M8: Pre-Mission Planning [Covenant]

[MrKill]

This thread is for members of the Covenant who lead large units on the ground and in space. Like the UNSC thread this one will be allowed to the equivalent of the Sangheili Majors and above.

---

You've been deployed as an early scout force for a much larger Covenant fleet holding back a couple light years with orders to report back only if the mission is successful or you're about to die. You arrived in system, deployed ground forces to the planet, and engaged the humans immediately. Unpredictably, despite only a few UNSC Warships in orbit you easily destroyed, the ground forces were better equipped and prepared than you thought.

The scouts you sent to eradicate the humans in the region were nearly wiped out and have retreated back to the humans titanium mines. With only a few ships in orbit and sensors indicating more have arrived, you have only moments to come up with a plan.

[Huka]

Field Marshal Til Je’at Ra'shi Kaz'ar Ze'at ‘Muramai

Aboard the Burning Lineage 

Command Information Center

“The scouts we’ve sent have not reported back.” The old Kig-yar said with a familiar melancholy that both veterans were accustomed to in their lifetime, reclining into his seat while sipping on his coral tea. The vapor alone helped with his throat lately, his immune system might be getting worse. Next to him, the masked Sangheili stood with that typical dramatic pose; arms crossed under the seemingly-heavy cloak around his shoulders and legs stiff. Both were enjoying the scenery of a graveyard consist of the planet's former naval defense, some sheets of metal still cooling from the lances of plasma and destruction before entering atmosphere.

“Then the humans here were awaiting our heralding.” The Field Marshal concluded with a dark acceptance, somewhat glad he used the warrior creche as both a gauge and experiencing session. He work too hard in training these troops to just die like Unggoy fodder. “Upload the information from our probes and try to hail the field commander.”

“Aye, Ze'at.” Suf said in protocol before waving a hand to the maturing Vak to the order. The young communication-operations officer worked keenly and without overlapping thought, talons working from units upon units of practice in and out of missions.

Til stared at the floating hologram of their targeted planet, watching it unfold its surface bit by bit with the feeding information. Another Human colony belonging to their main prey, this group continuously called the UNSC, as if it mattered to the Covenant in general. Human was human. Heresy had blind of species, any were acceptable.

He knew that intimately.

Narrowing his eyes at a unwanted, but always exemplar, memory of his first steps as an agent of the Prophets. Even they weren’t above the corruption.

Shaking his head for clarity, the Field Marshal extended an arm out to personally move the hologram and zoom in on the last known location of the fallen force. It was a coastal-bordered region of the dust-colored world, the incoming intelligence warned of mines scattered with the obvious proximity of military bases. Certainly explain the humans’ swift and harsh fury. While glassing would the typical answer to it, the technologies that the enemy was weaving is becoming more devilish than the early age of this war. The soft-fleshed worms were cunning and starting to cannibalize the Gods’ gifts for their own gain. The domes was clear evidence of that. Til was not stepping onto that world unprepared like the few times he have before.

Not without preparation to bring destruction to the Enemy efficiently.

Finally after rooks in, the crackle of a voice spoke into the CiC’s audio speakers. “Thi- is Il- ‘Tiramee. Do...anyone re-?” Til crinkled his mandibles at the bad reception, must be in one of the mines. “Strengthen the signal.” Suf ordered while tapping onto the left arm of his chair to find the location of the answer. Working in sync with Vak, the distress call was becoming as clear as the finest crystal and the glyph of its location pointed to a mine in the southeast of the immediate region. Near two towns...one in the west and another in the further north, both potential threats.

“I repeat,” The hoarse voice panted, “This is Il ‘Tiramee of the K'Bar Warrior Creche. If anyone can hear me, please respond!" 

Suf answered with a tap of his talon to let the Field Marshal answer with a low growl of evident annoyance, "This is Ze'at 'Muramai. I pray there is some good tidings." That gave the distressed commander a knowing pause, almost hoping it wasn't his supreme commanding officer to answer this but finally he answered with the crackle of background speech, "The humans were quick to our arrival, Sire. Even their townfolk were armed and willing to fight..." 

 "Of course they did, you fool.Would you do similar in their position? " Til rebuked harshly but he could understand the situation, tempering himself some as he continued. "No matter, what is the status of your troops?" 

 "My creche is scattered to the four winds, Ze'at..." The commander answered with obvious humiliation. Til had little doubt he will try to kill himself by the end of this assignment for it. "I am trapped in this mine with a few of my more veteran lances right now. We won't hold out long with the humans trying to burn us out with their hellfire." That brought back the earlier rotations of the war to mind. 

 "Very well, Il. Keep yourself steadfast until reinforcements arrive, you do not have my permission to die until our objective is complete. Understood?" The Field Marshal said with a show of animation at last, feeling the eagerness of battle pumping in his veins and desire to test his warriors once more. It was the only thing keeping him going despite of past events. "Yes, Honorable Ze'at!" 'Tiramee replied, sensing the faith given to him. With that, Suf closed transmission and sighed out for what is to come.

 "Signal the other shipmasters for a holo-conference." Til directed to his old friend, placing a comforting hand on the Kig-yar's armored shoulder before accessing the battlenet to the legion's channel, the officers were aboard the corvette with the Field Marshal while the majority of the legion was placed aboard the flagship of their task force. "Accompanying members of Reticence, Generals of my legion, Chieftain Garatus and Champion Gel; step into the bridge for briefing. Ultras and Majors, prepare your soldiers for deployment in a quarter-cycle!"

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless.
Answering the summons.

Garatus sat in his room, sharpening his combat knife, occasionally testing the sharpness on the leathered skin of a Heretic to the faith. He could never get the blade quite sharp enough, even though it could easily hack a limb, he was a perfectionist when it came to his weaponry. He sighed as he sheathed the blade, strapping it to his bandolier at the small of his back.

He looked up as he heard the familiar voice of Til, and responded to the summons "On my way glorious Field Marshal" Garatus said as he stood. He reached out to the foot of his pelt covered bed, grasping the sturdy handle on the haft of his Gravity Hammer. He hefted it into the air before laying it across his right shoulder.

