Board Thread:Fun and Games Forum/@comment-25175520-20141024183423/@comment-1524575-20150307114010

(Alright, I believe I shall begin with a sort of character intro--albeit if it is unnecessary, I shall replace it with a more acceptable roleplay. @Wikia contributor 107: I am currently reading up on it, near the end of it; so I have an understanding of the beginning.)

The sound of a soul screaming in the night ran through the cold, night air in a range in the western portion of the old Russia, where the frames of useless aeroplanes scattered the frost-bitten ground. The bodies of a dozen or so Fallen Dregs and Vandals had hit the ground before they even realized what had dared to cross them; the broken devices known as the Fallen's Shanks tossed about the ground, their energy ports mashed and their life-essential fuel draining constantly from the inner compartments of the device. A light snow sprinkled over the useless carcasses of both organics and machines; as roughly 200 meters away; an armored frame would lift from the ground, kicking back up the legs which offered support to his handy rifle: the A.1F19X-RYL. Avgust considered the name of such a piece of equipment nigh impossible to pronounce lest he take minutes of his time attempting to place it a name, and thus he just regarded it as the 'Thing Which I Hold'.

Falling to the ground from his perched position, snow was upset and eventually scattered away--flaking elsewhere; as the Ghost whose form had taken the standard Vanguard's had flickered into life, dotting it's blue incurious eye to the Guardian. "Negotiating is nonnegotiable when it comes to you, it seems." The Ghost would simply say, nudging at his Guardian who removed his near empty magazine; tossing it to the snow after scavenging the remaining few rounds, sliding them into empty sleeves on his customized Armamentarium, the blackened Kevlar and armor plates which would usually be tinted a green. Whipping up a 65mm Polymer Round magazine from his utility belt; he would carefully dock it into the weapon.

The Ghost knew quite well that this Guardian hadn't been one to talked, preferring silence and distance to exclamation and close fury; but that didn't mean the Titan has had his moments of charging head into the fray--especially when sporting an incredible ability to fracture enemies in a blinding instant. The Titan nodded his head, as the Ghost would chirp--the back segmented section of the device turning and changing as the Ghost received new information. The Ghost only knew the Guardian as Avgust, while others may have known him as the 'Windego of the Coldlands'; a very plausible title--as it indeed seemed as if Avgust was a mythical voice of the wind, and appeared to favor the colder climates. But still, the Ghost would have at least a semi-talkable compatriot; instead of one who returned the Ghost's humor and talk with a stare of utter silence and discerning nature.

But this silence has brought its gifts between the Guardian and the Ghost, as now it seems as both have established a singular mindset--knowing the concerns of one another, and addressing them where necessary. As such, the Ghost knew that Avgust required a Sparrow to carry the Titan the distance to what the Cryptarchs had only claimed to have been a 'directory of worlds and moons'. The area specifically where they were had once been the head of the old Government in control of the Cosmodrome, the Russian Federation; as the buildings and roads which could have possibly ran on for miles upon miles. And so, the Ghost pulled the Sparrow out of Transmat to provide the Titan with easier transport over the damaged street--and the rusted cars. The ramps and offramps which provided access to streets above were in complete ruin--as Avgust would mount the Sparrow easily; the weight he added buoying the floating transport down a few centiemeters; as the Ghost would advise: "Our Directory, (according to this map from the Golden Age) should be a few miles ahead; it should be a massive egg-shaped tower. You shouldn't be able to miss it, unless of course you also lose your sight."

Avgust simply nodded his head, before kicking the throttle on the Sparrow; a lively blue stream bursting from the exhaust on the back of the Sparrow--speeding around the cars and obstacles halting his progress towards the Russian Federal Bureau of Aeronautics Headquarters; passing into the snowy storm forward. He moved through the Leninsky Avenue with extreme ease, but up ahead--against his own knowledge; lay a Fallen Outpost, where a quite insightful Vandal; member of the House of Winds easily spotted the Titan moving into their territory. The Vandal screeched, calling over the attention of it's closest Captain; to it--the hunt has already begin.