Post by Huka on Apr 13, 2020 3:53:59 GMT -6
Locally-identified Battlefield 'Richard's Bay' - Covenant Dominated Location 04
Human Militarized Colony Amadeus III
Amadeus System, Inner Colony
Human Calendar of August 12, 2551
Human Militarized Colony Amadeus III
Amadeus System, Inner Colony
Human Calendar of August 12, 2551
The Sect of Iron Discipline marched through the muck of war, crushing sunken bodies under their boots as they kept the momentum. Plasma repeaters constant in their merciless suppression against the human defense line, long enough for the Unggoy to push the energy shielding barricades into position before the thunder hammers of machine guns smashed onto the anvil of earth and the unfortunate. The First Sect under the Field Marshal has never failed him in their duties, for they were his hammer against the heretical and tedious. The smoke of the human prefabricated fire-base rolled and blackened the sky into a constant storm caused in meat-roasted heat, serving as the testament and warning to the rest of this world for the Heralds of Ekdo's Rest.
General Fuva 'Zolcamee lifted his energy shield as he jumped to save one of his Unggoy officers. Their lives were precious to lose into the front lines. Experience was hard-earned, even to lose these thralls and beckoned the small creature to move into cover with the rest of the warriors. Trench hastily made by the claws of a dozen strong, deep enough to get better cover while the earth peppered and exposed. Shields deflecting the worst of the ballistic storm as the gilt leader accessed his comlink to the aerial hunters. "First and Third Lances in positions! Strike down our foes, brothers!" He insisted, the battle-lenses marking the desired deaths. "Our wings answer the call, General." The gruff voice of Chevalier-Lead Meha 'Magramee acknowledged, guiding her flight of six banshees piloted by the Spiteful Reavers into a majestic swoop of hallowing howls from their propulsion.
The Humans entrenched in their stubborn position caught the dark violet of the incoming banshees. The heavy gunners barely managing to pull themselves from their prone while their marksmen shot and made for a hasty - if late - retreat before they vanished under the blossom of jade fuel rod fire. Their screams mercifully short, especially with the reactive follow-up explosions of their own weaponry and the fallen missile-handler claimed by one of the Kig-yar snipers' own peerless marksmanship. "The enemy bleeds, General." Meha chortled grimly, she and her battle-kin splaying out into talon-formation to hunt for more while the elevation-battles kept among the bay.
Above, there was a scattered war between the legion's aerial veterans and the humans' militarized air-security and the few groups of zero-g fighters from the defense fleet still dueling beyond the stratosphere. The vision of the fleet baring on the honourably stubborn Human vessels flashed in the storms like a grim painting that Fuva could never forget.
"Iron Discipline, forward." He commanded once more, heaving himself up with needle-pistol in and kept to the Unggoy as their guardian while the shield-bearers of the troops made a column that kept their defense optimal in their slow motion. The heavily-armoured Sangheili clad in their dual-plated combat harnesses, fully covered from enclosed helm to segmented sabaton, in their pale-violet coloration in their elite ferocity. Remembrancers to ancient sentinels in the days of iron plate and deathly honour in the beginning ages of Keeps' interlocked wars of power. Some can say - it has never ended. Fuva's helmed head turned in their steady pace, closer and closer to the contested foothold.
Phantoms loomed like giant legless beetles in flight with wings of repelled gravity, swooping to the claimed positions with their sentry-turrets swerving out as more of the Redeeming Vigilance was delivered.
The comlink crackled before the tongue-rattling of the Kig-yar teased into the general's eardrums. His auto-translations immediately cutting the annoyance and flawlessly filtered, <<The Yn'dere Cell is pinned by Human guns. Drop-Imps from skies, surprised. Require assistance at Sixth Marked->>
Sixth Marked was the closest Human Reactor, the T'vaoan cell was meant to sabotage the location or risk the humans making disturbing uses of it - as they do now and again in their fits of suicidal spite. The Field Marshal didn't wish for radiation spilling when he already had the other reactors blown to weaken the enemy's energy output. Naturally, it was heavily guard and furthered thinned the defense.
"Sending reinforcements now, Cell Leader. The Jiralhanae are coming to your aid." Fuva answered almost immediately before feeling a kinetic punch hit his shoulder, making his body react with arm-mounted shield up as his armour's personal defense thrummed in warning. He didn't see what it was but it mattered - it was an assassin and attempted his end. "Second-" When he turned to his subordinate, his tongue caught in his throat as the sight of the white-armoured warrior. His second for six rotations dead. The fine smoking hole that bounced from a inconceivable angle off the warrior's gorget and into his jaw before it pushed a protrusion under the helm. Gore oozing.
