Post-M6 Covenant Intermission: The Warded Sect

[Faclan]

SSA - Yanme'e Swarm (Survivors)
Questions, study, protection.

(Saving the Ultra for if something else happens, so she will continue to drink that sweet plant nectar.)

(Labus)
Perched atop the Sangheili the male soldier spent the time walking watching those who walked past, clawed hand resting on his holstered pistol like he was some type of personal turret, just waiting for a target. He didn't take much notice of the other Sect members as they muttered to others or themselves - they could wallow in their despair and get over it in their own time as he and his comrades had on the ship over. But a white head made him look ahead as his perch kept moving forward...to walk right into the white mask.

Wheeling his arms a little and gripping the shoulder armor with his talons tightly to keep from falling off the Soldier hissed at the white mask as it turned back to mutter...something to the Sangheili he was on top of. It was all very odd and he had never seen a mask like that being worn before. But it seemed to mean somthing to the one he was with and once he had quickly walked away he crouched down and decided to try and ask.

"Mask, white, new. What mean?" He attempted to ask in Sangheili...if only the Attaché was here.

(Drinker)
By this point the drink had been completely left empty as the female engineer and Attaché went into full record mode as she pulled out her pad and started to take notes. The apes around her would probably think it weird what she was doing, still standing on the wooden table tapping things out on the data-pad - were they not all busy watching the drinks be brought over and still betting on who would win. Her drink was soon finished off for her by one of the watchers, the ape making some lewd comment about bits in the brew but it was drowned out by the cheers as the contest was about to start, very interesting.

(Flyer/with security)
Hopping around the crime scene, if one could call it that, the Yanme'e soldier prodded around the ground for any kind of clue. As she had suspected there had been at least more than one. As there was more than enough Sangheili blood for more than just the ultra and one combatant. So the aggressors had taken away their dead and wounded before they themselves fled the scene. Hissing in annoyance she looked around once more for any kind of clue besides what she had seen and one more came up with nothing. The Sangheili who ganged up on the ultra were clearly intelligent and well trained to leave so little after a bloodbath. But then she spotted the Sangheili who she had finally brought over was leaving - probably to be assaulted on the way like the fool he was. But even if he wasn't about to be butchered there had still been a murder in this holy city. And even if she herself wasn't much of a believer the close proximity to a nest made it her problem as well as the Sangheili.

So she removed her pistol and hopped skipped her way to be beside the ultra as she tried once more to communicate in his language to him, but it wasn't the most clear thing ever.

"Attacker, robe, black, danger city. Danger nest. We find, we kill!"


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
Glad he doesn't have that drink.

Watching through his quickly muddying vision, as he had started to loose the feeling in his beak so he was able to quaff the brew faster, Cad was down to a fourth left in his large mug. It was fairly evident that he wouldn't be doing much else if he managed to finish and the alcohol had time to swirl around his system. Luckily he was now being held upright by the Jiralhanae crowding around the table as their hoots and cheers started to quiet down as the drinks were brought over. The decent sized mugs, two per drinker to start, bubbled and simmer as steam rose above them. The now three barmaids, as the rest of the house had moved over to watch the competition, setting them down before the family as they waited for one to be drunk before leaving to get another. Cheeping quietly he looked over at Garatus and nodded.

"Y..yew got t'is Bro." He managed to squeak out before taking another gulp, nearly finished by now.


Eugine - Jiralhanae Advisor
Preparing for victory.

Guffawing at the youngins drink Eugine shook his head a little as they were brought over. The boy really didn't know what he was getting himself into here. Ah well, he would be out soon and would be able to be awake in time for the ceremony...ceremony. Snapping the fingers in his good hand he ahhhed as the drinks were set in front of him.

"Umm, going to be hard to crown you Chieftain when hung-over...But it'll have to do!" He finished with a raised voice as the crowd that had bet on the elder cheered him as Eugine flexed his good hand and took hold of one of the mugs in front of him and nodded at the two younger piles of fur, a big grin on his face.

"So, boys, is this a speed challenge or endurance?"

[Huka]

The Tavern

“Perhaps both.” A deep voice replied to Eugine’s question, eyes started to drift for the entrance. There blocking the way was a half-dozen Jiralhanae well-shaven and dressed in nothing but armor and ragged cloaks like rogue warriors of old, with no home but the road they allowed themselves to travel. Faces hidden under the blood-crusted pelts of Doisac animals and their belts lined with the cracked and mangled skulls of all sorts of victims, from humans to Sangheili...even a few Jiralhanae here and there. One had to look closely to see the bone-white paints piercing through the shadows of their hoods, at best their pronounced chins. Their scent didn't give anything natural off, as if their own pheromone glands were removed and replaced with something more 'artificial' that gave a pale shiver to most's spine and knotted sickness to the stomach.

The frontmost-the more stocked and broad-slowly stepped forward with soft thumps of his feet, the soft billow of his cloak revealed the appearance of twin Maulers. His hooded head looked at each and every Jiralhanae involved into the room while his fellows slowly fanned out. All stoic and almost unnatural in their movements.

Then the ‘leader’ looked to Eugine, slowly drifting to the Kig-yar in amusement and sniffed a couple times before spying at Garatus, something dark rimmed in his barely-visible eyes. “It is fine night, isn’t it?” He asked, slow and purposeful.

[Remnant]

Karonus - Jiralhanae Minor
Waiting for the game to start

"I'd rather an Endurance Challenge, as they are more...'fun', per se." Karonus spoke, with a grin. "And it is indeed a fine night, good sir." Karonus said towards the 'leader'. Though, Karonus was more focused on Eugine and Garatus. He was hoping that the game would start soon. For Karonus wanted the many pouches of Gekz on the table.

[Huka]

High Charity; Prison Sector of the High Quarters 

Elsewhere, in one of the more secure cell blocks, a couple Honor Guards walked in unison towards a hall. “The Prophets demand the attendance of the prisoner.” One of them said with controlled voice. One of the standing sentries questioned after a moment’s glance to the other, “Why haven’t we been notified on this development?” “Do you question the demand of the Prophets?” The newcomer continued.



“No, but we follow the order of command from the Prophet of-” The other answered before twin blades swiped on both of their necks with a flick of the newcomers’ wrists. The sentries twitched and collapsed with their helmed heads thunking on the floor before the ‘escorts’ stepped through the door, where a single Honor Guard stood on the other side.



The first speaker moved like a snake, snapping his energy pike into the javelin stance before sending the weapon hurling like a lightning bolt and through the jerking sangheili. He had the credit of gurgling out, slowly falling on his knees and slump near the alarm. They slowly walked towards the sole prisoner in this room; Sorsa. The veteran Special Operative sat in a corner and head bowed as if resting. When the cell opened, so did his eyes. The azure slits narrowed dangerously in their crimson pools as he looked at the slowly assassins, a soft growl bubbling in his broad chest as the hint of a dart-tip poked between his teeth, mandible fangs holding onto the hidden dart like a pair of launchers and Muram throwing knives sliding from their hiding places into his downward palms.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain to be Garatus
Wary and ready

Garatus turned his head as a strange voice spoke in response to Eugenius's question to his two nephews, Garatus eyed the newcomers warily. They wore ragged cloaks and pelts of beasts of Doisac with blood still crusted to them, they were well shaven and looked to be wanderers. There were round about half a dozen of these trophy takers, having skulls hanging from their belts from many sapient species including those of the Jiralhanae. Garatus's hand fell to his combat knife casually(faked as though he was scratching his leg) as he noticed the skulls of their own species on these wild wanderers, he knew of some seclusive Clans of cannibals on Doisac and couldn't help but wonder if these were some of them.

They gave off no noticeable scent which made Garatus more suspicious than he was already, it wasn't helping that he couldn't get a good look at their faces. They slowly fanned out around the ale-house, their 'Leader' stepping closer and looking at everyone from under his hood and as he moved a pair of Maulers became visible on his belt. This apparent 'Leader' looked at Eugenius and then with slight amusement at Cad which caused Garatus's grip on his blades handle to tighten. Then he seemed to focus slightly on Garatus, Garatus could just then barely glimpse this wanderers eyes and was unsettled by something in them, before this 'Leader' spoke.

“It is fine night, isn’t it?” the wanderer Leader said with a disturbingly slow purposefulness.

"And it is indeed a fine night, good sir." Karonus said to the Leader.

"It is at that" Garatus said staring at the Leader, his voice also slow but as smooth and cold as ice,"Endurance sounds like the better choice to me as well" Garatus said to Eugenius and Karonus, not taking his gaze from the cloaked Jiralhanae. His blade ever so slowly and silently slipped from its sheath to rest on his lap in a tightened fist.

[Faclan]

SSA - Yanme'e Swarm (Survivors)
Clicky and anxious.

(Drinker)
Its always just before the fun is about to start that something comes up to ruin it...maybe? This new group was completely unknown to the Yanme'e, still perched on the table. But the humm of voices behind her and around the table had all stopped when this group entered. A small swarm themselves as they seemed to be spreading out, still in front of the exit door. If they were just here to discuss or join in the competition they were being very aggressive about it. But then again this could just be somthing in the Jiralhanae culture, perhaps a kind of challenge for the silver one and his family members? The quiet tic-taking in the bugs data pad soon the only other noise beside shifting as she recorded this, but did unfasten the holster on her pistol discreetly before writing, everyone else seemed to be doing it so far.


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
Hopefully not to far gone.

As the tense quiet settled over the bar Cad thumped his now empty mug down and nodded, cheeping happily as he swayed a bit and burped quietly. Slowly turning his beak toward Eugine as he nyah-ed quietly and tapped the drink. "S...shews ye...I...I done did drink!" It was pretty obvious that he would be on the floor if he wasn't being pressed against the table from the apes behind him as he burped again, looking like a right fool as he blinked a few times, bright eyes a bit dimmer, and finally looked over at the new people. Tilting his head at them he squinted some then shrugged as he returned his vision to the table, seeing that other people had shown or taken out weapons he pulled out his small crystal knife and nodded at it before letting it clatter to the wooden table top. Burping again he nodded at Garatus and made a arm flail in the direction of the new comers.

