Based on the lost ARC Troopers idea that a few mates and I came up with and have been roleplaying as. [spoiler]He claimed to have come from far away, further than ever recorded. His craft, dialect and make up were abnormalities. He, and his people, all the same, but all different. We did not revive them like we normally would have, no. We found them carving a place into a world they didn't belong in, and we could sense their propensity for good. He led them, through it all. They stood as Hunters, but claimed to be Arcs. Even if we didn't always understand their motives or phrases, we Ghosts all understood they were family, brother through it all, and soon we too became as such. We all formed bonds, and even if through it all, we lost brothers, there was an honour in him, in all of them. Be it ARC or Ghost, they refused to leave any behind, always coming back to bring them 'home'. I never understood that. Bringing the dead or lost home. Their information, yes, but why the bodies? Why did it matter. I suppose it was the last lesson he taught me when the ceiling began to collapse. Why I too am leaving this final message, hoping that some day someone will find me, and take me from this shadowed place and instead to a final resting place filled with light, and the kinships of the people. You see, we heard of a monster of the Hive, looking to rise to power like so many others after the fall of the King. The Vanguards deemed it too dangerous to intervene, claiming that they were deeper in the moon than even Crota. It wasn't until an attack on our city that actions were taken. For defence. The ARCs seemed disgusted, and they said they would not stand for it. They suited up and prepared to fly to the moon. But not before telling us, every single one of us Ghosts, that we were not required to come. That we could stay, safe and secure. I suppose we learned too much from them, because not a single one of us parted. We delved deep into the dark, our Guardians, Hunters, ARCs, delving deeper and deeper, losses minimal, kills, exceedingly high, making headway into the pits that the would-be king had made his home. They charged in and made the most amazing of performances, but then the would-be king played a trump card, attempting to collapse the cavern and trap us all down here, where our light would wither. Mine refused the would-be king's attempts. Even as he called a retreat for his men, he charged forth, unloading his scout rifle, then his pistol, then unsheathing his sword as he charged. He told me to run, flee with his men, and I started to, but I couldn't. Not without him. We were brothers after all. Returning to the Commander, I remained by his side doing everything in my power to assist him. That was when I was struck, smashed against a wall. I suppose it should have been terrifying. But looking at the scene, of a fatally wounded Alpha Seven plunging his knife deep into the skull of the would be king, and both toppling into the abyss, I realised that I had one more task before I let myself fade. As hordes of unspeakable monsters came out from the walls, seeking retribution for their lost leader, I so too sought retribution... for a lost friend. I have brought down these walls, ARCs, and sealed myself in the dark to safeguard your retreat. I pray one day you return for us. It will be an honour when you do. [/spoiler]