others of his order.
He fought across the lands of Earth, against the Seeders of the Hive that planted dark magics for their Gods to smother the Light. He fought against the Fallen Houses, and watched as Fireteams made their Kells crumble. He fought through Space and Time, and stopped the Vex from using the Vault of Glass, preventing Atheon's wrath from unraveling everything. He fought against Cabal among Mars, halting the Dust Giant's march, only to discover the new threat. One that would shake the very foundation of the Guardians.
Dominus Ghaul. He brought with him the Almighty, and the Red Legion that swept across the Last City like a swarm of Locusts. Where the walls protected against the Darkness for so many years, their sheer numbers and force were able to hold back the Guardians, until their grasp came to hold the Traveler in bondage. When the final black scales crawled their way around the Traveler, the Light left them. Gone was the power of immortality, and their hands laid empty from retaliation. Those that were lucky enough to survive became nothing more than mortals, against an enemy that was prepared to snuff them out. This included the Lionheart. A man who held the world on his shoulders by sheer strength, now was reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye. He was someone who threw himself before danger, who took everything from bullets to dark magic in order to protect those he swore to protect; now he had only one life.
He fled like many Guardians. As a Titan, he and his fellow brothers in arms were planning on ways to fight back, final acts of desperation in these times. But he was not part of them. His footsteps took him away from rendezvous points, and back out into the wilds. Where others found solace and strength to uphold their existence, he ran. What good would his one life do for a suicide mission? He barely had the strength to carry his armor, and shoulder his rifle. His pride became cowardice, and in the few months their Light had remained off, he came to realize how  much he had relied on it. His strength came not from his own inner self, but from the Traveler. He thought he was proud of his accomplishments, but in the end, he became ashamed he had no pillar of his own to stand on.
A exile he became, not because of the Vanguard's choice, but his own accord. He hid away his armor, and once again became a drifter, the only remnants of his rank came from the tattered Mark he still carried. A reminder of who he failed. From settlement to settlement he went, fleeing at the first signs of danger, as well as the ridicule. <i>Why didn't you save us?! The Guardians lost everything!</i> It was clear that many humans outside the walls came to resent his occupation, more so now from the fall of the Last City. He hid his ghost among his rags, his mark remained stuffed within his sack, he was a nobody. This gave him time to reflect on his gifted life. A corpse given purpose, now withering away from that purpose ripped from his very grasp.
It wasn't until he stumbled upon another settlement for supplies. Arbalast. A mining operation from the Golden Age, now housing a sizable populace underground, and below the large bucket excavator from which their namesake comes from. Its here, he met an unlikely aid in his plight, a woman by the name of Elizabeth, and her daughter Annabelle. She was the smith of the settlement, crafting weapons and armaments for those who were to protect the town, but it was here he learnt of how this town survives for so long. A Fallen Captain has taken this place captive, in exchange for protection, they mine the Glimmer to pay them. Yet these protectors were anything but benevolent. Fallen are violent creatures, who used the workforce for slave labor, rather than doing their own mining operation.
Elizabeth wasn't happy with this, most of the townspeople were not, perhaps save for their Warlord, somehow still a concept in this time. He was no Guardian, but his demeanor was fitting of the role. Edward was prepared to depart from this settlement and move on, but Elizabeth didn't allow it. They didn't need a Guardian to sweep in and save them, they needed a kick in the rear. Edward was plenty strong, and all that experience would go to waste if he just sat in the bar and drank it away. The term Guardian was stronger than just the Ghost that followed him and the Light he used. He never lost his pride, he was simply afraid to die. And so was she, and her daughter, and everyone in that settlement. He just needed to get the glory out of his damn head that fogged his mind. He stood before danger because the Light allowed him too, but he swore to continue doing it the day he became a Guardian. If the cowardly lion had one more fight left in him, they begged him for it to be this one.
Uprooting the Fallen's claws wouldn't be an easy task, and he didn't carry his armor anymore. But the Smith would not let him charge headfirst into battle without the proper armaments. The plan was set, The next Fallen party would return. Edward worked to gather a resistance. It was long since the days of Kells and Houses, a simple Captain and crew would be a fight, but they needed to try. He needed to put his life on the line for these people. Something he couldn't do for the City. That would haunt him, but he would hope if he fails, that his mark would make it back, so that he be remembered for what he was, and not the coward he became. The moon and Sun traded places several times before the night finally came. They could all hear it, the hum of the Skiff's thrusters getting closer. And while the people of Arbalast prepared, Edward suited up.
