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Description
Guardians of the Tower slipped swiftly across the Cabal encampment, moving like shadows among the rocks and debris. A Titan of the Future War Cult led them toward a hastily-built defense tower, where a cluster of Cabal guns protected the Pscion Beam and the force field that protected it. Logan-23 directed half his fire-team to make for the top of the tower while he led the rest toward the generator at the structure's base.

Taking the Cabal completely off guard, the guardians blasted their way into the towers lower level. Through the smoke and chaos the Guardians pushed inside the structure, Hunter Bladedancers scything down anything that moved while Warlocks alternated between supportive shields and void bombardments. Even though none of the Cabal had any idea where their attackers came from, they knew a fight when they heard one and prepared quickly. Legionaries came crashing into the fray from every direction, drawn by the combat. The sentry Phalanx inside the tower fired their slug rifles wildly in the confined space, solid rounds blowing holes in the rusted walls or ricocheting off in random directions.

Bacchus Ter'Tor had been tinkering with the guns at the top of the tower when the first Guardian charged over the perimeter wall below, gunning down the closest cluster of Legionary with a salvo of glowing bullets and grenades that burned with the power of the sun. These must have been one of those secretive Warlocks he had heard rumors about. Growling, the Centurion manned an artillery piece of his own invention, knocking a protesting psion out of the way. With a whine and pop the big gun grabbed one of the struggling human, flinging him into the air and squashing him and his annoying buzzing robot like a bug. His weapon was going to work marvels.

No sooner had the corpse fallen than half a dozen took his place, fanning out across the lower gun deck. Under the lash of his Iron-Fist, the psions turned their guns on the humans, fallen, and exos and opened fire. The tower lit up with flashes of psychokinetic Arc blasts and booming of projection rifle. At such close range, most shots went wide, but another Guardian - a female exo - was mashed into pieces by a lucky hit of psychokinetic energy.

In the bowels of the tower, Logan-22 fought his way into the generator room, fending off wild bursts of energy and ducking mad explosive slugs. Guarding the controls was a towering Colossus, wielding heavy slug rifle. The creature seemed excited as he stomped his feet and readied the thrower. Logan-22 didn't even pause as be brought his hand cannon, obliterating the Colossus's head in a volley of void shells.

"Get your ghosts ready! Charges here, here and here! If any flayers come out, kill them!" He yelled, and the guardians swiftly set their satchel bombs; a generous present from the Future War Cult. As soon as the Guardian's ghosts had obeyed they retreated from the room. There were no Flayers, good. It would seem this house left them on Mars for the time being. A heartbeat later, the tower shuddered from a contained explosion as the explosives on the generator detonated.

With a deafening crack of energy and a vivid green flash the force field collapsed. Almost immediately the scream of engines announced the arrival of Logan-22's Sparrow reinforcements, near invisible in the darkness as they races across the land.

Still in a state of confusion, the Cabal were firing at anything that moved. Solar rounds set them a flame in the dark. Bacchus had a group of the Guardians below pinned down, psions trying to drag them into the dirt while their guns flashed and banged. Hearing the arrival of sparrows, Bacchus swung his Iron-Hand northward and peered into the dark. His heads-up display pierced the blackness, adjusting until he could clearly see the telltale glow of the human machines. Waiting until the last possible second, Bacchus fired the Iron-Hand, its gravitonic-metric beam reaching out and enveloping the crafts. The big gun bucked as the Centurion into the ground. A sudden flash of running fire marked the points where four vehicles were smashed into the ground, their burning remains tumbling end over end across the encampment. Content that the psions had the annoying creatures in check below, Bacchus lined up the Iron-Hand on the next group of Sparrow flyers.

Halfway up the tower, Logan-22 saw his first wave of Sparrows come apart in balls of fire as they hit the ground,

"Dammit," he spat, "we need those guns taken down! Cornelia, tell your hunters that if one of them kills the leader, drinks are on me!"

The Exo Titan sprinted on, leading his fire-team once more onto the gun platform. The Guardians of the Tower fought up the rickety stairs to the Cabal gunners and powerful psions up top, throwing themselves into the fray. Logan-22 saw a brutish Centurion lining up a gun on his remaining support fire-team and emptied his hand cannon's drum in the beast's direction, forcing it to dive for cover.

All around him beams of arcing energy, solid rounds and explosive shells flew filled the air. Logan-22 took cover behind a pile of broken crates. Nearby, one of his mean jerked violently as psion arch energy burned a hole right through him, while another was blown to fragments by a projection cannon. More Cabal reinforcements poured in at a steady rate.

Scanning the battle with a quick glance, Logan-22 gave the order to retreat. The surviving and revived Guardians fell back to the edge of the upper gun platform, dodging fire before leaping off into the night. In their wake the Cabal yelled what could have been insults if their retreating foes could understand them.

