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Subject: Halo Fanfic- Sangheili Polvora-- Chapter eight is up!
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

The Mirratord; The Bard of the Elites, Aardvark, presents…
“Sangheili Pólvora”

Chapter One, part one:
1400 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

Noise filtered through the zero-g atmosphere with an almost liquid resonance to it, the voices of his comrades on the comn often drowning it out. The communications were kept to a minimum, however, and it was just as well- he needed to hear that odd syrupy noise as much as he required the feedback from his teammates. Enin ‘Lygotee hated missions like these, but there practically was no helping them, and inevitably someone had to do them.

The Grunt Rebellion was in the past, and since the rise of the newest Arbiter, the Heretic Uprising on the remains of the first Halo they had found was silenced as well. Still, this never allowed that all was well and good in the world, and times like these were nothing different. ‘Lygotee and his team of Elites were moving through the open-ended mod-bay to cut off the retreat of a small band of unruly Unggoy that had taken it into their heads to become a problem to the Covenant.

A small one, but problems left unsolved never made anyone’s day. Plucking his plasma rifle from it’s secured place at his hip, ‘Lygotee checked the power node to ensure it was fully charged. He usually performed this ritual twice or three times within a mission before the action began, but it wasn’t paranoia- the Elite had had the misfortune to become stranded once with a depleted rifle in the presence of a hotzone. To his left, Thin ‘Pohamee, to his right and rear, Elco ‘Obaulee, and behind him was Rkwa ‘Lavuree. His friends and trusted fellow warriors, these three could be counted upon to act within a timely manner when it counted, and each had proven themselves numerous times.

The four Elites had almost always managed to come away together with less than fatal injuries when sent to fight. Humans, the parasite often called Flood, even sometimes against select members of their own Covenant. Today, ‘Lygotee was feeling good, and he hoped to subdue the unruly Grunts- there were seven of them, mechanically inclined- without much in the way of incident. But when he reached for the outer control of the airlock door that would allow him and his team entrance to the station, he realized the lights on the panel were dark.

Blast! Why the smart ones? ‘Lygotee snarled as he turned to ‘Obaulee to issue orders to make a less than subtle entrance. It would complicate things- for one, sealing the breach would mean closing off a sector of the station so the interior didn’t blow out the hole they were about to make when the force field surrounding the ribs holding position between them and open vacuum faltered. Or worse, failed.

After ‘Obaulee was in position, ‘Lygotee moved away to give the other Elite space to work as well as clear the blast radius so he wouldn’t need to dart away when it went boom. He turned back when he heard ‘Obaulee give a grunt of partial surprise and shock. Looking past his teammate told ‘Lygotee the door had just opened either by internal operation or by itself- the latter seemed unlikely, yet the former seemed more so. He moved closer, drifting slightly above the doorframe as he did so.

Hiding behind the air mask all of his kind wore when in like company and carrying the leaf-shaped tank on his little shoulders, the Unggoy seemed small indeed. But he looked back at the Elites at the door with as much bravery as he might have been capable of mustering. By repute, that wasn’t much.

Still, the diminutive fellow had one hand on the control switch and the other hung empty. His plasma pistol was at rest on the same belt where he kept his grenades. “You are very fast. Just on time. Come, come, get in and get hidden before you get seen.”

‘Lygotee about swallowed his mandibles, and lost his eyes from their respective sockets. Traitors! Why? Or was it even that? He decided he could easily decide the fate of the runt if he needed to, but for now the Grunt had just made his life a little easier and he wasn’t one to waste opportunity.

Almost at once, he and his team moved through, sealing the door behind them to leave few if any traces. The Grunt had opened it, after all, so if given close scrutiny, it would look as much. ‘Lygotee motioned ‘Pohamee to a fore position, before taking up one of his own on the other side of the hall. The fighting had driven the sniveling cowards through this sector, and soon they would be funneled his way. If he could…

Sizzle-crack, boom!

‘Lygotee jumped as he spun, alarmed and spooked from his train of thought. It was rare that ‘Lygotee lost his cool, but the sound had been much too closely akin to that of a standard grade plasma grenade going off. He stared in horror at the evidence to just such an explosion, but he hadn’t time to consider the mangled body of ‘Obaulee and the sagging heap of rent flesh that was ‘Lavuree before he realized the little bastard that had let them in was killing them all, without firing a shot. The grenade smacked into his breastplate and adhered there, with a sickening puk.

