Unit Mission I: Redeeming Vigilance

[Remnant]

Minor Karonus
The Calvary Arrives

Karonus gave a loud, defiant roar as the Choppers curved to charge the Heretics. Once they were close enough, Karonus ordered the front row to fire their Heavy Cannons, killing many Heretics before they mowed down the lines. Karonus farmed Heretic after Heretic as he ran them over with his Chopper's wheelblades. Everytime there was an open space, he'd fire his Heavy Cannons to rip apart the Heretics.

As he swept past the Heretics, he spotted Prowlers also sporting kills. He diverted his path as to not to ram into them. Soon he emerged from the right flank of the Heretics, where the Prowlers had engaged the Heretics. Karonus, along with the Choppers following him, made quick U-Turns to charge into the Heretics once more, attempting to mop up whoever they missed.

Once more Karonus mowed down Heretics as he charged through their broken lines, though, he spotted destroyed Choppers and Prowlers along the way. Not everyone had made it. But it was obvious they wouldn't. That was the price of war. Karonus and his wingmates continued the charge, ripping apart any Heretic dumb enough to cross their paths.

Emerging from the left flank, Karonus ordered a portion of the Choppers to form up with him, while the rest continued their U-Turn strategy. Four rows of Choppers formed up with Karonus, as a large portion of Heretics began to form up and charge them. "RIP THEM APART!" Karonus bellowed as he fired his Heavy Cannons at the approaching Heretics. The front row unleashed a barrage of cannon rounds at the Heretics, decimating them. By the time they were halfway to the Choppers, their numbers had thinned significantly.

"CHARGE!" Karonus bellowed, putting his Chopper at full speed. The four rows followed, the front still firing at the remaining force. The front row dealt a significant blow to the foolish Heretics, mowing down the majority of the Heretics. The second and third rows ripped apart the survivors from the first row's charge, while the fourth row mopped up any stragglers that manage to survive the second and third row's charge, dealing a heavy blow to the main Heretic force.

Karonus charged back into the fray, but was contacted by Palcius, the Major who lead the File Karonus was in, on a public channel. "How in the name of the Holy Gods did you manage to deal such a blow to the Heretics, Karonus?" Palcius asked, obviously impressed. "They are Heretic to the most powerful empire in the Galaxy. Nobody ever said they were smart." Karonus said, for everyone to hear over the comms.

That sole sentence was an obvious morale booster among the Covenant forces, as the soldiers began to fight harder, with the Heretics beginning to loose more soldiers faster than they could kill Covenant soldiers. The tide of the battle was turning in the Covenant's favor.

[Kart]

Field Master Legra 'Adantai
Closing the distance

They were nearing the front lines now--the sound of shouts could be heard, a dull roar that had yet to grow to its full cacophony. Spews of plasma and muzzle flashes illuminated the battlefield. The sun was beginning to set, and orange tones had begun to leach the color out of the sky, replacing it with fiery hues.

The anticipation was beginning to build. His personal lance of bodyguards became noticeably more enthusiastic with their marching. Prayers could be heard, muttering for strength in battle and glory in victory. Even the dour Urren was affected--he hunched over low, his eyes darting every which way, looking for all the world like he was hunting back in the deserts of the 'Muram.

Legra felt it too. The battle was close. Already the Jiralhanae were forcing the heretics back. Once Legra's column made it to the battlefield, it would be over, and the heretic fortress would fall.

But not yet, Legra thought. No, not yet. It would be foolish to rush things now...

He activated his communicator once more.

"Well done, Chieftain Garatus. The heretics are in disarray, and your Choppers are wreaking much havoc. It is time--you must clear a path to the walls of the fortress, so that our Mgalekgolo can smash down their defenses."

[Huka]

Field Marshal Til 'Muramai
Watching the battlefield


Standing on the higher ground of the battlefield with his lance of Special Operatives, Til started to wrap his cape around himself to the slight feel of the falling night's chill despite knowing his harness will take care of that soon. The explosions of metal battling metal, crossing lights of plasma and radioactive bolts dancing, and the bodies of flesh rush for the inevitable smashing for eager conflict. The sight of war that is always the same. Very little but the weapons and armor change. The warriors down below felt the same passions that their ancestors felt decades, hundreds, nay...thousands of rotations ago. With blades and platemail, arrows and catapults. With bullets and bayonets. 

Til watched his soldiers fight; with that same burning passion that the first Covenant soldier no doubt had against their heretical counterpart, trained to the bone since childhood and even now. Bravado in the youth, experience in the senior, and self-preservation to the others. Each soldier had their fighting mark. They may wear the same armor and uniform but they were different little grains to his desert. 