As he fell through the darkness, Logan-22 pulled the detonator from his belt, squeezing the trigger and setting off the satchel charge he had left leaning against the pile of ammo crates. Above and behind him the sky lit up as the gun platform vanished in a cloud of fire.

With their own hovering abilities slowing their falls at the last moment, the Guardians hastily formed up around the Exo Titan. "Primary target is open," he relayed through his ghost. "Repeat, primary target is open!"

The remaining Guardians rushed to the edge of the Cabal encampment. Behind them the aliens were banding together again into structured squads, shooting their slug guns as they advanced.

Even as Logan-22 braced himself for close combat, the closest of the squads vanished under a hail of heavy slug fire. A deafening boom came in from above, and a harvester hovered above. The creatures were confused again, but to Logan-22 and the remaining Guardians saw this a very good sign. The fire team in the north had secured the Cabal heavy weapons field, and was currently looting the place. This was a trophy for them. Leaping into the cabin, Logan-22 looked toward the tower where the Pscion Beam still hummed and flickered. As the Harvester climbed out of range, it was joined by another and then a third. The titan began to count down in his head.

The flash turned night into midday. It was one of the old relics of the Golden Age. Having the Warlock Order part with them was battle all in itself, but it would be put in good use. Shading his optics, Logan-22 allowed himself a small smile as he watched the only Cabal foothold on Earth being consumed in a spectacular conflagration of orange and red flames.

Of course, he would have to deal with bureaucracy back at the Tower. The Warlock Order would want compensation for revealing such a powerful weapon, and they would more than likely take most of the loot from the Cabal's heavy weapons field. Anything that remained would be fought over by Dead Orbit, the Future War Cult, and New Monarchy. As for him, he would be sent off to whatever new region the FWC needed him to go. Because that is what you did when you sided with one of the three factions, you put their needs before the Tower's or your own.

"I'm recieving a message from Hunter Cornelia," his ghost said.

"Put her through,"

His ghost did as it was told. Was a bit funny to hear it in another voice, besides the default snarky one, "Logan. Meet me at the Huntsman's Trophy. You're buying."

Logan-22 gave a short snort, which coming from an exo sounded like a muffle of static. "Oh, my aching wallet." This was one bet his lost.

Description
Guardians of the Tower slipped swiftly across the Cabal encampment, moving like shadows among the rocks and debris. A Titan of the Future War Cult led them toward a hastily-built defense tower, where a cluster of Cabal guns protected the Pscion Beam and the force field that protected it. Logan-23 directed half his fire-team to make for the top of the tower while he led the rest toward the generator at the structure's base.

Taking the Cabal completely off guard, the guardians blasted their way into the towers lower level. Through the smoke and chaos the Guardians pushed inside the structure, Hunter Bladedancers scything down anything that moved while Warlocks alternated between supportive shields and void bombardments. Even though none of the Cabal had any idea where their attackers came from, they knew a fight when they heard one and prepared quickly. Legionaries came crashing into the fray from every direction, drawn by the combat. The sentry Phalanx inside the tower fired their slug rifles wildly in the confined space, solid rounds blowing holes in the rusted walls or ricocheting off in random directions.

Bacchus Ter'Tor had been tinkering with the guns at the top of the tower when the first Guardian charged over the perimeter wall below, gunning down the closest cluster of Legionary with a salvo of glowing bullets and grenades that burned with the power of the sun. These must have been one of those secretive Warlocks he had heard rumors about. Growling, the Centurion manned an artillery piece of his own invention, knocking a protesting psion out of the way. With a whine and pop the big gun grabbed one of the struggling human, flinging him into the air and squashing him and his annoying buzzing robot like a bug. His weapon was going to work marvels.

No sooner had the corpse fallen than half a dozen took his place, fanning out across the lower gun deck. Under the lash of his Iron-Fist, the psions turned their guns on the humans, fallen, and exos and opened fire. The tower lit up with flashes of psychokinetic Arc blasts and booming of projection rifle. At such close range, most shots went wide, but another Guardian - a female exo - was mashed into pieces by a lucky hit of psychokinetic energy.

In the bowels of the tower, Logan-22 fought his way into the generator room, fending off wild bursts of energy and ducking mad explosive slugs. Guarding the controls was a towering Colossus, wielding heavy slug rifle. The creature seemed excited as he stomped his feet and readied the thrower. Logan-22 didn't even pause as be brought his hand cannon, obliterating the Colossus's head in a volley of void shells.

