Unit Mission I: Redeeming Vigilance

[Huka]

100 Units, Seventy-Second Cycle in the Milestone of Grace (Covenant Battle Calendar)/ Aboard the RCS-class Armored Cruiser Reticent Revenant, slipspace route to outer fringe Dirge System  

5 Rotations before the Great Schism 

Within the curved halls, Covenant soldiers moved and assembled themselves in trained efficiency; from the waddling duty of Unggoy laborers to the quick stations of blue-armored Sangheili minors to their more quick and experienced maroon-armored officers as they barked for preparation of war. However, all moved fast to avoid the striding avatar of their militant pride and wrath; a tall and somewhat hunched being standing well over the average height of the Sangheili, clad in darkest of violet battle harness of a Field Marshal with the sleek avian motif of the Muram desertfolk clad over his face and a elegant cloak of war silk dyed in the same color of his armor, edged with clannish words praying for protection and honor to its wearer. Wrapped around his broad chest and supporting waist was a full arsenal, from the bandolier of vialed darts holding the potent of poisons gripping on a wide leather belt lined with pouches on either side of a etched crest, a pair of rather old-modeled plasma rifles from the days of the Heretic Uprising and the bare glimpse of four curveblades hiding behind his lower back.

Each step was purposeful and calculated, taloned toes of his boots clicking sinisterly like a grounded bird-of-prey. A single jaded visor on the right side of his helm kept forward to his destination and paying little mind to the pair of jet-black Special Operators at his flank, silent shadows to his presence and boasting a fragment of his dreaded aura.

Finally he was halted at the portal of the ship’s bridge by a pair of fleet commandos, both giving a crisp salute and stepped aside. The Field Marshal continued his stride into the more elegant and plentiful variant of a CCS-class’ CIC; from the lifted platform semi-ringed with holographic consoles to a more proper crew pit in a deep U from either end of the bridge towards the large viewscreens, currently showing the planet of their destination, a wide-biomed world with more rocky plains and short mountain ranges than anything else in its meridian. Red glyphs and ‘pieces’ of particular ships placed for the plan of attack, selected landing zones...this was the default plan anyway. There is many factors to consider and acknowledge when the attack happens and their probes are easily tricked by heretics usually. Infidels may have existed as long as the Covenant, but it never get easier to track them down when they are skilled soldiers who fallen from grace or disillusioned by false causes.

Even though the Covenant was already putting its full attention on the war against the marked Humans, there was something very personal when their own betrays the Covenant and its binding writ. A foreign alien is one thing, but…

“Ah, Field Marshal ‘Muramai. You came much earlier than I expected.” A charismatic savvy voice greeted, making the large Sangheili look over to his summoner, a golden-armored Zealot on the shorter spectrum of average height but his face bearing the wrinkles of mortality and scars of wars, same wars that both have fought and bled in. “Of course, Fleet Master. The Heretics have similar courtesy.” Til answered with his voice raggedly deep and sharp like a stabbing dagger as he approached the platform.

The chosen Fleet Master of the Second Fleet of Sanctioned Absolution, Nax ‘Remalee, chuckled morbidly to the other’s dark humor. Slowly looking up to the much taller Muram before looking over to the viewscreen, he examined the plans again with furrowed brows underneath his finned helmet. “Once more, we cleanse our empire of another fledgling mockery to the past?” “It seems likely…” The Field Marshal answered before glancing over, “When will the fleet arrive out of slipspace?”

“In another unit.”

“Excellent, I will have the legion prepared for battle and transport to the Burning Lineage.” He answered, preparing to leave, before Nax rose his brows some to the name of the designated landing ship. “The Burning Lineage, you have that much faith in that Kig-yar friend of yours?” Til halted at that question, a question that have been asked a thousand times before and he always give the same answer,

“We have fought side-by-side together, we’ve killed and bled together. If he wanted to slit my throat, he would have done so ages ago. I may have some doubt of the Kig-yar, but like all races, there are always a few...exceptions.” With that, he grabbed his cloak and walked off to the hanger where his legion was preparing with the ship’s crew.

***

The Second Fleet of Sanctified Absolution have arrived into the edge of the condemned system’s inner asteroid field for the fourth planet, Solitude. Once a place of holy ground for the Covenant like any planet holding the ancient remnants of the Forerunner empire in its far reaches, it have been reportingly claimed by a faction of rebellious Sangheili and followers who believed to shackle the Jiralhanae further down the chain of command in light of their quickening favor by the San’Shyuum led by a Zealot named Gavuk ‘Imamee.

However, the creation of a new Arbiter is out of the question, especially of the last’s death and the High Council have chosen it’s next ‘martyr’. Seared with the Bondage of Honor and given the rank of ‘Field Marshal’, the first to achieve in his clan, Til have been given the right to command a legion once more in his unique case. With just a few milestones, he’ve created the Legion of Redeeming Vigilance with the Sect of Lamenting Consecration as the immediate vanguard as well as commissioned the restoration of the Fleet of Sanctified Absolution till now, they return to the warfront as a restored force once more.

On the first signal of the Fleet Master, the Covenant warmachine lunges for the kill like sharks to unperceptive prey and engaged into a violent battle that showed ancient traditions never truly die within the Sangheili ranks; from chess-like movements to vicious engagements of close and long-ranged mortal combat. This is the intricate return of ages long wished forgotten, brother against brother. 

In the coming clashes, Chur’R-Suf’s personal ship and warband breaks formation to charge through the awaiting opportunity with only a CAR-class Frigate to halt their speeding attempt. With skilled tactics of exploiting the corvette’s mobility and quick thinking, the warband had their interceptor crippled long enough for in-atmosphere infiltration.

Now it is time for the vanguard to make the violent landing beyond the main battle for the reclamation of the desecrated Forerunner temple with a vicious legion between Lamenting Consecration and victory!

The start of the mission begins with the sect's choir of dropships being engaged by Heretical banshees and a distant Locust!

Covenant Military Strength:
2,502x soldiers (1,068x Lamenting Consecration & 480x of Garatus’ Tribe)
x60 Ghosts
x20 Wraith Mortal Tanks (including Anti-Aerial)
x4 Wyvern Artillery Tanks
x9 Locusts
x18 Revenants
x1 Scarab [Currently Unavailable]
x40 Banshees
x40 Wights
x40 Vampires
x90 Phantoms & Spirits
x30 Prowlers
x60 Choppers

Heretic Military Strength: [KNOWN]
4,000 soldiers [Confirmed Kig-yar supplements, all previous Jiralhanae members of Heretic forces executed before arriving on planet]
x4 Locusts
x12 Wraiths
x10 Revenants
x70 Banshees
x50 Phantoms & Spirits

Note: More enemy information and engages will appear over the mission, prepare to be flexible and vicious for survival. Remember your training! The Sect will be the primary players in the battle, the rest of the legion and incoming Covenant forces will be fighting the majority of the Heretic defenses.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus

Garatus rose from his seat as his armor was strapped on by a Sangheili outfitter who seemed to enjoy over tightening every strap to make him uncomfortable, Garatus growling as the shield was strapped overtight onto his left arm. His first deployment as a Chieftain was to combat heretics who despise his species being treated half decently, he would find great pleasure in this task. It was mostly the fact Heretics were being brought to the Holy Empires justice that made him eager for this battle, he hadn't ever killed a Sangheili before though and that too was a new experience he wanted to try. He was friends and colleagues with many Sangheili and would never hurt them, but he had fought Kig-yar pirates before, rebellious Unggoy and disconnected Yanme'e, but never a Sangheili before. He knew of Sangheili taking trophies off of Jiralhanae they had slain and he intended to return to Doisac with many torn mandibles for his homesteads mantle, not a revenge trophy taking though. No, his interest was only for the honor it would bring his Tribe and family, he didn't care that Sangheili took trophies of Jiralhanae. If they killed them honorably it was their right to take a reminder of it, but making a rug from their hide was disrespectful and blasphemous.

Garatus nodded in thanks to the Sangheili who attached his armor for him, regardless of the unneeded hostility before his heavy footfalls led him to a bench atop which rested his Chieftains helm. He gently ran his fingers along its contours with belied grace, the very notion of him being a Chieftain now was failing to sink in. He was the third son of a Chieftain and never was to be a Chieftain, yet now he was one? He place one hand on each side of the beautifully and sturdily crafted helmet and lifted it up, resting it on his head over his copper-colored Mohawk. It fit well but still felt strange to him, to be wearing this, it felt as much like a lie as it did like the truth and he was beside himself. He scrunched his face into an angry grimace, he had carved out a place for himself in this world and he would not deny himself it for some stupid feeling of uneasiness. He was a Chieftain now, and Chieftains don't show weakness, and someday his son would be Chieftain after him.

"Chieftains don't get to be weak" he said softly to himself before seizing his Gravity Hammer in his right hand and resting it on his shoulder as he walked out of the room and towards the hangar.

******Later******


Garatus leaned out from the side of the Phantom and looked at the ground below, a thick glob of spit was sent forth from his lips over where the Heretics were, if only it would hit one of the evil little shits. Valorus was along for the ride along with some of Garatus's fellow military family members as they headed for the landing zone, Garatus was eager to touch down and get a feeling for the planets personality(Garatus had been taught this by his mother, that worlds had personalities of their own). His son was a big lad now, six rotations old and still growing, ten years or so and Fenarius would be old enough to join the Pack and learn the ways of war and eventually be ready to make Garatus proud and kill him in combat. When the day comes that Fenarius would kill Garatus for the Chieftainship would be one of the happiest day of Garatus's life(and the last) as tradition dictated it to be. But Garatus intended to set an example in the meantime for his Pack and leave a legacy for his family beyond what already exists.

Soon the ground rapidly approached and the Phantom hovered ten feet above the ground as Garatus's Pack aboard poured out before scattering to secure the area and make way for Garatus to get out. Garatus leapt from the Phantom and landed heavily on the ground, the dust rising around him. As it cleared a true warrior came into sight, not the nervous Captain that had been, but the unyielding Chieftain that now was.

[NinjaBoss]

Zaxax, Unggoy Ultra


Zaxax strolled briskly from the feeding room, having just satisfied his hunger. He let out a content belch as he passed into another room, stopping in the doorway as a pair of Sangheili walked past. He stood straight and at attention in respect to the higher ranked Sangheili, then turned and went on his way towards the Unggoy quarters. The rest of his lance were down there, likely playing hunting rock or sleeping. Zaxax couldn't blame them, after the long battle on refuge, but they had some time to recover before this mission. Still, the horrors of being stuck on enemy territory with no weapons or battlenet was unnerving. He was a leader though, and couldn't let this get to him. He'd had enough rest anyways....

As Zaxax walked into the quarters he saw Nadad, his second in command, gambling with the other Unggoy. Looking closer, Zaxax realised he was gambling his needler, and losing. By the time he reached the table another Unggoy Major had his needler, and was admiring it in his hands. Letting out a sigh, Zaxax prepared to deal with the situation that was at hand; They were about to rid the galaxy of heretic scum, but Salal can't do that without his needler. Looking at the Unggoy who had recieved Salal's needler, Zaxax began to speak.

"What's your name Major?" He asked, a firm tone in his voice.

"My name is Dabab, Ultra." The Unggoy stood straighter realizing his rank, curious of his intentions.

"Give me that needler. It's not yours, and I need it." Zaxax was very blunt about what he wanted, though he doubted the Unggoy would just hand the weapon over.

"I won this fair and square in a game of rock, why should I give this to you?" Dabab asked, hostility in his voice.

"Because I'm your superior, and if you don't give it up willingly I will take it from you through force."

"Alright! You can have the stupid thing, you bastard!" He threw the
needler at Zaxax, which he caught, then pointed it at Dabab, ushering him away from them. Glaring, the Unggoy Major left at the Ultra's order, however angrily. Now Zaxax turned to Salal.

"You see what you make me have to do? How many times do I have to tell you not to gamble your weapons?" Zaxax asked, and his second in command looked slightly ashamed.

"I'm sorry Zaxax, I can't help myself. You know how I get into a game of rock....." Salal replied, head hanging low.

"Don't do it again! Now where's Tapap and Nadad? We're almost to the heretic base."

[Huka]

The planet’s western hemisphere was beginning to gain their star’s sunlight when the Burning Lineage’s hanger opened and poured out an entire swarm of Covenant dropships and their more swift escorts. From the heavily-armored Phantoms to the durable and older Spirits, they crossed over the short hilly range and crops of light rocks with the dawning sun’s light reflecting off their recently polished hulls in pride of the coming battle. After Chieftain Garatus made his separate landing for the strategy’s flanking, The foremost Spirit opened its side to let Til step out with a grip to the side-latch and his cape fluttering in the breeze, he stared out and zoomed his sight to the designated landing zone.

However, it didn’t take a sniper to see the small cloud of banshees zipping from the distance and the crawling machine of a Locust climbing to a proper position for an aggressive defense. Quickly accessing the sect’s channel in the Battlenet, the Field Marshal cried out, “All dropships prep defensive maneuvers and arsenal! Choirs of Spearing Faith and Undying Reliance, engage!”

