Post by Huka on Dec 22, 2020 11:01:41 GMT -6
177 Units, Eighth Cycle (Covenant Military Calendar -- Heretic Rebellions, 23rd Age of Doubt) / Aboard Covenant DDS-class carrier Monolith of Absolution, en route to Heretical World Quiet Pacifism / Tri'vesk System, Outer Rim of Covenant Space (in relative distance to the Holy City High Charity)
14 Rotations Before First Contact of Humanity
14 Rotations Before First Contact of Humanity
"By the Glories of the Covenant, we have walked-'
"Across the battlefields of war and the glades of knowledge. We see the Threshold."
"Through the mountains of iron and arches of bones -'
"We cleave the ignorant and educate the lost. We see the Threshold."
"Brothers by our side and Sisters at our hand, we march-'
"We protect those we ward and leave our mark. We see the Threshold."
"Together as the Brotherhood of the Covenant, we ensure-'
"The Great Journey is embracing all worthy and Sins washed away. We are the Covenant."
The Commander marched at the end of the formations, looking upon the colony world doomed to the fire of the Covenant. The silver-armoured officer pointed a claw as his voice hammered to the ears listening, "We are the Covenant and the sins of the unworthy shall be purged. By the honour of our oaths and by the honour of our comradery that we have fought and forged for, we will not allow these traitors to corrode our Path!" The soldiers slammed their fists onto their armoured chests, all in unison that shook the air with their voice, "In the name of the Covenant! In the name of our Gods! So shall we do what we must for the Journey!" The commander nodded as his violet eyes traced onto those stoic faces under his command, their eyes burning in the same fury that stirred his hearts. "For the Journey."
With the kindle ablaze into their appetite of battle, the swooping flights of Seraph fighters and Banshee interceptors took their dance onto the miniscule defenses that cradled this damned world. The flayed bronze of the resisting heretics glinted off the system twin-star twisted and turned against the Covenant regality, the fliers of disobedience against the chevaliers of justice. All the while, the formation of thick-armoured gunships and their guarded transports dived towards the planet surface in the middle of the death-fields. The gravity well claiming the shattered corpses and warcraft, pulling into the moment's brief of raining stars to the colonists' eyes. The flashes of azure that blossomed and ended. The war has come onto their lowly planet and prayers will be unanswered by the Gods, their sins had brought the Prophets' vengeance manifest.
Among the escort, the vanguard creches were splaying across the theater with their Banshee aircrafts sweeping into a eager hunt. Colonists looked on in awe and prostrate themselves as the leading Lich heavy transport lowered towards the citadel prepared for their arrival. The lord stepping out, clad in decored armour of twisting veins over theological gold and helmed gracious. A zealot renewed after the blatant heresies commented and allowed him to reach for his empire. Eyes lidded to the flying debris while a formation was forming a wide opening between the Lich and himself on the landing platform. From the opening belly, a large figure stood with the winds snapping and tugging on a quill-mantled cloak. The high crest upon his brow and violet armour plating his muscular frame, waiting for the moment of safe deport to step off.
Field Marshal R'bo 'Bahramai of the Condemning Flare; Conqueror of the Shimmering Coil Trade Line, Executioner of the Tenfold I'du Resistance, Aspirant of the Pious Penance Chapter, and now - the elected pacifier of this world. The unimpressed gaze from those dark eyes pierced at the Citadel war-kaidon and beyond to the long stretches of beautiful farmland and glades of craters and resting war-machines. The thralls preening the harvest as much as farm-instruments remade into vehicles of battle. As he crossed closer and closer to the similarly aged veteran, the marshal looked down to the respectful bow made. "You have done well to direct our eyes to this world..." His command-harshened voice rolled like edged stone with a instinctive clench of his hand to pop the tension that mounted in its joints. "My only regret is not smelling the putrid rot under the rest of the world's delegates before it was too late."
The constant tension that slithered from and to R'bo kept the zealot in a visible wariness. He was waiting for execution as much as orders. The Marshal appreciated it but it would be a waste. "Rise your head, Brother. I am not hear to judge you. Yet.' He insisted with a gesture. 'There are more pressing concerns and I require your knowledge on these lands to properly mount a righteous campaign under the Council of Masters' orders."
Despite the reassurance, the kaidon did not release his breath as he answered, "Of course, honored Marshal. From your transports' flight, they are moving to recapture the Temperance's Idle."
"You assume correct." R'bo said, walking next to the kaidon. "Come." In the order, the older Sangheili watched as armoured evocati stepped with their plasma repeaters in a two-filed march to fill the formation's opening. A spike of unease crept in the Kaidon's hearts before he followed at the Marshal's side as insisted. Meanwhile, the flight of transports zoomed overhead and flight security thickened in the whining cries of Banshee anti-repulsors.
Standing in the cockpit of his Spirit transport, Wild Thief, the Commander of the Exalted Creche of Demanding Succession watched the target grow. "Commander 'Muramai, we are approaching our appointed landing zone." His pilot warned, arms slowly shifting in the control-sheathes. Outside, the long-pronged transport made a elegant arch towards the outer range of the Idle's anti-aerial capabilities. Til 'Muramai focused his plotting reactions, already seeing the nestled cannons glowing in their preparation. "Are they marked?"
"Yes, sire."