The door of his room hissed open and his two guardsmen saluted, Garatus returning the gesture. It was a rather boring walk, quite ordinary. Unggoy shrank away from him, Kig-yar tensed, Jiralhanae averted their eyes, Sangheili glared, and all saluted. Just like always. As he neared the door to the bridge he shifted the hammer off of his shoulder and switched it into his left hand to be carried casually.

Garatus walked onto the bridge with his customary confident swagger and a stiff jaw, his normal resting face looking as if he was about to murder someone. Anyone familiar with him however would recognize the expression as quite normal. The first order of business was obvious.

"Greetings Field Marshal" Garatus said as he slammed his right fist into his chest in a salute to his superior officer, nodding respectfully to the old Kig-yar Shipmaster Suf. "You summoned me?"


Kig-Yar Shipmaster Mag Rog.
Reporting for duty.

Mag Rog was unsure as to what to do about his arm blade as he walked. Was it inappropriate to wear it on the bridge in the presence of Sangheili? Or Jiralhanae for that matter, since he'd heard the Field Marshal summon a Chieftain to the bridge as well. Mag sighed as he walked. He sincerely hoped it was fine since it was a prosthesis, and he didn't want to be late.

Even though he wasn't young, he wasn't old compared to most of the commanders here. He felt like lad again, the new recruit in the sniper duo like. Except this time he was the new man in the room filled with seasoned veterans wizened beyond their years with blood soaked careers. He let out a shuddering sigh as he neared the door, Aecor preserve him.

He approached the door with his last sigh as he restored his resolve and straightened, putting on his characteristic expression of a hardened merciless killer. He strode through the door shortly after the Chieftain, slowing down to stand off to the Jiralhanae's side.

"Field Marshal" Mag Rog said, placing his blade arm at his gut before bowing somewhat to the Sangheili, "Shipmaster" Mag said to Suf before extending the older Kig-Yar the same courtesy.

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion.
Approaching the Bridge and entering
In a VERY bad mood.

At least Kael was going to the bridge, that was somthing at least. Considering she was so close to just getting back on her own transport and leaving the battle entirely. She had spent the last week on a desperate search through any clue she could find onto where Roh had been taken. Taken by ONI. The dreaded ONI that had already taken one child from her and had now taken Roh too. But the search had proved fruitless, and Kael had been on edge with little sleep the past few days. Worrying and dreading what was happening to her poor chick. It was telling that her Mama had even sent her condolences and best wishes to find Roh alive considering Kael and her hadn't spoken in years. At least Kael had responded to it and not just left her Mama hanging...but she needed to go back to her and straighten things out. Her mind in torment over the very real fact that Roh could be dead, and she never talked to him to try and get their differences settled...she couldn't let that happen with her Mama too.

The Champion fully armored with rifle and sidearm on as well as she stormed onto the bridge. Her rage covering up her worry for now, especially now that Til was in sight. Til, the damned reptile that had forbade her from going to rescue Roh when he was barely two miles from her, and now he could be light-years away. Fast walking toward the small meeting point she half scooted half shoulder shoved a Kig-Yar with a blade for a hand aside to move ahead of him and stand beside the Chieftain. Her helmet blocking her view of rage as she looked at TIl but it was clear from her body language that she was quiet angry. Especially to the Kig-Yar she shoved past as her feather ruff was raised and quivering ever so slightly.

But she kept her beak tightly shut so as not to scream at Til for his orders, just nodded and stood there, hands clasped tightly together so she wouldn't reach for her weapons.

[MrKill]

[Time-Skip: All members that would be present for the briefing have arrived. You can now discuss the situation in greater detail.]

[Huka]

Field Marshal Til Je’at Ra'shi Kaz'ar Ze'at ‘Muramai

Aboard the Burning Lineage 

Command Information Center

Til stood in front of a semi-circle consist of the summoned parties; the Generals of his army’s foremost legion, the Chieftain of the attached tribe warband, and the Champion of the hired Kig-yar mercenaries all in the flesh on one side. On the other was the holographic representations of their escorting warband’s influential shipmasters with the only two physically aboard was Suf-naturally-and the newest Kig-yar shipmaster Mag.

At either side of him was Suf and his fellow Reticent Lance Zealot, Nertetzu. Legra was handling some other business to his knowledge, only the Gods and their seers will know if he’ll appear for the battle or not. Quickly, he cleared his throat and began to speak while his Kig-yar counterpart manipulated the holo-tank’s planet to zoom onto the designated region to serve as his staging assault.

“Brothers and sisters of faith,” He began respectfully, “We are on short time with the report of a incoming human fleet inbound to this planet, no doubt for defending. Our advance force have been decimated and while saving them is noble, the overall objective is obliterating the human’s main militant backing on this colony.” As the Sangheili commander spoke, Suf highlighted the known bases with red glyphs while the trapped Ultra’s location was signified with a white-blue friendly glyph around the mine.

“These are our known targets, you know our enemy and their reactions by now when it comes to their hives. Their civilians are hidden away by now and warriors left behind to defend. War machines mobilizing. No quarters is given to the Enemy. The Legion will be sent to planet for assault; Champion Gel, you and your ilk will go and rescue the Scout commander. I trust your blades and mobility better than most. Chieftain Garatus, you will go to this location-” The Field Marshal stated, pointing a claw towards a human base from the general location of the cluster of civilization. The probe’s depiction of the vegetation-dominated setting, flipping angles and the highlighted sight of life. “It seems isolated and potent for a forward base until we make our foothold. However, I don’t deal without absolution. A light aerial escort will be given to you for both aerial and ground cover.”

Waiting on the pair to make their acknowledgements, Til looked to his Sangheilian generals, “The rest of the legion will be keeping a sturdy presence around the mine’s location and keep our enemy’s strengths split apart, obviously there is a flaw to that. Entries will be made with surgical Wight blitzes and when required, auxiliary will be delivered. Choose your locations and intelligence will be provided accordingly.” The four gave a crisp salute to his orders. Quick and adapt as he trained them. Then there is the fleet…

His eyes drifted to the shipmasters, mostly to the CCS-class commanding officer*, who knew his duties to keep a moderate presence to both provide the ground forces with their war machines and when needed, aid the warband in naval combat naturally. “Shipmasters, we have our ground plan. Anything to build upon this foundation?” He questioned, while he was superior in command over them until the Fleetmaster arrived who was his equal in such regards, a good commander always listens to his subordinates and counterparts or he’ll go into battle with a blind spot.