"Get your ghosts ready! Charges here, here and here! If any flayers come out, kill them!" He yelled, and the guardians swiftly set their satchel bombs; a generous present from the Future War Cult. As soon as the Guardian's ghosts had obeyed they retreated from the room. There were no Flayers, good. It would seem this house left them on Mars for the time being. A heartbeat later, the tower shuddered from a contained explosion as the explosives on the generator detonated.

With a deafening crack of energy and a vivid green flash the force field collapsed. Almost immediately the scream of engines announced the arrival of Logan-22's Sparrow reinforcements, near invisible in the darkness as they races across the land.

Still in a state of confusion, the Cabal were firing at anything that moved. Solar rounds set them a flame in the dark. Bacchus had a group of the Guardians below pinned down, psions trying to drag them into the dirt while their guns flashed and banged. Hearing the arrival of sparrows, Bacchus swung his Iron-Hand northward and peered into the dark. His heads-up display pierced the blackness, adjusting until he could clearly see the telltale glow of the human machines. Waiting until the last possible second, Bacchus fired the Iron-Hand, its gravitonic-metric beam reaching out and enveloping the crafts. The big gun bucked as the Centurion into the ground. A sudden flash of running fire marked the points where four vehicles were smashed into the ground, their burning remains tumbling end over end across the encampment. Content that the psions had the annoying creatures in check below, Bacchus lined up the Iron-Hand on the next group of Sparrow flyers.

Halfway up the tower, Logan-22 saw his first wave of Sparrows come apart in balls of fire as they hit the ground,

"Dammit," he spat, "we need those guns taken down! Cornelia, tell your hunters that if one of them kills the leader, drinks are on me!"

The Exo Titan sprinted on, leading his fire-team once more onto the gun platform. The Guardians of the Tower fought up the rickety stairs to the Cabal gunners and powerful psions up top, throwing themselves into the fray. Logan-22 saw a brutish Centurion lining up a gun on his remaining support fire-team and emptied his hand cannon's drum in the beast's direction, forcing it to dive for cover.

All around him beams of arcing energy, solid rounds and explosive shells flew filled the air. Logan-22 took cover behind a pile of broken crates. Nearby, one of his mean jerked violently as psion arch energy burned a hole right through him, while another was blown to fragments by a projection cannon. More Cabal reinforcements poured in at a steady rate.

Scanning the battle with a quick glance, Logan-22 gave the order to retreat. The surviving and revived Guardians fell back to the edge of the upper gun platform, dodging fire before leaping off into the night. In their wake the Cabal yelled what could have been insults if their retreating foes could understand them.

As he fell through the darkness, Logan-22 pulled the detonator from his belt, squeezing the trigger and setting off the satchel charge he had left leaning against the pile of ammo crates. Above and behind him the sky lit up as the gun platform vanished in a cloud of fire.

With their own hovering abilities slowing their falls at the last moment, the Guardians hastily formed up around the Exo Titan. "Primary target is open," he relayed through his ghost. "Repeat, primary target is open!"

The remaining Guardians rushed to the edge of the Cabal encampment. Behind them the aliens were banding together again into structured squads, shooting their slug guns as they advanced.

Even as Logan-22 braced himself for close combat, the closest of the squads vanished under a hail of heavy slug fire. A deafening boom came in from above, and a harvester hovered above. The creatures were confused again, but to Logan-22 and the remaining Guardians saw this a very good sign. The fire team in the north had secured the Cabal heavy weapons field, and was currently looting the place. This was a trophy for them. Leaping into the cabin, Logan-22 looked toward the tower where the Pscion Beam still hummed and flickered. As the Harvester climbed out of range, it was joined by another and then a third. The titan began to count down in his head.

The flash turned night into midday. It was one of the old relics of the Golden Age. Having the Warlock Order part with them was battle all in itself, but it would be put in good use. Shading his optics, Logan-22 allowed himself a small smile as he watched the only Cabal foothold on Earth being consumed in a spectacular conflagration of orange and red flames.

Of course, he would have to deal with bureaucracy back at the Tower. The Warlock Order would want compensation for revealing such a powerful weapon, and they would more than likely take most of the loot from the Cabal's heavy weapons field. Anything that remained would be fought over by Dead Orbit, the Future War Cult, and New Monarchy. As for him, he would be sent off to whatever new region the FWC needed him to go. Because that is what you did when you sided with one of the three factions, you put their needs before the Tower's or your own.

"I'm recieving a message from Hunter Cornelia," his ghost said.

"Put her through,"

His ghost did as it was told. Was a bit funny to hear it in another voice, besides the default snarky one, "Logan. Meet me at the Huntsman's Trophy. You're buying."

Logan-22 gave a short snort, which coming from an exo sounded like a muffle of static. "Oh, my aching wallet." This was one bet his lost.