"Whhhew yer friinds?"

( :> )

Eugine - Jiralhanae Advisor
Trying to rouse the mob.

His jovial mood was quickly shoved aside as Euigne carefully watched these new youngin's enter the ale house. It was clear they were not here for drinking or they wouldn't have come with all that concealing clothing, and he had never seen them in the sect and so had no reason to trust them. Their attire also concerned him, as when he was still a historian on Doisac he had looked over many old scrolls and wood cut recordings of the older clans that had become nomadic in recent times. These ones fit that bill...but it was never good to jump to assumptions and start firing, that wouldn't look good in a Holy Place like this and they could always just be dumb kids thinking they are tough - Eugine recorded loads of them too.

But it didn't take an strategically genius to see that they were fanning out into an aggressive attack position, the new arrivals were very much out numbered here but the majority of the patrons of the bar had no weapons besides the chairs, tables, bottles, and tankards around them. Which would serve the purpose for sure but it was a risky gambit. And they would only join in the brawl against these new ones if given reason too...Eugine would have to play this carefully if he wanted to be sure it wasn't just himself, Garatus, and Karonus against six of them.

Thankfully his expression of confusion was likely expected for the dithering elder as Eugine decided upon a plan, and prayed to the Nature Gods of Doisac and the Covenant ones too that his nephews would catch on to what he was doing. Swapping out his confusion for an expression of smiles Eugine spread his arms out and then gestured to the table the current party was seated at.

"It is indeed a fine and bracing night Youngin', one to spend drinking with your countrymen to get the warmth back in your hide. Come and join us, first round is on me!" He said, keeping his tone happy and light, hoping, HOPING, that these would decline it but still be standing in the house - a large insult to Eugine's honor and the honor of this house if free drinks weren't good enough for these ones. Hopefully it would get the occupants that were hoping for a good competition before it was interrupted, another social faux pas, willing to crack some skulls if they declined...

(Hopefully in line with ape etiquette and a nice plan D: .)

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Prison Sector, High Charity
Getting back in the game

Having heard the confrontation outside his cell, Sorsa barely had enough time to slide the throwing knives and dart out of the concealed pouches in his jumpsuit. Mandibles holding the dart while one throwing knife was in each hand, he slowly rose along with the bars of the cell as they slid up into the ceiling. The room was larger than normal and fit for only one to three captives, but it otherwise was the same as standard cells, which meant the floor of the cell was lower down than the rest of the room, and twin sliding doors led from the outside section down into the room.

One of the two false Honor Guards stepped towards the cell, energy stave in hand. The one lurking farther back had already used his to impale the single guard standing outside the cell, but still had at least a plasma rifle holstered on his thigh.

Sorsa quickly whipped his left throwing knife at the assailant in back, which slammed into his calf and knocked his leg out from under him. His shields flared from the hit but the knife had otherwise done no damage.

The lead enemy lowered his stave and charged, and by that point Sorsa had spat the dart into his free hand's waiting grasp. He caught it in a reverse grip and used it to parry the jabbing stave to the side, slid it down the shaft, and neatly cut through the shields and took off the false guard's upper finger. When the other Sangheili jerked back in pain, he stepped up and jammed the dart into his shoulder--non-lethally--then grabbed him and threw him father into the cell and at the back wall, right hand's lower thumb still holding onto the second throwing knife.

He used the momentum of the throw to continue going at the now prone enemy, then planted his left hoof on the wall and pushed off and into the air. Sorsa came down next to the (what he figured to be) assassin and punched him in the side of the head so hard the man actually bounced off the floor about a foot, helmet tumbling away. That actually worked out nicely for the Field Master, who brought his hoof up and kicked the assassin in the face so the back of his head hit the wall.

By then, the second assassin had pushed himself back up and drawn his plasma rifle in one hand, an as-yet unactivated energy sword hilt in the other. Sorsa tugged the dart out of the downed assassin's body and threw the second knife, which lodged itself into the top of the plasma rifle and knocked it out of his enemy's hand, then launched the dart at the man's sword arm, forcing it back as the twin blades of plasma hissed to life.

The Operator rushed at the staggered assassin and tackled him, hand wrapping around the forearm of the limb holding the sword. The energy weapon deactivated and clattered away when they hit the ground, rolled forward once, and ended with Sorsa looming over the assassin. He got in two strong blows to the head before the assassin managed to kick him back.

While the assassin scrambled for his sword hilt, Sorsa was close to the Honor Guard with the stave imbedded in his chest. He grabbed the polearm by the shaft and swung it up and over, essentially sending the Honor Guard's body flying at the assassin, who stumbled back a couple meters before pushing the corpse off.

The assassin did so just in time to turn his energy sword on again and slice the head off of Sorsa's stabbing stave. Undeterred, Sorsa spun around and whacked the assassin in the ribs and leg with the stave (which now resembled more of a quarterstaff). The assassin roared and lunged, attempting to impale Sorsa with the sword. In an unexpected move, Sorsa sprang directly up over the assassin's head. He twisted mid-air and hit the assassin's sword hand with the stave, breaking it and knocking the weapon away again, then landed right on his enemy's back.

One hoof landed on the assassin's ankle, while the other was planted on the small of his back. With the entire weight of Sorsa descending onto him, the assassin could do little but squawk and slam into the floor. Stunned by the attack, he didn't realize until too late that Sorsa rapidly took his energy dagger projectors off the back of his hands and tossed them aside. Therefore, he was completely helpless when the cold metal shaft of the energy stave swiftly and suddenly lowered before his face and jerked back, choking him.

The assassin clawed and tried to stab Sorsa with non-existent energy daggers for several seconds, but with the Field Master's skill and strength, the assassin was rendered unconscious in short order.

Sorsa retrieved energy sword lying on the floor and activated it, then stalked towards the cell and the first assassin inside. It turned out to be very fortunate he had the sword, for a flurry of bolts shot at him from the assassin's plasma pistol. Sorsa either dodged or blocked them all with the stolen sword, plasma crackling as it collided with plasma.

Panting heavily, blood streaming down the side of his face and left hand , the assassin kept his pistol trained at Sorsa while he thought rapidly. Sorsa himself stood just outside of the cell, content to continue blocking and dodging until the assassin's pistol was depleted. Of course, the assassin wouldn't just keep on shooting, as evidenced by his free hand reaching back to his waist. He fired more bolts in hopes of keeping Sorsa distracted, which failed miserably.

The Field Master dashed to the side, spun around and went low, and flung the sword at the assassin before rolling past the opening of the cell and into cover. The other Sangheili couldn't move fast enough, and screamed in agony as the energy sword cleaved through his leg. Sorsa had taken the second assassin's plasma rifle and pulled the knife out of it by then, and popped out of cover to shoot at the assassin's plasma pistol, melting it to the floor along with two of his fingers.

A plasma grenade--what the assassin had reached for behind his back--rolled away. Sorsa pounced, took up the grenade, and jammed it into the assassin's mouth, one finger and thumb still holding onto it.

“Twitch, and I activate it,” Sorsa growled. The assassin's mandibles flexed slightly as he grunted, but he otherwise remained still despite the loss of his leg and a few fingers. “Good.”

With that, Sorsa pulled the grenade out of his mouth and headbutted the assassin, then spun him around and put him into a sleeper hold. A few moments later, free hand holding his one functional energy dagger into the air, he dropped the unconscious assassin to the floor. Now having nothing but time on his hands now, Sorsa stripped the two assassins and bound them with some spare energy cuffs.

When the first assassin came to, the first thing he saw was the scarred face and glaring eyes of Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai.

“I suggest you talk, assassin,” A knife appeared before his eyes. “Things will go much smoother if you cooperate. If not, I'm sure you're already at least knowledgeable of my methods...”

[Huka]

The Jiralhanae Tavern
City of Standing Grace, Indomitable Sentinel

The leader of these unknown nomad kept his eyes upon Garatus for the briefest of moments until return attention on the old man...Eugine, if he recall from the Others' reports and made sure to keep a good distance from that punishing staff. His wide nose flared in a deep sniff and letting out a humorless chuckle from his mouth of blood-rotted fangs and black gums, “I would love first round...” He said, giving a incredible friend-like tone to it that made the air flex in confusion before it was all sucked away, tilting his head back enough to make the light catch the gleam of his red scelera. “A good tankard of fine Kyaskik mead, honeyed of export Kig-yar honey...and a pint of heretical blood will do just nice.”

Ironically, he wasn't the one to make the first move as one would expect. It was a pair of his comrades to blast unfortunate bystanders of bouncer and tavern-keeper with their own maulers, crippling those that made an aggressive move to the knees and limbs with their fellows drawing spikers, blades and vicious blunt weapons in either hands.

Yet, the area triangulated by the pack leader, Garatus and Eugine remained untouched while the air grew more aggressive and blood-pumping from the released pheromones of the patrons. The leader rolled his shoulders back to let his weapons out in full exposure and crackled his fingers with a flex, “And I have a tavern full of 'em.”

With that said, he suddenly drawn one mauler and made a deadly fire at Garatus, signaling for the others to make for a all-out brawl. Compared to the military-trained sect soldiers, the assassins fought with the brutish barbarism born to them and fighting styles of incredibly quick attacks with their blades and maces that aimed to maim more than to kill outright. Sadism dripped from their assaults as the cries and angered roars of the patrons outside of the sect filled the air with the war-cries of fighters.