Rage boiled in the general's chest and throat before he quickly had the Unggoy move again to reposition shields and account while his seething voice lulled in the battle-net. "Enemy sniper in my position, Reavers hunt and kill."
"By your command, General."
General Fuva 'Zolcamee lifted his energy shield as he jumped to save one of his Unggoy officers. Their lives were precious to lose into the front lines. Experience was hard-earned, even to lose these thralls and beckoned the small creature to move into cover with the rest of the warriors. Trench hastily made by the claws of a dozen strong, deep enough to get better cover while the earth peppered and exposed. Shields deflecting the worst of the ballistic storm as the gilt leader accessed his comlink to the aerial hunters. "First and Third Lances in positions! Strike down our foes, brothers!" He insisted, the battle-lenses marking the desired deaths. "Our wings answer the call, General." The gruff voice of Chevalier-Lead Meha 'Magramee acknowledged, guiding her flight of six banshees piloted by the Spiteful Reavers into a majestic swoop of hallowing howls from their propulsion.
The Humans entrenched in their stubborn position caught the dark violet of the incoming banshees. The heavy gunners barely managing to pull themselves from their prone while their marksmen shot and made for a hasty - if late - retreat before they vanished under the blossom of jade fuel rod fire. Their screams mercifully short, especially with the reactive follow-up explosions of their own weaponry and the fallen missile-handler claimed by one of the Kig-yar snipers' own peerless marksmanship. "The enemy bleeds, General." Meha chortled grimly, she and her battle-kin splaying out into talon-formation to hunt for more while the elevation-battles kept among the bay.
Above, there was a scattered war between the legion's aerial veterans and the humans' militarized air-security and the few groups of zero-g fighters from the defense fleet still dueling beyond the stratosphere. The vision of the fleet baring on the honourably stubborn Human vessels flashed in the storms like a grim painting that Fuva could never forget.
"Iron Discipline, forward." He commanded once more, heaving himself up with needle-pistol in and kept to the Unggoy as their guardian while the shield-bearers of the troops made a column that kept their defense optimal in their slow motion. The heavily-armoured Sangheili clad in their dual-plated combat harnesses, fully covered from enclosed helm to segmented sabaton, in their pale-violet coloration in their elite ferocity. Remembrancers to ancient sentinels in the days of iron plate and deathly honour in the beginning ages of Keeps' interlocked wars of power. Some can say - it has never ended. Fuva's helmed head turned in their steady pace, closer and closer to the contested foothold.
Phantoms loomed like giant legless beetles in flight with wings of repelled gravity, swooping to the claimed positions with their sentry-turrets swerving out as more of the Redeeming Vigilance was delivered.
The comlink crackled before the tongue-rattling of the Kig-yar teased into the general's eardrums. His auto-translations immediately cutting the annoyance and flawlessly filtered, <<The Yn'dere Cell is pinned by Human guns. Drop-Imps from skies, surprised. Require assistance at Sixth Marked->>
Sixth Marked was the closest Human Reactor, the T'vaoan cell was meant to sabotage the location or risk the humans making disturbing uses of it - as they do now and again in their fits of suicidal spite. The Field Marshal didn't wish for radiation spilling when he already had the other reactors blown to weaken the enemy's energy output. Naturally, it was heavily guard and furthered thinned the defense.
"Sending reinforcements now, Cell Leader. The Jiralhanae are coming to your aid." Fuva answered almost immediately before feeling a kinetic punch hit his shoulder, making his body react with arm-mounted shield up as his armour's personal defense thrummed in warning. He didn't see what it was but it mattered - it was an assassin and attempted his end. "Second-" When he turned to his subordinate, his tongue caught in his throat as the sight of the white-armoured warrior. His second for six rotations dead. The fine smoking hole that bounced from a inconceivable angle off the warrior's gorget and into his jaw before it pushed a protrusion under the helm. Gore oozing.
Rage boiled in the general's chest and throat before he quickly had the Unggoy move again to reposition shields and account while his seething voice lulled in the battle-net. "Enemy sniper in my position, Reavers hunt and kill."
"By your command, General."