Quickly dipping back into his dropship’s bay as it closed, Til grabbed a carbine from a waiting operative and slid into his harness with instinctive reaction, closing his eyes and ready to hear the familiar drums of aerial battle. The zipping hums of the ordered banshees and vampires passes the spirit, firing plasma bolts and thruster-homing needles.

Where the humans didn’t present worthy adversary for the sky with their awkward war-machines, the Covenant commanded the lethal grace of the Banshees and Til knew from the past how they fought; like mechanical insects with avian grace that swooped and zipped each other with trails of plasma to boil their opponent’s thrusts or cockpits or atomize them from the sky with fuel rod bolts. Their manufacturers were experimenting with the modification of angle-capable bolts that could trace a target a short period of time but there have been no credible work yet. However, Til had the modifications of the past to aid him.

***

Outside, the Covenant Banshees zipped past their enemies like charging lancers of old, some even crashing selflessly against their foes while others blitzed a full rain of fuel rod bolts against the enemy that dared to challenge them. Anything that escape, received a sudden extra bolt from one of the veteran crafts. The seemingly-stiff Vampires whirled evasively past the first wave before unleashing bursting barrages of deadly crystalline quills that helped in the dogfight.

The dropships tried to push past the swarm battle, shooting all that tried to stop their progress. The Field Master’s ship rocked some before an angered voice commanded, “Keep pressing. Phantoms, use heavy turrets to support our fighters and follow my ship’s lead!”

Major Labus ‘Adantee
Aboard Phantom Spear of Legion

Gripping on the shaking Phantom’s upper railing for support with little difficulty, the maroon-armored Labus looked over to his brother-in-arms, Major Jhao ‘Tilamee, who glanced over with his usual stoic look that seemed to fear nothing. Even when their world was crumbling down in the ironic prison by their Gods’ maker, he never wavered and had faith in the darkest of moments. Behind them was their twin files of Unggoy and few Kig-yar supporters led by Yeg, while individually aided by a duo of Sangheili minors, who didn’t look as confident despite their harsh training under the Field Marshal.

Then his order came in, Labus snapped his head to the waiting Unggoy gunners and barked out, “You heard our legion master! Get your chitinous hides to those heavy turrets and aid our charge!” The green-armored soldiers jumped up and went their station to escape the Sangheili’s clannish booming voice.

The young Major growled some, ignoring one of the Kig-yars’ raspy chuckle of amusement. Jhao simply curled his clawed fingers for one of his folded axes’ properly curved shaft in silent eagerness to test his skills on his own kind. Sangheili found themselves worthy in comparison to the brutish Jiralhanae and their barbaric methods or Humans and their frail bodies and this was going to be a final test for the legion...to prove it could handle the likes of the Humans again.

Labus felt the same way and stood up straighter with a proud stance, he was ready and able...but he didn’t want to die in airborne before that.

Unggoy Ultra Jadap
Aboard Spirit Hampering Faith

Great Gods of the Stars...please bless me with your ears...hear my prayer.

Give my brave troops the power to fight through smoke and fire. Through the cold chill of Death’s breath and from the brand of servitude.

Let them raise from their lowly sober to become like their fathers of old.

Never to lose faith when their brothers fail and commanders fall.

May their hearts stay as strong as the pillars of Faith and hands steady as the roots of Home.

We are of your faithful Covenant, we died in the millions for your Glory and we will no doubt never will stop.

We fight for the Promise, please give us your strength to fight for the Threshold...or for our own veiled future.

As this prayer spoke ceremoniously through his head, Jadap walked slowly in the rocking of their dropship (bunkered with two other lances), checking and giving his new warriors courage with his assuming presence. Such new and anxious faces, of his own breed and the common, trained hard and almost sadistically by the Field Marshal...but he knew the training was necessary. To keep Unggoy alive, they have been trained harder than most or be used as simple cannon fodder. The Sect of Lamenting Consecration wasn’t the typical sect. It didn’t see its Unggoy as servants and meat shield, the Zealots and most of the infantry officers say their Unggoy as critical as themselves. Jadap respect that greatly and returns in kind. He will not let his soldiers die like last time, suffocating and shot in the back. Today, they were getting a piece of revenge against Heretics everywhere.

Jadap stood up more and looked at his still-living officers; the newly-promoted Yumam and the still nihilistic Heavy Olama stood at their assigned lances with guns at the ready. There was a couple others of his old lance in the mix but it still felt...new. “Ultra…” Dadam called, his renewed armor (with a more thicker methane tank like the rest of the Unggoy legionnaires) bore the crest of Jadap’s lance with a particular etching to serve as the Ultra’s personal aide, appeared from the cockpit and passed on the symbol of the Ultra’s prestige in the legion: a plasma rifle.

Taking the officer’s standardized weapon with a careful reverence, Jadap still couldn’t believe his fortune and wrapped his fingers around the hand-rifle before calling out to his soldiers behind his helmet, “We are Unggoy of the Lamenting Consecration! Let’s show these Heretics how real elite forces work their lower castes!” He cried out in their native tongue with a little snarl of his teeth. The entire ship let out a proud uproar to the senior officer’s words, enough to ignore the shaking of the ship.

Outside, the Hampering Faith barely dodged a deadly lance of pink plasma that turned a quarter-dozen of aircrafts, friend and foe, to scrap metal while cleaning slicing a caught spirit in half after a few moments of superheated metal melting and slow reaction proved fatal in the end, at least for the cockpit. There is no telling if the passengers survived...

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus

Garatus roared to his Pack as they deployed from the phantoms, Jiralhanae Choppers and Prowlers dropping from the underbellies of the troop transports before promptly being mounted by drivers(and gunners and passengers in the Prowlers cases.) They needed some minor fortifications for a fairly safe fallback area and thus Garatus commanded barricades to be raised and rocks to be put in vague wall-like piles as well, before the ten Choppers and three Prowlers were sent out along with one Creche led by Valorus. Soon enough Garatus perked up as Valorus called in saying they had ran into scouts, and needed assistance.

Garatus approached his personal Chopper, a thing of beauty really. He pulled himself into the seat and started the vehicle before taking off towards where Valorus had headed, dust and rocks flying in his wake as he went. As he drove along he spotted a Sangheili trekking through along, the bastard wearing a Jiralhanae's severed hand on his belt. Garatus sped towards this vile murderer who's eyes went wide as he ran the other way, as Garatus and his Chopper closed in on him he rolled to the side and Garatus sped past. He turned the Chopper around in a wide half-circle and accelerated, the Sangheili unable to avoid the churning blades. A shrill warbling scream escaped its mandibles as it was chopped into thousands of tiny pieces and made into a purple paste as Garatus went. Now that some of his kind had been avenged he sped towards Valorus and his Creche.

[Faclan]

SSA-012 - Yanme'e Swarm
Refitted and waiting by the Masters side for orders.

The Ultra of SSA had been surprised when the Queen, after clarifing that the situation in the Holy resting city was dealt with, had only re-stocked the swarm up to the same number as last time. Same spread of Engineers to soldiers, same weapons, same everything except the individual members. But the Queen had told her not to worry, the swarm had shown itself effective in all situations except for the times when it was out of their control so they would be sticking with the amount that worked before. But it wasn't the Ultras place to question the Queen so after the initial question it had been dropped.

In the intervening time between this mission, against the filthy heretics that would dare to smudge The Masters name, and the end of their resting period had been a tough time for the Ultra. The Master missing for so long and even after finally returning he was very different. The Sect had been told the general rulings of what had befallen him and his closest comrades but it seemed far worse than they had been told on him. But The Master had said nothing, and so the Ultra had to deal with the unknown.

By now, clutching the roof of the spirit so The Master and his troops below could move freely with the rest of her Swarm, the Ultra had been able to direct her mind to the killing that needed to be done to forget about the possible issues. Not only were there Sangheili to teach the true path and righteous fury of the Faithful but also some Kig-Yar who seemed to think their plans of quick money wouldn't no unpunished. As long as they could get to the ground it would be a good day as the Swarm quietly hummed in communication and the Ultra clicked a few words to The Master as the doors shut.

"We stand ready Master, to swoop and maim on your command."


Euigne - Chieftain aide and mystic
Organizing the base.

One would have though, several of Eugine's fellow historians on Doisac as well, that after he had crowned his Nephew Chieftain Euigne would be on his way back to Doisac pleased that he had done well. But Garatus was still new to the position and was intelligent enough to know that he didn't know everything. Eugine still had a lot of 'do-nots' to explain when they had a more private setting that a battlefield as he didn't want Garatus to be killed by his own hateful troops. Too many foolish Chieftains assumed that they were untouchable, and never say the blade heading for their back until they were staring at the floor dead.

"Then move the choppers not being driven into the empty spot!" Eugine called out to a minor who was halfway complaining that they didn't have enough proper shields. "What's more important to you?! Your life or your precious ride?" The minor quickly thumped his cheat and hopped in the seat to move the vehicle to fill the empty space. Looking back at the larger camp it was good to see it was coming along well, it would serve its purpose before they advanced as an unstoppable furry wave toward the foolish heretic Sangheili and their Kig-Yar pets...Perhaps they could capture some for a victory feast?

He tried not to show it but he was immensely proud of Garatus for what he had been able to achieve, not given the Hammer because he was next in line but by proving himself in combat. Although he had his concerns he knew most of them were not real issues and if they reared their ugly head his Nephew would deal with them with wisdom and ferocity - the best mix for a Chieftain. Rolling his eyes as his mind was brought off the happy thoughts as a crash rung out Euigne hefted his staff and started to walk toward it, seems like some of the pack needed a helpful reminder, to the sound of smack!


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
A prayer before the unfaithful are judged (Likely deploying with Labus and the general sect troops.)

As there was nothing solid for Cad to hold on too on the Phantom ride down he instead just tried to relax in the holding field with a hand over his scarf as they rocked and rolled their way down. Eyes closed as his file tried to maintain their composure in the face of the very real threat that the next second could be their last and they could be shot out of the sky. Cad meanwhile busied himself with a prayer to the Gods, as he often did these days despite their test on the Human planet with the blackout. The prayer not only to give the pilot the skill to get them safely down but also for himself, to have the strength to face down the Sangheili heretics and send them to be judged before the gods.

Finishing his prayer he removed his helmet from his belt and quickly strapped it over his head before taking out his Needler and charging it. Giving his ammo canisters a few tugs as well as his saber frog to make sure all were attached. But not activating his shield in the cramped vessel until they were dropping. Nodding to Pad, Nas, and Kot as they took deep breaths then nodded back and removed their weapons as the Phantom slowed down and their holding fields fell.

Dropping down first Cad activated his shield as he fell, scanning around to see several other Phantoms deploy their troops as well. Hitting the ground he crouched down and kept scanning after moving out of the way so the rest could unload. So they had survived the trip down, now was just the matter of making to the now tainted temple and clearing out the unholy squatters.


Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion
On the Burning Lineage with Suf, 'discussing'.

"That Frigate will be back Suf, and right now you are hanging your rear right out of the nest waiting to fall out." Kael said as she leant against the command chair on the Lineage's bridge, somewhat unhelpfully as she smirked and continued. "And with your ship in this position the Frigate will think that you are defenseless, and try to board you so the forces on the ground have no cover as well as that moral loss. But that's why myself and my Entourage are here. Whatever would you do without me here?"

It was true that Kael was just trying to get Suf's goat in a very dangerous situation while he tried to direct the landing of this operation, but at this precise second they were in no danger as the Banshees could do nothing to a vessel like this. It was just Kaels way to pass the time as her Entourage dispered around the vessel to cover the likely entry points sound a boarding opportunity come up. Kael and Tel staying on the bridge just in case. Most of Suf's own crew had been deployed to the ground forces so Kael and her force had been brought along to make sure that this vessel remained in Sufs hands.

Suf, little upstart male thinking he knew boarding better than she...But as Til had requested her for this operation she would listen to Suf for the most part. But that didn't mean she couldn't be annoying as it was so rare she got to just go for it. Despite her jokey words however Suf, and the rest of the bridge crew, would see that she was standing ready as her bright orange eyes roved across the screens. Waiting for the Frigate to come back and try its luck and to keep Suf safe.



(Sorry for the wait all and I hope the posts work D: .)

[BetaWülf]

Unggoy Ultra Dakek

Dakek sat cross-legged in the Phantom as it rocked steadily as they flew through the air towards their deployment, and while everyone else talked or slept or messed around with their weapon, Dakek just sat there. His hand slowly raised itself up to rub his left temple, an egg shaped golden metal plate was fused into his heads chitin. He barely remembered being stabbed, he had passed out as it happened. He recovered surprisingly quickly(disturbingly even) with only some odd speech mannerisms and mood swings to remind people of his trauma, and of course the obvious metal plate sticking out of his head. The chitin had regrown nicely where the stray bullet had cracked it open, a very short spiky ridge showing where it had regrown.

The Phantom rocked back and forth slowly, the vessel jolting slightly as its turrets fired on heretics below. Dakek was excited to fight again, oddly enough his injury had done nothing to lessen his bloodlust if not actually fueling his hatred for the Humans who caused him suffering.