(Let's show how Garatus and his tribe-as well as friends-handle Jiralhanae assassins, give Yappa's a good show of Jiralhanae inter-clan aggression!)


Higher Prison of High Charity

The assassin, exposed to be abit aged but not quite as so as Sorsa, opened his wary eyes at the Field Master. Thick blood dripped from his spreading tusked mandibles and eyes gleaming under the cell's light, a full-blooded Muram from his shorter stature to his prominent jagged scales running along his head and neck yet from the fact he still had his tongue, he wasn't of the more 'sacred' Disciples of Hassi.

“We know who you are...” He answered simply before chuckling morbidly, flexing his remaining fingers. “You are more skilled than He said.”

When the obvious question came to the other's mind, the assassin cleared his throat with a odd sound, seeing no real reason to deny the victory his spoils, “You know him...a fanatic amongst fanatics...harness gilded as our precious triplet stars...he who speak the words of fiery passions and demands that even surpass the once-powerful Reticent Lance. His words reach our ears and demand your death for the Great Journey and a good exploit to leave the Helian Desert from the fanatics' mad paranoia.” Purposely speaking in riddle, he cackled to himself before giving a name.

***

(Around the same time of battle and interrogation)

Council Chamber

“Very well, Field Master.” Truth said after the restoration of the recessed trial, “You have persuaded the Council to keep the lives of you and your fellow Zealots...but your sect require more...it require the passions and righteous powers of the Covenant once more before its sad fall.”

Til bowed his head some in a nod, “I agree, Sire.”

A ghost of a smirk appeared on the Hierarch's face, “I am glad you do. A simple sect isn't enough to herald the demands of the Covenant anymore. More is needed, assets to augment its power and a real Fleet to command space as much as the ground.”

Hope brimmed up into the Sangheili's eyes, lifting it up enough to see the triumvirate again while the Council around them was eerily silent and watchful in boiling judgment, before Regret made a floating forward, “Since your previous commander have been temporarily incapacitated by the traitorous Jiralhanae...” He said with noticeable emphasis and glance at his fellows, then pointed a finger at Til with a certain smile that was both proud and devious in one, “We've agreed to gift you with the rank of Field Marshal.”

The Field Master...or rather, Field Marshal unconsciously took a full step back that was halted by a nearby Honor Guard and eyes were wide in a mix of awe and horror. Never in all of his life time would he think to be the practical antithesis of the common Muram place in the Sangheili military; a forward master of all ground operations. Then again, he crossed that path before long time ago as General. However, the horror came crashing  like a gravity well when it gave Til the victimizing spot as a representative of the Covenant military, his clan's competence and worse of all, an avatar of the Prophets' vicious might. He was deeper into the Covenant political webs now and it strangled his throat like a energy garrote.

It took a full rook to gain composure before stepping back fully onto the platform.

A single swallow that sounded more louder to him than the water falls of the mountain and voice crackled once to speak before returning proper.

Truth speak with a false look of concern, “Are you prepared to handle such responsibility?” Til took quick account to that and knew immediately to say anything else was a trap, “Yes, Generous Hierarches. I will not fail my Lords and fellow marchers to the Great Journey at the cost of my life and honor.” He said with a firm commander's voice, refusing to break sight from the three.

“Good...you do your sect's name proudly as its commanding officer.” The foremost of the Prophets said. That reminded Til...

“What of my sect now, Holy Ones?”

“Pardon?”

“Are my soldiers being treated proper and respectfully, due to their perceived failings being unjust?” The Muram Field Marshal asked.

“They should...but if they aren't, we will make personal concern that the aggressors are taken care of.” Truth said with a seemingly-genuine wording but something in his voice make Til question for the briefest of moments, keeping it to himself naturally.

“Very well, if you have further objections...” Truth said, looking at Til with a slightly stern look but the Sangheili didn't have anything else to say, before continuing, “The Reticent Lance is here by disbanded on accords of their recent failure to recover their assigned artifact; Field Marshal R'ha Ze'ta Je'at 'Katolai will be kept here for recovery till he is active again to serve the Council as a fellow councilor and officer of internal defenses. Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai will serve as the Council's personal...operative and you...Field Marshal Til Ze'ta Je'at 'Murami serve as our sword to the Humans, you will serve us with the Bondage of Sacrificial Honor branded onto your flesh until death and if you fail, you and all of your Sect will be sacrificed without trial as demand of the Council and its represented Covenant. This trial is hereby over.”

“Inquisitors...please take our new Field Marshal to the Weapons Master for proper fitting.” The Prophet of Regret instructed with a smug look on his face to this personal victory, to whom Til might never know before he was grabbed by a pair of his escorts and taken for the door, seeing a few unsatisfied faces amongst the council on either side, including a familiar face...one that gave Til a bad taste since the crash on the uncharted insect-dominated world. One in gilded armor and eyes poised like vipers; Battle Priest Yinji Ra'ha 'Torai.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhane Captain(soon to be Chieftain) Garatus
He knew it was going to happen....

Garatus was disgusted by the rotted teeth of this nomad, no true Jiralhanae would allow their fangs be in such disrepair,“I would love first round...” He said, Garatus saw the nomad leaders eyes catch the light for a brief moment, they were intensely red and displeasing to be looked at by,“A good tankard of fine Kyaskik mead, honeyed of export Kig-yar honey...and a pint of heretical blood will do just nice.”

Very suddenly some of the other rogues pulled their weapons, maiming a bouncer and the tavern keeper while threatening the patrons to prevent them from helping. The leader rolled his shoulders full exposing his weapons and cracking his knuckles with a flex of his fingers before saying “And I have a tavern full of 'em.” with that the vile nomadic leader viciously fired his Mauler at Garatus.

Garatus was grazed in the shoulder as he moved suddenly, yelling "flee Yanme'e!" and ripping the table from the floor and sending it hurtling towards the nomad leader as blood leaked down his right arm from his shoulder. Garatus took these precious seconds to toss poor drunken Cad behind the counter of the bar, before drawing his Spiker rifle coupled with his combat knife. One of the closer wanderers charged him with fast slashes of his blade, cutting Garatus across the chest before making a bad lunge. Garatus wrapped his own arm around the nomads and pulled its head under his arm before tightening his arms lock, sliding his combat knife into the nomads ribcage and up through the lungs into the heart. Garatus let the body drop as he raised his Spiker with his blade readied and prepared to defend himself and his kinsmen.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Prison Sector, High Charity
Taking drastic steps

“A smartass assassin who speaks in riddles...wonderful.” Sorsa turned to look at the second Hassisian. “Do you have anything to add?”

The man grunted and growled, evidently still upset about losing fingers and a leg.

“Alright then.” The Field Master rose and inspected the Hassisians' Honor Guard armor, and nodded after a few moments. “Big enough.”

Next, he gathered all the plasma grenades in the room, from the assassins and the dead Honor Guard, which totaled five. After that, he grabbed the Hassisian who didn't have any parts of his body missing and broke his neck with the damaged energy stave. Upon removing the energy bonds, he worked on redressing the assassin in his stolen Honor Guard armor, then Sorsa donned the other assassin's armor; luckily, it was large enough to fit him--albeit a bit tightly-- and the energy sword hadn't damaged the actual armor plating itself.

The Hassisian who was still alive grimaced as Sorsa approached, and struggled futilely when put into a choke hold again. This time, Sorsa kept squeezing until the assassin was very much dead. Once the bonds were removed from that assassin, he set the plasma grenades to maximum yield with a timer of about twenty seconds each. He waited to activate them until he'd gathered up some weapons and such to fit the part, then quickly lobbed them onto the assassin's corpse in quick succession before exiting and locking the doors leading down to the small cell block.

There was a muted explosion, but no alarms went off--perfect. His bet on the Hassisian's tampering with the security systems was spot on, though he figured he didn't have much time to get out, what with two dead Honor Guards lying in front of the doors. And with there not being any other guards within the immediate vicinity due to the daily change, no one would find the scene for some time. However, once investigatory lances arrived and took a look inside, they'd be met with the corpse of an unregistered Honor Guard and a vaporized corpse that was most likely Sorsa's, since it didn't have any armor on it.

So in essence, he was faking his own death and going on a hunt to track down and kill the person who'd ordered his assassination...but to do so, he figured he'd need help. Who to contact, though...that would be the tricky part...

[Faclan]

SSA - Yanme'e Swarm (Survivors)
Going to get the authorities.

(Drinker)
The situation certainly deteriorated fast with the new comers drawing weapons and firing into the crowd. She suspected that the fight would begin right after that but there was another uneasy pause before that finally started. Taking the middle aged Jiralhanae's advice she fluttered off the table as it was ripped from the floor and pushed toward the aggressors. Now hovering in mid air the Attache was thankfully quick enough to grab here data-pad as the bullets started to fly. She was just getting out her pistol to fire down on the enemys when she thought of a better plan, cheeping to get the attention of the three she was sitting with she let her plasma pistol clatter to the floor for one of them to use then fly out a window at the top of the ale house.

"I get guards, hold out!" She hissed back in Sangheili before vanishing from the scene. It may have seemed odd to the Jiralhanae for her to leave a fight but to her buggy brain the best response to a fight against enemies with better weapons was to get some more allies and swarm them, swarm them dead!

(So left and weapon then woosh.)


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
Wha...wuts goin' on?

As everything was blur and murmurings to Cad he mostly just stayed half flopped over the table. The gunshots not even piercing his mind before the table he was propped against was removed and a large weight wrapped itself around his unarmed chest and he was soon flying through the air.

"WeeeeeACK." Was the general sound from him before he bonked his head against part of the bar and slumped on the floor behind it, half asleep and half knocked out but thankfully out of the line of fire as the chicken started to sleep happily.


Eugine - Jiralhanae Advisor
Mob! I choose you!...Damn I aint as young as I used to be.