Frightened out of his wits, ‘Lygotee let his rifle drop to the floor as he clawed at the explosive, tearing it from his armor and scraping the sticky thing from his palm before it detonated. The blast dropped him straight down as it peeled up part of the wall plating, since he was backed into a corner and could not be thrown because of it. His shields crackled across his armored skin, depleted completely, but the mechanism was the least of his concerns. A simultaneous grenade flung to his right had stuck to ‘Pohamee, and the Elite now sat slumped against his former cover leaking as much blood perhaps as he owned onto the floor from multiple gaping wounds. He and ‘Lygotee had shared the double blast, and for it he felt more than lucky to have lived through it. The Grunt left outside the blast radius of all three now stood just feet from him, unharmed and smiling behind his hydrogen mask.

‘Lygotee focused on him, feeling the anger boiling in his veins as he glared the little bastard down. Pain seared through his body as he forced himself from his slouch, seizing the smaller alien in both hands and tearing at his neck until his little head came clean off. ‘Lygotee’s roar of combined fury, agony, and pain for the loss of his friends echoed both ways down the hall, but the Grunt that evoked it all never heard him.

He tossed the headless body away, then the head after that, before daring to turn and assess the damage and see if any of his teammates had shared his luck. Lowering to a knee, ‘Lygotee knew before he touched him that ‘Obaulee had not. He might have been sufficiently lucky, however, to miss any undue suffering before he was spent, and for that ‘Lygotee could be grateful. Motion off to his side got his attention, and he aided ‘Lavuree’s attempt to roll over.

“Forerunners be praised… you have survived.” ‘Lygotee greeted. “Can you stand?”

‘Lavuree choked on a mouthful of blood that had gotten in through the wound on his neck, but he managed a nod- if a weak one- and began to pull his badly damaged carcass from the floor. ‘Lygotee helped him get upright, but when it became obvious he wasn’t going to be able to stay that way on his own, he propped the Elite on the wall before moving- more limping, actually- to where ‘Pohamee sat slumped in the corner behind the blast door he had been planning to use as cover when the recognized enemy arrived. ‘Lygotee lifted the Elite’s head from where it had fallen, and though he was entirely limp and for it had caused ‘Lygotee to assume he was dead, ‘Pohamee greeted his commander with a silent stare followed by a blink.

‘Lygotee smiled, feeling fortunate. It angered him to think a mere Grunt- a single Grunt, at that- could decimate his troop so easily. No, they would persevere, continue on and complete their mission, and emerge… one shy.

His momentary elation faded at the realization that not all of them had survived the surprise attack. In truth it was downright rare to live through a quadruple shock of grenades, let alone have three out of four do it, but the loss of any one of them, multiples aside, was a tremendous crush to the commander. These were his friends, not just his command. He hadn’t gotten his black armor lightly, and neither had they.

‘Obaulee would be missed.

“Commander.” ‘Lavuree spoke. His voice sounded raw- possibly from inhaling the injury to his throat.

‘Lygotee turned his head, to acknowledge the summons for attention without letting ‘Pohamee out of his sight.

“Leave him. The enemy approaches.”

‘Lygotee knew he was in no shape to fight right now, but he had lingered unmolested long enough for his shields to have recharged completely… and
as much as he wanted to withdraw right then, he could see ‘Lavuree was right. Plasma bolts slapped around the corner at the far end of the hall where the Grunts were to come, signaling the drive was about to be upon them. An idea struck ‘Lygotee then. They had been betrayed, and thus expected, so there was no real need to conceal themselves though their camouflage worked well enough.

A Human had taught him the trick at Reach. Play dead, be missed, passed up, and there in the middle of the hall was a golden opportunity right before him. It was uncommon tactics… but if it worked, it worked, and who was to say a functional tactic was a dishonorable one? ‘Lygotee let ‘Pohamee rest where he was, and moved back to ‘Lavuree to help him lower back to the floor without falling; falling would agitate his injuries and possibly make them worse. “Let them come upon you and believe you are dead as doubtless their friend promised them. Do not stir until you have them where you want them.”