[deceit]

Ra'ab clutched the harness tightly as the phantom rocked back and forth. His arm was wrapped around the side of the harness like a serpent's deadly coil around its prey from his homeworld, not willing to allow his troops, and the other lance leader, see him lose balance or fall due to his one arm. As usual, being a ground deployment force, air-battles made him nervous and feel quite powerless. His eyes glanced out the sides of the Phantom's cracked cargo doors as they zipped through the sky at impressive speeds. He could see the Unggoy turret gunner clutching his heavy cannon tightly as he wheeled it around, unleashing large plasma bolts in waves in the direction of the zipping banshees. A few shots landed, but for the most part, the Unggoy wasn't having any luck at these speeds. He saw a covenant banshee suddenly scream by, right as a fuel rod shot caught it in the aft. The explosion caused him to close his eyes and flinch momentarily.

He looked at his lance. Ransy was clearly panicking, but doing his best to keep it to himself, clutching his harness as tightly as Ra'ab himself. The Kig'Yar seemed unbalanced and unhappy. He looked over at the other Lance, whose team of all Unggoy were standing straight and perfect, unflinching and resolved, perfectly trained by their Lance leader, a tall, powerful looking Sangheili who showed much promise in the Covenant military ranks.

Ra'ab chuckled. The other Lance was like night and day to his own, especially as far as discipline goes.

But he didn't care about that. His lance stayed with him through thick and thin, and even though they'd had quarrels in the past, here they remained. One may not at a glance have known it, but honor was a trait that ran deep in Ra'ab's lance. And in Ra'ab's case, compassion.

The only reason he stood here today was because of Til, the Field Marshal who had suffered an injustice under the command of the Covenant. After such dedication and duty-bound willingness, the Covenant tried to shame him for his 'failures.' It made Ra'ab sick to think about. But he had been given a new chance, made a field Master, and charged with this assault. And when Til had asked for the Sect of Lamenting Consecration's help, how could Ra'ab possibly refuse? He had asked Jib if he'd wanted to transfer out, knowing of their struggles in the past, but when Jib heard that Ra'ab was going to be a member of the Vanguard, leading his squad into the battle...

The Kig'Yar said that if it weren't for Jib they'd all be dead, so he couldn't let them charge in here without them. Ra'ab was unsure if these were Jib's real motives, but he was very much glad that the Kig'Yar had decided to stay; and whatever his reasons, Ra'ab was very much touched the Kig'Yar chose such a heartwarming lie for him.

"Warriors of the covenant!" Ra'ab bellowed out, "There is no shame in fear! Fear is blood that drives you to achieve great wonders, fear is the medicine that keeps you alive! But harness that fear, turn it into your drive for victory! For we must be stout and resolute! We are the vanguard, victory and defeat will be a direct consequence of how you conduct yourself on the battlefield today, and fools die without achieving their goals." He turned and gave a roar to his Lance, "Field Marshall Til has been charged with the destruction of the heretics, who are ruled by anger and greed. Do not let such things cloud your judgement, steel yourself against their perjury, fend off their predations, and stand shoulder and shoulder, for it is the BROTHERHOOD of the covenant that will be our victory! THey are guided by their hatred of our Jiralhanae brothers, who fight with us to this day! We will show them that Covenant means connection, Covenant means a promise of brotherhood! Let us rise to stand by our Field Marshal, who has lead us through pain and glory in the past!"

His troops, even the Kig'Yar, gave a whopping cheer!

The other Lance stared at Ra'ab, with what appeared to be a tinge of disgust.

"I will not tolerate weakness. Fight and die for the covenant." He ordered his troops. He looked to his Sangheili minor, "This is what becomes of allowing weakness into the military. What good is a warrior with one arm?" He chuckled.

Ra'ab heard, but chose to ignore.

The fires of purgatory were rising ahead, and soon as the dropship suddenly shuddered from an impact, soon they would be on the fields of hell. The fields of war cares not for how how many arms you have. He laughed, looking at the other Lance leader, "I have one arm, but two hearts," he said, referencing a Sangheili proverb regarding their anatomy and physiology. 

[greatpumpkinking]

In the starboard troop bay of his assigned Spirit, Raiko stood silent and as motionless as possible. Around him, his file was chattering excitedly. Bibap and Reter recited prayers at one another while Gaz and Mok just as fervently discussed the potential for plunder. Over the communicator, the excited roars, growls, and invocations of his brothers sounded far away and scratchy. Through it all, Raiko forced himself to be an island of calm discipline.

He had no need to speak his benedictions aloud: the most fervent prayers are those that are said only in the heart. Plunder interested him not at all. But, perhaps most importantly of all, Raiko simply had no one that he wished to speak to at that moment.

This was his first deployment. The first steps taken on his own Great Journey. And he was being sent to fight other Sangheili. It was quite the let down, really. Raiko could not deny the need for their destruction. Heresy in any form could not be tolerated. Still, he had hoped to be tested against the Humans first. After all, were they not the greatest threat to the Covenant? Weren't the small, frail savages supposed to be the biggest affront to the Gods? Why did the San 'Shyuum waste their time hunting down these fools, rather than focusing solely on the destruction of Humanity? For these questions, Raiko had no answer.

Raiko closed his eyes and ran his hands over his combat harness one last time. His ammunition and grenades were secure and placed in exactly the spots that elder Jrent had taught him were best-suited for easy access. His weapon - a Needler - was clipped to his thigh plate, pre-loaded and ready for combat. His armor was tight and comfortable. He opened his eyes again and glanced around his heads-up display. All his systems were operating normally.

Raiko felt and heard the whine of the drives change as the Spirit slowed and turned. The pilot's voice cut in over the chatter of his communicator. "Prepare for landing," his voice boomed. "And good hunting to you, brothers!" Raiko's hand found the Needler's grip and he brought the weapon up. Regardless of who his enemy was - Human or otherwise - he had been ordered to find them and lay waste. He would not disappoint his family.

[LaxKnight]

Tori Pek - T'vaoan Murmillo
Kael's Entourage
On Burning Lineage - Waiting For the Fun to Start

Tori sat on a crate, sharpening her sword. Their leader, Kael Gel, had them deployed throughout the ship and, being the hard charging warrior she was, Tori volunteered her Lance to defend the right hangar. She expected most of the heavy fighting to be in the hangars, defending against boarding parties and such, and she wanted to be in the thick of the action. Her pride and heritage demanded it, much to the grievance of some in her Lance. Once she reached it she immediately took charge. She ordered her 'sniper' file to set up along the upper floor to provide support for the 'assault' file who patrolled the lower hangar deck. She saw Nera Zok, Major in charge of the 'sniper' file, directing her troops to place crates and energy barriers for cover. Major Lop Pek leaned against the wall, watching as his charges bumbled around in pairs 'patrolling'.


The T'vaoan Murmillo could see the looks sent her direction. She can her them whispering. She knew they were talking about her. She knew all the rumors. That she was some sort of gladiator from an ancient clan of barbarians. That she was a blood thirsty brute who drinks the blood of even her own kind. Who carries a regular sword in the age of energy swords and plasma weapons? And to top it off she has the filthy Human weapon on her hip. Only someone equally simple would dare belittle themselves to use such a primitive weapon. Did she used to be part of the Covenant Military? How else would she get the Murmillo armor? I heard she killed a soldier to get it and ate his heart. Why aren't we dead then? She set us up here, practically a death sentence. No, if she wanted us dead she would have killed us herself. I heard she challenged an Sangheili to a duel. And won.


Tori didn't show any sign of noticing or attempted to stifle the rumors. If they were talking about her then it meant she had a reputation. Rumors are simply the beginning of legends. The orange armored female lifted the blade to her orange eyes to look it then brushed a finger along the edge. It was sharp and ready to spill blood. She put it in its sheath then loaded her Human pistol. Unlike many in the Covenant, she found that the Humans weapons intriguing. Sure the Humans weren't as advanced as them but they still manage to kill droves of them with their projectile weapons. She found the pistol they carried fascinating. She saw Humans snipe Unggoy and Kig-Yar behind their shields with it. How something so small can be so precise? She took it off a Human she killed and kept it ever since. It took awhile to find the proper projectile carrying cases and it was a pain to put the projectiles in it but she loved how accurate it was compared to her own plasma pistol.


She took a moment to admire the shiny silver weapon. Not like they were in a hurry. This was the worst part, the waiting. Her muscles ached for the thrill of combat, her heart longed to prove her worth, and her tongue was eager to taste blood again.

[BetaWülf]

T'vaoan Major Roh Gel

Roh Gel lightly gripped the handhold as the Phantom rocked gently in its own calm way. He stood straight, his features scrunched down into an expression of anger. He was not pleased with these stupid Heretics and their pointless baby games, he wanted to kill Humans more than Sangheili if anyone would believe it. He recalled hearing about his grandfather Iha Gel, and how he had fought Heretics when he served in the Covenant. Nana Zaat had told Roh he was why his own Mama joined the Covenant, to be like her father. He scowled at this thought, was that not the reason why he himself joined? He growled as his grip tightened on his handhold, he didn't do it for her dammit, he did it for himself and all the Kig-yar.

He perked up as the Phantom could be felt lowering itself, down they go! Roh was the first one out as the sides opened, dropping to the ground in a roll before using the momentum to start sprinting into the nearby scrub brush for cover. Moments later his comrades were in the tall scrub brush as well, warbling and chirping together in discussion of their plans. This planet was ugly to Roh, just plain hideous. It was too dry, the sky looked like it was going to rain all the time and the dust was terrible for his allergies. Damned allergies....

[Huka]

“Sire,” Til’s pilot cried out through his direct comlink, “We’ve lost a Spirit to the enemy locust!” A good two lances gone in that alone. Eighteen good soldiers, hard-trained. He hated this part of the battlefield. Soldiers trapped in flying coffins right now, enough to pity and fully respect air and naval forces. Their lives handled with a pilot and that sliver of the Gods’ love.

Clicking his lower right mandible, the Field Marshal activate his channel in the battlenet, “Choir of Crying Revenant.” “Orders, Honorable Field Marshal?” A gruff, muffled voice questioned immediately. “Break the battle and deal with that locust.” The orders replied.

“Immediately!” The choir-master responded on the mark before cutting communications. Just outside of the commander’s dropship, the escort protecting it angled themselves and swooped out of formation with their banshee shrieks from the grav-orbs. Twenty heavily-armed banshees, all intent of destroying a single fortification to this defense.

The Locust angled its head upon seeing the incoming banshees, charging its amethyst beam and fired for a sweeping slice as if handling a sword. However, most of the banshees evaded with the grace of Sanghelios’ raptors with a couple hit with boiling scars, luckily it hit the more armored cockpits. Thick quadruped legs tried to pull the fortified mining equipment for a retreat or better position but all for not.

The commanding banshee fired the first fuel rod bolt, crashing at the cockpit with a radioactive explosion. The protective shell crackled and stumbled the machine some, its pilot still alive despite the boiling heat that suddenly spiked. Then another, and another, and another rain of fuel rod shots hammered the locust till it exploded in a semi-glorious flower of plasma and flying shrapnel. A couple of its legs survived and crumbled uselessly.

“Locust destroyed, sire.” The choir-master chimed with glee.

Til was rubbing on his Yanme’e ultra’s head with the back of his middle fingers, still brimming with pride on her dedication and instinct with the incident on the colony world. “Excellent work, Choir-master. You have free reign of aerial combat.” He said in the form of a reward, already hearing the escort zipping back to join in the fight against the falling heretics.

Enough waiting, Til wanted to get out of this death trap now! “Pilot, make the landing now. I grow ill in this close space.” He ordered. “B-But Field Marshal, are you sure? Intel report of a infantry coming to that particular position.”

“Pilot!’ The Zealot suddenly snapped with grave stern, making the sangheili actually yelp. “Do as I request, my warriors are hungry for blood and I am not one to refuse a good cleansing. If you are worried of my safety, further our assault with suppressor fire.”

“Yes, sire.” The pilot said submissively. New pilots, always so worrisome. They grow out of it as a few skirmishes. Afterwards, Til contacted all lance leaders, “Warriors, prepare for grounding and immediate assault. The heretics are as impatient as we are!” He warned before feeling his pod open up to the sound of aerial combat and rushing winds. His spirit was firing its deadly plasma turret with the melodic blasts, hitting and melting rock, ground and bodies. The heretic force was coming to greet and Til was eager to finally kill something.

“Fly!” He ordered his Yanme’e before jumping out in the midst of their buzzing wings and chitin, trailed by his lance of Special Operatives, most wielding beam rifles and carbines beared out while only two had their energy swords blazing out before camouflaging as their commander’s ghastly guardians.

Landing in a protective cropping of rocks and short hill to gain good ground. Til took the helm of it, dark cape fluttering in the winds under the belly of his spirit as his sight zeroed on the distant Heretic camp of constructed buildings and an array at its heart while guarded by automated anti-aerial turrets. Perfect.