Despite the violence thrown at the residents of the bar and then at he and his family Eugine was still quietly confident these young hotheads would get what was coming to them - all that was needed was to get the mob riled up enough to advance despite the danger. Or, alteratively, elimate some of the danger so they could rush them. That was certainly a safer bet as Euigne gripped his staff tightly and ducked down behind the cover Gratus had made as the patrons moved to the side out of the line of fire. Some were still watching them with rage in their hearts though which was good as Eugine made his move. Standing up behind his cover he sighting on the herectic furthest to the left , drew back his arm, and hurled his heavy staff at the enemy. The throw connected in his chest and made him stagger back as what sounded like a rib snapped, the metal sumbol of faith in his staff making a spout of red spit out before the lad dropped his weapons to cover the wound.

"They try to murder the Tavern man! Get these Heretics! Make them drink their own blood if they want it so bad!" With his rant done Euigne ducked back behind the table and grunted in pain as he held his throwing arms shoulder...that hurt a lot more that he was expecting. Felt like he pulled something with that throw. A painful reminder of his age as he tried to get his Skewer out of its holster with his injured arm.

The mob was riled up but still no advance until one of the shooters grabbed a barmaid, guffawing that she would be a nice lass and shield for him as he held her as a meat shield. To the girls credit she didn't shout, and instead had managed to catch one of the drinks from her tray, one of the ones that were going to be served to the family for the competition, and held it tightly as the rest fell. As soon as the thug looked away she swung backwards and broke the container against his nose and teeth, the bubbling spitting liquid squirting all in his eyes as he released her with a howl of pain. Another set of weapons dropping to the ground as the mob finally hollered and charged in, swinging chairs and knives if they had them. Though there was still the leader and the one to the leaders right for Garatus and Karonus to deal with as the mob was dealing with the other four on the sides.


Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion, on High Charity.
Taking Tea and reading the news.

Compared to the hectic life and death battles going on with the members of the sect she was occasionally attached too Kael was enjoying some relative peace. She had been off on other mission while the sect was on the planet with the blackout, and was currently reading over the results for that mission as she sat in a Tea house on High Charity, in a comfy chair in comfort as she set the cup down she had been sipping out of to go back to the data pad. She was wearing her normal clothing today, not her formal weapon or armor but just the normal as she kept reading. She had been filled in by Rex of course what had happened but learning what had befallen the Sect after wards was interesting to say the least. Apparently they had been braded failures and a few even heretics - and the Might Master Til was on trail for it.

Taking another sip of her tea as a small Kig-Yar quickly arrived to refill it, as being who she was Kael was sitting in the fancy part of the house, she kept reading. She was fairly certain nothing would happen to Til as he had such a reputation among the Covenant that him being executed and paraded through the streets as an example would easily do more harm than good. A hit to morale wouldn't be worth the price to show that failure was given no leniency.

Stretching she looked over at her file, all currently napping in the reclining padded chairs with their tea half finished and shrugged. Normally she would want them alert or preparing for the next mission but this whole trail business would take awhile to finish so they had some time as she set the datapad on her lap and looked out across the floor they were on, wondering if anyone she knew was walking around the grounds today, sighing happily at the new tea as she took another sip. The joys of being in the Kig-Yar high society...

(Waiting for Llau and 999 so we can go on special adventures :3.)

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Somewhere on High Charity

Having recently commandeered a new outfit with a convenient hood--as walking around all over the place dressed as an Honor Guard would tend to look weird if not suspicious--Sorsa made his way through one of the more heavily crowded market areas. After some searching, he located a terminal station adjacent to a cheaper looking restaurant and tea house, and accessed it. The Field Master perused through the opening glyphs, then entered a security code in order to bring up the 'Search' function of the military database.

“Let's see who's available...” He muttered to himself as he contemplated while tapping in some names. Fria was off fighting on the front lines some distance away, he knew that already, so she'd be no help to him now. Til and R'ha...definitely not. Ultra Shal'toree had proved to be fairly reliable along with some of the other officers of Lamenting Consecration, but none of them were on High Charity. The Syalekgolo weren't quite what he needed, and besides, most were off with the rest of the Sect. Maybe one of the four of Intervention who had survived...no, unfortunately.

That was when a thought crossed his mind concerning another Special Operator he'd met some time ago. With careful key presses, he formed the glyps 'Special Operations Officer 'Medomai'.

^>SPECIAL OPERATIONS OFFICER LLAU 'MEDOMAI<^

Sorsa selected the name and found that Llau was currently off-duty and available for messaging. No address was given due to 'Medomai's status as an Operator, but he wouldn't need that. He quickly created a short message and sent it, then gave a long sigh before taking a seat at the tea house.

***

Meanwhile, a small alert appeared on whatever device Llau was currently using or had on/near her person, which, when opened, showed a message as follows:

^SX, CALLING IN A FAVOR. IF YOU CAN, MEET ME AT THE ATTACHED LOCATION AT 3-4. WILL FILL YOU IN THERE.^

[Llau]

(I have permission by Huka to post here as Llau)
Llau 'Medomai
High Charity
Relaxing, training


Special Operator Officer Llau 'Medomai relaxed, but her way of relaxing was training and meditating on her off-duty days. She was in a quiet place outside and away from everyone, surrounded by some waterfalls, wearing her comfortable civilian clothing. She was practicing swinging a heavy sword in downward cuts repeatedly in a controlled, fast movement; always stopping mid-way. She was on her two hundredth swing when she heard someone quietly approach her. She clicked her mandibles, closed her eyes, but continued practicing. If this newcomer was an enemy, she would have easily taken him out by now. 

'Must tell this one to learn not to make that mistake while we are on a mission...' She mentally noted with a frown.

"Yes, what is it?" She calmly asked the newcomer. 

The newcomer, a Sangheili minor who was a part of her Creche, bowed slightly. "Mistress 'Medomai, I -"

There was a sigh of slight annoyance. "I told you to not call me Mistress, Uros," She looked over her shoulder. "Llau is fine when we are off-duty."

"Er...apologies..." Uros 'Sraomee bowed again, and then continued. "I have a message that just came through for you, Llau. It seemed rather urgent."

"Oh?" This time she stopped what she was doing, resting the sword on her shoulder, and turned around to face him completely. "What did it say?"

'Sraomee walked up to her and gave her the data pad with the message. She gently took it into her free hand and looked down to read the message.

^SX, CALLING IN A FAVOR. IF YOU CAN, MEET ME AT THE ATTACHED LOCATION AT 3-4. WILL FILL YOU IN THERE.^


"Hmm," She understood who this was from perfectly. "I see. Uros, take this." She handed him back the data-pad, and then her training sword. "I must go, and meet my friend. I will return when I return."

"Yes, excel - Llau," He took the items. "I will inform the others."

'Medomai rested a hand briefly on his shoulder, gave a nod, and headed to the location where she was asked to meet with the one who sent the message, Sorsa 'Xirsasai. 

Tea House
Soon after receiving Sorsa's message

When she finally arrived at the tea house, Llau 'Medomai quietly searched the building until she found who wanted to speak with her. She quietly approached him and sat across from the Field Master, and gave a nod at the other Sangheili. 

After ordering a cup of tea, she sat quietly until her tea arrived. Taking a sip of the hot liquid made from the herbs of her native planet, she turned her attention to him.

"So, my friend," she asked, "What is this favor you wish to discuss about?" 

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion, on High Charity.
Spotting a good friend.

Finally setting her Datapad down beside her tea Kael took note of her file and leaned back as well to try and have a little nap. The tea helping her relax but an unfortunate crash, her eyes snapping open to look in that direction, killed any hope of a nap as she was now on edge. Apparently a Kig-Yar had pushed over an Unggoy who was carrying something near the tea house and the noise had drifted through the second floor window. The sound bringing back unfortunate memories of the call she had with Qesa's ship...grunting a bit she swung her legs over the side of the chair and stood. Tel opening one eye to look at her with a raise eye ridge, but Kael just shrugged and said she needed to walk around a bit to clear his head. Apparently the crashing noise wasn't as much of a deterrent for him and the sisters as those two were still sleeping. Tel looked a little worried but after a light pat on the beak he smiled and nodded, settling back into his chair for a nap after finishing off his tea.

Moving down the stairs into the main house Kael spotted several other species besides Kig-Yar here as she hopped the last few steps and started to head across the room. Which was good if this slice of her peoples culture was becoming more popular but maybe they had expended their tea to cover more pallets. The smells were certainly different. But she just shrugged and headed for the door - so long as they still made her favorite spiced tea she was fine with it. But she stopped after passing a table with two hunched Sangheili at it and sniffed again. Turning her head around to look at the two again she gave a rare smile as she recognized one of them. Turning around fully she took a few steps to be near the table as she tapped the end of her beak and bowed her head a bit.

"Llau, good to see you around again - whose the male?" She asked, her tone not one of romance but more of curiosity and perhaps with a hint of disdain.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
Delicious plotting

“Thanks for coming, and I'll keep it short and direct.” Sorsa shifted his hood back so he could maintain proper eye contact with Llau while still concealing his identity from most others nearby. “I don't know how widespread the news is, but the Sect I was a part of has recently failed at stopping the humans from destroying a Forerunner artifact. As such, the leaders of it, myself included, have been put on trial for heresy. As it turns out, someone seemed to be very displeased with this particular turn of events, and hired Muram Hassisians to assassinate me, probably targeting the rest of my team in the process.”

He grinned widely. “Obviously, the Hassisians failed miserably, but the problem of a high-ranking officer wanting me dead is still there. From what the Hassisian I interrogated told me, I doubt said officer will just let me get away with foiling his plans. So, as I am but one warrior, I ask for your help in tracking down this officer and killing hi-”

That was when the T'vaoan appeared and spoke to Llau. Sorsa clicked his mandibles and glanced to the side to stare up at the female alien with a wary expression.