CCS-class cruiser Shipmaster: Commanding officer of the naval warband, NPC. A way to hold the full legion instead of splitting up.

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless.
Seems alright to me.

Garatus stood by the Sangheili, a seeming buffer between them and the Kig-Yar by his other side. He stood straight and proud, one hand on the pommel of his Gravity Hammer as its head rested on the ground beside his right foot. His left arm hung loosely by his side, his claws occasionally scraping against one another as his fingers squirmed.

He growled softly when Til referred to the Kig-Yar associates as ilk, the sound nothing out of the ordinary for the Chieftain, as he often growled, snorted, or snarled at things in conversation. Garatus looked over at Kael next to him, he could sense her rage. It made him smile, knowing someone else could also have such a horrific capacity for anger. But it also made him sad, knowing someone else knew the same kind of pain that constantly plagued him.

At this point in his life, if he lost one of his children, he would go mad with grief and self destruct, probably taking his entire Tribe with him. Garatus was broken away from his thoughts as Til spoke to him, Garatus listening intently to his commander. He nodded his acknowledgement to the Field Marshal, and saluted.

"It shall be done Field Marshal, I shall deliberate with my Stalkers and Captains on the matter before we hit the surface so as to make my strike percise and quick" Garatus rumbled to the gathered group, though primarily to Til.


Kig-Yar Shipmaster Mag Rog.
Hmm....

Mag stood next to the T'vaoan Champion at arms length, his brow furrowed with displeasure as he stood stiffly with his blade arm crossed so it somewhat pointed at the rude T'vaoan. He was still angered by her shoving past him, having hissed at her for it. He was sympathetic for her situation, having heard of it from other Kig-Yar, but he would not tolerate disrespect else he'd look weak.

His quills bristled slightly when the Field Marshal referred to the Kig-Yar as mere ilk, as he found the statement offensive to himself and to the venerable Champion beside him, even if he thought she was rude. He looked over at the Chieftain as Til addressed the creature, it was quite large and had a mean look about it, covered in tattoos and scars.

He stayed silent when the Field Marshal addressed the Shipmasters, wishing to not be the first to speak as he was new to the fleet and didn't want to make a poor first impression or get himself executed for saying the wrong thing, depending on the way this Field Marshal operated. His gaze drifted to the older Kig-Yar Shipmaster, he found it interesting Suf stood next to the Field Marshal, perhaps he was his right hand man? If so, it was nice to know there might be room for political advancement in this fleet.

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion.
On the Bridge.
Slowly focusing.

The eyes of the helmet were just dull bulbs of orange light as Kael watched Til, perhaps searching for weaknesses? Hard to tell as her own eyes were hidden under the helmet - pretty disrespectful to have it on in Marshal Til's presense. But probably for the best that most of her face was hidden. Though weather or not Kael thought that Til's mentioning of ilk was disrespectful it in its own way was also hard to tell as Kael just stood still. Was she even listening?

"Understood." She responded after Til and Garatus had finished talking, simple and to the point. A shift of her clasped hands making both her wrist blades extend as she stood there. Weapons out right in front of the Field Marshal. A bold statement to be sure, but perhaps not a wise one. Unless the female was daring Til, or sending him some type of message. Unclasping her hands she let them fall to her side before flipping them up to her chest to flick the blades back into their holders before returning her hands to her front clasped together.

"The trust isn't misplaced," a little hiss and a whisper that only Mag could barely hear - 'this time'. Before Kael composed herself and continued. "Our speed and blades will clear the way to our trapped comrade, and they will be saved..." Probably bringing back bad memories that Roh was in the same situation. But Kael was clearing trying to focus on the mission as she nodded a little.

"Then we will be ready to join the main force for the Extermination."

[TinCanHitman]

Kubar Je’ketai Kaz’ar Ra’shi Je'at Eza'telar ‘Hidohai

Aboard the Burning Lineage  

Command Information Center

The Wings of a Sermon

Infinite space, every direction the continued emptiness that the morals of faith are always tested upon. Space was the arena of modern glory, it was cold and harsh, the perfect womb for an empire to gestate in. Kubar admired the ability the Covenant had, expansion at any cost, it seemed. Few took their time to appreciate the empire they were part of, and the blessings they were given because of it. The chances a warrior has is infinitely larger than any thing their ancestors had.

It was these thoughts that made Kubar devout, the thoughts of all of the blessings he had been given, and taken. The god's favored strength, but not without wisdom. Kubar had spent many hours reading what his rank afforded him of historical texts, but also learning directly from the source with his teacher, and his friend, the Minor Prophet of Pity. The prophet had taken Kubar from a simple special operations officer and made him into the instruments of Prophets, and had afforded him the ability to hold one of the most honorable titles in the empire, Light of Sanghelios. He was the commander of commanders, literally a small army of the best warriors of the greatest sangheili clan lines. 

Yet, it always had the slight shadow over it that seemed to humble Kubar. No matter how many warriors, or blades, or how honorable, it was only a fraction of his teacher's influence and power. It has such an awe inspiring thing, to have such a teacher, it was some thing that Kubar knew was the key to success and honor. A warrior did not use their arm to block a blade, because their arm is weaker than their blade. So instead of hiding his weakness, embarrassed, he instead broke and allowed his teacher to fix them. His weakness was simply inexperience, he would never had as much as the Prophet, but he would get as much as he could.

He was pulled from his thoughts as his dropship shuddered into the hangar of the Burning Lineage, forcing him to refocus onto the task at hand. His eyes darkened and his relaxed form became stiff, mechanically fluid, but unnatural. He stepped into the light of the hangar and it caused a general stutter to the work around him. Sangheili either averted their gaze and respectfully saluted, or simply gave him the grizzled nod of respect. Kubar accepted both, knowing the strength it took to be humble, and zeal it took to be proud. Kig-yar and unggoy simply put as much space between him and themselves, fear. The other most common form of respect, one that Kubar also accepted, if you did not have the stomach then get out of his way.

