M5: Rumble in the Jungle

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC-SPARTAN-III

Drake watched the phantoms fly overhead as the Covenant retreated hastily from the planet. Younger soldiers were shooting their weapons in the air with glee, happy to have succeeded in their frontline victory. More experienced Officers however, shook their heads in frustration of losing the prime objective. Drake just watched the landing pad's last phantom take off. The last of the Covenant troops had left.

No. 

Not the last.

It was still up there.

Drake turned to Gary and Luke, cocking the pump of his tactical shotgun in the process.

"Luke, stay here. No sense sending all of us up there on a hunch, but I think something's still there. Make sure no other Marines try to enter unless they were given orders from... someone who outranks me." Without even awaiting a response from RAPTOR-3, Drake turned to Gary, nodding to his partner.

"You're with me. Let's go." Drake ordered, before turning into the Corvette and raising his shotgun, trotting towards the door. He ran through, and into one of the hallways. He aimed his shotgun down one part of the corridor, and glanced behind him towards the other side. 

Nothing.

Drake was breathing heavily now, and he began moving towards the next hallway, hoping Gary was right behind him, covering their rear. The SPARTAN moved from hallway to hallway, slowly making his way to the top deck.

To the landing pad.

[Deleted]

Makdap, Unggoy Minor

Makdap caught the rifle. Was this real? A Sangheili ultra gave him a plasma rifle? He couldn't believe it. He was excited to think that an ultra would be impressed by a minor's efforts. He held onto the plasma rifle with a strong grip. If it was to be his, it would be an honor. He watched the ultra and Q'ai get on the same phantom as him. He was jumping for joy, and was hungry for a food nipple.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary nodded to his partner and spun to a nearby marine. He held out his hands motioning for the DMR in his hands. He needed a new weapon since the animal took his Assault Rifle. The marine looked confused and pointed to himself questioningly. 

"Give me the DMR." Gary sighed, and the soldier nodded and handed him the weapon. Gary smiled and held out his other hand and made a 'give me' motion. 

"Clips?" He smiled.

"Oh sorry." He mumbled and unhooked some pouches, handing over the ammunition. Gary took it smiling before turning around and sprinting towards Drake. He peeked down at his ammo; 20 bullets. Enough.

He slid into the doorway behind his leader and sprinted after him as he moved down the hallway.

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"The USNCS Preston and UNSCS Hibernian are requesting orders, sir." The Communications Officer said. Klix scanned the holo-table quickly and easily, again, found the UNSCS Kilimanjaro on the holographic display. It was, after all, the only other Cruiser in the system now. The fact remained, however, that the Admiral wasn't responsive so now ships were requesting orders from Klix. It was within his rights to issue orders to another fleet, so he decided to do just that.

"UNSCS Preston is a Virtue Class Carrier," Klix mused - thinking aloud. "Have them deploy their fighters as a blanket for the fleet. After the blanket is established it is to move towards the planet and deploy dropships towards the surface - this mission is over. The Covenant have arrived in equal numbers and there is a CSO SuperCarrier and we're just outside of its weapon range."

"As for the UNSCS Hibernian," The Admiral said - thinking again. What could a Charon Class Light Frigate do in this situation that other ships could not, especially considering it was weaker than the combat version of the Frigate, the Paris Class Heavy Frigate. Charon's were usually used for fleet escort, and that's exactly what the Admiral would do with the Hibernian on normal occurrences, but this was far from normal. "I want it as an atmospheric asset. Tell its commander to enter orbit and hover near the Marine FOB to provide support for the retreat."

"Aye, sir." The communications officer said, before replying to the two naval officers.

"UNSCS Preston this is the UNSCS Iowa. Admiral Klix wants you to deploy your fighters as a blanket for the fleet then proceed to geosynchronous orbit over the planet where you'll deploy any dropships still in your inventory to retrieve UNSC ground forces." The Communications Officer said, before switching over and replying to the Commander.

"UNSCS Hibernian this is the UNSCS Iowa. Admiral Klix wants you as an atmospheric asset to the Marines. You are to proceed to hover over the Forward Operating Base until the Marines are successfully pulled back." The Communications Officer said.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai
Prologue of the Climax

  When his suspicions of Sorsa's wariness was answered with a silent nod, Til slowly paced down, unconsciously testing his armor's functionalities; stealth camouflage, HUD, respiration controls, communications, back rotator, link controls. All functional. Good. He looked up to see the phantom about to slow on its descent. "Excellent." He mused to himself and he felt the back of his mind twitch.

 In the hall leading to the hanger, the Ultra and most of the security lances headed to the awaiting phantom. Stopping by the opened side-door, the veteran counted and made sure every member under his command was in before seeing a sudden and large blur enter the dropship as well. Blinking, he looked around abit and sniffed the air. When the last lance was approaching, the Ultra stopped the commanding Major, who looked anger and glared at him for a moment.

 "Stay with the Field Masters. The last thing we need is the loss of more important personnel." He ordered and after some hesitation, the Major nodded in agreement, "As you command, Security Master." He said gutturally before turning to his Sangheili-exclusive lance, "Back towards the upper deck!"

 The Minors got their plasma rifles and repeaters in their hands before starting to the march back towards the hall while the phantom left them, just in time to see two nearly missed figures running towards them with incredible speed. "Intruders!" One of the Minors cried out with his repeater raised. The Major came out with his biological-locked energy sword in hand.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC-SPARTAN-III

Drake locked eyes with the gleaming blue armor of a rookie elite, holding some alien assault rifle. Drake smiled, and readied his tactical shotgun. He took his left hand off of the pump and reached onto his belt, unhooking a flash bang grenade. He glanced at Gary, and then back at the group of Elites.

"I got the red hinge. You take some blues, I'll take the rest." Drake ordered. He flicked the pin off of the flash bang grenade, still running. Two of the Elites raised their weapons, and Drake's hand shot out with inhuman speed, his fingers letting go of their hold on the grenade. Drake spun around in a one eighty degree motion as the flash went off, hearing a loud bang and the confused grunts of the aliens. He spun back around to see a volley of shots come from one of the Elites, the reaction to the flash. The shots were poorly aimed, smacking against walls, but Drake did have to twist his body to avoid a duo of plasma bolts. He reached the first Elite minor and shoved the shotgun in his mouth, Drake's eyes wild.

