There have been many legends in the Destiny universe. Names like Saint-14, Osiris, Kabr, Pahanin, Wei-Ning, and Toland have all graced the voice of the Tower at some point, some in happiness, others in sorrow. But what about one of the first Guardians who rose with the Travelers Light. What became of Rezyl Azzir and his legend?
Rezyl Azzir lived in the time before the City. Before the walls cast shadows over the throngs of tired refugees hungering for a new life. Before the Darkness came. He was one of the first, a Titan he would be called, strong and unbowed, a beacon of hope for all with eyes to see. Beneath the fragile mass of the Traveler, many came, many desperate and dying huddled beneath its mighty frame. From that mass of scared people, rose similar ideals, factions were created and their ranks swelled, as did their power.
Standing with the factions were the Risen, the first ones blessed with the Traveler’s Light, not yet Guardians but not far from. Some of the Risen began to question the conflict in the factions and their place in it, asking why they manufactured oppression and hate, instead of peace and prosperity. Thus began a war, a war of pettiness and greed, between these great and powerful warriors, Light against Light. While the Risen battled themselves, so the scavengers came, the first Fallen crews, hungry for salvage and salvation.
In the end, they were repelled by what was now the Guardians, powerful warriors protecting the people under the Traveler’s silent but watchful eye. Rezyl had been key in the wars against the Fallen, an unbroken beacon of Light, a reason to finally hope. Walls began to frame the sky and a city began to form, The City. More refugees gathered and hope swelled in the hearts of the Guardians and those they protected. Day in and day out, they built and fought. However, Rezyl grew tired, weary with the fight. Even though he was one of the first, how long could the Guardians last against a Darkness so profound? His thoughts became heavy and the moon was his focus, every time the sun dipped below the horizon.
The war never ended there. The Fallen were strong, even against the likes of the Guardians. Tescan Valley, the Ambush of Eksori and Defence of the North Channel. Notable battles and conflicts against the Fallen but irrelevant to Rezyl. His mind focused on the inevitable battles to come, the hopelessness of his fight.
Eventually he grew tired of the small victories, the small skirmishes won on the ground, in the name of the Traveler and in the name of the pilgrims themselves. Eventually he found himself on the Moon. In a place he should not be, in a place where everything was still, waiting for the crackle of the very surface. Rezyl had come to Luna in the search of nightmares, stories he wished were untrue. The end of a long journey where he found a hard realisation and a new life. He stood beneath the massive door, covered in arcane runes. The door began to open, a grinding boom ending with a hole in the rock, occupied by an ethereal figure, floating just above the ground.
The bone that formed her armour chittered together and she floated back into the inky abyss. The Titan followed. Not that Rezyl wanted to, he desperately wanted to turn back. Why didn’t he? A heroes pride? The need to know more? Aimlessly he wandered deep within the confines of this alien hell, hope fading with each echoing footfall. Until by the light of his rifle, he found her. The figure of a woman, whose laughter brought to light all the pain he had felt, all the tortuous moments and silent agony he had suffered through. Xyor the Blessed tormented him, whispering hateful words in his ear, songs and prophecies about the day his Light would wink out and how his suffering had not yet begun.
Suddenly Xyor fell silent, replaced by a thunderous cocoon of footfalls that enveloped the very dark. The nightmare had become a reality. They were here. He had woken the Hive. And they were coming for him. As his rifle, simply named Inferno, put down horror after rushing horror, he settled into a comfortable rhythm, a rhythm that made the chaos of the onslaught almost calming. Even when the rifle ran dry, Rezyl never missed a beat, using his hulking strength and the body of the Inferno as a club….until even that was torn away. Still the nightmare surged before him, so the mighty Titan summoned his Rose.
The Rose, his trusted hand cannon, whose comforting boom sounded the death toll for another chittering thing, made of bone and decay. Even when the Knight came for him, wielding his black magic, and mighty blade, the Rose did not falter. It carried him out of the Dark, once again into the Light on the surface of Luna. Rezyl had told his story to his Ghost countless times, but the last time he told it, he removed a fragment of bone from his pouch. A memento of what had occurred in the pit. A keepsake of the nightmare he had endured. As his words spilled out from beneath his mighty helm, he began to graft the bone onto his weapon, his Rose.
He was unprepared when the first whispers came, carving Darkness and shadow into a mind where there should only have been Light. When the whispers had stopped, Rezyl Azzir the Titan who stood alone was no more. In his place stood the only descendant of the name Yor. And in that mans hand, no more was there a Rose, instead showing only a Thorn.