He made his way deeper into the ship, the waves of soldiers parting as his massive form made it's way into the ship. His shining white armor stood him apart from his comrades, as well as his decorative plates. However Kubar moved through them as if he'd been on this ship hundreds of times, tapping at a holo tablet as he walked.

He was looking over field marshal Til' current tactical sermon, his words expressing his plan. It was not a bad plan, and Kubar didn't have much to say about it. It was easy to spend hours 'pretend' planning, but as he and the field marshal both knew, the plan counted for little when the gods decided to pull your feet from under you. How the field marshal handled the planning after the combat begins is what would prove his skill to Kubar. It spoke volumes when one remained calm in the face of defeat.

Finally he turned down the corridor that lead to the command center, it's doors waiting for his arrival. He didn't even stop to check his armor, assure himself it was perfect. Kubar knew his armor was immaculate, it was an affront to his and his teacher's name to be any thing less. He stood a moment and waited as the doors flickered, humming quietly and sliding open to reveal the room. 

It was exactly as Kubar had expected, save for a few things. Ship masters and generals, all looking over data and listening intently to their field marshal. The thing that Kubar hadn't expected was the presence of the Jiralhanae chieftain, as well as the kig-yar cutthroats. Even if Kubar had been surprised his face didn't change it's feature, even if it was hidden by his helmet. He was much to seasoned to show any thing other than what he wanted it to.

He allowed the room acclimatize to his presence, holding his head up and slowly scanning the room, taking every detail in. He drank in the scene as he began to make his judgments of the room, calculating every being. Finally he walked to the center of the room, reaching to his side and pulling something from it. It was a handcrafted, expertly engraved, holograph projector. It had beautiful etching, and was made out of some sort of reflective material, causing it to shimmer black in the light.

Kubar pressed a glyph on the sphere and it opened, no sound coming from it as it made a stand out of it's own morphing form. Kubar set it silently on the floor and then stood back to his full height, crossing his arms and resuming his scanning of the room. His teacher was here now, and they too would learn.

[Daenerys Targaryen]

The Prophet of Pity
The Minister of Resolution
The Fleet of Sanctified Absolution
Transmitting from the Herald of Might

Unseen lighting in the ceiling of his office cast the entire space in a dull violet glow. Around him sat different terminals and talk screens, all detailing the information that his fleet had been transmitted from the scouts. Their reports only reminded him of the colossal failure the reclaiming of the system beyond them had been. Ahead of them lied the How an infestation such as the humans had created upon a planet that had been within the Covenant's data banks for over 100 years. A world that could feasibly be turned into a plasma refinery with the introduction of the right technology. It had been abandoned years ago, being deemed to far away to be of relevance. This would later be recounted as the borders of their empire encroached closer to that specific system. 

What the Ministry of Discovery had not expected, however, were for there to be humans on the specific planet within the current system. They grew relaxed in their application of their luminaries, and easily overlooked the human presence within the system.  Their returning survey ships encountered the humans and crushed them easily, yet they themselves were destroyed along with another scouting force attached to this fleet by a resurgence of human force within the system. The news of that disaster left a bad taste within his mouth, though it did little to dissuade him from completing the mission currently tasked to his fleet. Human resistance would be crushed, utterly, and the planet would then be surveyed for the possible conversion of plasma resources. 

Vaark's robes crumpled under him uncomfortably as he adjusted his seated position to that of a more comfortable one on the deep blue cushions of his gravity throne. Gently, the elderly San 'Shyuum hovered from terminal to terminal, versing himself on the outputs of the various conflicts offered to him. With the knowledge of the current situation in hand, he would be able to provide masterful council to those that lead the fleet itself. While his primary focus would revolve around the Covenant's Naval force, he would still inject himself into movements on the ground regardless. After all, they all would need to work in harmony to achieve victory. 

He had already comitted to this injection hours before, in which he had commanded his Honor Guard Kubar 'Hidohai to board the Burning Lineage and attend a meeting held by a specific Field Master. Til, he who would lead the Covenant ground forces onto the planet and crush the humans on the ground while their fleet's ships swatted them out of the Heavens. He supposed his appearance would be late, as he had orchestrated purposely to make his entrance that much grander.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The holographic panel on his right armrest whirred to life with a soft green running, an early warning set off by Kubar himself to alert the Prophet that his appearance would soon be at hand. Vaark jumped slightly at this, and flicked a small symbol on his holographic display, bringing a much harsher violet light into the room once more. Soon after, the door to his quarters flicked open allowed his Steward to enter with a small bowl of liquid. He entered silently, and began to quick task of dragging a small fine whetted cloth along the skin of Vaark's face. The prophet himself closed his eyes contentedly, allowing his face to be washed and refreshed for a few moments before he waved to steward off. 

The San 'Shyuum offered a small sigh as the thrumming in his holographic projections intensified. Taking one last moment to straighten out his robes, Vaark turned a menacing gaze toward the projection screen in front of him and he began to take shape. Soon enough, his entire form appeared as a holographic projection within the chamber that Til's meeting occupied. The pale holographic glow of his eyes traveled along the beings within the room, stopping on each Sangheili while completely passing over the Jiralhanae entirely. His gaze would stop on a curious looking Kig-Yar from time to time, but they received much of the same treatment. He watched for reactions, signs of respect, and all that befit a being of his station. 