"DIE!" 

Drake pulled the trigger down, and all of the shots at such close range completely shattered the shielding like it was nothing, the pellets splattering through the top of the helmet, literally tearing the hingehead's cranium into two halves. Drake took no time to hesitate pumping his weapon again, before glancing to the right to see the blue fist of another Elite coming at him. Time slowed, and Drake backed up one step, sidestepping the swing and aiming his shotgun. Before he could knock off another kill, the Elite's hand desperately swatted, smacking the barrely away. Drake still pulled the trigger, but on a different Elite, who was farther away. The bullets smacked against the Minor's shields, barely applying enough force to break through the shields, sending the Gator staggering back, snarling and growling.

Drake's attention turned back to the Elite who had tried to punch Drake, who was twirling in a roundhouse kick now. Drake brought his head and torso down, ducking the powerful kick, and shoving the butt of his weapon against the Elite's temple. The shields flickered, and the Elite groaned, losing balance from the twirl and the blow, falling onto his ass. Drake's instincts took over and he stomped on the thing's head, forcing it to be pinned on the ground. He was breathing heavily, and he cocked his weapon again. He aimed it down on the pinned Gator's chest.

His sixth sense instinct told him something was behind him.

Well, either that or the dot on his radar.

Drake twirled around, swinging the butt of his gun like a blunt bat, making contact with the neck of a shieldless Elite. The thing choaked slightly, and backed up gagging and clutching his neck. Drake fired his tactical shotgun from the hip, the pellets digging into the chest of the Elite. The thing was going to die, to wounded to continue, but Drake lifted his foot up and smashed it against the thing's chest, forcing it down onto the ground anyway. Drake turned to see the other Elite on his knees, looking up at Drake with anger, but then fear as Drake cocked his shotgun once again, aiming it down on the Minor's head at point blank range.

"No-NO!" The Elite was able to speak in his tribal language before his shields shattered easily, and three of his four mandibles were torn off, along with part of his temple and his left eye. The body jerked from the shot, and collapsed at Drake's boots.

The SPARTAN-III turned to see the Major charging at him. Drake snarled, and aimed his shotgun. He managed to get one shot off, which slightly damaged the Major's shields, before the bright white blade came straight at Drake in a slash. The SPARTAN growled, backing up, but not before the Energy Sword sizzled through a part of his sling, cutting it off. Drake staggered back, and received a weak and desperate kick in the chest, which Drake brought his arms up to deflect some of the force. However, he was still sent flying backward, smashing on the ship's metal floor on his back, sliding to a stop, his shotgun clattering on the ground away from him. The Major advanced, growling. Drake unholstered his SMG and levelled it with the Major, sloppily pulling down the trigger with one hand, yelling out in defiance as he did so. 

The inferno of bullets smashed against the Major's powerful shields, and as the horrific *click!* of Drake's M7 sounded, the Major's shields popped, but did not stop the leader Elite's advance. The thing raised its sword into the air and stabbed down towards Drake's chest. The SPARTAN rolled out of the way, still feeling the powerful heat of the sword as it tore through the floor. Drake threw his SMG to the side and unsheathed his machete, rising up to his feet.

He swung with the machete, and the Elite attempted to cut it in half with his sword, to no avail. Drake was faster, and sliced the wrist that held the sword. The Major snarled and staggered backward, blood dripping from the Elite's wrist and staining Drake's blade. Drake swung again, but the Elite sidestepped, grabbing Drake by the collar of his armor and throwing him back. Drake smashed against the wall, and fell onto his knees. He looked up to see the Major upon him, charging. Drake forced himself onto his feet and made a stab with his machete. The Major Elite caught Drake's thrust by the SPARTAN's wrist, bringing his face close to Drake, an obvious grin on its twisted alien face.

"April fools."

Drake unsheathed his combat knife faster than the Major could react, shoving the weapon into the Major's neck with superhuman force, twisting it in its place. The Elite whinnied, letting go of Drake's wrist and staggering backward. Drake walked forward, and swung his machete, cutting cleanly through the top of the Elite's mouth. The Gator gurgled as blood filled his mouth, even dripping from his eyes. The slits of the Major's eyes turned into large circles, and they went crosseyed. Taking hold of the body's shoulder, Drake pulled the weapon out of its placement, tossing the body aside. He sheathed his machete, and walked over to his M7, shoving another clip in the feed and letting the old one fall onto the floor, clattering. He holstered the weapon, and walked over to his tactical shotgun, pushing a few shells into the shotgun.

Drake turned to Gary.

"You ready?" 

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

The SPARTAN smiled as Drake gave the orders. 

Two Blues charged in towards Gary, who skidded to a stop. The first leaped at him, barely giving the human enough time to drop to the ground, causing the attacker to trip and crash onto the floor with a thud. The soldier barely had time to laugh before the other unleashed a barrage of plasma shots. 

Gary sidestepped the initial volley, taking one shot to the arm and another two flying by close, singing his shoulder. His adrenaline numbed every part of his body as he lifted his rifle, firing three shots into the Elite's chest, causing him to slightly recoil, but not enough to do massive damage to his shields. Suddenly his friend lifted himself off of the ground and swung his Plasma Rifle at the SPARTAN who dodged it by jolting to the left, bring his DMR up to his enemy's head, firing off as many rounds as he could before the Plasma Rifle followed and smashed into his chest. The Blue's shields popped and he screamed into the air, raising his weapon towards the wheezing human. Gary sucked in air before diving off to the right and springing to his feet, firing one last round into the Elite's face. It yelled in pain as blood spurted out of it's eye, before dropping to the ground, limp.