Then a shot upon his shoulder caught his attention, the Zealot glared down to catch the responsible heretic before unholstering one of his plasma rifles. “Dropships, take U-formation and drop the soldiers in places of defense. I don’t want any unnecessary deaths!” He ordered as he took cover behind a rock. The zips of particle beams catching his ears but he ignored it for now to get every affirmative.

The plateau had a good neutral grounds for the battle, cover of boulders here and there with short hills nubbing the flat ground and larger butte to the east while giving off a romantic scene for melee combat in the center of the near circular rock positions. The heretics were already in good positions, Unggoy cannon fodder and their Kig-yar aggressors stepping up to closer confrontation with the lonely Zealot and his Yanme’e guardians, only to be suppressed by invisible carbine and beam fire elsewhere around him while Sangheili officers start to take a careful flanking to the higher landing or lead the defense.

His spirit still drifting near to handle its ‘other delivery’, Til turned his back against the rock and watched his sect drop in for a heated landing.

[BetaWülf]

Sangheili Major Gjanee Bakee
An early lander....

Gjanee and his Lance had been dropped fairly early before the heavy resistance had been able to set up, and he watched from further up the boulder covered hill as Field Marshal set down, blood still fresh on Gjanee's mace from a recent kill. Gjanee crouched down as particle beam fire was heard, he returned his mace to its frog on his thigh and picked up his plasma repeater. He paused momentarily to devise a plan, and chose to make his way to the Field Marshal. Not only was it better for strength in numbers but also better protection for his own soldiers. After giving a run down of his plan to his Lance they began to enact it, Gjanee and Calos stood tall and laid down cover fire while Akha lead the Kig-yar and Unggoy down the hill towards Field Marshal Til and his invisible guards.

Calos clicked his mandibles at Gjanee, signaling that his plasma rifles were about to overheat. Gjanee ceased firing while Calos continued his barrage, but as soon as Calos's plasma rifles overheated Gjanee was firing his Plasma repeater again while Calos ran down the hill to wait for Gjanee. Gjanee started back-peddling as he fired in bursts to prevent overheating, the occasional but poorly aimed carbine or particle beam shot pinging into the dirt or rocks around the tall Sangheili. Gjanee made it to the boulder Calos was waiting for him at and crouched down behind it, Calos rising up to provide new cover fire with his freshly cooled dual plasma rifles. Once Gjanee's plasma repeater had cooled he and Calos ran fast down the hillside, occasionally peppering plasma fire behind themselves to throw off their adversaries aim.

Gjanee waved his hands as he and his Lance came flying down the hill raising dust as they went, his hands waving to show he was on Til's side, though he was fairly certain the Heretics had different colored armor."Field Marshal," Gjanee said bowing as he huffed,"As you most likely already know there are snipers in the area, and also at least a Lance worth of heretics further up the hill" Gjanee finished before rising back to his full height and straightening being polite and official.

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus

Garatus sped forward on his Chopper, a thick cloud of dust trailing behind with rocks spraying out in his wake. Garatus could just barely hear the din of battle over the heavy cycling of his vehicle, he spotted a slight rise in the path ahead and right as he was about to come up on it he used the boost and rocketed forward. Garatus zoomed through the air on his Chopper as Valorus's Creche cam into view, his Jiralhanae to his right and the heretics to the left. Garatus fired his Choppers weaponry at the heretics as he sped towards them, killing two Unggoy and maiming a Sangheili. The Chopper raced across the dusty ground as it barreled into the Heretics, most of whom jumped out of the way save for one or two Unggoy who were chopped into tiny blue pieces. Garatus loved his Chopper though, it had been his fathers and he fondly remembered changing fluids and unclogging the blades with his sire, and when he had died he left it to Garatus.

Garatus circled around as the Heretics were either fleeing or trying to fire on Garatus, but Valorus and his Creche were dropping them with suppressive fire. Garatus sped forward and growled as plasma fire bounced off his new energy shields he received with his Chieftain armor, a foolish Sangheili attempted to jump onto the Chopper and managed to grab onto Garatus as they sped along. Garatus slid his Chopper to stop as he knocked the Sangheili from his back, using the brief moment to pull his gravity hammer from his back. The Sangheili rose but was too groggy from his ordeal to resist his Jiralhanae aggressor. Garatus hooked his gravity hammers blade on the pauldron of the Sangheili and pulled him in swiftly, raising his shield up and jabbing it forward into his victims throat. He let the split-lip drop, coughing and wheezing before lining his hammers back blade up to the Sangheili's neck, before raising the hammer high and slamming it down brutally. The body spasmed as blood pooled between where the neck had formerly been attached to the head, Garatus picked the head up and carried it with him as he walked over to Valorus.

"Thanks for the aid Chieftain, and commands your immense?" Valorus said, slamming his fist into his chest as a salute to Garatus.

"Gather your warriors brother, we're going to move out in force directly" Garatus said looking at the sky above, as if waiting for it to speak to him,"Yes Chieftain" Valorus said, chest thumping once more before gathering his Creche as Garatus activated his communications to contact his Uncle Eugenius.

"Uncle, it is Garatus. I need you to get the Pack ready to move out to my position, leave twelve of the Choppers, thirty of our Warriors and two of the Prowlers behind to safeguard our camp in case we need a fallback area. Gods be with you Uncle" Garatus said as Valorus's Pack was gathered together around him.

[Faclan]

SSA-012 - Yanme'e Swarm
Providing targets so the ghosts can extinguish.

Having flipped off the roof to stand beside The Master the Ultra couldn't help but leaning into the rubs as the transport continued to rock and The Master shouted out needed orders. Her swarm may have been jealous of the attention but as Ultra she would be the one to receive the praise from The Master as they finally started to lower down. The Swarm made ready as they removed weapons from holsters and charged them, ready to rain down not so much death as distraction so The Master and his small swarm would be able to move safely.

Soon the doors were open and the command given as the Swarm chirped in response and dropped or otherwise flew out into the air. Spotting the heretic Kig-Yar and their scum Sangheili masters were easy enough as the Swarm started to suppress them as The Master went invisible with his troops. The fighting was short until they were down, one Swarm member falling to sniper fire before that particular Kig-Yar had a grenade dropped down on top of his head. Retreating back to The Masters side as he took a moment to survey the field they landed to take a moment to rest their wings and waiting for further orders as the Ultra looked over the distant heretic base.

"Their extermination will come Master," she clicked out to Til as she reloaded her Needler. "They cannot escape the wrath." She looked over as a tall Sangheili ran toward them, and instinctually put her Needler up and aimed at his face and would keep it pointing it him until The Master told her not too - can't be to careful with all the scum Sangheili...

(Dead: 1 Wounded: 0 Alive: 11)


Eugine - Chieftain aide and mystic
Moving out.

Nodding in approval was the temporary wall of choppers were set up Euigne lowered his staff from his poised to smack position as the Minor quickly moved out of range. Resting the staff against the chopper he took the moment of quiet to take out his journal and make some notes on this mission. He had already noted the location and suspected heretic forces and paid Kig-Yar supporters, adding under the Kig-Yar that they must have been paid a lot or desperate to directly oppose the Covenant, and began to note down the Jiralhanae bases defenses. It was slapdash and barely enough, nice and old fashioned, but it also served the purpose of having their vehicals ready to move out if needed and each ne also acting as a turret with the guns and blades facing the outside.

It reminded Eugine of back in the day when he was a warrior. The joy he and his pack would have in their Choppers when off the battlefield. Trying to do tricks or hang on after intentially rolling it, good times. Blinking as he heard a voice right in his ear he waited to answer it for a few seconds. Finishing up that the attack will likely begin soon.

Nodding at the message he responded with a strong 'Yes Chieftain!' and then closed out the call. He didn't need to call Garatus his rank since he was his older family member but it was good to show the youngsters the correct way to address their new leader. Giving a general radio message to the Pack at the base Eugine relayed the orders, saying the ones last to their vehicals would be left behind to clean those remaining and not get to see any combat! It sure did the trick as nearly everyone mounted up, thankfully enough were slow enough to not have a fight over who got to stay behind. Nodding in approval Eugine lumbered his way over to a Prowler and clumbed into the gunners seat after shooing out the Minor who was in it before.

"Elder? Are you sur*Smack*Ow!"

"Yes youngin, you only need one hand to work the trigger and I can aim fine with my bad hand, now either sit on the side or stay behind!"

"Yes Elder!"

Smirking as the boy hopped onto the side Eugine set his staff behind him in the gunners seat as he ordered the move. The large pack moving out in force as the remainder moved their vehicles into defensive positions and manned the remaining turrets. Garatus probably didn't suspect he would be coming along, but if the Heretic base had any Holy glyphs in it Euigne would be dammed if he was going to miss it.



(Kael and Cad will be when we have a Suf/Labus post. Blah sorry its kinda short.)

[Huka]

Minor Chata ‘Aquiree
Disembarking for Battle

Jumping out of his assigned phantom with his own file of Unggoy minors with the 2/3rd of his lance and a Kig-yar group led by Cad , Chata grunted on impact under his feet and immediately scanned the area around him with the rest of lamenting Consecration landing on their ordered position, engaging immediately. His eyes caught his brothers-in-arms scattered about with their own gained lances with Suf himself commanding another group of warrior files to guide them as stern and caring as he did with them.

He felt a ping of jealousy but it reminded him of the common rooms, a mentor with his creche of youngsters to teach and care for till they were old enough to live for war college. It was no different but now Chata have graduated to have his own command and walk his own path. Looking forward as his new officer Major ‘Irasee barked out for their attention, preparing for the combat action ahead.

Anyone could see the Heretics pushing out of the rocks like the lowly criminals that they are; the Sangheili and Unggoy were garbed in newly-shaped harnesses to differ from the Covenant’s own gear, more edged and colored differently. The younger officers seemed to wear a odd darker blue coloring and the seniors had a dirt-red hue with Sangheilian crests that might be native for this colony’s clans. While the Unggoy were armed with the standard plasma pistols, they seemed to hold small ballistic arms too that represented rifles.

With his fellow Minor-a stoic western Sanghelios clansman named Vol ‘Houai-at his side with his own unggoy file, Chata pulled out his needler to relish the custom of ‘demanding blood’ to his officer while moving for their own cover, firing their plasma and needle ammunition to the foes across the way. Bucking at the feel of a hot bolt hitting his shoulder, the Aquir soldier barrelled behind a boulder and waited for his shields to cool and recharge. “This is much different from handling humans.” He mused.

“Quite, Newblood.” A tight voice agreed, catching Chata’s attention to be his lance officer ‘Kamalee. The red-armored veteran was priming a grenade and sent it hurling for the approaching force while Consecration’s own vanguard charged for a bloody melee. “Remember that these heretics lose our love and mercy the moment they turned from the wisdom of the Prophets in this manner. Do not think of them as our brothers...think of them as we do the humans; insects to be crushed.” He said, jerking his head back a near headshot, carving a red-hot hole on the cover’s corner before crouching and taking a burst outward to whatever shot at him, quickly retreating back. “Do you understand me?”

“Of course, sir.” Chata said, hiding his contempt of being addressed like a fresh novice. He knew the enemy and had no quarrel choking another Sangheili to death. Instead, he challenged his anger through his needler as he came out, aimed for a flanking Kig-yar in cloth and harness before firing several quills into its throat and thighs. “Keep to your training!” The file officer warned his unggoy, who kept to the Field Marshal’s golden rule of ‘Keeping to Cover’ while shooting out quick bursts to plasma from their pistols.

[Deleted]

Sangheili Ultra Vinza'za 'Wodamai

Aboard Phantom-Preparing to Deploy

The last milestone had been a haze to Vinza'za.  He vaguely remembered the battles...the din of combat and screams of agony a hodgepodge collection in the Ultra's mind, peppered with vivid, almost surreal moments that had burned themselves into Vinza'za's brain.  The betrayal in the Legion had shocked everyone, no less the veteran Ultra.  His disgust for the traitorous Jiralhanae was palpable.  The silver-clad Sangheili felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach; not only had he lost brothers-in-arms in the ordeal, but the Jiralhanae had proven they could not be trusted, and yet the Zealot of the remaining Legion forces is held responsible.  While Vinza'za did not question the Gods, he now questioned the San'shyuum's word which he had once coveted so greatly.  His faith was shaken to it's core.  Strong, loyal soldiers held in contempt.  The soldiers of Lamenting Consecration were made to bear the consequences of the traitors they had all suffered from, as the souls of the dead cried out for justice.  But that was of no relevance.  Vinza'za looked out across the ensuing battle, focusing his thoughts on the task at hand.  Heretics were the target of his rage now. 

The Ultra's initial plan was simple:  Land, secure a perimeter and mount defenses, then prepare to attack the Heretic's in force.  Execution would be more complicated, if they made it to the ground alive.  Vinza'za whispered his own silent prayer. as many did, for their survival.

Spirit of Sanvoros, guide me.

Spirit of the Resonashi, protect me.

May all the Gods weigh my life, my honor, and my faith.

May I be found innocent of all crimes,

And allowed to act as your avatar of justice.