[Edited on 06.21.2007 10:08 AM PDT]

  • 03.09.2007 12:18 PM PDT
Subject: Sangheili Polvora
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

A little confused, but willing to try it, ‘Lavuree nodded his acceptance of the orders. He likely felt as poorly as ‘Lygotee did right then, and personally the Commander couldn’t blame him. He had a hole in him right next to a major artery and it was a miracle the thing hadn’t been perforated. He was just centimeters from bleeding out. ‘Lygotee left the Elite where he had found him to begin with and returned to his own respective place, sliding down the wall to ease his own descent to the floor. Once down, and seated where he had been after the dual-blast had cleared, ‘Lygotee realized he had encountered a double-edged sword. Now he was down… and he wasn’t going to be rising again.
He pressed a hole in his thigh closed while he waited for their prey to arrive, wondering what he had in mind. Shoot them? Word was one of them had swiped a shield generator. Two had been confirmed as having Jackal arm-shields. Unggoy were fragile, as far as how much plasma fire they could take went. These Unggoy, though… a feral smile crept onto his withered-up features despite the pain that had curled them.
These Unggoy would never see him coming, and would never know what hit them.
‘Lygotee let his eyes rest while he listened to the splash and hiss of the plasma, the choking cries of the Grunts unlucky enough to be hit by some, and the shouts and insults from those pursuing them; One voice he recognized, as it rang loud and clear to his position; “You are a traitor to your race!”
“Down in front!” A Grunt responded.
“Grenade!” The commander Elite called, and shortly after came the explosion to mark the truth in their words.
“Holy light!” Another Elite shouted, but this time the response was more gratifying-
“Ahhh!” The Unggoy wailed. “Get it off me!” boom!
At the corner, the Grunts made a stand since they had more cover, but after saturating their antagonist’s position with more grenades- quite a number of them, ‘Lygotee mused- they all turned to flee towards his direction. He rather anticipated them to hesitate long enough to confirm his team was neutralized, but all the passing Grunts did was look at them after the first glance.
“I have a bad feeling about this…” The Unggoy in the back mentioned.
It was difficult not to smile at the comment.
“Keep up.” A comrade told him. ‘Lygotee sat forward when the last one had turned his back, and touched a primed grenade too his air tank as he walked away. The Grunt trod a good distance, before noticing he was doomed, but by then the fuse was pretty much spent. Still, he managed to panic and dart for his fellows before it detonated, blowing them all out in all directions from the non-protective sides of their filched shields. Their dying screams were the most satisfying sound ‘Lygotee had ever heard, but he realized after all was quiet again that the Unggoy had somehow failed to note the same thing he had; In his master plan, which at that point he wondered how it had worked due to the nature of the flaw, he had forgotten to hide the body of the Grunt that had done his team a number.
How had the other Grunts also fail to notice? It seemed rather unlikely that they assumed he had been killed by being too close to his own grenade volley, as his carcass’s only damage was the severance of head from shoulders. He bore no burns or flak at all.
‘Lygotee looked at ‘Pohamee, who was staring after the blast mark down the hall where all the Unggoy had blown up. “You have done well, brothers.” ‘Lygotee mentioned, gaining their attention. ‘Lavuree lifted his head, to see his Commander, but neither said anything. By the look on his face, though, ‘Lygotee knew he needed to get them both to care quickly if he hoped to have either battle-worthy any time soon.
‘Lavuree relaxed onto the floor again, with what sounded like a held breath released, right before the team that had been pushing the Grunts down their direction came upon them. ‘Lygotee couldn’t find the strength to raise his head, and was grateful he wasn’t lying mostly prone like ‘Lavuree was, but rather sat up against the wall, so he really wouldn’t need to. The Elite at the fore of the newly arrived team looked over the mess, but he had bad senses or something, as the one he knelt beside happened to be ‘Obaulee. Seeing the warrior was dead, he assumed the rest- who weren’t but looked the part- were, too. Looking up at a fellow Elite past a Jackal, he growled something ‘Lygotee didn’t catch before saying, “Curses upon these traitors. Go and make sure none are alive- they must pay for the blood they have spilled.”
The Elite moved down the hall with four Jackals and two Grunts, leaving the Commander where he was. ‘Lygotee caught him looking in his direction, and smiled wanly. “We persist where we may, brother.”
The motion he used to close the gap between them seemed more akin to a hop- he rose, moved, and knelt again, this time beside ‘Lygotee. “What happened here?”
“I was afflicted with a measure of bad judgment, and we were ambushed.”
“Who slew the Grunts?”
“We did.” ‘Lygotee answered. “After the first fight, we were too badly weakened to face them on our feet so we decided to use our predicament to trick them as they tricked us. It worked.”
“I see.” He glanced at ‘Pohamee, and noticed his gaze was returned. “How many are only pretending to have fallen?”
“Unfortunately, only us three. ‘Obaulee is truly dead, and I do not regret anything more than I do that fact.”
The Elite looked at him again. “Three?”
“‘Lavuree lives still.”
“Get your team to the medical ward, Commander, before all of you expire needlessly after the fact.” He stood, and met his own team down the hall, where the rent bodies of the renegade Grunts were getting holes burned through them from plasma fire. It was a waste of ammo for some of them, but one actually squeaked, so it proved a necessary measure after all.
‘Lygotee leaned to the side, and rested his palms on the floor to try to gain something resembling upright. At first he doubted he would succeed, but with a little determination he did actually manage to get to his knees. From there he could reach the toggle on the wall, and with this he was able to pull himself the rest of the way up. He spent some time resting there to gain a measure of his strength before moving to ‘Pohamee to pry the Elite from the floor as well. ‘Pohamee, though wounded in more places than ‘Lygotee, wound up being the one to pull ‘Lavuree aright, and between the three of them, they were able to take ‘Obaulee with them when they began the slow trek to the med-ward.
Eventually, somewhere along the way, their luck would end, and the spree would be over, leaving the team less than operable. ‘Lygotee carried ‘Obaulee’s deadweight like a burden he could never put down. His remaining Elites didn’t need to be told to recognize this.