It's partner sprinted at the SPARTAN, firing Needles as he went. Gary crouched as the shots smashed into the wall behind him and leaped forward into the Elite's stomach, pushing it back a foot. It flinched a little. The human swung the butt off his gun out like a baseball bat and cracked it into the enemy's head, sending it to the ground. It's shields flashed and waved over him, so Gary let off to rounds to take them out. The Hingehead growled and got to his feet, clearly angry. This hate-fueled anger caused his right-hook to come off clumsy allowing the SPARTAN to block it and shoulder his opponent back a few feet. As he attempted to fire a round to end the beast's life, another one came in roaring.

"How many of you guys ARE there?" He asked before taking a punch to the stomach. Gary flew back into the wall gasping. He looked up to find a Needle Rifle pointing at his head. The SPARTAN grabbed the barrel and pushed it off to the side, using the momentum to spring up, pushing the Elite back. He opened fire with his DMR, leveling the thing's shields. He unhinged his Combat knife and threw it in one fluent move. It sliced into the Gator's neck and he struggled on his feet for a moment, trying to swat the blade out. It was useless. Seconds later it dropped onto it's back against a wall, sliding down.

Gary smiled, looking back to the one with no shields. They had started to flicker over him, but the SPARTAN unleashed the rest of his clip into it, causing them to falter once more. He tossed the weapon to his side and whipped out his magnum, firing off three rounds into the Elite's chest. 

"Anyone ELSE?" He smiled, spinning around. Two more leveled their weapons at him, firing off a volley of plasma. Gary gasped and grabbed the dead Elite, hoisting him up in the line of fire. The Plasma stopped and the SPARTAN dropped the body, charging at the Sharks. He leaped at one of them, punching out with his fist. It dodged the attack, sending out a quick jab that knocked the human back. He shook his head and opened fire with his pistol, letting the clip run dry, blowing through the attacker's shields. 

Gary spun the Magnum around in his hand before pistol whipping the shieldless Elite, sending him to the ground injured. The other looked up with hate in it's eyes. It charged in and attempted to punch the human, who brought his arms up in defense. He heard a crunching noise and rolled to the side. He looked at his wrist armor, which had a large dent in it. The Gator didn't stop, and swung a hook out at the SPARTAN, who ducked and sent his fist out into the Elite's stomach. It jumped back and coughed before looking up again to see Gary sprinting full force at the Alien. He shouldered it to the ground and leaped onto it's stomach, pulling out a grenade and stuffing it down the Elite's mouth. The human barely had time to dive off to the left before the explosion ripped apart the Elite's head.

The last one, injured by the pistol whip, attempted to crawl over to a Plasma Rifle. It was too late, as Gary had already shoved a new clip into his Magnum. The helpless Elite spun onto his back and weakly lifted up the weapon before three rounds exploded into it's head.

"Yeah I'm ready. Let's go."

[Huka]

Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai 

 Snapping his head to the doorway leading to the corvette, Til could hear the gunfire. "They come." He whispered in his native tongue and knowing that the last phantoms-one of the Security and other containing Officer 'Kasamee-was gone now, that must have been their former security force, probably left behind by the Security Master. At least they served the purpose of warning them of the coming danger. 

 Tapping his index claws on the hilts on the bottom two of his four curveblades, The Muram Huntsmaster closed his eyes, facing away from the door as he looked to the beautiful setting of the single star to the horizon, activating his journal recorder to narrate his next poem depicting this battle outloud in the older Muram dialect,

 "As the darkness of this world comes, 
 Traitors of Faith appear from the shadows, 
 Heralded with the Ship of the Slumberer,
 The Warriors leave the wild planet aboard the Sailing Blade,
 Salvation in broad light at the cost of many, yet Evil hounds at their heels...
 The Sons of the Pale Sands shall battle once more and the Demons shall not defeat this Deadly Alliance!"

 

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue-Class Attack Carrier

Frazer awaited his orders eagerly suddenly Wilson looked at Frazer with a snap of his head and spoke. "Sir the Admiral''s communications officer is responding..." Wilson pressed a few buttons and then looked back at Frazer. "Sir I will play the orders out loud for you now." Again Wilson pressed a few buttons and then the comm speaker came to life.

"UNSCS Preston this is the UNSCS Iowa. Admiral Klix wants you to deploy your fighters as a blanket for the fleet then proceed to geosynchronous orbit over the planet where you'll deploy any dropships still in your inventory to retrieve UNSC ground forces." The comm went silent again. Frazer walked over to the holo table and mumbled to him self.

"All officers report to the holo table, that includes you too Tiffany." As Frazer finished his sentence all the officers surrounded the holo table and then Tiffany came up on the A.I Pedestal. "Orders a finally here everyone, our orders are to deploy a blanket of fighters around the fleet. After we have established our blanket we are to move into geosynchronous orbit around the planet and start sending Pelicans down to the planet." Frazer turned to his weapons officer. "Blackpool I still want our MAC's primed and ready for any interruptions." Jack, the weapons officer, moved back to his station. Frazer looked at Tiffany. "Tiffany start deploying all longswords and have the pelican dropships fueled and ready to go, have the longswords blanket around the fleet. Report to me when that is done and they are in position."

"Aye aye sir, all pilots..." Tiffany came off her A.I pedestal. Frazer turned back to the rest of his crew.

"Crew dismissed, get back to your stations and lets get our marines home!" The officers all went back to their correct stations and Frazer walked back over to his captains chair. Ten minutes passed and without delay Tiffany came back up on the A.I Pedestal.

"Sir all the Longswords that have been deployed are in position, Peilcan dropships are ready to be deployed to the planet surface. It also appears the UNSCS Hibernian is going down the planet surface near the marine FOB." Frazer looked out of the window and saw the ship entering the atmosphere, Frazer smiled.

"Okay this is it we are going near the planet surface now, Trayner give me a half burst of engine to the starboard side. I want us facing the planet."

"Yes sir." As Trayner said that she started to maneuver the ship to face the planet. The Preston finally faced the planet and Trayner looked back at Frazer. "Sir the ship is facing the planet."