The 'Wodam hunter took a deep breath, before checking his equipment one last time.  Four plasma grenades were arrayed across the lower part of his combat harness, and he had his sword strapped to his thigh.  The shiny new Type-31 rifle was strapped magnetically to his back.  His armor, although marred and blemished, had managed to survive through many years of combat with a few part replacements.  Suddenly, the momentum of the Phantom shifted as the thrusters kicked in and the transport began to lower.  Vinza'za looked to his soldiers, Zinta at the forefront.

"We've all been here before, it is only another battlefield.  Our enemy is the same: more heretical scum.  Although they have traded Nishum bodies for that of our brothers and sisters, they are no less despised by the Gods!  We will go and regain our honor, honor stolen by the traitor Jiralhanae.  Our faith will shine true!" As Vinza'za spoke fervently, he could see the anger in his soldier's eyes as they gave a battlecry.  It was not outright rage.  It was the bloodlust of someone who had lost brothers and friends.  It was a thirst for vengeance.  The Creche Commander did not make them wait, jumping from the side of the Phantom and rolling as his armor tossed up dirt.

Vinza'za quickly scanned the area as Heretic's started to focus their attention on him.  They had set down near the edge of the U shaped landing zone, and the area was covered in Separtists.  A rocky outcropping rose out of the ground about fifty meters from his position.  As Zinta's Lance deployed from the Phantom and formed up, the Ultra directed them to take cover there so he could get the Creche together so they were at full combat efficiency.

[Kart]

From-Sky-Falling Yanme'e Swarm
Providing suppressive fire

They thought as one, they flew as one, they fought as one, even though they were two dozen. The swarm descended at breakneck speed, pushing their wings for all they were worth. Driftsoar, clad in her Ultra's teal carapace, led the swarm in its assault. From her mandibles, and that of twenty-three other Yanme'e, came a wordless, incoherent shriek that no other species could mimic or emulate.

A communication channel opened up in her earpiece. The voice of Geidr 'Hojiree, their "liaison" or handler, sounded in her ear. "Driftsoar, take your swarm and descend upon the outcroppings on the edge of the landing zone. Provide suppressive fire for the Acolyte Creche as they assemble for battle."

It irritated her, and the swarm, to hear herself be referred to as a single entity, separate from her kindred, as if they were her subordinates, not extensions of her own being. But the Sangheili could not be expected to understand the Yanme'e, as they never fully had, and never fully will.

That being said, she obeyed. Her swarm flew fast and low over the rocky ground as they swept toward the outcropping that the heretics cowered behind. While the stone might protect them from the plasma that came from the infantry, it would not defend them from attack from above. The swarm opened fire with their Needlers, bringing down a pink rain on the heretics, beautiful and deadly. Their goal was to sting and disorient, not to kill, for in the opening moments of battle, it was far better to scatter one's opponent, rather than try to pick them off one by one.

The hail of crystal drove many of the heretic Unggoy out from their cover, but a few of the Sangheili were tenacious enough to return fire. A few bolts scorched their wings, one even wounding one of the Yanme'e enough to send her crashing to the ground. Screeching in rage, they doubled back for another pass, annihilating the offenders under the fury of their twenty-three Needlers.

Despite their anger at their comrade's demise, some part of them took heart. This was war. And they enjoyed it.

[Deleted]

Zealot Field Master Nertetzu 'Odumai  

Deploying onto the field 

Nertetzu slunk to the ventral side of the troop bay, his weapons clinking slightly as his weight shifted. Surveying the battlefield, he mentally prepared himself for combat, clearing his thoughts. The Zealot had killed hordes of heretical scum. He expected today to be no different. That being said, he couldn't ignore things were different for him. No longer was he simply a Zealot at the head of a Legion. He was now part of the Reticent kill-team. Once considered the Elite of the Elite, they were now Pariahs seeking redemption. Nertetzu couldn't help but wonder whether his "promotion" was a compliment or an insult. After all, his most recent failure had been a two sided one; despite his loss on B415 to the Humans, he managed to prove his faith by recovering artifacts the Humans had stolen. The severed heads of the Demons worked to his favor as well. However, the Zealot knew he wasn't exactly popular among the council; despite his place as Kaidon, he had little patience for their politics. It was a game of power and betrayal, and the Field Master had seen clans destroy themselves from political power struggles. Nertetzu's stance is well-known, and his status as a genuine soldier and honest leader of his people garnered as many allies as enemies. Despite these thoughts, he was excited to be deployed with Reticent. Religion and politics aside, the Zealots of the kill-team are the finest soldiers the Empire has to offer. He looked forward to matching wits and skill with his peers.

Nertetzu opened the battlenet, speaking plainly, "Field Marshal Til, this is Field Master Nertetzu 'Odumai reporting. I will be touching down on the left flank within a few rooks.  I will secure the flank before attempting to remove the Heretic's escape route. May I see you on the field," Nertetzu closed the comms before turning to the Operator's that were accompanying him onto the battlefield.

"We move fast, and we hit the traitors with force. Cut them down before they even realize we are upon them," The instructions were simple but got the point across. He expected the Operator's knew what they were doing.

The warriors faded into nothingness as they prepared to hit the ground. Below, Nertetzu watched as several opposing lances were engaged in heavy close quarters combat about the rocky terrain. He ordered the pilot to drop them in the thick of the melee, and the Sangheili obeyed without question. Impressive for one of his ilk. Ticks later, the Field Master and his vanguard were leaping from the Phantom.  He had drawn and activated 'Odum's Wrath, pouncing on an unassuming Heretic Minor.  The whelp was practically cut in half as 'Odum's Wrath gouged through the weak back plating of the Minor's armor.  He sent a Chakram flying at a Major, which lodged itself painfully in his abdomen.  Despite his agony, the Major was attentive enough to spot the location of his aggressor and attack in kind.  Plasma dissipated off of Nertetzu's armor as the camo faltered.  Another Chakram buried itself midway through the Major's chest.  The Heretic's were now in disarray, but they had enough competence to fire on the Field Master.

 The active camo gave way completely, fully revealing the burly Zealot.  The Heretic's knew what they faced now.  The unmistakable armor of a Zealot catching the eye of everyone.  His presence was enough to send a lot of the apostates reeling in retreat.

The melee was still going strong at the center of the engagement. Sangheili interlocked swords and spilled the blood of their kin.  It was a despairing sight, but no one could question the will of the Gods.  Shield activated, Nertetzu barreled into the center of the conflict.  He felled several Minors with swift blows as the operators and infantry rallied behind him.  

The Zealot faced a Major who seemed to be leading the ragtag group of separatists.  The Heretic stood above the remains of several Sangheili who had engaged the Major in honorable combat.  The Heretic's ability seemed to betray his rank.  Nertetzu wasted no time, swinging horizontally to begin the duel.  Easily deflecting the blade, the Major swung at Nertetzu's head.  The blade glanced away as Nertetzu raised his shield in defense.  He countered by stabbing at his opponents head with his violet blade.  The Major narrowly ducked, losing his form as he attempted to evade the Field Master.  Using his momentum, Nertetzu struck with a backhanded swing, followed by another stab.  

The Major deflected the first swing, but surprised the Field Master by attempting to disarm him.  The Heretic moved inside the Zealot's reach, grabbing his arm firmly and sliding his blade down onto Nertetzu's armored hand.  The blade tore through metal, gliding across the scales and boiling the skin.  It was enough to make him unwillingly drop his blade.  The Major was now in a bad position.  

A simple push of a glyph deactivated the defense gauntlet as Nertetzu jabbed at the Major.  The Major had been focused on his disarm move, unable to block the incoming strike.  Metal and flesh gave way as the spiked fist did it's work.  The Heretic flinched as Nertetzu grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him down as the katar stabbed upwards into his chest.  He immediately went limp.  This, combined with the new vigor of the Covenant's attack, caused the Heretic's to waver and break into a retreat.  Too simple.

[Kart]

From-Sky-Falling Yanme'e Swarm
Pressing the attack

The swarm noted how the assault began in earnest once the Sangheili with the purple sword started marching about. The landstriders seemed to take heart at the sight, as there were quite a few triumphant calls from the warriors below. Inwardly, the swarm felt contempt. The walkers were far too dependent on individuals to be truly adaptable. That made them weak. They were mulling over this conundrum as   the comm crackled awake again, as their liaison, Geidr 'Hojiree, began shouting quickly--for a Sangheili, at least. The Yanme'e lived on a somewhat different speed of life.

"From-Sky-Falling Swarm! You are to take the vanguard and pursue the fleeing heretics. Shoot to kill!"

A wave of adrenaline swept through the swarm as they gathered themselves into a tight formation. It was a pleasure to take action, to bear arms, to feel a sense of fulfilling a purpose. In a heartbeat, they shot off to the edge of the Covenant's flank, where the heretics were beginning to take flight, retreating in a hurry away from the newly-landed Covenant army.

Shrill cries once again filled the air as the swarm passed over the legion beneath them, some of the Yanme'e brushing the heads of the taller landstriders. They strafed back and forth, constantly firing a hail of needles at the backs of the routed Heretics. A few Unggoy and a couple Sangheili fell into the dirt, needles in their legs and backs. One unfortunate Kig-Yar detonated forcibly as the needles in his back supercombined into an explosion. An early victory was no sure sign of a certain victory, but it was a good omen nonetheless. Hopefully, the rest of the battle would fare this way--a one-sided slaughter. The Sangheili might not appreciated such a lack of contest, but the Yanme'e had no qualms about destroying a helpless enemy.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless, restorer of Tribes, Slayer of Shadowed Imps.
The Pack gathers and now our assault begins....

"Yes Chieftain!" was bellowed back into Garatus's ear from Eugenius, Garatus smirked and chuckled at this. He was both glad and unhappy his Uncle had referred to him by his new Title, sure it was nice to be acknowledged as a Chieftain but at the same time he hoped it wouldn't affect his relationship with his Uncle. In many ways Eugenius was more like a father to him than Fenarius ever was, while his sire ignored him and left him to be dealt with in all things by the Unggoy Servants while his Uncle had taken a genuine interest in him and taught him many things. Garatus was never fond of his early life in his Tribe, he barely knew his brother Buratus and was constantly out shined by his devious brother Fraktus. His Father had always either been too busy dictating the actions of the Tribe or too busy teaching Buratus how to be a Chieftain to even be bothered with his youngest son who was about as notable to him as one of his bastards. His Mother was either by his Fathers side during official court sessions or was keeping the Tribe from falling apart by actually making sure supplies were stocked up on, Garatus always felt distant from her, especially after he was her last surviving child.

They had parted wordlessly when he left after joining the Covenant, but they had mended their relationship somewhat during one of Garatus's returns to Doisac while on leave. She was a tremendous help to Jornarus when she was carrying their first child Fenarius II, which further helped to mend their relationship. After Garatus had been made a Chieftain he was given time to go back to Doisac and make a proper territory, conquering several unclaimed villages and assimilating them as part of his Tribe, getting both desert and jungle dwellers from the area. He had his Mother moved to his newly constructed Keep so she could be properly looked after and could be around family and guarded from rival Tribes. Garatus personally rather have been home fortifying his holdings and making his Tribe a powerful one, than be out on some dung heap planet fighting discontented Sangheili.

These thoughts left Garatus's mind as the ground began to shake and the rumbling roar of Jiralhanae vehicles could be heard. The Pack had made good time even though it was not very far, and Garatus stepped out to greet them as he slammed his fist into his chest in salute to his warriors. To his surprise his Uncle was among those who had come to fight, the Elder proudly in a gunners seat on one of the Prowlers. Garatus walked over to his Uncles Prowler and climbed up on it until he was crouching on the top in front of Eugenius.

"I was surprised to see you come with the other warriors, but I am glad you did all the same," Garatus said with a smile spreading across his fanged maw "This glorious quest or purging is a bountiful gift from the Gods, is it not Uncle? A chance to redeem our people in the eyes of our brothers within the Covenant for the foolish rebellion of my predecessor" Garatus said with some rare Zeal to his words.

[deceit]

The dirt came rushing at him like a viper being released from its coil. His legs his the ground and buckled, falling forward to one knee then his arm extended forward, never releasing the trigger on his gun. He saw a blur of scorched earth and a bright green energy as his arm dug into the ground from the impact. The Phantom had dropped them off in mid flight, under heavy, heavy fire, from some 20 feet in the sky. His whole team came plumetting down around him. The Kig-Yar's landed ahead of him, hitting the ground gracefully, and then dropping to their bellies as incoming fire came raining at the shock troopers. His grunts plopped down, two to his right and two to his left. He saw Ransy lose his balance and fall face first, Tansy on his left stumbled for a second, but the other two kept their balance.

Ra'ab Xirsasee roared away the pain and rose to a crouch, angling his head forward. No time to think. He had his plasma bolt fully charged, and aimed it forward. Ahead of them, a group of Heretics stood on an opposite hill, firing down at them. Ra'ab's group had landed just behind the flat of the hill, but they were still in visible range of the Heretics. He saw 5 of them ahead, a Sangheili pointing directly at him, and four Unggoy. One of the Unggoy was mounting a deployable turret, and had began lobbing plasma in his direction, "Get down!" Ra'ab screamed as he fired his plasma bolt. It went forward slightly above his target. The gap from their hill to the next hill was about 80 feet or so.