Chapter One, part two:
1822 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

Enin ‘Lygotee paced the hall with a mood bordering on angered impatience. He had been here for more than an hour, and his patience had worn thin. ‘Pohamee and ‘Lavuree were both in improved conditions, and resting in their personal quarters. He had been trying to summon the attention of the Prophet that was passing through the area, though, leaving no room for such activity.
It wasn’t that he didn’t find being blown to hell exhausting, he just needed to address an issue he knew would never be taken care of unless the Prophets dictated it so. And it had gone from a mild annoyance to a pressing problem. ‘Lygotee paused to consider the color of the wall beside him, but in the end it didn’t mean anything- the whole station was the exact same shade, plus or minus a few accessories to the bulkheads. Through a force-field extension, he could see a cruiser drifting into the docking rings, and briefly wondered who was aboard, but he doubted he would meet any of them unless they sought him out.
Something was changing- he didn’t like it, and didn’t know what it was, but it was happening nonetheless. Finally, the door to the chamber where the Prophet of Mercy had chosen to reside while aboard the Radiant slid open, and a chunky brute walked out. He curled his lip at ‘Lygotee, who growled in reply. Tensions between the two races had increased, but tolerance seemed to hold, so there was no outright fighting… yet.
‘Lygotee had learned to trust his gut, though, and his gut was telling him to prepare for that to be among the changes happening around him. He didn’t expect it would become much more than the Grunts’ complaints had been, though, and gave it little thought. When he stepped through the door, a panoramic view of the stars and the ships blotting them out in places around the Station’s upper quarter came into sight, framing the Prophet that hung in his floater chair in front of the window.
‘Lygotee approached, since the Prophet’s back was turned, wondering how he could make his case without sounding like an idiot. When he was within twenty paces, the Prophet turned in place, and looked down at him, so he dropped to a knee and bent his head. “Hail, Prophet.”
“Rise, Commander.” Mercy answered. When ‘Lygotee was again upright, he tilted his long spindly neck so his head drifted to the side. The little holographic symbol of the Sacred Ring projected from his headdress twinkled oddly as a star through the window became visible through one edge of it. “I am told you have a complaint you believe is worth the attention of the Prophets?”
“I do, Prophet.” ‘Lygotee answered.
“Voice it, then, and I shall decide if it truly merits our attention.”