[Llau]

Llau 'Medomai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
Today is a good day to plot with friends


She quietly watched as he kept his identity from being revealed to the other tea house patrons. It's been a long time since she has seen him, and the only thing she knew of, even before he explained to her why he wanted to speak to her, was hearing about how the Sect he was in failed their mission, and were now being put on trial because of it. One thing that he said, other than the Muram Hassisians that popped out the most was him saying 'leaders, including himself'. She straightened up at this somewhat, eyes widening in surprise.

"Hmm?" 'Medomai blinked once, staring into his eyes as she gripped the cup in both hands until it shook out some of the liquid. She set the cup down, and then quickly gazed at the corner or the small table on his side for a moment, not really hearing him asking, but equally hearing him asking for her help in tracking down the officer. "Oh..." She had so many questions to catch up what he had been doing, but then a familiar T'vaoen's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She blinked again, looking up at the T'vaoan. "Kael!" Another surprise today. First it was seeing 'Xirsasai after so long, and now Kael Gel. What else was going to happen - wait...she didn't want to know. She quickly stood, nearly knocking her chair down in the process, and then rested both sands on either side of the T'vaoan's shoulders, laughed quietly, and nodded as she greeted Kael.

"Kael, so good to see you, too," She then glanced down at 'Xirsasai before sitting back down across from him, and pointing over to an empty seat where Gel could take a seat in. She then whispered, "Kael, this male is a very good friend of mine. He is the one who saved me many years ago...the one I mentioned to you about. He has my utmost respect and appreciation."

There, she sat, beaming with excitement and happiness as she mostly staring at the male Sangheili for what seemed like the longest time.

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion, on High Charity.
Something wicked this way comes?

Still all a smiles Kael nodded at Llau and deposited herself in the indicated chair. Listening to Llau's explanation of the male as she spotted a small male Kig-Yar waiter heading over, but a little wave let him know that they needed some more time before turning back to the two Sangheili. Finally getting a good look over of the male she noted that he was still wearing his hood indoors and his posture was one of coiled alertness. Quickly Kael shifted her brain to a more alert stance as it seemed something was going on, but nodded at Llau and then the male.

"Pleased to meet you Sorsa," she said quietly so only those at the table would hear, in case there were unwanted ears around. "Llau has told me much about your exploits, but it seems like you may have a larger issue that a trial and a telling off?" Shifting a little to be more centered at the table she threaded her fingers on the table. She had heard a few mutterings as she was walking past before, but best to hear it from the source to be sure she knew what was going on - Kael glad that she had her Needle Pistol and compact wrist blade with her if this was going to get messy.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
Moar plotting

“Well, you did help me back when I was still an Assassin,” Sorsa addressed Llau, not missing her stare and expression, “and that's one reason I'm trusting you to help me now.” After that, he turned to Kael and gave her an even briefer summary of what he'd told Llau. “A word of warning, Kael: if you attempt to expose what I'm doing, I will kill you personally.” His tone was completely sincere, though it lacked true menace beyond his imposing stature and voice. “I doubt you would, but I like to cover my bases.”

Sorsa cleared his throat and eyed a file of security guards walk by outside the tea house, then shifted his gaze back to Llau. “So...will you help me?” He glanced over at Kael. “A T'vaoan could prove useful as well.”

[Llau]

Llau 'Medomai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
I wouldn't mind slaying some assassins...and whoever paid them...


She nodded, glancing from him, to Kael, and then back at him. "You don't have to worry about Kael. I trust her. You can trust her, Sorsa." When the file of guards passed by, she tensed up, gripping the energy sword she always kept on her person at all times. When they didn't enter the tea house, she relaxed, and returned her hand to rest on the table-top.

Sighing a little, mostly in relief, she focused on 'Xirsasai. "I will never turn down a friend who is in need. I will help you, and Kael will, too." She glanced at the T'vaoan, making sure her other friend would help as well. 

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion, on High Charity.
Lets go on the road then?

As she sat there Kael was starting to feel a bit fifth-saily(third-wheely) in this group. As Llau and her were friends yeah but this other Sangheili was unknown to her and seemed to be taking the lead and was also the center of attention. No matter, however, as more things were explained Kael could see that he would need some assistance with this problem he was having as she just nodded. "I'll gladly help you, its something to do and sounds like something we can all enjoy together - and as Llau has told you you have nothing to worry about from me." She tapped the wrist blade sheath that was resting on her forearm as she nodded. "On my honor as a Gel Matron I will keep this secret and help you see it through."

Taking a small communicator from a pocket in her pants she whispered out a message for Tel when he woke up. "I've left on a short project with some Sangheili, act normally and just leave me a silent message if you leave to go somewhere else." Clicking it to end she slipped it back in her pocket and she nodded at Sorsa. "Assassination is fine and all, but as Nest Kha would say; 'If you are displeased with our work, you are welcome to try and find the employer and take up the issues with them'. Good words from that den of thieves for this I think. Any idea where we should start?" She asked quietly, already starting to get up from her seat.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
Target acquisition and tracking

“Yinji Ra'ha 'Torai.” Sorsa said. “That is the name of the one who wants me dead.”

“A Field Master...” Llau muttered, recognizing the significance of the Ra'ha name.

“And a well-known Battle Priest. My plan is to locate on of his more significant subordinates and/or supporters--as an in-depth search on the Zealot's location right now would probably set off some kind of warning system--and interrogate them for news on Yinji's whereabouts. I'm betting Yinji will be on High Charity, if only so he'd be able to be better informed of the Hassisian's progress, not to mention actually being in close proximity to my death would probably make him much happier.”

He paused then rose to his feet and gestured for the other two to follow him. “I've already discovered that General Kerz 'Laktasee is on High Charity and in a nearby military base.”

Sorsa didn't say anything for a few more minutes as the trio walked. “Oh, and if you have any other questions, I'll do my best to answer.”

[Huka]

Til ‘Muramai
The Forge of Imminent Allegiance, Workshop of the Higher Call, High Charity

Despite the overall good ending to a terrible trial, Til still felt utterly defeated and exhausted as his evolved instincts whispered and brushed its ghastly fingers along the back of his aching muscles. He could feel every burning lapse of his healing lungs, each knot tightening and shuttering in his gut and his composure was starting to show it;

His brows knitted in deep thought, his broad shoulders were low, claws twitched as if ready to slit a throat and pupils widened to take in every lighted detail around him.

Something was wrong...so very wrong…

Jerking his head suddenly in a twitch, enough to make one of his looser scales pop out of place like a loose tooth, Til looked to one of his escorts, “When will my comrade be free from his cell?”

The Inquisitor-a short and alert fellow-didn’t answer at first and that caused the soon-to-be Field Marshal halt immediately with his Spirit-charmed eye glaring at the curious agent in grand irritation of not getting an immediate answer (more out of established etiquette on the battlefield) and anxiety from his experiences. “When?” He asked again, this time with a more firm direction to it.

Despite position and the recent accusings, the questioned Sangheili answered professionally and truthfully, “When all of your proceedings are done.” Immediately, Til lifted his bound arms to grant them attention, “And the meaning of these…?”

“Precaution by our orders.” He answered fluidly as if possessing all of the answers. The Muram almost questioned ‘who’ but that would just waste both of their time and Til felt he had to leave as soon as possible. His best tactic was to wait it out. After a mandible’s flick of acceptance and moving forward again, the Inquisitor seemed satisfied and kept closer. Glancing around, there were few aware folk of the accused heretic’s presence; few San’Shyuum of lower ranks and somewhat pompous Sangheili aristocrats naturally born on High Charity that believe themselves above the clans of Sanghelios and other colonies.

They didn’t even look twice at the escorted group...besides one younger male who looked bewildered at the large Field Master whose skin was starting to recover from decade-past wounds, marked with exotic tattoos of some pagan clan, and the single good eye scared him off with a simple glare. Grunting out through his nose, Til continued onto the welcoming tower.

Several rooks of striding along halls and descending deeper and deeper into the depths, the memory of Muram’s dry summers came to Til’s mind and it came to its pinnacle when they stepped into a circular forge, the loud clangs of anvils from hammers, the hisses of metal falling in water, the melodic hoots of Huragok working with Sangheili forgemen dressed in harnesses and helmets that insulated their temperatures and live in these environment.

There waiting for them were seven Ascetics dressed in condemning white armor that looked as pale and ghastly as their lives. Without no material possession or ambition but to serve as the preservers of Sangheili purity and honor...under San’Shyuum doctrine.

Til glanced over each one’s individual difference and lingered abit longer on the one hold a long brand of chains around his arms and shoulders, menacingly swaying the weighed ends side to side.

“Step forth...Til Je’ta Ra’ha ‘Muramai…” The elder commanded with a deep, rumbling voice from the confinement of his helm. The Zealot kept his gaze upon him as he took one theatrical step after another until they were just a good arm-length away each other.

“You have proven yourself time and time again as a true warrior of the Covenant. From the moment of your rise from the Shaleel War College to your selfless conviction against our eternal enemies; Heretics that strive to halt our march to the Threshold. Yet, even that is not enough. The Gods have tested you time and time again, bringing you your ultimate challenge; the humans who stand in your way in the name of their immunate glory...you will be branded for your lance’s failings to our Seers. I take no pleasure in this...unique punishment. You must restore your honor before your peers with the heads of our foes. Will you take this brand and make your final stand?”

Til stepped once more and stood as tall as his back allowed, “I will take this bondage. I will hold my brothers upon my shoulders. I will stand firm before the weights of failings and turn it all into victory. I will hold my head and blade high to light the path. Reticence will be all that remains for the heretics, humans or otherwise. Fire will cleases, I will crunch over their glassed world and pray for a better world without this blood to shed. When the Great Journey comes, may I be judged for all I have done, good or ill…for I am Til Je’ta Ze’ta ‘Muramai.”