Ra'ab saw a line of blue plasma tearing up the base of the hill, ripping the ground up into shreds and vaporizing dirt and grass instantly. He saw an Unggoy from the second Lance take two plasma bolts straight to the chest and face. The poor Unggoy's head instantly began a mishappen blob, but Ra'ab looked away, toward his enemy, he couldn't focus on that or it would freeze him. He stood up and moved forward for just a second. The turret shooter suddenly swiveled to the side, extending his range.

Four blue plasma bolts smashed into Ra'ab, thud-squick, squick, SPAAA! His shield broke on the fourth, and the impact of all the shots sent him down onto his back. But then the firing stopped. He saw as he was falling the deployable turret suddenly explode in a bright green impact. Ra'ab's plasma bolt had hit its target. He heard the Unggoy screaming as the plasma ignited around him, and he caught on fire. His own Unggoy troops raised their fists in a loud uproar of joy. Ra'ab finally landed on his back and could see the sky, but it wasn't a sky he was use to. No, it was purple, and green, and neon blue, and yellow, and red. And Black. Somehow, despite all those colors, it was black and dark, a dark, ugly sky.

A sky of war and death and carnage.

"FIRE YOUR WEAPONS!" Ra'ab roared, feeling himself begin to roll down the hill. He dropped his plasma pistol and dug his taloned fingers into the earth to stop his descent. His leg kicked out and stopped the tumble of his weapon. Once his momentum was stopped, Ra'ab flopped himself on his belly, grabbed his plasma pistol, and crawled up to the top of the hill, where his Jib and Reevar crouched and peered over the edge, one with a needle rifle and the other with a full blown covenent Beam-Rifle. Reevar didn't shoot though, only Jib was loosing his pink needles. He saw a Heretic Unggoy go over.

The other two Kig-Yar had their energy shields up and were standing at the top of the hill with Unggoy flanking either side of them, everybody firing as quickly as they could, but staying low and presenting a small target. Ra'ab looked over to his right. The other lance leader, about 80 feet to his right, still on their hill, was engaging in close combat with a lance on the enemies side.

we should help! was Ra'ab's first thought,

but then no, something's wrong. I count 3 files. These guys are heretics, but they seem to be sticking to the Covenant formations pretty well. I can only assume that their lances consist of two files and Major as well. Which means there's a Major and another file...

He looked to the left, where a deformation in the hills could easily conceal a trench, "Rigby, NamNim, Lebit, Torbit, with me, Left flank!" Ra'ab rose to his feet and started marching at a swift jog towards the left flank of the hill.

"Rigby, take your plasma grenade, and NamNim's, and head to top of the hill where it drops sheer down the left flank. Drop your grenades down the side."

Rigby nodded and did as he was told, holstering his weapon and carrying his grenades forward.

NamNim and the two Kig-Yar flanked Ra'ab as the marched to the base of the hill, safe from fire from the opposing group of Heretics, who were firing on where the rest of his Lance lay encamped.

Rigby got to the top of the hill and without question of Ra'ab's orders, although he thought it was a waste, ignited and dropped his two grenades down. He started running, but seconds later, a blue flash appeared, passing right through Rigby's back and out the front of his chest. Rigby screamed and fell forward, rolling down the hill.

~*~

Heretic File-Leader Minor Tor'el

Torel's file marched through the entrenchment. It was a somewhat natural cliff base of rock and mineral deposit carved out of the hill that had been utilized as a trench by the Heretic forces. The idea was when the enemy came, a file surprised them by sneaking up the base of the hill. His 4 Kig-Yar moved quietly and swiftly. They were passing by the base of the hill. Suddenly ahead of them, blue shields and purple armored Sangheili spun around the corner. "Halt!" Torel cried, raising his Plasma Repeater and crouching down, "Retreat around the corner, I will cover!" He cried, taking a knee and launching a wave of light plasma fire on the enemy as his Kig-Yar units engaged their shields and fled behind him. His enemies stopped their pursuance and dug in, raining blue fire on him. Torel turned and marched away. He felt a few bolts hit him. His shields would disperse. He may take wounds, but at least his lance would have a chance.

As he turned around, the color drained from his face as he saw his lance scrambling back toward him. Two fuzzy blue balls lay on the bottom of the canyon. Two of his Kig-Yar stood between them, trying to throw themselves back.

Torel suddenly fell backward from the blast. The blue cloud of fire scorched him, but was not close enough to do real damage. His two remaining Kig-Yar rose to their feet, but were hit by a barrage of accurate and swift green bolts. Torel squirmed and turned around, seeing the charred carcasses of his file, with a roar of defiance he raised his plasma repeater. But a one armed beast's massive trunk-like legs slammed into his weapon, crushing it into the ground with might and force. A small Unggoy was the last thing he saw, raising his weapon to Torel's face.

~*~

Heretic Lance Leader-Major Jalleesee.

He saw the troops break away but didn't have time to warn his lance. He raised his beam rifle up to his eyes one Unggoy raced up to the top of the hill holding something. Grenades! He realized, as he zoomed in. He had wanted to kill clean, take his time, and remove the Unggoy's head, but he didn't have that kind of time anymore! He pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. Jalleesee cursed and looked down. The battery wasn't in the weapon all the way. He pulled and replaced it, relalligned his shot. And fired. It was through the bastards breather tank. It might not kill him, but...

He saw the two grenades fall forward anyway.

NO! He cursed the stolen weapon in his grasp.

Of course, he didn't have enough time to lament his failure.

~*~

Reevar, Jackal Sniper Reevar saw the blue beam and honed in on his target. Just what he had been waiting for. He smiled, as he lined the reticle up with the purple bastards long snake-like head.

~*~

Major Ra'ab Xirsasee

Ra'ab didn't stay to revel in his glory. He ran to the base of the hill and picked up his wounded fighter, "Rigby!" he called, "Stay alive!"

Rigby gasped for air, "No! Air!" He cried. Ra'ab picked Rigby up and started carrying up the hill, holstering his weapon. it was a difficult trek for him, having to balance an Unggoy on his shoulder while climbing a hill with one arm. Once he reached the top, he plopped the wounded Rigby by Ransy.

"Got One!" Tansy cried!

Ransy turned to his wounded friend, "oh no!" He cried. He moved his rebreather piece off of his own face and put it on Rigby, "Get replace!" Ransy gasped, letting Rigby breath, then taking a breath of his own.

"Hurry, this not last all day!" Ransy said.

Ra'ab nodded. "Unggoy, cover us!"

Ra'ab looked to Jib, "We have to cross!" He said, determined.

Jib stood up, holstering his needle Rifle and putting a plasma shield in front of him, "Then we will cross!"

[Huka]

Shipmaster Chur’R-Suf
Aboard the Burning Lineage

Ol’ Suf stroke his chin as he looked at the established plan from the Fleetmaster on the graphical and his part in it, semi-drowning out the new Champion’s unhelpful chatting. “Hmm second-hand…” He started, catching the attention of the other T’vaoan female in the room-a rather mean-looked and exotic-dressed woman with some Kig-yar fineries on her person along with the garbings of a Murmillo-with a straightened back and proud puff of his chest.

“How do we often punish mouthy crewmen?” He asked with a serious tone, “I often forget something.” Catching her officer’s meaning without fault, Bol Sun answered with an authoritative answer, “The new members get a clip to the beak and olders who know better get a cut. On the fourth fault, the tongue is next, sir.”

“Ah, good. Sometimes I forget and think on the reverse.” Suf said, turning slowly on Kael. His marble eyes looked into the other’s with little revealing of his blunt threat, “Good thing I have such good, useful officers at my side, yes?” The corners of his beak curled slightly with a vibrating echo of a blood-thirsty chuckle that had decades of practice.

Letting that sink in, Suf turned his attention back on his strategy, “The enemy will come and will board my ship...and you will repel and board theirs in turn. I want that frigate as a trophy and my own, Champion. If you fail, I will rip the last of those engines and give your clan a good word that you killed a good handful of Sangheili heretics, but I doubt that. If Til is right on his haunches...and he usually is, then your band of merry mercs can handle this with some help from a couple good lances from my security.” Rounding his taloned hands behind his back and hooked them to a tight grasp. Quills wavering slowly as they kept a calm blue-violet color with anxious darker to the base. “Leave only essentials and if they cause any trouble, put a good bolt between the eyes.”

The Shipmaster reminisced and recalled his first Sangheili kill back in the last war; a particle beam bolt between the eyes. Sure, he’ve killed a good handful in his prime in close-quarters but all of it was by stealth or some sheer luck of Mother Fortune and the Gods. The Gods...the old Kig-yar clicked his tongue to the subject. He was a fervous believer but he was a casual with openness of debate to the legitness of simply far-superior civilization that proceeded them than actual divinities that once housed the Kig-yar’s culture before the times of space. Gods and spirits of the sea, the storms, the lands, even the damned wood that was used to craft antique ships of naval majesty.

Well...he still keep a few mementos of the olden days in his private chambers to study and admire on. Til and his scholarly influences.

Finishing up, Suf turned his head and cocked it to look at Kael better, “You are dismissed.” Then he instinctively thought of his one-time protege.

Field Marshal Til Je’ta Ze’ta ‘Muramai
Fields of O’ama

Til swung his primary energy sword in long slashes and intricate arches as he led his frontlines to battle. A hand gripping on his tailored cape, his fingers and thumbs curled around the smooth ivory casing of his sword as its narrow five-foot-long blades of sand yellow sliced armor, flesh and bone as easy as any energy weapon. His shields were incredible, he never imagined the power of a Field Marshal’s armor till now and it burned into his chest in fatal bliss. He felt like a descendant of Tibur the Storm, cutting at Muram’s enemies in a romantic past and it fed into his fighting style.

While R’ha was fierce and dominating with his energy greatsword and Sorsa was a dervish of calculation and stoic control, Til fought with an artist’s elegance and passion. Everything had a purpose, everything had a detailed move. Whether swift and blinding, or graceful and dazzling. Swordsmanship was an art and Til reveled in it, each style had a story and purpose. Some more impractical now in the age of firearms but so were swords.

Letting out a clannish warcry at the appearance of a challenging Ultra swordsman (identified by the colonial uniform of a well-armored combat harness with ancient war-paint and elongated deltoid protectors), the Field Marshal flourished his blade and charged with a bloodthirsty stride that knocked the smaller Unggoy and Kig-yar aside like children.

His assembled guard of Special Operatives kept to his rear, firing their carbines and plasma repeaters in controlled bursts and pinpoint accuracy upon those daring to interfere.


Going with a predictable sweep to the neck, Til feinted his challenger with a sudden counter clockwise riposte. The second the Ultra’s sword-arm was out in the open, he moved quick enough to touch his plasma rifle. Keyword: touch. Then a taloned boot intercepted and kicked the coming weapon back into the ground before stomping forward, stomping forward into the zone before the Muram blade pierced through helmet and head. The heretic spasmed as the plasma seared his brain into a bubbling goo and worse. Til watched the life leave the bubbling eyeballs before he spun out to sunder a pair of Majors’ curve-blades in a circular sweep and finished in a diagonal arc.

Just then his direct comms buzzed to the voice of a new addition to the Reticent Lance. A newly-ranked Zealot by the name of Nertetzu of clan Odum. “Excellent, you might get some glory within our ranks yet, ‘Odumai!” He replied through the battle net as he hunched down behind a boulder to the sudden buck of plasma splashing on his energies. Turning off his sword and grabbing his twin plasma rifles as he waited for his downed shields to recover before rolling out to confront a file of T'vaoan, keeping on one knee as he sent a suppressing barrage to the fast avians before they shattered to two of their mates' painful ends. The chaos of battle around him, Til was quick to adapt and bounce sideways as the more bolder of the pair tried to flank him. Only to sandwich the fool between his boot and his former cover, compressing armor against ribs. Stabbing his toe-claw into the jugular, he twisted and ripped his foot away with a snarl. 

Major Labus 'Adantee
Indulging in the Heat of War

Blasting a puny Kig-yar into bloody mist and superheated gases with his burster, Labus cocked his weapon with a loud whine of its disposing heat. Holding the cooling weapon on his hip, the war-hungry Adant warrior laughed eagerly as he fired quick bursts with his plasma rifle at the cowering avians and their Unggoy lackeys. His own shields bitten to half but the stocky soldier wasn't deterred to give a few kills before retreating behind one of the newly-placed field barriers. Flicking his handgun abit when it threatened to overheat and put it back on his thigh magnet, "Is that all you puny traitors got!" he challenged, looking to his Unggoy as they gave some cover for him. 

On the end of his quarter-rook, Labus jumped out of cover, only to find himself rushed by a Sangheili taller than himself. A hard punch came across his lower mandibles and rocked his head abit for a stumble. In the stun, he retracted back as the feel of a blade struck on his thoracic cage, before the stars left his sight. Instead of resorting for his plasma burster, Labus roared out as he swung his armored hand to the incoming thrust. Smacking the blade aside,  he sweep-kicked the heretic between the knee and calf hard enough for a temporary unbalancing and opening to dive his energy daggered fist under the snarling rebel's jaw with the hissing tip appearing out of the base of his skull. Giving a twist of good measure and saliva-dripping snarl of his own, Labus' head turned in see the positioned firing lance. 