"Alright half speed to the planet, keep her steady and inline. Make sure we get in geosynchronous orbit and then stop the ship still." Trayner nodded and the ship started to get closer to the planet. The Preston got into geosynchronous orbit just above the planet.

"We have arrived in geosynchronous orbit sir."

"Good job Trayner." Frazer turned towards Tiffany. "Tiff have the Pelicans deploy to the planet surface, I want them to collect as many marines as they can and then have them fly back to us and dock. The marines will love it here." Frazer chuckled. 

"Doing it now sir, all Pelicans you are a go. I repeat all Pelicans you are a go for mission." Tiffany then nodded to Frazer. As she did so Frazer could see on the holo table the Pelicans leaving for the planet below. "Sir all Pelicans have been deployed and are on route to the planets surface." 

"Good work Tiff." Frazer Turned towards Wilson. "Wilson get me a line with the Iowa." Wilson nodded and pressed some buttons. Frazer walked over to the comm.

"You are live now sir."

Frazer leaned over the comm to speak. "This is UNSCS Preston actual, we have deployed our blanket of fighters around the fleet. We have also gone into geosynchronous orbit and have deployed all Pelicans. We are continuing to extract the marines from the planet surface. I will report when we have finished extraction." Frazer released the comm button and moved back to his chair. "Tiffany alert me of any happenings." Tiffany nodded and Frazer awaited for the extraction to finish. 

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Prepared to fight Raptor

Upon hearing gunfire from the direction the Major's lance had gone, Sorsa turned to face the direction of the entrance leading to the landing pad. Sounds of battle continued to echo from there, and it didn't seem like there were very many human attackers. When Til started composing his poetry, Sorsa drew a small mobile alarm device from within his equipment pack, activated the flat, circle-shaped device, and threw it accurately at the entrance to the pad. It magnetized itself to the wall to the left side of the entrance, then confirmed its position with a single dull purple flash of light. Once it detected something close by, even a cloaked person, the warning device would flash bright blue and make the sounds of plasma weapons firing to distract them.

With his alarm in place, Sorsa activated his cloaking device and moved behind a small outcropping on the landing pad. His plasma repeater was up and aimed at the entrance, prepared to fire the instant the warning device went off.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC SPARTAN-III
Time to fight, Reticent

As Drake sprinted towards the room, Drake's heart started racing. What was that creature in that room? It hadn't looked like anything he had ever seen. Perhaps it was one of the Zealots. Creatures of legend. Drake had never encountered one, but he had heard rumors of them going toe to toe with the SPARTAN-II's.

If those rumors were true, then Drake would have to bring everything that he had on the table in order to succeed in this fight.

As the doorway reached a couple feet away, Drake unhooked another flashbang grenade, and tore the pin off. He tossed it in an underhand throw through the doorway, and spun around, motioning for Gary to do the same. The moment that popping was heard, Drake leaped onto the landing pad, landing on his shoulder, and moving into a quick roll to one knee, aiming his shotgun down.

Lights exploded onto him, and plasma fire. Drake snarled and it took a moment for him to realize nothing was shooting him yet. He leaped to the side, behind a large crate just in case, the flashing lights dying down. Drake breathed heavily, and lifted himself out of cover, locking eyes with an Elite.

The green eye.

The intricate armor.

The respirators.

Drake pulled the trigger of his shotgun, pellets flying at the Zealot.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai
 
 When his enhanced motion trackers saw the moving target coming towards them, Til turned his head towards the door, just in time to notice the familiar devices. "Flashers!" He warned before dulling his visor's imagery and closing his secondary eyelid as he flipped back as the loud concussive bang rang in his ears. Dulled out, the Sangheili opened his eye as he heard Sorsa's deceptive alarm go off.

 Hooking his talons on his lower U-shaped blade hilts, Til craned his head from his blind spot to see it. A Demon. With his liking of detail and memory, he didn't quite recognized its armor configuration. It was different from the armor of the Demons on Arcadia rotations ago. With that glorious battle in mind, the Field Master vividly recalled the armor responsible of killing many fine warriors. This Demon had sleek armor with a more exposed visor that swooped over the upper jaw and cranium. Odd, reminded him of the common Ranger helmet of similar design.

 No matter. With a needed effect, Til slowly pulled his curveblades out with a sinister grind of metal while his body immaterialized from his active camouflage as his armor was struck by a couple pellets thanks to the distance between them, his green eye flashed ominously before that too vanished from sight, molding with the surrounding heat from the long skirmish the moment his shields disappeared.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary dropped to the ground at the plasma fire until he realized it wasn't actually there. He shoved himself onto his feet and lifted up his DMR. Drake had charged one of the enemies, apparently an Elite, and opened fire with his shotgun. The other SPARTAN spun to right to look for other enemies. Nothing. He spun his head back to the ensuing fight between his leader and the Hingehead. Looks like he would have to do. 

"Here we go." He mumbled.

Gary knelt to the ground and fired off a grouping of shots at the Elite before Drake's shotgun pellets got five feet in front of him. 

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Reticent had engaged Raptor

Sorsa ducked behind cover when he saw the human flash grenade roll out. He dulled his helmet's external sound so the bang accompanying it was only a dull whump. He switched it back to normal and looked above cover to see their foes. The humans' odd armor changed and adjusted to the background, giving it active camouflage-like properties, though it seemed to be overloaded slightly by the bright flashes of the alarm device. It seemed as though two humans were attacking Til, but he was wary of any other enemies potentially hanging back.

Judging by the speed of the shotgun-wielding one, they were Demons. Thus, they would have to be very careful while fighting them, if his past experiences doing so were anything to go off of. The Demons didn't seem to have seen him, as they were focusing completely on Til. He holstered his plasma repeater and grabbed the single holodrone he possessed, set it to move towards the human, then activated it. Sorsa dropped it over the side of his cover and watched. It looked as though he had just uncloaked and was charging at the Demons, twin swords activated and ready to strike. Of course, the drone wouldn't be able to harm the Demons, but he only needed it to distract them for a moment while he drew a plasma grenade.