The Ascetic nodded in silent approval and opened his arms in reverence, “May the Gods give you the purity and strength of your ancestors since the moment of their gracing upon our world eons past!”

With that, two of his comrades come over to unlock the hardlight cuffs at last and gripped at the beginnings of Til’s jumpsuit before tearing it asunder with their strength along. The rips and tears sounded with the drums of hammers and anvil, the hiss of molten metals and water, the shouts of the forgemen as they instruct and command in the smokes until he was naked before his fellows.

Resting his hands on his sides in surrender to his fate, scales of smooth underside and more ragged evolution, belched of his electrical wounds with tree-like marking along his back that matched perfected with his clannish tattoos. Eyes suddenly heavy as if meeting with Death’s cruel approach but come to welcome its pale company. Walking slowly to the parting semicircle until he was standing before scolding hot waters that was painful to even look at.

The Elder’s hand rested upon his shoulder as it did before...a long, long time. Before this war...before the last one, he was stepping from the halls of his war college, graduated from its teachings and so youthful. Eyes whole and gleaming in excitement of life presented before him like jewels crafted from the finest crafter. Muscles toned and not yet tasted of true war. Void of ache and pains as his body do now. Lungs inhaling deep and fruitful. This isn’t their first meeting.

Slowly, Til fell onto his knees and bowed his head for a moment. The holder of his chain stepped beside him, hands encased in protective armor as they dipped into the water with the chains.

“The fire of the cleansing comes upon all who sins to the demand of the Gods and their chosen seers. We who are chosen to battle our enemies without a waver of hesitation or fear must remain as pure. Each failing is like a growing boulder over the ages, like armor poorly crafted, like a body fallen to sloth.

The fire brims upon these santified chains, to grip and burn the flesh of the condemned. To remind them of their ancient duty since their forefathers. Since the beginning of our holy Covenant.

To punish for their failure...and to purify their flesh of it all.

To rekindle the flame underneath that is his soul.

Prepare thyself to endure pains of wrongs and serve thy Covenant once more.

Never to forget or all is forsaken…”

In the end of these words, the chains were surfaced to reveal their wicked metal links burning hot. The Ascetic looked down to his victim and waited when another hand gripped onto Til’s opposite shoulder. Then...the coiling.

Started with the arms-from behind the wrists and along to the shoulders, avoiding the underarms. The pain was every bit as mind-maddening and scolding as Her shocking stings. It took along Til’s willpower to not roar out as his flesh hissed and screamed to retreat when the coiling chains, feeling them tighten slowly before pulling away from the shuddering limbs.

Jaws tight and breathing ragging, making the suffocating air more apparent and boggling. When he thought to relax, the chain unexpectingly wrapped around his neck, coiled around his waist and hip. A pair of wide rings wrapped tight onto his wrists followed suit in the middle of this explosion of burning pains. For that split second he thought these punishing bands was doing so on their own accord. Muscles tightened, eyes wide as saucers, and maw opened into a silent scream as his body joined into the scream.

His fingers tightened till they cut into his palms and for a moment, there was nothing but blackness and the distorted sounds of the forge. Blinking once, Til saw himself looking at a amused Tibur still clad in his armor as Arbiter. Even in death, his last role stalked his soul.

Then he blinked again and was looking at curling smoke of the heat strangling the air. Rolling his head from his shoulder, every fiber of his being ached and begged for him to keep from moving...but he had to. He didn’t want to look weak here. He’ll do that in his own time.

Carefully moving his fingers to make sure he could feel them, his recovering sight looked down his arms...staring at the winding scars running to a pair of thick rings on his forearms...enough to not hinder his wrists’ circulations and movement for combat. Wincing, Til tried to move but his neck and torso just as pained. His body was nothing but scars and memories now. It was story on its own. His legs were the only things not damaged thankfully.

Slowly controlling his pained breath, Til felt the same hands squeezing over his shoulders to let him know he wasn’t alone before carefully lifting him up onto his feet. His skin felt tight and on the edge of split apart if he moved the wrong way. Then turned around to face his punisher, who nodded in approval of the ritual.

“It is done...Field Marshal. You have suffered the branding and now suited to wear your rank. Gel will be applied to your wounds in the medical chamber of this tower and your armor will be crafted upon accordance to your personal fashion and combat expertise. Until we meet again...’Muramai.” The Ascetic said, his voice wavering a touch on the speaking of Til’s clan name before walking away.

When he was moved again by the guidance of his handlers, he felt his legs weakening some from the pain but they caringly held him to their walk. When he turned his head slightly, the branded Sangheili looked to find it was the Inquisitor and suddenly in the midst of his wariness, he almost thought he saw one of the Forgers looking at him. Short yet lean. There yet not like a ghost before he returned to his work with the moisture running along his scaled neck.

Jiralhanae Taverns

The assassin leader reflectively ducked under the flying table before trying to fire at Garatus and his old uncle but missed on both accounts, especially when one of the marked Jiralhanaes’ followers charged at him with such convicted valor. Nearly have his head knocked in with a weapon he couldn’t quite see, he roared out and whipped his mauler across the fool’s face. Making a move to blow his head apart like a ripe melon, his arm was grabbed by another. Baring his fangs, he viciously headbutted against the pugness of the interloper’s nose and raked his weapons’ blades across his tough hide. Taking this opportunity to leap back and shoot his attackers back with the fiery peppering of his short-nosed scatterguns, sending the more wounded Jiralhanae flipping head over heels.

“Kill them all!” he roared out before fluidly tripping a running bystander and blasted his lower back’s spine into bloody bits and powder. When an angered friend moved to bash the assassin’s head with a chair-leg, he fearlessly lifted his weapon’s twin and finished him bloodily.

Death is just a delicious thing.

Just then, the door opened and all of the fighting froze with eyes looking at the entering folk; a unusually slender Jiralhanae with an auburn pelt, sleek and well-kept yet the look in his eyes reminds one of a venomous viper who will hide in the mess of clothes to kill a innocent, flanking on either side was; a stocky albino wrapped in straps and buckles while his dark goggles rested on his brow, staring at the frozen scene with intrigued red eyes and fanged grin despite the occasional spasm of his pale muscles. To the other side was a tall and long-limbed fellow adorned with braids and small bony totems of a jungle tribe, face masked and his left arm armored and fingers ending with talons. It was hard to notice the curious head of an avian cocking side to side at the sights with its big eyes until it made a flapping sound.

The smallest of the trio looked about thrice before exhaling a long, “Aaah...you two continue on, I have...something to do for the Captain.” He said, making a sleek retreat through the door. The two, especially the tallest, didn’t acknowledge this before the latter slowly closed the door. The Assassin leader rose a very amused brow at this.

“Looks like a celebration back home.” The Albino said before snapping his head at the charge of an Assassin, reflectively clotheslining the aggressor with a thick arm of straining muscle. Flipping hard on his head, the nomad winced with a hiss between his lips before finding his face stomping down on harder and harder as if a hard-shelled bug.

Blood and teeth pooled. When a couple of his fellows made a aim for the killer, the taller newcomer stretched his armored arm out as quick as a whip, firing a long jagged dagger from the thickness of his bracer and impaled it through the farthest’s scalp while his avian suddenly sprung out from behind his shoulder unleashing a horrid screech and six wide wings splayed out...but more importantly, talons primes and tore at the other’s eyes with its sharp beak.

Taking this opportunity, the birdmaster flung himself behind cover as wild spikes flew through the air, pinning a long jagged line at where he was. The Albino was already moving himself, using the choking assassin as a meatshield and using his taken spiker to retaliate. In the midst of the chaos, more assassins came crashing through the windows, cutting down who got in their way and released savage warcries. Some dripping with fresh Sangheili blood of the patrolling guards, explaining the lack of security in this dire time.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Captain Garatus

Garatus roared his thanks as the crowd of tavern patrons entered the fray against the assassins, Garatus narrowly avoiding a shot from the Nomad leaders Mauler. Garatus crushed the wrist of an assassin who's knife imbedded in the Captains chest plate, Garatus launched his fist forward. It smashed into the jaw of his attacker, the metal on his knuckles cracking the bone and sending blood and teeth flying as his arm pumped, his fist making contact over and over again. The limp body of the now faceless assassin fell to the floor as Garatus released his grip on its wrist, before he slashed his Spiker rifle across the throat of another. The Assassins Leader was killing patrons and Garatus could not abide this heading towards him with the intent to preoccupy him and prevent the deaths of innocents.

As Garatus made his way towards the Nomad Assassin, but suddenly the doors of the Ale house swung open. Three Jiralhanae stood in the now open door, a large Albino, a long limbed jungle tribesman and in the middle an oddly slender individual with auburn fur much like Garatus's own pelt.“Aaah...you two continue on, I have...something to do for the Captain.” the slender Jiralhanae said before stepping back outside.

“Looks like a celebration back home.” the Albino Jiralhanae said, before close-lining an assassin before stomping the attackers head. The Jungle dweller shot a knife out at an assassin who moved to attack his Albino friend, before his avian pet attacked as well. The Jungle Jiralhanae leapt behind cover as his avain attacked while the Albino used an assassin as a living shield.

As the fighting resumed more assassins came crashing through the windows, attacking patrons with blades already covered in purple blood... Sangheili blood. It certainly explained the lack of guardsmen in this horrendous battle. Garatus slammed an assassin into the wall with his shoulder, stabbing quickly to the gut and pulling the blade out sideways to spill the entrails. Another assassin leapt onto Garatus's back clawed viciously at his chest and shoulders, Valorus grabbed the attacker and slammed him to the floor and jumped in the air and brought his feet down on the nomads ribcage. Garatus exchanged a quick nod with Valorus before heading for the Nomad Leader with deadly intent. Garatus parried a dagger slash and retaliated with a backhand, his hand armor cracking the zygomatic arch before a patron who had gone berserk tackled the assassin and smashed his head with several fierce blows.