"Cover!" he warned to all around him before using the twitching body as his own before zips of radioactive projectiles pierced at the unfortunate and against Labus' shields, softened by his meat shield. Putting his CQC weapon away, he reached out and stole his foe's plasma pistol. Flicking its gauge to check on the cell charge before returning to the fire the moment he returned to full charge.

 Ultra 'Rulumee of the Old Guard
 Incoming to Jiralhanae Forces
 
 Appearing over the rolling hills, 'Rulumee mounted aboard his armor-fronted ghost with a leaned push of his hunched back and visored head aimed out like a aquatic predator for a kill. The communication lines cried out from the attacking Covenant fleet and now ground forces trying to break through the front defense. By the General's orders, he and his Creche of Spearing Thunder came to challenge the supposed presence of Jiralhanae on these ground. Recalling the death of his own cousin to the hairy brutes, hate seethed through him and cried out, "Perseverance to Sangheili Command!" He roared out and behind him lances of fellow Ghost riders with a auxiliary lance of Revenants to aid with heavy strikes rolled through the plains with the chorus cry of their hovering vehicles.

 

[deceit]

Ra'ab Xirsasee

His shields fully recharged, the three Kig-Yar raced ahead their blue and Yellow shields upraised, their legs moving with a speed and grace that only a Kig-Yar could. Jib took twenty steps the span of mere seconds. As the new Unggoy on the deployable turret swiveled to send a blast of bolts at Jib, Jib suddenly threw himself to the side, avoiding the first barage; then he curled his body and held his shield forward, deflecting a few shots. He could feel his shield overheating.

Ra'ab was charging down the hill, as well. When he reached the base of the hill, the two free handed Unggoy began to fire down upon Ra'a, while the Sangheili Minor leading them focusing his needle rifle rounds on Lebit and Torbit.

Ra'ab felt a blast of plasma hit his shoulder, but the combat harness energy shields absorbed it. He didn't bother shooting back; running uphill at covered unggoy would reduce his accuracy to well below useless. He could see a boulder. If he hunched low he could use that to hide behind and regenerate his shields.

His own Unggoy began returning fire upon their foes, raining suppression, forcing the defenders to shoot less and duck more.

He turned to see that Jib was at the end of his rope. Moments later, a blue bolt suddenly fired from Reevar's weapon. The Unggoy mounting the turret suddenly flinched as the beam bounced harmlessly off of the energy flaps that shielded the shooter. Jib leapt to his feet and reached the base of the hill, diving to a small nook that would keep him semi-protected.

Ra'ab reached the boulder and ducked underneath it. He took a few moments to slow his breath, calming himself.

That's when he heard the familiar sound of an Energy grenade bouncing to his left. With a roar of surprise and desperation, Ra'ab threw himself down the hill, accepting the decline and the tumultuous and out of control roll. He bounced down to the base of the hill as plasma erupted in a cloud of destruction behind him. Hitting the bottom and rolling to look up, Ra'ab's eyes went wide as the unearthed and molten boulder came clattering for his face. He dodged it, not gracefully, and started to charge up the hill at full tilt.

At this point, between Reevar's carefully placed shots, and the suppressive fire from Ransy's File, Ra'ab and his three Kig-Yar reached the enemy.

Lebit leapt up the final part of the hill and right over the lip of the deployable turret, the end of the weapon severely scorching his right leg pretty badly. Lebit flung himself onto the Heretic Unggoy and started to scratch and claw and bite his foe. The Unggoy began screaming in pain.

Torbit reached the top of the hill and, blocking several shots from the remaining two Unggoy, shot and killed on Unggoy with his plasma pistol. Jib reached the top of the hill, shooting, but only injuring, the second Unggoy.

It was all going so well, until the Sangheili Minor launched a charged plasma blast from his side-arm, taking out Torbit's shield. Torbit fell back, turned to shoot, but was hit with several blasts from the Sangheili's plasma repeater. Torbit fell back, several scorching holes along his body, and rolled dead down the hill.

Jib launched himself at the Sangheili, who grabbed Jib by the throw and threw him easily to the side, laughing.

That's when Ra'ab reached the top of the hill and launched himself in the air, bringing his foot into the chest of his enemy. The Sangheili met eye to eye with Ra'ab for a moment, and then both were flying down the hill, arm and arm with each other rolling, wrestling for control. When they hit the bottom, the foe Sangheili had wrested control easily of the one armed Ra'ab Xirsasee. He sat on his chest and opened all four of his Mandibles at Ra'ab, who promptly leaned forward, and bit one of them cleaned off in one swift, practiced motion. The Sangheili suddenly cried out in pain.

Ra'ab reached up and grabbed the Sangheili by the neck, tossing him to the side, and rolling on top of the Sangheili foe. He reared his stub of a missing arm back, and threw it forward, activating the telescopic Muram blade that had been awarded to him as a gift, to aid in his handicap. The telescopic blade slide forward and pierced his enemy through the chest. The Sangheili stared at him in shock and disappointment.

Ra'ab leaned forward, "Honorably fought." He whispered to his dying foe, "But we cannot all fight honorably." His foe laughed for a second, then in a gurgling spurt of blood, gave one last cough before he died.

[Faclan]

SSA-012 - Yanme'e Swarm
Continuing the advancement and recognizing their fellows.

Keeping near to the Masters last known whereabouts so as to keep a constant watch for the enemies of both the lethal Field Master and his drone pets SSA continued to pepper those that showed themselves with fire and heat. The Ultra did momentarily look up as the screech of battle that was being called out by her swarm was echoed by another. Returning the call to the allied Swarm with the added information of Swarm identification number and name, the Ultra returned to the task at hand, glad that more of their brothers and sisters had joined this holy mission for The Master.

One of the swarm spotted The Master engaged in close combat with one of the wingless black birds and swooped down to assist as the final in the file was taking a plasma rifle out to bear on the Sangheili as he finished off another bird. Screeching as the strike was about to be made the Soldier adjusted his course at the last moment as the bird turned, instead of slashing across the birds large eyes the soldier instead simply plucked the rifle from its claws and then flew off, dropping it well behind The Master before the soldier wheeled around and returned to the aerial bombardment. The bird now disarmed before the large Sangheili; apparently the bug was eager to see a slaughter, or perhaps thought The Master could find a better use for the poor helpless bird.

(Dead: 1 Wounded: 0 Alive: 11 - Poor Birdy.)


Euigne - Chieftain aide and mystic
Ready to begin the advancement with the full force ready.

Unfortunately there were no enemies around for Eugine to test his aim on but he kept his head on a swivel so he wouldn't be responsible for any ambush on the convoy. But soon enough the sight of the rest of the Jiralhanae force rolled into view and his Nephew, barely distinguishable under the mountain of Chieftain armor he wore - that is if he wasn't the only one with that armor and a Hammer across his back, was there to greet them. Nodding to Garatus as the Prowler stopped Eugine started to extract himself from the seat before Garatus hopped up to greet him instead, Eugine smirking at his Nephews words as he nodded and patted him on the shoulder.

"Indeed Chieftain Garatus, and we will wash away the sin we carry with their blood, and the Sangheili will do the same for those Assassins - a cleansing experience for us all." Gripping Garatus's hand he pulled himself out of the gunners seat and slid down the from of the Prowler to hop off with a little poomp of dirt then nodded to the Minor who was moving up to re-take the seat. Removing his pistol to check it he held it loosely in his good hand with his staff in his bad hand as he squinted toward the distance Heretic base and their anti-air emplacements and nodded toward them.

"Like sickly trees of Doisac, ready to be felled to make room for new territory - your own territory Chieftain. But the Heretics won't wait forever for us to bring their salvation to them, better get to advancing." He said, smiling slightly as he clicked the hammer on his pistol back.


Cad - Kig-Yar Major
Doing the Gods work.

Waiting until he heard the last set of feet his the ground Cad quickly tapped his scarf with his Needler hand before nodding and beginning to advance as once the Phantoms left he knew the heretics would come out of the rocks to try and take them down. And lo was it so. Grunting as rounds started to impact his bright red shield he started to slow advance as his file sent rounds back at them, the Sangheili as well as they neared the rocks that housed their enemies. The Sangheili seemed to be hanging back slightly but that wasn't any issue for his file as they entered the outcropping, Cad hearing the well know whine of crystal blades activating as he knew what would be leaping at them now as two Kig-Yar and a T'vaoan leapt at them with blades held ready, a few blood spattered or slightly singed from the return fire of his file.

Ducking low and holding his shield up so the T'vaoan leaping at him landing on top of him Cad let his arm fall so the shield acted as a steep ramp and sent the larger bird topping to the ground. Glancing to the side as he dropped his Needler and pulled out his saber he could see his fellows engaged in melee with the other two Kig-Yar as the T'vaoan kicked out at him from the ground and caught him in the lower legs. Squawking in pain as the injuries from the city to his legs sprung back up and he dropped down to his knee. The T'vaoan cackling at him as he swung his saber down then pulled up, intending to stab Cads throat, likely not surprised that the smaller breed of his species was laid low with a single kick. But Cad was prepared for his as he dug his other foot into the ground and swept in then out with his blade to deflect the T'vaoans blade, then leaps forward as the enemy was working on getting his blade back forward to stab. Slamming helmet first into the T'vaoan's beak Cad just kept his beak tightly shut and closed his eyes as he rolled after his dive and turned so he would be facing where the T'vaoan would have landed, shield acing that direction too. Which turned out to be a good idea as when he opened his wobbling eyes again the crystal blade as already trying to arc around the side of his shield. Grinning at his opponent he stepped in while turning sideways to his right so his shield stopped his enemies blade as his own elbow connected with the side of his opponents head. The T'vaoan male reeling back slightly and exposing that bright red vocal sac. Cad merely had to extend his arm to quickly slash across it. Spinning with his back against the T'vaoans right side as he gave a gurgling squawk and dropped to a knee Cad ended up behind him, and swiftly raised his blade up and drove it into the top of his opponents skull, more mercy that he would have been given he was sure as the T'vaoan died quickly as purple blood began to ooze down his neck and across his black armor. Glancing back to see with satisfaction that one of the enemy Kig-Yar lay dead with a stab would to his chest and the other was currently having his head turned around sharply he looked back forward so he could place his foot on the slain T'vaoan back and pull his still inactivated sword, giving it a flick to get the purple blood and bits of brain out as the series of cracks from behind him told him that the enemies had been dealt with. Sheathing the blade and picking up his Needler he listened for any other immediate threats and nodded as he and his file left the rocks and returned to the Sangheili, who Cad believed were called 'Kamalee and 'Aquiree, as Cad saluted and held his shield in the general direction of the enemy as it recharged back up to full strength.

"Area pacified Sir, awaiting orders."


Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion
Thankfully leaving Suf to plan.

Turning from her observation of the ships sensors, spotting that the enemy frigate was starting to make its way back toward them as she began to go over the ships layout in her mind, Kael met the gaze of the other female T'vaoan. The looks passed between them would mean nothing to a non Kig-Yar but the shifts in their posture and eyes made it clear to their fellows that the two females were sizing each other up, and Kael's posture made it clear that she was not amused by Bol's words. There was just over a second of them with the same posture before the other female slightly slackened - she had conceded Kaels dominance in this instance and Kael was sure it would be true the next time as well as she turned back to Suf.

Suf was harder both to dominate and read, likely because he was so sure of himself that he was in the right but also just intelligent enough to know enough to be right in most cases. It both impressed and infuriated Kael at the same time so she only half listened to the viled threat tossed her way by both of them. She would love to have them try as it had been awhile since she had smacked some heads together, but she knew the Herectics would scratch that itch soon enough for her. And Til had 'requested' that she behave and listen to Suf and his plans so she would. Beside, Suf had some respect for her at least to have gotten as far as he had and to, like her, have also gained Til's respect. Though the promise of an old fashioned boarding was doing much to calm her mood as she just smiled at Suf when he finally finished his speech as she nodded and gave an exaggerated salute as she removed her helmet from her belt with her other hand.

"Yessir Captain, will slaughter the lot of them for you Captain, don't you worry about your little fluff head Captain." Turning to leave the bridge she slipped her helmet on as she headed for the bridge door, the bridge crew noticing in terms of stance and voice that Kael had suddenly become a lot more serious as she stood up much straighter and alert as she quickly called out commands into her helmet mic. It was the time for combat as Tel dutifully followed her like a good minion.

"Pela and Vesa, the enemy ship is beginning its approach. It will likely want to keep the ship and not damage it so will head for the hangers or try to punch in through the front to immediately try to take out Suf. We will be waiting for it to try and then counter board them, Suf's security can handle the bridge. Any crew member beside Huragoks or Unggoy laborers are fair game and should be swiftly dealt with. Tori, you will be leading the right hanger team with Vesa as back-up, cut down the boarders but wait for all the Entourage to be ready before we strike back. You all remember where the enemy bridge will be located from our briefing, we will send teams there while the rest secure the vessel. Tega, you will be leading the le..." And her plan continued to unfold as the bridge doors shut and her voice cut off, Kael heading to oversee the operations before she moved in with her force to happily kill these Sangheili, bunch of upstart's who she would be rewarded rather than punished for sending to their beloved Gods.