He didn't activate the grenade and throw it, not yet; he wanted to see if there were any Demons hanging back. If there weren't ((and there aren't)), he'd just prime the plasma grenade and throw it at the second Demon ((Gary)) covering the charging one with it set to stick to any surface it hit and detonate 1 second afterwords. ((Basically, he throws a grenade at Gary a couple seconds after the holodrone "charges", which is able to stick to the floor or wall, then explode a second later))

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC SPARTAN-III
Raptor versus Reticent

Drake cursed as the Zealot seemingly disappeared using the infamous active camouflage system the Elites seemed to love so much. He could be anywhere on the landing pad now, but Drake wasn't dumb enough to think he got far from where he just was. Drake tossed his shotgun aside and unsheathed his machete.

"COME OUT HERE!" Drake snarled, readying his blade to match his opponent's. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. He unholstered his SMG and levelled it to where the general area of the Elite's torso would be, and sprayed left and right, left and right, in hopes of hitting the Elite and revealing his location. If successful, Drake planned on charging the Elite, still firing his SMG and readying his machete.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary prepared to fire another volley of shots when something caught his eye. He spun his head 90 degrees to see a giant Elite with twin energy swords charging the SPARTAN. He almost yelped of shock but instead jumped back a foot, tripping on his heel and falling on his back. He lifted up into a sitting position and opened fire on the beast, which fizzled at the touch of a bullet.

"Wha-?" He said as he unleashed another barrage of shots on the Elite, which just had a wave of static bowl over it.

What was that? He thought as it approached. It wasn't... real? He tried to reason with himself as it got near. Suddenly the thing swung one of it's swords through the air, causing Gary to duck and roll of to the side to avoid 'it'. It started to fizzle again as it got closer. Suddenly a ball of blue light jumped through the illusion and landed right next to the SPARTAN.

Gary leaped up into the air and dove away as the explosive detonated, leaving his DMR back a few feet.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

The invisible Zealot slowly moved, strafting to the right as his eye got a good view of the Nishum. Watching it toss aside its shotgun surprised him to say the least, replaced it with a single-edged blade that seemed like the ones used for the jungle clans to cut through the thick vegetation. As he drifted closer, his twin hook-blades reverse-gripped in his hands, Til saw the Demon suddenly pull out its SMG, and immediately crouched his legs before flipping through the air by the time the stream of bullets came in his direction.

 Landing with a heavy thump on the crate at the Demon's side, Til struck his left hook-blade out and slashed down on its outstretched gun with most of his strength, aiming to cleave the weapon in two.

[Deleted]

Captain Brad McCauley
Temporary Commanding Officer, UNSCS Kong: Paris class frigate
Bridge

"Sir, we've got another slipspace hole... It's the Iowa, captain." The ensign on duty said. Good Brad thought, this will surely help us go a long way. "Comms, patch me through to the Iowa." Brad said when he stood up from the chair, and began walking towards the communications stations. It was only a split second after he arrived that the lieutenant junior grade nodded as to say that he was ready to transmit. Brad leaned on the table and said "Admiral, this is Captain McCauley, the temporary commanding officer of the UNSCS Kong. I am requesting orders, and should we all survive this, permission to resume my duties as Iowa's XO." He said before looking to the jay-gee to let him know to mute the microphone from his end while they awaited a reply.

Then he walked back to the holotable. He could see the Hibernian, a frigate of the Charon class moving towards the planet, and a moment later he also saw one of the carriers, the Preston, a Virtue class carrier. It was deploying its longswords, and also changed its course towards the planets. Whatever was going on, Brad was sure it all had a reason. He put his hands on the table, and began leaning on it while trying to figure out the situation.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Regiment HQ

"Who the fuck ordered that," Killinger asked. It had been five or so minutes since the pelican hand landed now. He was referencing the decision to pull the forces back and create four columns - which allowed the Covenant to dig in and effectively defend the Corvette. While the Marines were getting closer and closer it was already to late. If they didn't pull back they were going to be glassed. "It doesn't matter. Are the communication buoys online and will all the UNSC Forces hear this?" He added.

"Yes sir." A Sergeant Major said.

Good, Killinger thought.

"Central Command to all UNSC vectors - standby for situation report," Killinger began. "Situation Report: Covenant have slip-spaced in and are engaging in orbit. A Covenant Vessel is proceeding to enter atmosphere near the crashed Corvette. A UNSC Frigate had entered atmosphere and is protecting the forward operating base. Standby for orders." Killinger said.

He frowned as the Lieutenant Colonel dumb ass walked into the room.

"Orders are as followed: All UNSC vectors are to pull back to the Marine FOB and prepare for an emergency evacuation onto the UNSCS Iowa and Kilimanjaro. Be advised: The UNSCS Hibernian is a strike asset at this moment. CO's and XO's have the ball with 50MM rounds. Central Command will respond to radio calls, out." Killinger said.

Now that the ground forces had an update as well as orders... perhaps they could survive this before they were all ash on a glassed planet, burning and burned away until their bones are no more.

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Sir, the Kong is now requesting orders." The Communications officer said. The Admiral thought for a moment and it was more worrying that the fact Admiral Vardy hadn't responded yet made the Admiral assume the worst - either his warship was disabled or experiencing problems. It could also be that it was destroyed, though, and the holographic projector was erroneously feeding the crew of the Iowa false information. Klix only assumed that because he actually hadn't seen a visual of his vessel since originally dropping out of slip-space.

"Sir, I recommend having the Kong escort us. We're damaged pretty heavily after the last battle." The Engineering Officer said. The Tactical Officer also agreed shortly after, noting that the hull superstructure was still being stabilized by exposed beams across the decks of the ship. It was a 'miracle' they could still enter slip-=space.

"Put the Kong on the bridge speakers." The Admiral said. The Communications Officer thumbed up the Admiral when he was able to speak.

"Captain McCauley, it's good to see you survived the SuperCarrier. We're damaged pretty bad so you've got two choices here, I'll let you choose. Either escort us and protect us from further damage or help the rest of the UNSC Fleet engage the Kig-Yar fleet - the choice is yours. We'll talk later about the XO position." The Admiral said. "Klix out."