[Edited on 3/9/2007]

  • 03.09.2007 12:23 PM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

‘Lygotee drew a deep breath. Here went nothing- hopefully this didn’t wind up on his record and he wasn’t branded a fool for life. “It has come to my attention that the Brutes have been granted living spaces near to and among the Sangheili. We do not mean any disrespect, but such arrangements are unacceptable and have made us disagreeable, even hostile, where we were once peaceable and calm. I wished to express my concerns of the arrangement and request changes to it. Will you consider, Prophet?”
Mercy stroked his beaded goatee with the long fingers of his left hand. “Your complaint is recognized as legitimate, yet I am afraid the arrangements made were made to persist- we only ask that you make peace with your brothers of the Covenant, because heresy will have no time for repentance. The Great Journey is nigh.”
‘Lygotee sighed. Drat. “I will convey your instruction to the others, Holy One.”
“See that you do;” Mercy answered, his tone a little on the cold side. “And ensure any dissention is quieted before it can grow, Commander. I am placing this responsibility in your hands.”
“Should not such a responsibility belong to the Station Commander?” ‘Lygotee protested.
“Are you questioning the will of the Prophets?”
“No!” ‘Lygotee answered, hastily, adding slower, “I only wished to know the reason behind such a decision… I do not wish to undermine anyone’s authority, yours, his, or the Council of Prophets’. Please forgive this blunder- I did not mean any ill.”
“Very well, Commander. You may go.” The Prophet’s sanguine voice followed him as he left, curling in the air and making him feel less easy about the whole thing. Something was afoot, and he still didn’t know what. But he knew he had to make those unaware recognize it, so they might be prepared, even if it proved nothing of dangerous quality. He did know he had learned something useful- and it spelled disaster with a capitalized D if there were no preparations made.
The Prophet of Mercy hadn’t answered any of his questions.
‘Lygotee walked the rest of the way to the open gardens between the quarters’ Commons and the work areas in silent speculation, trying to make sense of the newest development. He passed the corridors near the docking ring and the cargo bays, and paused to consider the activity within each space before moving on.
Brutes dominated both areas. Grunts and Jackals dotted amid their ranks, but it was looking more and more like the Station Radiant had been given to the Brutes’ clans for some ulterior purpose that wasn’t meant to be at the attention of the Sangheili.
‘Lygotee understood one thing clearly enough; the Brutes had just gotten in a shipload of reinforcements, and the Elites were still at their present numbers, mostly unaware though suspecting of the changes being implemented. It was a frightening prospect- these Brutes were being pressed into the Elite’s designated space because their own was filled to capacity and still more had arrived just today.
More disturbing was the fact that the Prophet of Mercy hadn’t had a single Sangheili Honor Guard in attendance in the chamber with him- yet the Brute that had greeted him at the door to it had been wearing the signature yellow banner and armor. ‘Lygotee made his way across the gardens and past the hydroponics maintenance sector door, noting as he did so yet one more detail about the Brutes in that sector; they were armed, though none were wielding their weaponry just yet.
He knew he couldn’t just give a warning and leave it at that… this was becoming serious. Something was happening that the Covenant had decided they didn’t want the Elites to know about. ‘Lygotee suspected it was something that his people weren’t going to like very much, either.
Wondering who all was in on the evident conspiracy, ‘Lygotee caught and turned aside a passing Unggoy for questioning. “Why are the Brutes gathering their numbers here?”
The Unggoy looked up at him, a puzzled look on his face. “Me not know.”
“What are they doing?”
“Me not sure, Leader…” The grunt scratched speculatively at his head. “Me best guess be they moving munitions to the frontlines.”
“Moving munitions?” ‘Lygotee asked, a little alarmed by the idea that the Brutes had brought lots of extra ammo with them.
“Yes, Leader.” The Unggoy answered. “Lots of boxes of guns and ammunition for the guns. Big guns and small guns and batteries for the small guns.”
‘Lygotee watched as a Brute walked past, catching the demeaning stare he got from the hulk. Looking down at the grunt, he wondered who would fight for whom when it came down to it. Grunts, while a little headstrong when they became possessed of an idea, had forever been followers of the Sangheili warriors. They didn’t much like the way the honorless Brutes treated them. Kig-Yar, on the other hand, liked to fight for whomever they believed would win- never was a Jackal seen that would keep a loyalty to a side that appeared to be losing power. A Kig-Yar would put up with the Brute’s treatment if it meant they were on the winning side.
One for one, Brutes did own more physical mass and individual strength than an Elite, but they were prone to tossing aside their weapons of choice in favor of going berserk and mauling their enemies with their bare hands. There was no system, no form to their fighting. Drones of the insectoid Yanme’e also preferred the Jackal way of thought, though it had a few modifications. Luckily, there weren’t any of those creatures on the Radiant at present. The insectoid race had all shipped out eagerly enough to the Sacred Ring where they could have front row seats to the Great Journey when it began.