 His brows furrowed each little mistake from the officers and hearts soared to each successful move. All the while, his guards were silent and motionless but he could feel their unrest. They desired battle of some kind but they were more disciplined than the typical soldier. With a blink, the Field Marshal felt his own yearning itching to his fingers. To dive headlong into battle and slay all that stand before one's sight and front, knowing your allies will cover your back. 

Aah, to be young again.


Minor Chata 'Aquiree
The One of a Thousand

His shields sparked and started to fail slowly to the coming plasma fire, even had a needle pop against his energy protection but he kept marching with his brothers-in-arms. Carbine up and firing bolt after bolt at the enemy. One Minor Sangheili in a file of five Unggoy each rank, Kig-yar shields flaring and protecting their slavish brethren. This was the defining difference; where the humans' noisy projectiles would ping off the birds' defenders like their little fists to a Jiralhanae, plasma washes and heats at the shields, having them quickly switch with extra Kig-yar while they waited for their bucklers to recharge. Anyone too slow were shot dead and crumble the advance slowly.

Sangheili were naturally targeted but they showed no fear, no remorse for the coming slaughter, not even their own died or a Chopper was vanquished by the Heretics. Each death burned the fire that was the Covenant's holy righteousness. Chata himself started to feel the telltale ruthlessness that gripped the legion. No mercy for the enemy, no matter the species. No matter the reasoning.  Not even the explosion of the ghosts till the Jiralhanae rolling assault provoke a flinch or woe for the Aquir, the bravado was infectious and the majesty of a true unit started to bear its weight on him. His Ultra called over their creche channel that they were near the frontline, near the leading Field Master's own column. 

Patience, 'Natumee would Patience and the prey will be yours. 

--
The Chosen Aggressors


"It is time..." The Field Marshal began through the net, simple and crisp like the axe glistening to the dusk over the executed.  With that order, it was dropped for blood. "Assault the keep."

"As you command, Holy Marshal." They spoke in rock-grinding unison, the darkness paying little demand to their sight. They could feel the chosen Zealot's ships approaching and their own dropship hummed alive, lifting off the ground in a invisible wisp. The dusk provided the perfect camouflage with only the slightest of wavering disappearing with the sun before it made the coming flight to the unknowing keep while its automated turrets seemed to sense the approaching doom from gravity-field residue but not the origin. 

"The chariot rides.

The disk falls.

We art our lords' axes; we art our lords' insuppressive shields.

We march upon their clepe.

Our harness bless'd of gods.

Our hon'r white as Death; our thirst like our ancestors.

Their vice calls; our justice answers.

F'r we art the Hunters of the sinful. . .

None shall escape."

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless.
The Battle Rages.

Garatus lead a spearhead into the center of the enemies ranks, his brave Pack forming up with their Chieftain. Garatus was the tip of the spear, using his superior armor and weaponry to clear Heretics away like weeds in a field. The spearhead was lined with Jiralhanae engaging in fierce melee with the inner cluster firing savagely at the betrayers. Garatus slammed his hammer into the ground, sending a blast into the Heretics ahead of him, the tight squeezing making each gravity enabled blow devastating. Garatus howled with fervor and righteous pride as the Yanme'e joined the battle, they would be invaluable in holding the line.

Garatus could scarcely see ten feet in front of himself for all the Sangheili, but after a particularly powerful swing that took out half a dozen Heretics he managed a brief glimpse and noticed Karonus's tactic he was employing. Garatus continued to fight, and soon heard Karonus's voice over the communications. Garatus listened as he ripped the back-blade of his hammer out of a Sangheili, letting out a hearty, thunderous laugh at his brothers words. It would be good for the Pack to hear the words, and it did seem to show as they pushed the Heretics lines back steadily(though their own casualties were rising which caused discontent with Garatus.) The sun set was approaching and a feral grin spread across the Chieftains scarred face, as excellent as the Sangheili could see in the day, it was the night that gave the predatory Jiralhanae desert and jungle dwellers their advantage.

Garatus continued the battle, fighting on as the Field Master Legra congratulated him on their success, but also telling him he was needed elsewhere for the Empire. "Acknowledged Field Master, it shall be done!" Garatus responded. Garatus quickly moved to give commands to his Pack "Pack, we must clear a path to the Fortress walls for the Mgalekgolo to take, they shall make an entry point!" Garatus bellowed into the Jiralhanae specific communications line. Garatus slowly retracted the spearhead back into the line of Jiralhanae infantry, making his way through a readily opening path across his own forces. His intent was clear and few would stand in the path of a determined Chieftain, he would make his way to the right flank of the Heretics where his Prowlers were and make a path of dead Heretics for the Mgalekgolo to use. Once with the Prowlers Garatus went to the farthest most corner that was nearer to Field Master Legra's approaching forces, the ideal place to clear for the Mgalekgolo to pass through. Garatus started weeding the path with a leaping swing of his hammer....