[BasedGoody]

Unggoy Ultra Yaddap

"Okay boss, I be right there!" Yaddap screeched over the comms, yelling to his Unggoy comrades to back away from the firefight. He told his second to lead the group back towards the Sangheili in charge. Yad would cover them. He watched the group waddle away with great speed while he gracefully scrambled to pin the humans. 

The humans ducked back into cover and the Ultra bolted behind his team. After five minutes of confusion and messed up movement they made it back to the Sangheili Major.

"Sir! Sir! We're here."

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Jackal Prisoner Pet?
Getting trussed up like the turkey he is and waiting for the humans to leave.

Looking oddly at the human as he spoke some words out and all the other humans either laughed or shoot needles at him Spike just shrugged and tried not to think about it much. To be honest he was getting really tired now because of all the excitement of the day and his injuries. Grunting a little he tied the Green Marine back around his head and rested back against the hull of the pelican behind him. He had no knowledge of his fellow Kig-Yar escape and so wasn't aware that his chances of living had been diminished. He just tried to relax and not to have his ribs hurt so much.

He opened his eyes as the pelican began to descend and the humans started to file out. Looking from the Helpful One as he was carefully carried out he glanced at his friend who had been talking as he got out as well. Squawking in surprise as a arm wrapped around his neck and jerked him out of the pelican he squawked again in pain as he landed on the hard packed ground of the human base. He was quickly pullup up to his knees as he coughed and held his ribs. But his wrists were soon pulled tightly behind him and tied securely together with what felt like plastic. Taking deep breaths he looked down at the ground trying to get his breath back before looking up at where he was. Not able to move as he felt what he guessed was a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.

The important looking human had quickly ran off toward a tent looking building with antenna out the side. He was guessing it was the command ship as he tried to roll his eyes up to try and find the source of the low rumble. He was shocked to see a human vessel just floating high above the base pointed in the direction of the Covenant base it seemed. The ship seemed like a good sized one with green streaks down its size, but the tiny shapes he could see in orbit looked to be a bit bigger. But it was hard to tell scale from down on the ground that well and while he was trying not to pass out from pain.

Looking back down toward the ground he kept his breathing steady as the base erupted into activity around him. It looked like they were packing up...Spike hoped they wouldn't just leave him behind.

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
Location: Unknown

The young private awoke in a daze. His head throbbed as he recalled the events up until total blackness. He was riding on a mongoose with this Staff Sergeant, though he had forgotten her name. She was an excellent driver, nimbly dodging the trees and branches as Scott hanged on for his life. The image of a large creature flashed into his brain. Scott's body throbbed in pain, but he realized he was laying in a thick liquid. Where was the Sergeant? Slowly, the private lifted his head. 

The mongoose, his steed that he rode in on, was shredded to pieces and the larger chunks of the frame were smashed into a tree. There was no way that he could have survived, yet, he was breathing and feeling just about every part of his body. What saved him? Scott attempted to sit up, but his hand slipped in the thick liquid. After inspecting his hand and clothing, it was a dark blue, almost purple liquid. He had seen pictures, but he couldn't quite remember.

Again, the private attempted to get up much more carefully. Getting to his feet wasn't easy, every muscle in his body screamed to just give up, to lie in the strange substance. That large creature flashed back into his head, or at least he thought it did. Scott was staring right at it. It was an Elite, as our side calls them. "Thanks for saving me, ugly mother fucker." The young man muttered to himself.

Scott limped his way to the wreckage. Blood trickled down his forehead but diverted at the eyebrow to his nose. He could smell, it was human. The private continued to move until the remains of the vehicle was within ten feet. That's when he saw the blood. Scott stumbled towards the all-terrain vehicle. He dreaded what he was going to find, but he needed to see. Leaning over the mongoose, he saw the Sergeant. She had lost quite a bit of blood, but she appeared to be breathing. As if in a drunken stupor, Private Lugar found a shaft of metal that could be used as a cheater bar. The chunk of frame on the woman was far too big to move in his condition, but with the right leverage, perhaps he could.

The bar slipped snugly under the frame and he applied pressure. The wrecked piece of metal was surprisingly light, or he was stronger than he originally thought. Regardless, the debris released its hold on the woman. Scott's eye caught the radio device on the Staff Sergeant's chest. Carefully, he pulled it from her.

"This is Private Scott Lugar of," shit, Scott thought to himself. "Of Task Force Seven-Seven. I don't know how it happened or how long I've been out, but my CO and I wrecked in the jungle. I'm beat up and I doubt she'll make it, but help would be nice. Over." Scott had a new form of motivation, new found energy to survive. Things were still hazy in his mind, but he knew what had to be done to survive.

[Ultra Quor]

(Lets try this again shall we, assume this happened a decent bit earlier on, prior to all the PVP craziness breaking out)

Ultra Quor 'Natrunai

Rallying Pious Crèche for Extraction
Forwardmost Lines

"All crèches ~~~~~~~~~ begin to withdraw ~~~~ corvette for extraction, ~~~ Corvette Security Crèche will . <<<>>>> stragglers <<<~>~~<!~.`>~!<~>!~! We will not wait for you!"

It was hard to tell whether the field master's transmission found its way through the chaos broken, or if Quor, starting to somewhat dull his own reception to sound after repeated grenade explosions along the front lines, was garbling up the message on his own. But the order and intent were clear, if the order was out to begin evacuating forces, the Imperial Admiral must already be off this gods forsaken humid rock. Pious Crèche still found itself along the outermost lines of the Covenant defensive formation, and while the humans were still pressing, the density of the combined crèches had managed to drastically slow their rate of advance. Multiple rounds of fragmentation were littering the lines, the nishum seemingly expending what would be a lot of their remaining explosives to catch as many unfortunate warriors in their area of effect as possible, it was somewhat akin to an old time mortar shelling.. primitive and inefficient.. but it was effective. The ever present sun gleaming in the sky, warming the battlefield, the smell of freshly spilled blood and singed flesh from both sides was rife in the aether.