"Ah. Greetings, shipmasters and the rest." His lilting voice was heavy with disappointment as his eyes finally focused on a singular entity within the chamber, Til himself. "Your ground plan is commendable, and I will trust you to its completion with little interference. However, you shall now be alerted to the Covenant tactics within space." He cast an appraising glance to the Fleetmaster that controlled the combat operations of the Navy, as he entered the room. "Our vessels shall seek dominance over the planet in an orbit closest to our trapped forces sheltered within the mining facility. We engage the Vermin in the heavens at this point, and wipe their closest vessels from existence while we secure a steady supply route from orbit to the ground. Our Hunter-Killer destroyer groups shall engage vessels out of range, and keep the humans at bay while we rescue those trapped. Of course, the success of this maneuver is dictated by the will of the gods." He offered a long graceful nod in reverence to the Forerunners, before he continued. "Meanwhile, to further hinder the vermin's presence in orbit, boarding parties lead by the Creche of Righteous Shade shall attempt to destroy their orbital platform." Vaark waited silently for his words to sink in, and kept his hearing organs ready for any comments.

NOTE: Ground Units are being headed by Huka and his PC character, but Space Units shall be headed by staff controlled characters due to the issues with NPC'ing extremely high tiered characters. 

[Huka]

Field Marshal Til ‘Muramai

Aboard the Burning Lineage

Command Information Center 

Til saw the hint from the unbecoming Champion and his passive appearance didn’t give a clue to his thoughts. He had to keep her from saving her son, for the good of the legion. While it was a hard choice on a emphatic note, the Field Marshal had no regret for it and if discord is threatening to erupt from the Kig-yar. He’ll handle it like he handled the Jiralhanae but honestly, he prayed it will never come to it. So, he nodded approval to her remark and Garatus’ own. Then he glanced at Suf, who was tilting his head to his earpiece before mouthing out, Light.

The Sangheili blinked at that before the door opened to reveal the approach of a Sangheili. No, not just a Ultra...but a Light of Sanghelios. Despite his own militant power and the ceremonial value of a Light, Til bowed his head in pure respect to the senior warrior. To relinquish the active life as a warrior on the battlefield and serve the Seers of the Great Journey as their brightest protectors was a honorable sacrifice. The guards within the room bowed in reverence of the white-armored guardsman.

There was no words exchanged, the significance of a elite protector of the Prophets wasn't lost to anyone here, and soon enough it manifested in the form of a holo-projector in the older male’s palm. Til watched it reconfigure it and begin to summon the figure of a San’Shyuum. “Before the nobility of Resolution, we kneel and heed.” He spoke out with a deep, almost detached voice fit of a holy Zealot from the sands of Muram. No emotion but reverence and dark attachment to the battle to come.

As one, he and his shadow-veiled guards kept on one knee in the militant clank of armor as well as those who knew better to reverent the holy form of a Minister. Til kept his head bowed to the floor, feeling unworthy to looking upon the robed visage materializing before him with his sear-scarred skin tightening where the wrap of the Chains sat in its eternal punishment. To serve the Council until death or forced to don the mantle of Arbiter to preserve his stained honor. From the other's mannerism, the Field Marshal could recognize who it was. Kubar of the Hidoh Clan.

Finally the Minister of Resolution spoke, the sting of disappointment was evident in his voice and he unconsciously made him cringe under his mask. His eyes lifted to see the long-necked creature floating in his hovering chair while the knowledge of the Navy’s strategy was presented. So frail...yet so powerful. “It shall be done, Holy One. The humans will not escape our sanctified powers. Each unfortunate death will cost them a hundred in turn. Their sins will be burned deep into this planet’s mantle and resources taken for our holy crusade.”

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless.
Graced and shamed.

Garatus's fur bristled slightly as Kael spoke, her body language and tone said it all to him. He wondered if some day in the near future he'd find Til dead in his bedchamber, seemingly of natural causes, or if he'd hear of Kael dying trying to assassinate the Field Marshal. He hoped by the Forerunners it would not be so, and especially hoped that he wouldn't be anywhere near them when this tension would come to a head.

Garatus looked up as a new party arrived. A Light of Sangheilios. Most impressive. Garatus saluted the Sangheili, even if he was not fond of the species in general, he knew this one deserved respect if he held the station of protector to the San'Shyuum. Garatus stroked his beard as he wondered how pious one of such a Holy position must be.

The large Jiralhanae watched curiously as the newly arrived Sangheili placed an object on the ground, it seemed to be ornately built, but its purpose was not known to Garatus. His brow raised as the device came to life, beginning to form a blurry image of a San'Shyuum. Garatus immediately dropped to one knee, slamming his right fist into his chest in salute to the Holy one who graced him with his very presence.

Garatus's heart dropped as the San'Shyuum looked around the room, passing over him as if he did not exist. His eyes fell to the floor in sadness and shame. He was... unworthy.


Kig-Yar Shipmaster Mag Rog.
Oh Gods, not on the first day!

Mag gulped softly as he heard the whisper of Kael, whether it was intended for his ear-holes or it was just hushed and the Champion speaking to herself he did not know, nor did he particularly care to find out anytime soon. It was abundantly obvious that the tension here spanned far beyond the political.

He was utterly shocked when a Light of Sangheilios entered the chamber, he immediately bowed his head and tipped his shoulders forward respectfully. He watched as the Honor Guard placed a holographic emitter on the floor, a smirk upturning the corner of his mouth as a San'Shyuum's projected image came into view.

Mag followed quickly after the Sangheili in going to one knee, his blade arm crossed over his stomach while his good arm stuck out behind him. He almost expected it to be his Patron Minister, but was surprised that it seemed to be a Minor Prophet, perhaps there was room for him to move up the political ladder if he gained this San'Shyuum's favor. Never know who might need a dirty job done discreetly... or how much they'd pay to have it taken care of....

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion.
On the Bridge.
Tch.

Taking quiet deep breaths to keep herself under control Kael just did her best to focus on the mine, taking a step toward the holographic image of her drop location to look over approach locations and defensive locations the Human 'exterminators' had likely taken up. It would be hard as it seemed as if there was only one entrance...but it was a mine was it not? There would likly be some kind of air shaft somewhere, at least one. That would be a good location to drop down if it wasn't to far, then pincer the Humans at the entrance from inside and outside. Nodding a bit at her own plan she looked up at Til, opening her beak to start and explain her plan before she noticed Elder Suf mouth something - and then the door opened.