(Hopefully that was alright Huka with your bridge crew, and I know Lax isn't here to control Tori but its just so peeps know Kael's plan.)

[Swashbuckler]

Sangheili Major Marso ‘Corasee

    Marso took a breath of the fresh air that came in as the Spirit bay doors opened, revealing the already active battlefield. He saw Kig-Yar tearing away at each other, Sangheili soldiers cutting each other down with plasma, and Unggoy killing each other by the throngs, all with Yanme’e swarming above in select areas. The only thing that contrasted most of the forces were their armors. It was a gross waste of lives and resources. Marso snarled, leaping from the doors and onto the ground, along with his lance. We had best make it worthwhile.

    Farro and his Kig-Yar file landed by Marso, with Kronu’s warrior file behind them. They landed behind a small hill, protected from the larger part of the fray. They moved forward, Marso leading the lance. Stooped to a low crouch, Marso took cover behind a boulder atop the hill, surveying for any potential targets. A large group of Heretic Kig-Yar were clustered behind a group of trees, almost fully protected from the front but only partial cover from Marso’s lance.

    Marso turned to Kronu and Farro, his two file leaders. “Farro, you and your file will flank and decimate the Kig-Yar. Kronu and his Kig-Yar will provide covering fire as you move. We move once I begin firing.” Marso grabbed his carbine and leaned to take a shot. He was greeted with a splash of plasma and a very near beam rifle shot. Marso grunted, shields damaged and forced back into cover. Two of Kronu’s Kig-Yar stepped out in front of Marso, shields raised, absorbing the shots.

    Marso lined up his shots, killing the sniper and winging another. The heretics scrambled back to cover, firing less accurately. The warrior file darted out to another group of rocks, going behind the enemies. Kronu gave a hearty chuckle as he stepped out and began firing with his plasma rifle. “Gen, aim for any stray limbs as Wal and Tuk support the Major!” The third Kig-Yar began firing at toes and beaks sticking out of cover, rewarded with squawks more often than kills.

    Heavily suppressed, the Heretics were unable to stop the advancing warrior file. Marso watched through his sights as his Sangheili approached them, slaughtering the cowards. He noticed one of the Kig-Yar ignored them completely, instead firing an overcharged shot at him, only to have his body wracked by plasma a moment after. Marso roared as he spun out of the way, pulling the Kig-Yar who was protecting him as the plasma bolt flew by. Wal squawked as she went through the air, going a little farther out of harm’s way than Marso meant.

    Kronu helped up the Kig-Yar, laughing once again. “The Major has quite the arm. It was that or catch a blast with the majority of your body, so stand tall, Wal.” Marso turned back to the front, indifferent about the action. Farro’s file had finished off the last of the Heretics, taking the position. From there, they had somewhat of a foothold near the middle of the area. Marso began moving forward, advancing on the position. “This lance will hold that position and provide support for those who need it. We will be holding that area until further assistance is requested.” Marso said, speaking into the local battle net and his lance.

[Ledle, Whose Humor is Dead]

Zod Ger, T’avoan Major

Swain Cell Commander

Chilling out in the Right Hangar



Zod and the rest of his Cell prowled through the Burning Lineage, their weapons were charged, Zod’s hunting knife was sharp, and the entire Cell thirsted for heretic blood, Zod had killed a lot of races in his lifetime, he had killed Jiralhanae, Unggoy, even some of his own kind, but today was different. Today Zod and his contingent of Mercenaries and killers had the opportunity to slay the highest race, the Sangheili. Zod planned on returning home with more than one set of mandibles. Zod came upon the Right Hangar fairly quickly, from what he had managed to glean from some of the Kig-Yar and other T’vaoan aboard the ship, the main defense of the right hangar was commanded by Murmillo in the Champion Kael Gel’s Entourage. The other T’vaoan spoke about this Murmillo in hushed whispers, saying she was a Gladiator from a clan of madmen and killers, and that she challenged a Sangheili to a duel and won. Zod was far from afraid. In the end Tori Pek was just another T’vaoan.

Once inside the hangar Zod looked around, Tori had two files set up, one was a long range sniper-ish file, and the other was patrolling the area. Zod nodded to his Cell behind him, a silent command to stay where they were. The hulking T’vaoan stalked over to the female Murmillo, his Amber-tipped feathers fanned out slightly as he approached her. ”Murmillo Tori Pek.” He said with a slight bow.

”I am Major Zod Ger, my Cell and I have been instructed to assist you in the defense of this hangar in any way we can.

[Kart]

Field Master Legra 'Adantai
Deploying with the Sect of Confiding Muse

"On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons, we swore to uphold this Covenant." Legra muttered under his breath. It was the same oath he'd uttered time and time again, as did every single warrior of the Covenant. An oath that these heretics had broken. He grimaced. It was one thing for Humans, who had never been a part of the Covenant, to be heretics. But to turn your back, to betray your Prophets, as these heretics had? That was a sin of an entirely different nature.

Legra's flotilla of dropships were latecomers to the battlefield, which was already awash with combat. They hovered into position over the left flank of the Covenant strike force, opposite 'Odumai's position on the right flank. Inwardly, Legra took heart at the promise of groundside battle--he'd grown tired of commanding from Phantoms. It was as the old mantra went. Victory is secured, not from the throne, but from the first lines.

So it was with pleasure that he stepped out of the Phantom to land on the soil of the plateau. Behind him, he heard the reassuring sound of a thousand feet doing the same. Immediately around him were deployed the Unsorrowing Creche, his best soldiers, who he had once commanded as a mere Ultra. Now, they were commanded by Ultra Domo 'Haidaree, who stood to Legra's left. On his right side, he was accompanied, as always, by his aide, Ultra Domo 'Muramee.

He activated his communicator. "Field Marshal Til 'Muramai. It is I, Legra. I have landed on the right flank and secured it. I intend to drive these heretics into before me into the open plateau."

And Legra intended to do just that. Drawing his Plasma Rifle from his left shoulder and his Energy Sword from his right, he readied himself for battle. The heretics that occupied the broken ground ahead of him were already beginning to retreat, intimidated by the size of the Covenant forces. Seizing the initiative, the Unsorrowing Creche pressed forward, every rifle firing, driving back the heretic vanguard with sheer force of numbers. Legra splayed his mandibles and gave voice to the old war cry of his homeworld.

"Tooth and talon! Fang and claw!"

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless, Restorer of Tribes, Slayer of Shadowed Imps.
Riders, in the fields!

Garatus grunted his agreement with his Uncle as he help to pull him out of the Gunners seat of the Prowler, patting the Minor who was taking up the position on the shoulder before sliding off to the ground behind his Uncle. Garatus snuffled thoughtfully for a moment, thinking about the comment of territory and sickly trees by Eugine. "Yes, and my blade is sharp and ready to hack these sickly trees to the ground, before throwing them upon the pyre of redemption and recompense" Garatus said with a moderate level of self-assurance on the matter.

Garatus paused suddenly, a sharp and deliberate lack of movement. Garatus's eyes probed the sky as he listened to the Packs surroundings, the Pack was loud as per usual but this was put to a stop when Garatus let out a sharp bark and raised an open hand. Everyone stopped and started listening now, a low hum could just be heard in the distance... Vehicles. "Everybody, to your vehicles now! The non-vehicle manning remainder form up on me!" Garatus bellowed as he pulled the Gravity Hammer from his back.

"Prowlers, form a ring around your grounded brothers, Choppers engage the enemy and check your targets and line of sight before boost ramming! Whaaaaaaa!!!!" Garatus bellowed ferociously as a Creche of Heretic Ghosts were quickly coming within firing range. "Perseverance to Sangheili Command!" a Sangheili yelled out from the Ghost Creche.

"Now Pack, fight with me!" Garatus roared as he leapt up onto a front most protective Prowler as the Choppers hauled out to meet the Ghosts, when Garatus spotted the Revenants accompanying the Heretics, dammit.... "Five Prowlers from the back, head out and engage the Revenants, four Choppers distract the Revenants so the Prowlers can get in close! Go now!" Garatus roared as the front most Ghosts came hovering in with great speed, Garatus leaping from the Prowlers top with his Gravity Hammer raised high. Garatus swung while still in the air, the Hammers power being unleashed upon a Ghost and its driver before it exploded in blue flames sending Garatus sliding back and using the hook of the Hammers blade to catch in the dirt and skid him to a stop.

[Deleted]

Sangheili Ultra Vinza'za 'Wodamai
Rallying Acolyte Creche

"Acolyte Creche!  Rally on my position so we may take the battle to these Heretics!" Vinza'za said as a needle splintered off a rock inches from his helmet.

Zinta's Lance had set up defensively in the outcropping, holding fast as Heretic's assailed their position.  Sangheili armed with carbines and needle rifles took the high ground, firing on any exposed targets.  Kig-yar held the lower half of the area.  They were surrounded on three sides and outnumbered.  Reinforcements were arriving, and the Ultra took particular interest in a Phantom that set down in the thickest fighting, not too far from his position.  Shortly thereafter, Labus and his Lance approached their outpost of sorts.  With a healthy amount of covering fire, the Lance was able to reach 'Wodamai's position with little injury.

"Zinta, I trust you can hold this position until the rest of Acolyte arrives.  Labus and I are going to support those troops at the end of the line," Vinza'za ordered.

They started taking fire as soon as they left the defensive position, but fortunately enough rocks were strewn about to give them ample cover.  Bolting from rock to rock, it wasn't long before they reached the thickest part of the fighting.  They had arrived just in time for Vinza'za witness a Field Master and his vanguard to elegantly cut down the separatists.  The battle was short, but bloody.  To say the Ultra was impressed by the Field Master's ability was an understatement.  

He approached the Zealot, giving a salute, "I am at your command, your excellency."

Zealot Field Master Nertetzu 'Odumai
Preparing to behead the Snake

"I'll leave you in charge of the soldiers here, Ultra.  We do not have much time, we must cut off the Heretics retreat and destroy them completely.  Get moving!" Nertetzu ordered.  This Ultra seemed competent enough, as well as eager for battle.

Observing the Yanme'e swarming overhead, Nertetzu opened the battlenet to the Ultra, "Ultra!  Take your swarm and scout the Heretics forces.  Harass them wherever you can and report back to me."

The Field Master cared little for the bugs, other than their innate combat advantages.  They had no sense of honor, no sense of individual.  They could only swarm an enemy, hardly different than the Nishum.  He wondered what killing one would be like...the carapace caving under his fist.  He concluded that as long as they obeyed his command they wouldn't have to experience such a displeasure.

[Kart]

Field Master Legra Ra'ha Je'at 'Adantai
Commanding the vanguard

"I am at your command, your excellency."

Legra turned at the sound of the voice, drawing his eyes momentarily from the carnage his warrior were exacting on the fleeing heretics. For a moment, the steam emitted from his overheated Plasma Rifle obscured his vision, but when it cleared, he laid eyes on the Ultra that had spoken. He had peculiar jet-black skin--not even the dark gray that normally passed for black, but literal black. Legra inclined his head thoughtfully. Not many clans had that particular trait.

"It's been awhile since I've met a son of Sanvoros." He said. "I am Legra of the 'Adant." Rather than giving his full title and name, Legra opted for the hunter's greeting. Even though his clansmen were more partial to temperate forests rather than the lush jungles that the Sanvoros Sangheili had originated from, there were certain customs shared by all hunters. Out in the wilds, titles and names-of-honor did not mean much. A hunter's name, a hunter's clan, and a hunter's trust were all that were needed.

From-Sky-Falling Yanme'e Swarm
Routing the heretics

The swarm wheeled back and forth, firing volley after volley of needles. Two of their own had met the harsh bite of plasma, but twenty-two Yanme'e still flew and fought. As one mind, they cried havoc, diving to nearly ground level as they pursued their targets. Each of the twenty-two Yanme'e saw similar sights and heard similar sounds. Except for one.

The Ultra designated "Driftsoar" by the Covenant proper heard a different sound, transmitted to her by comm channels. It was a Sangheili voice, slow and monotone.

 "Ultra! Take your swarm and scout the Heretics forces. Harass them wherever you can and report back to me."

The swarm chafed as they heard one of their own referred to as an individual. Driftsoar was the oldest of them, and most superior, but she did not command the swarm. She was the swarm. They all were. Yet despite their indignation, they responded with a brief burst of chatter. The supersonic speech was translated by the voder that Driftsoar wore, sending a single message to the commanding Zealot.

"Acknowledged."

They took to the sky, ascending slowly, borne up by thermals from the hot ground below and by their anti-gravity packs. It would be a difficult thing to scout the heretic positions--so long as the swarm was backed up by the landstriders and their artillery, they would have little to fear from turrets or entrenched heretic positions. They had no such protection when on a reconnaissance mission.

Fortunately, the Yanme'e did not understand fear. They would do their duty.