Trials of Glass

Interlude- Seraphim Square, Old Morocco

"Step right up! Step right up!"

     The plump ringleader waved his baton in the air. Tassels of gold trim waved on each end. "Oddities the human mind can not comprehend! The four-armed Beast of Borneo!" The ringleader pointed his baton at a roaring creature in a cage, dressed in leopard-skin rags, who spat out a series of savage growls and foreign curses. A muscled Awoken whipped the creature, letting drops of shimmering silver blood drip to the metal cage floor.

Al'Azar Stayin, the Hunter, sat facing the show in an open-air tavern. He'd been to hell and back. He knew what these "oddities" were. They were aliens, no less. Ones he tangled with on a daily basis. These circus buffoons probably had no idea what the Darkness exactly was. The "Beast of Borneo" was a Fallen Vandal.

     And damn, was it hot here. He'd been "raised" in snowy Old Russia, after all.

     But his darker skin, common with locals around here, had made him wonder, sometimes, about his past life, what had happened before he... died? It never seemed like the right way to put it. Dying was dying. You can't return from death, after all. But he thought every so often that Old Morocco was somewhat familiar; sometimes odd memories showed up in his head- a great white cat laying down in a tent was common, and he recalled a group of armored men brandishing weapons charging down a sand dune sometimes.  They felt so real and unreal at the same time. But for now Al'Azar was not worried about his past, just whether or not he would have to interfere to save the ringleader.

"The wild Zombies of the Congo!" were three declawed Thralls restrained by chains. Al'Azar actually felt a tad sorry for the Hive minions. Spawn of Crota aside, these aliens deserved to die honorably, not in a cage. Things made to fight should die in a fight. Still, it felt good to know something the public didn't. Makes you feel important (which Al'Azar was, in a way).

Old Morocco was a small settlement in the northwest-most region in Africa, where about a few hundred people coexisted in the remnants of a small former farming town. If you walked down the street very so often you'd find a broken, empty husk of former high-tech farming equipment, its outer shell all that had not been scavenged for parts during the Dark Ages- but, although grim reminders of the world's current state and the Collapse were scattered all over the town, it actually had a thriving, vibrant feel. Numerous market squares dotted the town, and when Al'Azar and his team entered the gates, a small group of traders walked in alongside them, bringing supplies from who-knows-where to trade with the locals. Reminded him that society was, more or less, the same as how he'd read it was long before the Golden Age, back when civilization was new and small settlements sprung up across fertile desert valleys. The stage and actors were different, but the production was the same: survival.

The Guardian turned back down to his rifle, leaning against the table. It was a modified Häkke assault rifle, fit with a long-range holographic scope and extended barrel and stock- a marksman's weapon. A row of hastily drawn, chalk-white tally marks lined the weapon's body. Probably in better shape than anything the citizens here had seen. He picked it up and removed the magazine, doing an unnecessary inspection of the rounds inside just because he was getting slightly bored.

"Yo, Al," said a gruff male voice from across the table. Al'Azar turned to see Mick-5, his Warlock friend, pointing towards his gun. "What's up with the gun?"

"Oh, nothing. Just passin' the time 'till Noell gets back with the drinks." The warlock nodded. Numerous dents, scratches, and tears pockmarked the muted yellow faceplate of his Exo head, which served as armor over his glowing teal receptors. On the table in front of him laid his helmet- a custom-made Warlock helmet made from skull bones of some beast; it contrasted his deep red robes greatly.

A female Titan, balancing a tray of drinks, stumbled over to Al'Azar's table and sat down next to him. Her armor plates were red with black under armor, and a long white Titan's mark lined with symbols hung from her belt.

"Al, here's your Talcum ale," said the Titan, handing Al'Azar a mug filled to the brim in foaming, purple liquid. The Titan herself pulled a bottle of deep brown liquid towards herself and started to drink. Her hair was brown; normally she put it up in a bun for efficiency, but due to the casual nature of this mid-morning round of drinks she let it down, where it came to a little below her shoulders. Al'Azar had always thought she was beautiful. No doubt he was the only one who was. Besides the fact their team was usually alone, Mick was programmed for strategy and tactical combat, not charisma. Whenever Al'Azar brought up his attraction to her Mick let out a mechanical grunt and told him to ask him again later.

"So, Al," said the Titan, "What's the ringmaster doing now?"

"Looks like he's 'wrestling' a Vex Harpy," Al said. They turned to see the ringleader shuffling backwards away from a screeching, brightly-painted Harpy waving its tentacles in the air. Al'Azar turned back to the Titan, his mouth turned into a curious frown.

"So, Noell," said the Hunter, "You heard about that fireteam that got lost on Venus?"

"Yeah, I did," replied Noell back.

"What do you think happened?"

"Could be Vex; I think Fallen involvement makes much more sense." Al'Azar nodded.

"You're right. Hey, Noell,"

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking pretty deeply about what's... coming. After we die for the last time, probably like what happened to those guys on Venus. You know, when we can't be revived by our Ghosts. What happens then? Will we be reborn a second time, hundreds of years from now? I know, sorry, it's kind of pointless. Sometimes I lose sleep over those thoughts."

     "What?" asked Mick.

"That was interesting," replied Noell, running her finger around the rim of her glass. "Interesting prospect indeed, Al. Never really thought about it. Hey, I-" A sudden blinding flash of light burst from the courtyard. The Guardians turned to see the ringleader lying on the ground, sobbing, as the wrecked shell of a Fallen Servitor lay on the ground next to him.

"Good Lord," muttered Al'Azar under his breath as he got up from the table and picked up his rifle. "Be back in a sec. I think this guy needs... help."

"Read you loud and clear," said Noell.

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Hey everyone! I can't believe we've hit 75 views already! Remember to vote, and make sure to add Trials of Glass to your library- more chapters are coming soon, I promise!

And, as some people will notice, the image is some concept art from Halo 5. I just figured, hey, it looks good for the chapter.

Btw, I have a new Destiny story coming out soon. Some characters from Trials of Glass will be in it. It'll be called Reborn and will be pretty neat.

Peace out,
Will