Turning to face this new arrival Kael watched the Ultra enter. She knew what he was, the armor was a dead give away. But since the Ultra barely glanced at herself and Mog she barely regarded him either. Instead she looked at Mag, who she was now facing, and looked him over a bit more carefully since the first time she entered and shoved paste. Her feather ruff would have been starting to lower since she had stepped forward to observe the map, the planning thankfully giving Kael something to concentrate her mind on so the rage and sorrow was having a hard time to break through her focus as she was already assigning Murmillo's specific tasks to lead their lances to rescue. And then the San 'Shyuum showed up.

And Kael did...nothing.

No bow, no head lower, no nothing. Similar to the Ultra Kael had been watching one of their 'great leaders', and had seen the slight look of disgust sent her and Mogs way. Then him completely passing over Garatus. Some leader if they weren't going to treat all of those who were supposed to fully follow them on their crusade. Kael had never had any real respect for the frail chair bound beings since Gel had been being paid less and less over the last few decades for their quotas. Their high and mighty attitude just made her like them even less. If the weakling would have looked at her any kind of favorably and regarded her fellow commander with respect she would return it. But there was none from the San 'Shyuum, so Kael returned it.

[TinCanHitman]

Kubar Je’ketai Kaz’ar Ra’shi Je'at Eza'telar ‘Hidohai 

Aboard the Burning Lineage   

Command Information Center 

The Wings of a Sermon 

Kubar remained standing, having earned the right as the Prophet's closest protector. He used this vantage point to study the room once again, inspecting the supposed sacred vessels of the god's will, made flesh. They were to be the god's instruments, their tools for manipulating the void space to a plane of perfection not yet seen. The prophet's even more so, being the direct speakers for the god's. To disrespect the holy hierarchs was to offer one self up to holy retribution. 

His gaze passed over the Jiralhanae chieftain, remembering the ferocity the warriors had back when he was part of the force that quelled Doisac. They were a race that demanded respect, at least in combat. He wondered if they had the same devotion for their faith as they did their blades. 

His vision fell, however, on the female T'vaoan 'champion'. Kubar's eye's seemed to glass over as his arm's uncrossed, his hidden features becoming stone. He didn't quite process what he was seeing, the utter blasphemy laid before him as if a gift. He approached the female, his form easily dwarfing her's, as his gaze seemed to simply track her. His head cocked to the side, his mind seeming to process just what he was seeing.

"Were you just blinded by holy clarity?" his voice suddenly broke the dead silence of the room, rolling off the walls of the elegant information center. He had yet to speak, so the sudden introduction of his voice to the room effectively drew attention to him and the kig-yar. "Or do you simply choose to be insolent?" his voice seemed suddenly sharp, as if the question were the hiss of a stalking predator. The only thing to alert the being before him of his venomous intent.

His dark black eyes were visible to the female as they attempted to burn a hallowed hole through the bird's skull. Kubar had never seen such blind heresy in such a way. This kig-yar had spit on the prophet's name, and desecrate the very god's by not respecting their divine tools. Kubar's hand had snaked to rest on The Light of Hidoh, his hand clasping it's well crafted handle with a tight almost shaking grip. 

His rage was boiling under the surface, causing his blood to turn to plasma as he held back his rage. He studied the kig-yar for a while longer before finally turning away from her. He stalked over to the visage of the Prophet of Pity, suddenly dropping to his knees. He opened his arm's wide, his right holding his un-ignited blade.

"Holy prophet, divine speaker of the god's word, bringer of scalding truths. I beg of thee, grant me approbation to end this disgusting display of descent from this iconoclast." Kubar begged at the feet of his teacher, needing to hear the grace of his leader, to know that his action is of just intent. He brought his hands together slowly, clasping them to show just how much he needed permission. 

[Daenerys Targaryen]

The Prophet of Pity
The Minister of Resolution
The Fleet of Sanctified Absolution
Transmitting from the Herald of Might

“It shall be done, Holy One. The humans will not escape our sanctified powers. Each unfortunate death will cost them a hundred in turn. Their sins will be burned deep into this planet’s mantle and resources taken for our holy crusade.”

The Prophet offered a simple nod in return. "I trust that it will be so, Field Marshal." Til 'Muramai, the first to kneel, was a most decorated veteran of the field held command over the ground forces of the Covenant. He had brought many victories to the fleet in his time serving as such. His command had not yet been questioned, so his response to the Prophet was taken with as much trust and respect a San 'Shyuum could give a Sangheili. He was sure the weight of his supervision would hang heavily on the field master's shoulders. Vaark, however, was confident that he would be successful under Kubar's council and assistance during this ground engagement. 

The other assembled species within the chamber soon showed Vaark the respect he had received since his own birth. Though he had earned it in his own right, he was one of the few in the room to earn such high standing without first ending the live of another being on the field of battle. Those around him had fought in countless battles, and had shown the Covenant countless glorious victories since the time that this fleet had been brought together. He was sure he any of them could get past Kubar and his own full-rate gravity throne, he would be no match against them. Yet, he still held such command over them that they all bowed in respect. All, except one.

The Command Information Center remained silent for the few moments after Til' had spoken. The curved design of the chamber seemed to absorb all sound. Yet the body language of one Kig-Yar in particular stood out above the rest. A single T'vaoan Champion chose to show no sign of respect, leaving the taste of bile in Vaark's throat. A vain near the hearing lobes at the back of the San 'Shyuum's head began to stand out, but before he could say anything, his most trusted guardian Vaark had forced himself into the situation. 

"Were you just blinded by holy clarity? Or do you simply choose to be insolent?"


The Prophet cocked his head at the questions, burrowing his menacing gaze directly toward the kig-yar in question. The taste of bile in his throat almost became overbearing now, which unintentionally brought Vaark into a small coughing fit, forcing the elder to bring a three-fingered fist to cover his mouth. "Ahem." 

After the small coughing fit subsided, Vaark brought his hand to the armrest of his gravity throne, queing a certain medicinal tea to begin brewing within the bulky machinery of his chair. Afterward, he turned his attention back to the high ranking Covenant officers assembled in front of his hologram. Kubar himself was now kneeled in front of him, obviously deeply disturbed by the slight that had been cast toward the prophet. 