<i>"There's a technique that's useful for hunting anything, Edward."</i> An old friend's voice spoke to him as the long awaited plan was spiraled into motion. <i>"First, you cut off the escape route."</i> The Fallen Captain met with the Warlord on solid ground, just outside the entrance with their haul of Glimmer being carted their way. He truly thought he was their hero, his tall frame of imposing muscle was no small feat. He fit the part. The Fallen Captain was what you expected, an entourage of Fallen Vandals and Dregs at his disposal to move the mineral into the Skiff. At least, that would've been the plan. Had it not been the sudden launch of a rocket that flew into the Skiff's rear stabilizer and lose control. The Warlord was a mixture of confused, and enraged, as was the Captain. <i>"Its dangerous, Edward, but, that's when you get to step two. Exhaust the prey."</i>
It wasn't long after that the report of the rifles came, bullets flinging themselves at the Warlord and company in droves. Of course, these people weren't fighters, they were survivors, desperate to keep it that way, but leading the charge was the exiled Titan, dawned in his new armor, the one he could come to wear in his future endeavours. The metal was solid, fur along the neck piece, with spiked pauldrons and a dulled golden inlay to give him a fitting coffin. He knew that this could very well be his final stand, but he charged forward. Every arc shot, and bullet that bounced off his armor was to be the nail in his coffin, but he wouldn't stop. <i>"Its going to put every bit of strength it has to putting you down before you do the deed. And if you slip up, it might succeed."</i>
His ears rang, blood pumping and adrenaline surging through him. The Warlord had ducked out, rushing back to the safety of his castle of metal, while Edward took the fight to the Fallen. The Dregs were nothing to him once before, but now they felt more imposing. Alien creatures that shot lightning from their guns, Vandals charging with electrified blades. But he didn't stop, he couldn't stop. He ran head-first into the danger, and met it with the force only a Titan could. The armor was heavy at first, as he felt when his Light first left. But each success felt like the weights were being removed. Each death-blow brought him solace. His armor was not impervious. It never was. But he continued on, blood mixing from Fallen to his own, blue and red swirling until only he stood.
<i>"It leads to phase three. Desperation. It'll fight, but it'll make a mistake. And that, my friend, is when you go for the kill."</i> A screaming snapped him back to reality. His head swiveled to see Annabelle in the Warlord's arm, gun to her temple, trigger finger itchy. The guards he had left stood with guns trained on Edward, his battered armor leaking red from various points. But he still stood, fists clenched, blood still ignited from the fight with the Eliksni. He wanted Edward to leave, or he'd take the young girl's life. But, he was tired of running. Tired of being the man he wasn't. He swore an oath, he made a promise, and even with it broken, this one life he'd use to make amends.
He called upon his ghost. And looked at her behind the helmet with an unseen apologetic look. But she knew what was coming, and was powerless to stop it. That's when Edward charged towards them, jumping up onto the treads of the excavator and running once against head-first into gunfire. He summoned every ounce of Light left in him, the swirling mass of void solidifying into his trusted shield, the bullets being consumed into nothing. The first fell from a harsh smack of his shield, the second dissolving after the shield was flung into him. He hated killing his fellow man, but it was something he was familiar with. That's when the first round of the hand cannon blew through his armor. Then the second made him stumble back. The gun was freed from Annabelle's head, and now squarely at him. Edward's guns were dry, his body was giving up, blood colored the metal below him red. He couldn't give up, not now. He had to keep his broken promise. In a final leap, his hands caught his prized possession, a claymore, appearing in Light with a dark blade atop the hilt. He had no more strength afterwords, the sword flew true to its mark, and the Warlord was no more. Edward would then have his second fall.
Elizabeth tried to save him, she had managed to get up to her daughter, but by the time she got to him, he took the plummet off of the excavator, and into the mines below. It was silent, his body dead weight to the gravity of the world, eyes staring forward, but a smile on his face. How the mighty Titan would fall. Not from a Hive God, or a Vex Time-Flux, but from man himself. Such thoughts, however, brought him peace. And he allowed his mind to go silent, and go back to that place he first was. The Darkness, the infinite nothing, a corpse. It seems however, that something changed, an event he missed that had surprised him as he sat up from his impact point. He was...alive? Tina seemed rejuvenated, and the rest of the citizens seemed just as surprised. The Traveler, the power that gave him life, had awoken, and with it, gave the Guardians the strength to finally push out the Red Legion. The war was over.
Edward, however, did not return. He had abandoned his people in their time of need, and felt his redemption had not yet been fulfilled. There would be those who might still seek him, but he had chosen this path, the one of a lone Guardian battling the forces of Darkness wherever they may still arise. Perhaps someday, he would return to the Tower, but after leaving Arbalast, he took to his current residence. A quaint little abandoned apartment somewhere in a dilapidated city among the ruins of the EDZ. The Lionheart was alone, but he gained insight from his self-fulfilled exile. It was not the Light that made him courageous, it was his humanity. And for now, he continues his fight and aids those who need it. A Guardian with no Tower, a Titan with no Pillar. A man alone against the world once more, until he finds the strength to stand without a crutch.