"I'm coming for you!" Garatus roared thunderously to the Assassin Leader as he shoved through crowd, stabbing another nomad in the throat as he went. He hoped the Yanme'e would find help soon, and his wish was at least answered in part when a crazy looking Sangheili burst into the bar after taking out half a wall.

Sangheili Major Gjanee Bakee

Gjanee sighed as he strapped the last buckle and stood, clanking quietly as he did so. He was off duty but was still a warrior, and he wouldn't wear a robe like some ninny as many other Sangheili did. He instead had casual armor, light metal over leather and thick cloth, the metal was a beautiful rustic steel color while the leather was a pleasant medium brown. The cloth was tan and simple, but felt soft to the touch for its thickness. He returned his mace to its frog and walked out of his chambers, his friend Fapfap waiting for him outside.

"Nice shiny armor!" Fapfap exclaimed as he tapped the closest of the greaves, eyes bright with wonder.

"Thank you Fapfap" Gjanee said as they walked out into the streets of the city.

"What we gonna do Gjanee?" Fapfap asked,"I don't know Fapfap, I was considering going out to eat" Gjanee said as the duo walked along.

"We should avoid Jiralhanae foods though, they tend to use diary and that... that does not agree with reptiles, where do you want to eat Fapfap?" Gjanee asked his small friend,"I dunno, who has the tastiest nommy?" Fapfap asked.

"The Kig-yar make excellent fish dishes, and their noodles are the envy of the galaxy" Gjanee said,"Fapfap loves noodles!" the Unggoy exclaimed in the third person.

"Then it is settled, we'll..." Gjanee paused as a Yanme'e flew straight at him, buzzing up to him and landing on his robust shoulder,"Well... hello there... can I help you?" Gjanee said to the perched insectoid on his shoulder,"need help, Jiralhanae fight! Bad ones try to kill good ones!" the Yanme'e exclaimed panicked.

"Fapfap... lets get dangerous" Gjanee said before tearing off following the Yanme'e to the Jiralhanae Tavern in their section of the city.

Gjanee sprinted as they came nearer, pulling his mace from its frog and slowing as he and Fapfap saw nasty looking hooded Jiralhanae with a knife stalking towards a broken out window."Excuse me good sir, but can you tell me where I might find some bad Jiralhanae I was told about being nearby? Surely you wouldn't be one of them with your distinct and awful odor and coat made out of dead things?" Gjanee said very shortly before the smelly barbarian attacked. Gjanee put his training to use as he side stepped and kicked the Jiralhanae in the rear, as the literal stinker moved for another attack Gjanee's mace screeched and the head dropped as the chain extended.

A good chunk of the wall of the Ale house busted into pieces as an assassin was knocked through it and a mace pulled back from its chest. A overtall Sangheili stepped through the new entryway he had just made and looked around as the dust settled from his entry."Hope I'm not interrupting anything my good sirs, but I heard there were some vermin you needed help with" Gjanee said as he entered the fray, smashing a assumed nomadic assassins face into pulped pieces with his mace.

"You go get guards!" Fapfap yelled to the Yanme'e before he hid in the corner throwing debris at assassins before the Yanme'e flew off.

(OOC: Hope I did alright with your Yanme'e Fac )

[Llau]

Llau 'Medomai
Tea House, Markets, High Charity
Let's Begin...


Upon hearing the name, Yinji Ra'ha 'Torai, the one who wanted her friend dead, she gazed intently at 'Xirsasai for a long minute; her eyes squinting slightly as her mind was on the Field Master who sent those assassins after him.

"A Field Master..." she muttered. Clicking her mandibles, she thought of many different scenarios of fighting side-by-side 'Xirsasai and Gel against more assassins as they search for 'Torai.

She knew there will be more, and once they found out who she was as she aided her friend, the Field Master would most certainly order an assassination on her and even Gel. She chuckled lightly at that in amusement. She wasn't one to boast, but if that were to happen, she would most certainly enjoy the challenge of defeating assassins with 'Xirsasai at her side. She thought Gel would most certainly enjoy it as well.

"Of course, he would be near by somewhere on here," She nodded, standing up to follow him. "There are always different options in locating someone without alerting anyone, but it's good that you already found the General."

She fell silent as they walked casually along, but was still alert just in case. When 'Xirsasai asked if she had any questions, she nodded. "Well, you can start by telling me where have you been since the last I saw you. It's been so long since we have last spoke."

[Faclan]

(\o/ Kiggy Noodles)

SSA - Yanme'e Swarm (Survivors)
Swarm them!

(Drinker)
Pleased that she had found someone who would help the Attaché was a bit confused as to why they went in by themselves with only and Unggoy for back-up. But these other Covenant races seemed pleased to use smaller numbers and have the possibility of losing rather than just swarming with a guaranteed win. How odd. Chirping in approval as one of the bad Jiralhanae was smashed through the wall she just chittered and nodded at the Unggoy before taking to flight and this time heading for the tower in the middle of the city. The royal guards there would listen and be willing to send help...hopefully.

(Anyone can see her and get the story, but the tower is her main goal.)

(Ultra)
Finally finishing drinking her fill from the two flowers she had staked a claim on the Ultra sat down happily in the garden and watched as the duck was fast approaching. It made a nice scene over this garden and the smells and taste of the sweet nectar was still full in her mind - almost making her forget the missing Master, almost. Grunting again she crossed her forelimbs and tried to enjoy the peace and not get so hung up on The master before she glanced over at what sounded like panicked chirping...the chirping of her swarm!

(So the Ultra may be showing up soon :3)


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
Dreamin'.

The shouting, crashing, and gunshots didn't do enough to wake Cad as he slept behind the bar. Having now curled up a little as if he was sleeping in a nest to be a cute little chick, just an old haggard one one. His dreams, thanks to the dull thumping all around, were drawn towards his combat training back on his hated asteroid home. Learning from the tutors before the joyful time of practicing on other students. A few wood chips falling down on him but thanks to his long shirt none of them did any small cuts as he kept sleeping through the firefight.


Eugine - Jiralhanae Advisor
Trick Shot?

Finally getting his Skewer out and charged Eugine grimaced in pain as he continued to hold his now on fire shoulder and peaked out from over the table cover he had to scout out what had transpired since his throw. It looked good, the patrons were in full riot mode and a few were letting their more primal side come out for some old fashioned death mauling. Excellent. Unfortunately the brawl made it hard to aim for just the assassins so he kept his fire in check for now so he didn't wound his allies. He still remained mostly behind the table now as the younger warriors would be far more effective in these close quarters than he would. His staff would help but that was in the middle of a bunch of fighting now so that wasn't an option.

As he was watching the door burst open and three rather interesting youngin's walked in. It was rare these days to see jungle tribesmen since they were mostly content to swing on their trees and eschew technology but it was good to see them now. Especially when they revealed to be against the assassins and leapt into the fight themselves. It was looking like it was about to be over and done with before the windows shattered and even more Rukt cursed assassins joined the party. It seemed as if they had just killed the Sangheili who were on patrol...what was the world coming too.

Quickly turning around as a single heretic lunged at him Euigne grunted and did his best to move tot he side and avoid it but his speed wasn't as much as the younger warrior as the aggressors large knife bit deep into his bad hand. But Eugine just rolled his eyes as the assassin gawked at him before Euigne fired a super spike right into his gurning face.

"Lost the feeling in that years ago scum!"

Of course it still hurt like no tomorrow but the assassin didn't have any time to consider that as he fell back dead. Narrowing his eyes in the pain Eugine turned back around to see his Nephew try to force his way through the crowd to the leader, who was just smirking as he removed his blade from a female who was trying to break a chair on him and raised his mauler towards Garatus, and Euigne could find the strength in his arm to raise his heavy pistol to stop him.

Thankfully the assassin was distracted as part of a wall burst down, followed by another assassin with a large piece of metal stuck in his chest. Eugine had never been more pleased to see a Sangheili as the distraction gave him time to get his arm raised as he sighted down the sights at the enemy leader.

"Finally one of you show up!" He called as he clicked the hammer back and adjusted his aim so he would have as little chance as possible to hit his Nephew, which caused him to aim at the opponents now raised again Mauler as he called out to catch his attention.

"Ey, ey! Fight with your claws Milksop!" (Couldn't think of a better insult at 4 AM D:) He called out as he fired, hoping to stick the heretic's hand to the mauler but he would settle on disarming him so Garatus wouldn't be shot as the assassins were finally being beaten back by the combined force of the actual fighters here and the drunk patrons. The knife still stick in his bad hand.

(Hope you like Old Man Eugine's outlook on it all BetaW, you can decide if Eugines aim is any good with his old eyes and hand. :3)


Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion, on High Charity
A calm walk of highly trained killers.

Getting up with the others Kael just shrugged and walked off with them, the Kig-Yar staff bowing their heads and stepping aside as they walked past, adding 'Mistress' whenever Kael or Llau walked past and Sir when Xir moved past. When outside the tea house Kael stretched a bit before continuing with the two Sangheili toward this particular base. Thankfully her T'vaoan legs were able to keep up well enough so it didn't look like she was running to keep up as she mulled over what they knew.

A field master would be a tricky target, and there was the real possibility that this would backfire horribly and land them all on the spikes as an example, slowly to bleed out. Kael hummed and considered backing out for that reason, not so much for the death but if that were to happen but that she would never find those Humans if she messed up again. Such a fine line she had to walk these days. But she had said she would help her good friend Llau and that's what she was going to do as she kept walking.