"Holy prophet, divine speaker of the god's word, bringer of scalding truths. I beg of thee, grant me approbation to end this disgusting display of descent from this iconoclast."


The San 'Shyuum's muted brown eyes focused in on the Sangheili before him, as he began to entertain the possibility of an impromptu execution in front of the officers that had assembled within the fleet. This kig-yar, though technically an officer within the ranks of the Covenant, held one of the lower rungs within the Covenant cast system. Barely better than an Unggoy, when it came to the laws of the Covenant, and this one in particular he began to hold much lower. While an execution would have suited such insolence, the Prophet of Pity was named aptly so, at least to those that did not truly know him. For that very reason, he would not force such a disruption within the ranks of the fleet. He would not be the one to decide a punishment, he would leave it in the capable hands of those around him. 

Kubar took his position seriously, and for that reason he would not allow the decision to fall into his honor guards hands. He was zealous, and if it had not been for Vaark's very presence he was sure that the kig-yar would have already been struck down. He could see the way the Sangheili tensed and twitched, forming a riving mass of muscle and fury that looked as though it sought to explode. Vaark could feel himself mentally recoil at the image of rage before him, even though he was safely tucked away in the flagship of the fleet, many ships away from the fleet currently being entertained on board Til 'Muramai's  ship. 

The Field Marshal himself would not be allowed the decision either. While he was in the proper position to carry out such a decision, the Prophet would not risk a division in the command structure so close to battle. After all, Til still had the might of an army to command, and Vaark would not allow even more weight to be cast onto the Sangheili warrior. 

His eyes soon fell upon the Jiralhanae Chieftain, and his sneer was soon replaced by a contemplating half-smile. An obvious answer had been shown to him as though the Forerunners themselves had brought it to him, wrapped neatly in fur and metal. "Garatus, chieftain of the Jiralhanae within this fleet. The so called deathless warrior among the ranks of your people. I have lived and breathed the will of the gods far before your species had been shown to us upon the broken shell of your homeworld, Doisac. Before you were born, I watched personally as your forefathers warrior spirits were forged into the folds of the Covenant. We, the San 'Shyuum, finders of the path, welcomed you into the Great Journey. You, and the species before your kind now walk the path in a united cause. However, certain species did not embrace the Journey so eagerly as the rest, and some do not even to this day." 

Vark's intense gaze now turned onto the Kig-yar that had committed the blasphemy, though his words were still focused on Garatus. "How, as a revered member of your race, would you deal with such insolence?" His lilting voice turned brittle during his final words, though he managed to keep himself from entering another coughing fit. His peers were under the impression that the Jiralhanae are supremely loyal to the Covenant and the Great Journey, yet he had not seen one with such power in action so close to him. Therefore, he would allow the Cheiftain to see out whatever punishment he thought necessary to deal with this minor act of blasphemy. There was still the reality of a battle before them, and a strong kig-yar leader would be required. Yet, punishment did not necessarily mean an inability to lead in battle afterward. 

[Huka]

Field Marshal Til 'Muramai 

Aboard the Burning Lineage  

Command Information Center  

The heat rushed along the Field Marshal's spine as clear as the desert's mid-rotation summer. His head jerked up at the fact that Kael made the absolutely ignorant decision to not bow before the overseer of the Covenant military's ministry. He thought the Kig-yar would a good enough head on her shoulders to not be so foolish and suicidal. Deep under his concern, the zealot within him wanted to space her out of an airlock. Alive. He would have done during the rebellions, he would do it now.


However, he knew the others would probably get to her before his own weapon could...especially with the Prophet's own protege in the same room.  Til was too shocked to even contemplate a word from his clenching throat; both in a righteous anger and an actual fear to be seen harboring a officer with such gall in his circle of commanders. 

Despite what his mind demanded, Til was too shocked to even contemplate a word from his clenching throat; both in a righteous anger and an actual fear to be seen harboring a officer with such gall in his circle of commanders. Seeing as Kubar was on the edge of killing the T'vaoan himself and the serpentine malice under the Prophet of Pain's visage, the other officers' thoughts, outrage, and possible amusement. This is the action of a creature born from the Covenant's iron will and education...misplaced pride.


Still on his knee and shoulders bowed, the Field Marshal couldn't- and almost intent not to- save her from this as he watched the San'Shyuum fall upon Garatus of all people. Glancing to his side, even Suf was nervous for the T'vaoan while his eyes still remained staring at the polished floor of his own ship.


On the question on how a Jiralhanae deal with insolence, anyone would know as much as what a Sangheili would do such. A disciplinary beating was the typical answer, varying of rank and severity of the action. In this case with a San'Shyuum of all things, Death was the easier answer from the Faithful...but there were more creative punishments for the useful officers, especially this close to coming battle. 

[BetaWülf]

Jiralhanae Chieftain Garatus the Deathless.
With pleasure master....

Garatus was shocked and appalled by Kael's actions. Her stared blankly at her for a moment, having difficulty fathoming her blatant disrespect for a San'Shyuum. He knew the Kig-Yar weren't as faithful as they should be, save for his dear brother in arms and faith Cad, but he didn't think Kael as an individual could be so daft.

He turned his gaze to the Holy one before him as he was addressed, surprised and pleased all at once. He was pleased to hear of his apparent high regard that a Prophet knew of him by name and deed. His brow furrowed with pious resolve when the Prophet asked him how he would punish someone as insolent as Kael, knowing that he was intended to show his answer through action. Garatus stood from his kneeling position and nodded to the Prophet.

"Like this your supreme Holiness" Garatus said with a smooth, mellow respectfulness.

His foot shot out, striking the back of the T'vaoan's leg in the first knees' tendon, dropping her onto her knees. This was followed by a horrifically swift and brutal downward swing of his fist. The action pummeled the T'vaoan when his fist made contact between her neck and shoulder, leaving her as a heap on the floor.

Garatus made sure not to kill her, as Jiralhanae punishments were meant to humiliate an individual, and leave them sore and bruised with a reminder of their misdeeds while still leaving them useable for battle and labor, worse punishments were left for much later. Usually ritual scarification and branding that forever marked them.