"Ultra Quor 'Natrunai to all Lance Leaders of Pious Crèche! We are to begin evacuation proceedings off the planetary surface. Rear off the retreat of our forces, enter reverse formation and expend whatever explosive fire you have left at your disposal on retreat be it hand thrown or shoulder fired, slow the nishum advance so we may back out cleanly... Upon arrival in the hangar, assemble in the pre designated area and await transport. All Lance Leaders, group on my position at that time.. I want a full report and diagnosis of our troop integrity and incidents."

Reverse formation was a fairly simple concept, the crèche in full would assume a sort of trapezoidal semi-widespread formation front loaded with plasma riflemen on the wide end, protecting the narrower back end consistent of the shoulder launched artillery. The unggoy had limited vision from behind the formation, so the front lines would continually bark out targets and positions which would ripple back to the artillery and grenadier lines when and where to fire to make the most out of the limited ammunition. While continually attempting to maintain formation, Pious retreated, backpedaling in tandem, firing off and throwing rounds of white hot plasma in coordination, creating a sort of consistent moving wall of impassible explosive fire, it wouldn't hold for long due to the weapons' soon to be starved of ammunition state, but it should delay enough of the nishum forward force for long enough to get all of the Phantom gunships out in time.

Sprinting now, Quor moved to join the bulk of his troops from the left flank. Bullets whizzed randomly around his general direction as he ducked in and out of cover on approach, turning back to spray more rounds until both repeaters found themselves depleted. He noticed a fallen minor on his way to his destination, from the look of it he had been dead and festering in the mud for some time. In death he left his leader a gift in what Quor hoped would be a fairly fresh single replacement. Tossing his spent weapons, he scoops the repeater out of the soot swiftly without breaking stride, the battery was indeed mostly fresh. Turning to spray more rounds, he saw the discharge hit a pair of marines cleanly in the chest and left leg, the spot where they stood quickly enveloped in plasma artillery fire from his retreating crèche. The Nishum began to return the shelling in kind with more fragmentation explosives. The already unsettled earth went flying everywhere and the ultra's white armor was now mostly sullied by the environment, the white shine almost nowhere to be seen beyond the grit. Some of the primitive explosives had hit their marks, evident by the multi-colored blood splattered in tandem with the mud and moss.

Upon reaching the inner lines the action had began to die down dramatically. The fighting had not completely let up, but pressure from the Nishum seemed to be waning the farther in they got. The final rounds of plasma artillery were fired as the empty signals rippled through the formation, nearly to its destination of the hangar. With any luck the plasma wall had bought them enough time that the humans had become dissuaded by what was now a battle against time, an unlikely and normally unnecessary ally for the Covenant.

ZING!

A sniper's bullet zipped just over Quor's shoulder, pinging his shields down to 10%, he hadn't even realized that he had gotten that low from so much stray fire. Turning to a gargling sound over his shoulder, he could see that the shot had indeed hit a target, the powerful round had blown out a Minor's maw. The young sangheili struggled and choked on his own blood for a moment as his mind caught up to the realization that he was indeed deceased. Acting quickly, Quor snatched the Sangheili's carbine and followed the smoke trail back to a spot in the far distance by the downed trees from the original forward lines. Firing off multiple shots in the direction he watched the hawkshot hunker down to hide from the counter-measure. He could notice out of the corner of his eye as the majority of the Fuel Rod line of Unggoy turned tail at the sight, ditching their weapons and fleeing for the hangar. A spineless yet typical reaction from their race in the face of fear. It wasn't long from that point until the haggard soldiers made it to the hangar and for the first time in what seemed like forever, could take a breath.


Observing his surroundings, it was clear that most of the Covenant forces were already off the ground but there were still Phantoms inbound to take the remainder to the stars. Good, they weren't too late. Quor organized his crèche, looking over them all he could see that quite a few heads were missing from the bunch, including Xsa from the ranks of his Majors, that last note was bothersome. Having been on the front of the front lines for so long as well as taking and deferring a majority of the beating on the way out had clearly taken a toll on his ranks.

"Brothers! You did well to survive this battle. Today we all made great sacrifices, many of us remain back on the battlefield where our men will nourish the greatest trees this rock will ever witness. Know that we achieved our goal, the deaths incurred were not in vain, the Imperial Admiral is safe and en route to the stars as I speak!"

The crèche cheers to the news, but it is a winded and tired expression. The Ultra decided to expand upon his news with a more powerful and animated followup.

"Even in this minor victory, I feel ashamed brothers.. Retreating from the nishum leaves as bad a taste in my mouth as it does in yours. We didn't kill enough of them, I didn't kill enough of them. The COWARDS caught us on our back foot and took full advantage. But I promise to all of you, this is not even CLOSE to the last the nishum will hear of us. We will REGROUP and replenish, our WOUNDS will heal, and we will RETURN to meet them on the fields of battle once more! With the POWER granted to us by the gods and our fallen brothers on this day we will exact such a GLORIOUS vengeance on them for what happened today.. I PROMISE YOU BROTHERS..... The nishum will rue the day they gave Pious a REAL REASON to grind them into space dust!"

The little inspirational spat seemed to spark a bit of a fire in the crèche as the second cheer was much more lively.

Quor looked over his shoulder to notice the group of Unggoy from earlier who had fled, huddled together and seemingly comforting eachother. He felt sorry for them.. ever so slightly. They had the blood of cowards, their whole race had a tendency to turn and run even in instances of a winning battle. He imagined they had to fight what was a perpetual overcast of fear and doubt just to remain on the battlefield and be of any use at all, they fought their own nature to be fairly effective combatants, they just needed some coaxing to keep their state of mind somewhat stable... something that usually fell on their minors and majors.

He loomed over them for a little, looking the group of five over as they shivered.. probably expecting execution on the spot for their earlier defection. Kneeling down he is nearly face to face with the closest in silence for a moment before giving the Unggoy some space and putting a hand on its back, the shivering calms somewhat.