When asked if she had any questions she hummed and tapped the tip of her beak before shrugging. "None from me, but I would think we need to either be quick or sneaky for this to work." She said as they went, quiet enough that just they would here. Not like everyone else walking High Charities halls weren't whispered to another or into their ear.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Markets, High Charity
Do you want some exposition? Storytelling through a song—wait, wrong fanon

“We will need to be both,” Sorsa said to Kael. “Fast and stealthy, hit him before he knows what happened.”

Then Llau spoke up. "Well, you can start by telling me where have you been since the last I saw you. It's been so long since we have last spoke."

“Let's see...” Sorsa thought back through the years. “Oh yes. Right after I participated in the 2531 Great Hunt of Templar's Rest, I was approached by members of the Ministry of Fervent Intercession. They were impressed with my skills as an Assassin, and wanted me to join Reticent Lance. After some tests, I did. I was granted the rank of Field Master and title of Zealot, though they were little more than honorary to denote my new high status. As of today, I am--or maybe was--still a part of Reticent.

“As for my other exploits... I've fought several Demons and killed some of them, but there's still this one who eludes me; but that is a tale for another day. If you've heard of the Syalekgolo of all, I was the one who came up with the idea. I found out that Field Master Til 'Muramai, also of Reticent Lance, is actually my half-brother. Oh, and I don't know if you remember the stories of my rival Khaz 'Qalurai, but our fight finally came to a head and I killed the bastard in 'honorable combat' several years ago. Apart from those, it's just been the same old: fighting enemies of the Covenant.”

Sorsa cleared his throat and looked back to Llau, a vaguely sly look crossing his face. “So have I caught you up well enough, 'Medomai?”

[Llau]

Llau 'Medomai
Markets, High Charity


'Medomai listened in silence, but with much interest, as 'Xirsasai explained to her of his exploits since the last time she saw him. He had done many things, and a lot of it impressed her. From him telling her he became a member of Reticent Lance, to being given the rank of Field Master and Zealot, which impressed her much, even though they were more about honorary titles. Honorary titles were no small feat, and she glanced over at him with a grin. As they continued along, with Kael close behind, the female swordsman continued to listen. She found herself being most impressed when he told her he has killed three demons, and became highly curious about the other demon who eludes him. Making a mental note about asking him to talk to her about this demon who still lives for another day, she quietly nodded when he asked her if she has heard about the Syalekgolo. When she mentioned to her about Til 'Muramai being his half-brother, she glanced at him curiously.

"Hmm. Interesting." She murmured.

There was then a smirk and an amused chuckle. "Khaz 'Qalurai? I see...good that you killed him. He was a bastard."

Nodding lightly, she sighed, content with what he told her.

"Fighting the same old enemies of the Covenant..." she whispered, "And now, we are here with you, helping you fight assassins and the ones who want you dead." She smirked.

[Spartan 999]

Sorsa 'Xirsasai
Markets, High Charity
Finally getting on with it

“Indeed,” Sorsa looked around to make sure no one nearby was really paying attention, then stepped into an alleyway and opened a door into a basement there. “I stored some equipment here before contacting you.” He explained as he walked down the steps. “Borrowed it from a military convoy, in fact; having Honor Guard armor on makes things like that a lot easier.”

The basement was sparse, with some lights on the ceiling, a few tables and stools, and several long rectangular boxes obviously holding military-grade equipment lying on the floor and tables. Sorsa approached one of the bigger ones and opened it, revealing a set of new Ultra armor.

“There's some standard-issue Spec Ops armor in that case.” He gestured to the box in question. “The plan is for you and Kael to infiltrate the base while I enter alone, carrying a 'message' for General 'Laktasee. You will cut the power to his room, allowing me to interrogate him; being one of Yinji's closest and most trusted subordinates, he should know where the Battle Priest is. Along with that, if you could keep an escape route open in case things go wrong, I would be very grateful.”

[Huka]

Tower Guards
Bug Infestations Today

One of the Holy Tower’s Captains walked with practiced stoic and militant stride, his aged skin tightened from years of hard training and sparring to keep on edge despite the lack of true combat that once filled his youth. His milky honey-gold eyes looked around to the dark night, nose sniffing to the garden’s exotic scent that only came to the breeze of the starry sight. Yet, he felt as restless and uneasy as the day he first came to the battlefield during the Heretic Uprising after handling Kig-yar upstarts.

“Sir…” A younger male’s voice called from behind him. Turning his head over to the file-and-rank guard, he looked expectingly. “The Minister wishes for your ad-” He was about to answer before the chirps of a frantic Yanme’e caught both of their attentions, looking outwards to see the fluttering of wings and the reflection of well-cared chitin from the tower’s light.

“What is going on with the Yanme’e today?” The Captain mused, stepping closer to the balcony and pressed a button on his belt’s installed translator, utilizing a swarm call to alert the approaching Yanme’e that he is aware of its presence and warn it to be on business or leave a good girth from the holy site. Yet, it kept coming.

The Tavern of Brawls

Albus roared out as he sent a broken-armed assassin hurling through a window and rammed his bloody elbow into another’s throat. “Come on! I have a bad tick and electrical pains, you bloody bugs can do better than this!” He roared in the choking nomad’s face with spit flying before hammerfisting his chin for a full heel-over-end flip onto the tavern bar. Aiming, he fired quick bursts at a couple of the newcomers, “Therus, how is it going on your end?” He shouted over the roar of battle.

Nearby, the jungle-born hunter was gutting a back-arched assassin like a fish with a long jagged blade, ignoring the steaming stench and spilling organs as he kept stabbing the ribs and the soft vitals underneath with the finishing of a snapping neck. Flicking the gore into a nearby Jiralhane’s face, the tall male catching the falling blades of a spiker and sliced the attacker from shoulder to hip in one fell swoop.

In the chaos, the assassins’ leader aimed his mauler at an approaching Garatus, smiling deviously to end this glorious game with the traitor’s head splattering like a ripe melon. When his finger came down to the trigger, a sudden spike ripped the weapon out of his grasp-and felt his finger pop out of place from the force and prompted a furious yelp. Looking down at his empty hand, the leader zoned in his sight to the one responsible; the old one!

Snarling venomously, the assassin tossed his other mauler aside before pulling out a long serrated-edged machete from his cloak and charged at Garatus for a real battle as he roared out with hot spit drooling from his jaws.

(Have fun, Garatus. Make it good and vicious for all your tribesmen!)

The Workshop of High Calling’s Medical Room
The Biting of the Serpent’s Tail

Til was phasing in and out of conscious as he sat on the slightly indented medical table, shoulders heavy and upper body slowly wavering in his nudity. Eyes closed somewhat as if drugged with the seething pain despite the applicance of the Aquir gel, perhaps the Covenant’s best invention in the Muramai’s personal input. Without it, Sangheili would probably being one of the least populations in the empire. He never did understand the healer’s taboo sometimes.

Then his ears caught the sound of the door opening, lifting his head up to see one of the forgemen. The short one and two others trailing at his flanks. Despite his numbed aches, the Field Marshal could sense the malice in their appearance and after a swift checking, confirmed they were Muram. He knew better to think they were real workers here and when the leading male opened his mandibles, revealing the distinctive lack of a tongue, Til let out a soft growl.

“Brothers of the Hunt…” He mused in their clan's tongue, sounding abit tired and sad to see this, “What have they done to call you to kill one of your own in unproven heresies?”

The leader looked just as sympathetic to the situation, lifting his hands enough to start gesturing, The demand of our service for the safety of the clan.

Anger brew at that simple answer, simple but flooded with more details that another wouldn’t catch easily. For the safety of the clan meant that someone of high power, military or political, had the Disciples of the Mute Hunter as their daggers, goading them enough to hunt the Grand Hunter of the clan. Til couldn’t ask on who, that was against their honor and he knew this isn’t of their own easy doing. They all would kill a honorable brother for the safety of the clan. Selfless loyalty to all than just one.

Til nodded once, “Thank you.” The assassin nodded once before suddenly lunging as quick as a sand viper, energy katar already blazing in a hearts’ beat.

[Kart]

OOC: Feel free to engage my characters!

Minor Domo Phran 'Amasee
Market District, High Charity

Phran was by no means wealthy, nor was he one that coveted wealth. An ascetic at heart, he chose to shun most material belongings. Ah, but the markets offered so much more than merchandise...around him throbbed the mass of the Covenant, the people that he served and protected, who followed the teaching of the Prophets. After a stint on the front lines, living in the heart of war, it was easy to forget what the rest of the galaxy was like.

Here, the soldiers seemed few and far between. The market guards seemed lazy and undisciplined, not soldiers. While this would have distressed him in the military, here, it seemed just another sign of how peaceful and protected this capital city of the Covenant was. Phran was free to enjoy the sights and sounds of the market undisturbed.

Loud and raucous the markets might be, it was still a soothing sort of noise, one that hummed in his ears and passed out of his mind, like the rushing of the wind or the crashing of the waves. He wandered about, sniffing at fruit, and buying some, browsing knickknacks and jewelry, buying none. He munched idly on the fruits he'd purchased. For awhile, it seemed as if nothing would interrupt his idyll...




From-Sky-Falling Yanme'e Swarm
Airspace above the Market District, High Charity

Spread wings and scatter.

The thought thrummed through the Swarm, beginning in their leader Driftsoar's mind. It echoed throughout the rest, each giving assent in their turn. The swarm divided and subdivided, small parties of Yanme'e darting every which way as they sought food, entertainment, relaxation. Where once buzzed a dense knot of two dozen Yanme'e now flew a sparse cloud of the insectoids.

Some harassed fruit vendors, some dove and wheeled with wild abandon, some hid in small nooks and crannies to sleep. When the swarm willingly divided its hivemind, it did so to lose focus and enjoy the pleasures of distraction. Yet every mind stayed primed, subconsciously listening for any command or though that would bring the swarm together...