"I hope this pleases you most Holy one" Garatus said as he returned to a kneeling position, his head bowed and arms splayed to either side.

He just hoped that the reasoning behind his punishment made sense to those around him, he knew Til would know due to his familiarity with the Jiralhanae, but the others might not. He found it to better to send a message through a living vessel to its compatriots and those who would also dare act out of turn, who'd even remember this a Milestone later if it was just another beheading or dismemberment by a Covenant Official?


Kig-Yar Shipmaster Mag Rog.
Sunk'n Bastards....

Mag looked up at Kael as she didn't kneel, didn't nod, did nothing... not a damn thing to even feign respect for the San'Shyuum before them. He knew she was bad off, but why in Aecor's name was she doing this? Was she suicidal or something? Mag tried to subtly clue her in to kneel in case she was day dreaming, nudging gently at her leg beside him.

"Kael, kneel! They'll kill you for this!" Mag whispered desperately to her, softly enough no one else could hear it most likely.

But it was too late. The San'Shyuum's Honor Guard had spotted her, and so too did the San'Shyuum himself. Mag diverted his gaze as the Sangheili begged to dispatch her, the others in the room clearly ready to do so themselves. He was surprised when the San'Shyuum elected to let the Jiralhanae punish Kael, Mag fully expecting the beast to rip Kael's head off with its teeth.

He wasn't overly surprised, but still disgusted and rageful, when the Jiralhanae decided to beat her into a heap on the floor. He hated them, all of them. The Sangheili, the San'Shyuum, the Aecor forsaken Jiralhanae, all of the sick bastards. Doing this to Kael, while disheartening and saddening to Mag personally, was also like a slap in the face to all the Kig-Yar.

[Faclan]

Kael Gel - T'vaoan Champion.
On the Bridge's floor.
A shanty for the ragged crew.

Kael's helmet barely shifted view from the San 'Shyuum to his little pet as he begged for permission to end her life. Under it though Kael's eyes were narrows into tiny daggers, as she prepared to flip out her own. If the little slave to the Faith wanted to end her life then she would happily go down taking him with her. The female even going as far to unclasp her hands from un front of her and lower slightly into a ready position as he arms fell more to her side - better position to get her blades out quickly. The Sangheili even went as far to turn his back on Kael as he pleaded for permission to kill her. Her ruff of feathers raising up again as she was fully ready for a fight in the war planning room. Til be damned, if this one wanted a fight he would get it. But she was pretty damn surprised when the frail chair bound cripple declined the request. Smirking a bit at the probably aghast Ultra pet Kael glanced at the others in the room, still in her semi coiled stance. Til and Garatus, hell even Suf, looked stunned and angry with her. But they could take their faith and shove it down their throats right now. She had expected better from Suf.

At least she wasn't worried about Roh anymore, because her fury was entirely focused on those around her now.

Glancing back at Mog as the little weak male was also bowing and meekly suggesting she would do the same Kael stamped her foot a bit and made a small jerk of her head to the side - letting Mog know that she didn't care and wouldn't be doing such a thing. But she heard when their 'grand leader' called out Garatus for him to be the one to reprimand her. Shifting her stance from slightly crouched she turned to face the Chieftain - standing tall and proud as she waited for him to give her his best shot. Her stance showing that she wouldn't cringe or cower from the massive mound of muscle, or any of the other aliens in this room. She would stand tall and proud against this punishment for not bending her knee to those she didn't believe deserved it.

But soon she was on the ground, everything black as she couldn't stop a single squawk of pain slipping out of her beak before she clamped it shut. The squawk just hisses now as Kael's helmet was slammed from her head too, sliding away from her a bit as she was laid out. Slowly opening her eyes she just caught the attack dog Garatus's little quip of hoping that he had pleased his master. Growling a bit Kael tried to move her toes and fingers on the leg and arm she had been slammed in. But nothing. She knew they weren't broken, or else she would have felt that...her collarbone may have been cracked though. But no. She wasn't going to be beaten down this easily! But she couldn't stop herself laying there for a bit before she started to try and get up. But her heavy breathing and unfocused eyes as well as twitching toes and fingers showed that Kael was very shaken up from the Jiralhanae beat down.

Flicking out the blade on her limp left arm she crossed her right arm over his chest and grabbed the bracer as she pulled the left arm across to her right side before trying to jam the blade into the ground to have some kind of anchor to give her still spinning mind a hard point to get up. But it slid around for a few seconds before the female was able to get it solid. But as she was getting up she started to hum and cheep out what sounded like some kind of song very quietly. Even though it was in the Kig-Yar language her pace and more rumbling voice likely only making a few words able to be picked out by the none Kig-Yar in the room. Kael had a tiny hope that Mog and Suf would recognize the old Kiggy shanty work song. Kael currently filling the role of the Shantyman, but continuing the song rather that specifically waiting for the next line to be sung in response.

"The nights are cold, the nights are long
But we weather the storm
Its a tough life, beast and blade ahoy
But we broke the storm
Now the bow points home
Home to where the toil ends
Both Port and Star side shows calm
Home, where Spirit rests."

The song was a simple one, sung as a long ship journey was coming to a close and the crew was heading back to their home berth. To remind the crew to stay strong, and remember that because of the strength of Spirit if the Kig crew and there camaraderie they had made it through the sailing months and all that Aecor and the Pirates had thrown at them. But the lyrics were a bit wobbly as well as quiet as Kael was clearly struggling to just be able to stay conscience as she had gotten onto her stomach from having been on her back to start, and was just starting to get up on her hands and knees. Well; one hand, one blade, and two knees.


(Some Shanty links; Shantyman is the song leader, and then the crew would follow with the next line.
* 'Manly' ones - www.artofmanliness.com/2008/09/23/the-10-manliest-sea-shanties/
* The ones from Assassins Creed 4 -
To get a feel for the humming and quiet Kiggy singing Kael is doing. The start of 'Rolling down to old Maui' is similar to what she's singing now.)

(Also <3 you all, just in case you thought from the post that I was angry. Also not the best and writing songs and the like but I trieded.)