T'vaoan Major Roh Gel.
On the move.

Roh bobbed his head slightly in recognition of Cad's own recognition of Roh's own status, while he was not one to flaunt his status often, he did enjoy the occasional recognition of his place in the universe. Roh nodded at the comment on his blade arm as they walked and the Kig-yar looted the corpse as any respectable person would, "Thanks," Roh said with a tip of his beak "I suppose that's what you get with two of the best Clans having trained you" he concluded with a small shrug.

Roh preened his damaged arm feathers momentarily as Cad requested a chance to message the Field Marshal, some big finger face with bad lungs and a glassy eye that made Roh cringe uncharacteristically. The T'vaoan looked up as Cad asked about his family, but before he could answer the Kig-yar the chance to message the Field Master came and Roh knew the importance of it and so he would wait.

Once the message had ended Roh started walking towards where the battle would be, looking back to Cad "I know of no kinsmen of mine to be in the Sect, perhaps a little know cousin but most of my family is far too busy back on the homeworld to be bothered with service. My grandmother leads Clan Gel, my father is prominent within Clan Hul and may someday lead them(if he plays his cards right), but killing Heretics is my hearts content for now so maybe it is just a Clansmen, or perhaps family even" Roh said, stating it as if it was just idle trivia; since to him, it was.

[Kart]

Field Master Legra 'Adantai
Sounding the Charge!

The distance was no more. Now, Legra had drawn apace with the stragglers of the Jiralhanae, his Sangheili relieving and reinforcing the flagging soldiers. Files of shield-bearing Kig-Yar now drew into dense formations as they moved methodically against the tide of heretic infantry. Unggoy milled about as they charged in a haphazard horde between and around the legs of the taller Sangheili and Jiralhanae. And yet, the strength of the column was still yet to come. Above him, a flotilla of dropships--the Field Marshal's strike force--howled as they flew into battle.

It is time.

"Urren!" Legra had to shout at his second-in-command to be audible over the din of the battle. "The Field Marshal has mobilized the air forces! The Chieftain has cleared the path! Bring up the Mgalekgolo!"

Urren 'Muramee did not bother replying, choosing instead to turn on his heel and attend immediately to Legra's orders. In the space of a few heartbeats, sixteen Mgalekgolo--eight bond-brother pairs--were gathered at the vanguard of the column. As they stood in formation, the progress of the sect halted at Legra's gesture. Every hoof, foot, and claw ground to a halt as the Field Master stood in front of his troops, flanked on both sides by immense Mgalekgolo.

Sometimes generals used moments like these to give a rousing speech. Legra himself had done it once or twice before. But not this time.

This time, he roared wordlessly, his call a hunting horn, ringing as loudly now as if he were still in the forests of his homeworld.

The Covenant joined in his roar.

He roared again, this time with words.

"Tooth and talon!"

And the Covenant answered.

"Fang and claw!"


The Mgalekgolo charged down the path the Jiralhanae had cleared, with the full force of the Covenant behind them.

[Vertickly]

Minor Marglurum
The taste of blood on one's knuckles

Marglurum had made it to the front behind his chieftain. A good amount of enemies were falling before melee became an issue due to the mighty gravity hammer that Chieftain Garatus held. But it didn't take long and the enemy forces managed to get passed. 'The real fight is here' he though to himself.

With the heretics right up in his face he put away his carbine, his major was right in front of him, and struggling in a fight with a Sangheili. Marglurum moved to the side and helped his brother, getting behind the heretic and taking him to the ground with a choke hold securely enforced on the Sangheili's neck. Though there was a struggle from the heretic he couldn't do much to stop what was happening to him. Marglurum bit into the shoulder of the heretic, clenching his jaw as tight as possible. And with a weak screech from the Sangheili, it died, no more blood was reaching the brain. "Tomanun, I don't want to take all your kills, now, kill them!" He said and yelled at his major, he should've been able to handle a minor Sangheili on his own. 

Marglurum got back up to his feet and moved forward with his file, joining what looked like a brawl in the battlefield. They were punching, grappling, and jumping on their opponents. Marglurum and his fellow minors each had an opponent in their arms, Marglurum was focused on ripping a major Sangheili's arm off, and he nearly did, he broke it out of place before he bit a huge chunk out of the Sangheili's neck, effectively killing it. 

"Pack, we must clear a path to the Fortress walls for the Mgalekgolo to take, they shall make an entry point!"

He heard from Garatus, and then saw him moving towards the back of the fight as more Jiralhanae were joining the fight. But Marglurum was busy with the task at hand. He jumped back into the fight, leaving the dead heretic on the ground in its own blood.

[Deleted]

Reserved for posting. (Infiltration of keep and such)