"Whenever we fight, we rely on one another for success. It is our duty not only to succeed in battle, but to preserve our.. brothers.. all around us. We fight to keep eachother alive, so we may all fight again and reap honor in life for as long as we possibly can.. to bring glory to ourselves and the Holy Covenant. I fight, in part, for you... Can I expect you all to do the same for me and the rest of my creche?"

He looks them over, with the original fear of death off the table they timidly nod.

"Good."

Leaving them to their own devices, Quor rises and turns to his majors who were ready for their conference as they awaited transport.

"Xsa is not among you, is there any report on his status?"

Taiya stepped forward, dwarfed in stature by his fellow majors and severely dwarfed by Quor as always. He looked as beaten up as anyone in the hangar, covered in the planet's graces, a trickle of blood running down the right side of his face from under his helmet.

"Xsa's third lance took heavy losses upon the initial formational collapse in on the corvette, most of his first file was wiped out, his second doesn't look too good either but they only made it out injured. From what I understand he's going to be okay.. If for only this once, his brashness may have just gotten him off the planet ahead of everyone else with the rest of the injured."

The two sangheili exchange a short but empty chuckle as the transport intended for them neared its arrival. Quor noticed his field master off in the distance, somewhat surprised that he hadn't already left for the stars. Even for a 'Muram he found it honorable for the Field Master to keep his feet on the ground until the very end of the engagement. The ultra let out a deep breath as he and his men prepared to board, He had lost a lot of good warriors and Pious would be drawing heavily from new recruits on their next engagement.. on the brighter side, perhaps there would be some shoulder space for the chat with his majors after all.

[Arbiter124]

Drake 124

UNSC SPARTAN-III

Drake jumped at the sound of a large thump, and the swift movements of one of the Elite's swinging down on his arm. Drake's senses and instincts took hold, and he leaped backward, avoiding his weapon being cut in two pieces. However, the metal blade caught the side of his gauntlet, kicking up a small amount of sparks. Drake grunted, loosening his grip on his SMG, letting it clatter on the ground and slide across the landing pad, away from his reach. 

"Shit..." Drake growled as he unsheathed his combat knife, backing up to gain distance from the Zealot. He held his machete firmly in his grip like some sort of samurai sword, and held the knife in more of a dagger motion.

"Let's go, motherfucker." Drake roared, charging his opponent. He swung with his machete in a swipe that was aiming for his chest, and instantly followed with a stabbing towards the beginning of the Elite's neck, in hopes of landing one of those blows.

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Engaged in combat with Raptor

After seeing the plasma grenade fly right through the holodrone's image and detonate a moment later, Sorsa vaulted over his cover and flicked both wrists. His energy sword hilts flipped out and into his hands while the holodrone ceased displaying his image and started to fly high up into the air. Still cloaked, he activated his swords and charged at the still-living Demon.

Sorsa uncloaked about five meters away from the Demon and continued to sprint at him, swords at the ready. He wanted to see whether or not his enemy would think he was a hologram; either way, his sudden appearance was probably enough to put the Demon off balance, giving him the opportunity to move in for the kill.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary saw the thing charging again and flinched. What was this thing!? It wouldn't die. The SPARTAN spun to his right and dove for his DMR, rolling and scooping it up grabbing the handle and lifting it to the Elite. His eyes flew to his scope and he prepared to squeeze off a round. Suddenly he looked down to check his ammo, 15. Nodding to himself, he looked back up.

He pulled the trigger about four times, letting loose a volley of bullets at the fizzling-Elite, hopping something would stop it's attack. It was almost as if it weren't real, some sort of mind tricks, but there it was. Right in front of Gary.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

The Demon was quick enough to avoid his weapon in being destroyed, but not enough to keep a grip on it. Til listened to the clatter of the retreating gun and smoothly came down like a ghost. Listening to the creature's common tongue, understanding its words and profanity-a common thing amongst the species' soldiers-the Field Master inhaled sharply as if responding, making a sharp wheezing noise. 

 Two blades, the machete and a combat knife, in hand. Til recognized this as a proper duel and swiftly reacted to the attacks. Swinging his right hook-blade to counter the incoming slash, feel the offending blade slide along the length into the diagonal spike in the outside of his weapon. His left moved in unison, catching the knife's serrated edge with its spike, and used all of his might to try to drive the four blades in a vice lock with a twist of his curveblades, somewhat testing the Nishum's strength as well.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC SPARTAN-III

Drake's weapons clanged and hooked around the Zealot's own metal blades. Drake had forgotten how deadly these Elite's were with their swords. The Elite began to twist the weapons, trying to put them in some sort of lock. The SPARTAN struggled to back off while still holding his weapons, but the Zealot's superior strength was far too much for even his enhanced arms to take. Drake resorted to an easier escape route.

Lifting his armored boot up, Drake kicked out with all of his lower body strength, in an attempt to smash the Zealot's chest in. His hoping was to use the momentum to get away from the lock and gain some distance, without letting go of his blades, possible his only tools of winning this battle.

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Engaged in combat with Raptor

Sorsa felt four rounds bounce off the energy shields protecting his chest area while closing, and he noticed his shield bar go down slightly. With a deafening roar, he swung his left blade first, going diagonally from his upper left to lower right. He quickly tucked the weapon back when he stepped forward and sliced horizontally at around the Demon's chest height with his other blade, going from right to left that time. His left arm was tucked back to his left side with the sword held in that hand pointed out, putting it in an optimal position to do a followup thrust or sweep, depending on the Demon's moves.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

Watching the Demon as it tried to pull away from the lock, Til chuckled dryly with his mechanical undertone rumbling before feeling a boot shoving him away. Growling out, the Zealot slammed against the crate, making it fall over, and his shields appeared. Deciding to deactivate his camouflage to put his armor's energy output on his shields, the hunter noticed his breathing was abit harder, and made a quick glance to see the front of his thoracic cage was dented abit.

 "Impressive." He responded with a single word before swinging a blade hard along the wall, sending sparks at the human while unleashing a powerful kick of his taloned foot at his hip that was capable of crushing a normal soldier's.