Til's upper mandibles clicked his helmet's inner controls with the carrier's responders answered, "Dropping infiltration pods." It took only a moment before the streaks of infiltration pods speared through the air faster than the distracted cannons could react, slamming in different sectors of the small city. "Land us in. Vanguard Lances, take your places."
"Across the battlefields of war and the glades of knowledge. We see the Threshold."
"Through the mountains of iron and arches of bones -'
"We cleave the ignorant and educate the lost. We see the Threshold."
"Brothers by our side and Sisters at our hand, we march-'
"We protect those we ward and leave our mark. We see the Threshold."
"Together as the Brotherhood of the Covenant, we ensure-'
"The Great Journey is embracing all worthy and Sins washed away. We are the Covenant."
The Commander marched at the end of the formations, looking upon the colony world doomed to the fire of the Covenant. The silver-armoured officer pointed a claw as his voice hammered to the ears listening, "We are the Covenant and the sins of the unworthy shall be purged. By the honour of our oaths and by the honour of our comradery that we have fought and forged for, we will not allow these traitors to corrode our Path!" The soldiers slammed their fists onto their armoured chests, all in unison that shook the air with their voice, "In the name of the Covenant! In the name of our Gods! So shall we do what we must for the Journey!" The commander nodded as his violet eyes traced onto those stoic faces under his command, their eyes burning in the same fury that stirred his hearts. "For the Journey."
With the kindle ablaze into their appetite of battle, the swooping flights of Seraph fighters and Banshee interceptors took their dance onto the miniscule defenses that cradled this damned world. The flayed bronze of the resisting heretics glinted off the system twin-star twisted and turned against the Covenant regality, the fliers of disobedience against the chevaliers of justice. All the while, the formation of thick-armoured gunships and their guarded transports dived towards the planet surface in the middle of the death-fields. The gravity well claiming the shattered corpses and warcraft, pulling into the moment's brief of raining stars to the colonists' eyes. The flashes of azure that blossomed and ended. The war has come onto their lowly planet and prayers will be unanswered by the Gods, their sins had brought the Prophets' vengeance manifest.
Among the escort, the vanguard creches were splaying across the theater with their Banshee aircrafts sweeping into a eager hunt. Colonists looked on in awe and prostrate themselves as the leading Lich heavy transport lowered towards the citadel prepared for their arrival. The lord stepping out, clad in decored armour of twisting veins over theological gold and helmed gracious. A zealot renewed after the blatant heresies commented and allowed him to reach for his empire. Eyes lidded to the flying debris while a formation was forming a wide opening between the Lich and himself on the landing platform. From the opening belly, a large figure stood with the winds snapping and tugging on a quill-mantled cloak. The high crest upon his brow and violet armour plating his muscular frame, waiting for the moment of safe deport to step off.
Field Marshal R'bo 'Bahramai of the Condemning Flare; Conqueror of the Shimmering Coil Trade Line, Executioner of the Tenfold I'du Resistance, Aspirant of the Pious Penance Chapter, and now - the elected pacifier of this world. The unimpressed gaze from those dark eyes pierced at the Citadel war-kaidon and beyond to the long stretches of beautiful farmland and glades of craters and resting war-machines. The thralls preening the harvest as much as farm-instruments remade into vehicles of battle. As he crossed closer and closer to the similarly aged veteran, the marshal looked down to the respectful bow made. "You have done well to direct our eyes to this world..." His command-harshened voice rolled like edged stone with a instinctive clench of his hand to pop the tension that mounted in its joints. "My only regret is not smelling the putrid rot under the rest of the world's delegates before it was too late."
The constant tension that slithered from and to R'bo kept the zealot in a visible wariness. He was waiting for execution as much as orders. The Marshal appreciated it but it would be a waste. "Rise your head, Brother. I am not hear to judge you. Yet.' He insisted with a gesture. 'There are more pressing concerns and I require your knowledge on these lands to properly mount a righteous campaign under the Council of Masters' orders."
Despite the reassurance, the kaidon did not release his breath as he answered, "Of course, honored Marshal. From your transports' flight, they are moving to recapture the Temperance's Idle."
"You assume correct." R'bo said, walking next to the kaidon. "Come." In the order, the older Sangheili watched as armoured evocati stepped with their plasma repeaters in a two-filed march to fill the formation's opening. A spike of unease crept in the Kaidon's hearts before he followed at the Marshal's side as insisted. Meanwhile, the flight of transports zoomed overhead and flight security thickened in the whining cries of Banshee anti-repulsors.
Standing in the cockpit of his Spirit transport, Wild Thief, the Commander of the Exalted Creche of Demanding Succession watched the target grow. "Commander 'Muramai, we are approaching our appointed landing zone." His pilot warned, arms slowly shifting in the control-sheathes. Outside, the long-pronged transport made a elegant arch towards the outer range of the Idle's anti-aerial capabilities. Til 'Muramai focused his plotting reactions, already seeing the nestled cannons glowing in their preparation. "Are they marked?"
"Yes, sire."
Til's upper mandibles clicked his helmet's inner controls with the carrier's responders answered, "Dropping infiltration pods." It took only a moment before the streaks of infiltration pods speared through the air faster than the distracted cannons could react, slamming in different sectors of the small city. "Land us in. Vanguard Lances, take your places."