A good number were reportedly dead already due to the Flood combat forms, though. ‘Lygotee was glad he wasn’t there in person, confidant he wouldn’t be missed if he simply held to his honor and loyalties.
“What are they doing with these boxes of guns and ammunition?” The Elite asked. “Are they opening any of them?”
“Yes, Leader- all of them. For inspection.” The Grunt replied. He seemed to think he was going to get a pat on the head for the information.
‘Lygotee felt inclined to give it to him. “You have done well. Run and gather your Podmates. I want to ensure you are all in fit condition to move if the Prophets call us to join them at the Sacred Ring.” It was actually a possibility, though at this point a slim one. He stood still long enough to see the Grunt out of sight, then resumed his walk to the Sangheili quarter, trying to ignore the scrutinizing and condescending looks the Brutes were giving him. He would run them all through on his energy sword if a single one killed one of his brothers.
Still, he could hope it wouldn’t come to that. The Covenant had held together for centuries, building races as it sought the Path. The Humans were not the first to suffer the Covenant’s wrath, though they had been the first to do something as horrifyingly demonic as destroy a Sacred Ring. The event had shocked even the Brutes- it hadn’t crossed their minds as a possible outcome. Before the event, ‘Lygotee hadn’t even considered the Rings to be a destructible object.
A Brute appeared on the other side when he passed the door to the Sangheili quarter, but here he felt better at ease when there proved more Elites than the unsightly, smelly beasts that had somehow replaced the Honor Guard. He greeted the first that he came close to, but though he was unfamiliar with the fellow’s name, he suspected he would know it soon enough along with a million others from across the Station if things became nasty. Sensing ‘Lygotee was on a mission of some sort, the Elites that noticed began to gather behind him until he had accumulated nearly all those in the quarter. Those missing were quickly rousing to the unusual event at the beckon of their curious comrades.
When he had all of them gathered in the biggest in-quarter chamber, ‘Lygotee turned to face them. “Something disturbing has come to my attention, brothers.”
A quiet murmur ran through the crowd. Never had so many Sangheili been gathered in so tight a group before without the presence of a number of one or more of the other races of the Covenant.
“I have spoken to the Prophet of Mercy.” ‘Lygotee added, keeping his voice level so he wouldn’t be seen as trying to rouse them all to start a fight. “He failed to answer a single query I presented him; and the Honor Guard are honorable nolonger- the Brutes wear the traditional golden standards.”
A faster, more excited murmur followed this announcement.
“A vessel has also docked to this Station within the last hour, and I have seen it’s content; Brutes, brothers. Brutes and their favored weaponry.”
Silence met this revelation, as the exchanges of converse were abandoned in favor of thought of the information ‘Lygotee was giving them. He recognized the looks on many of their faces as the same as what he felt himself- uncertain, uneasy, the feeling of being backed into a corner that had not previously been recognized.
“Do not let them invade your honor without protest. Make the Brutes understand they are not welcome in this quarter. The hives of the Drones are empty- they do not need our space.”
“Leader.” An Elite in the front spoke. “What are you implying?”
“All I know is something is about to happen- Brutes do not like to congregate in places where their numbers make them crowded. Brutes fight amongst themselves too easily to make such arrangements economical. They are not shipping forward- they are gathering here. Here, brothers. Do you not recognize this? Something is very wrong.”
“We do.” A second spoke up. “We see them looking at us like we are prey they have been instructed not to kill.”
“I have seen Brutes in groups without argument or conflict holding position outside the doors to our rooms.” Another added. “They spit at us and act as if we were not honored members of the Covenant.”


[Edited on 3/9/2007]

  • 03.09.2007 12:29 PM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

“We may not be, brother…” ‘Lygotee answered, softly. His words silenced them all, and their expressions turned to doubt, and noncomprehension. “You see… why would the Honor Guards become Brutes if the Prophets had not decided to exchange the roles of the races? My information is sketchy at best, but I wanted to warn you, brothers- go nowhere without your weapons. I fear a fight may come to us.”
“We will not be cut down like worthless curs!” The first Elite shouted, raising a chorus of agreeing growls and snarls.
“Peace, brothers.” ‘Lygotee added, his tone still soft. “Keep your hearts pure and adhere to your honor. If the Brutes wish a fight they shall get one- but we are above such heretic actions- let them tarnish their own by striking the beginning blow.”
“And allow them to kill us?” An Elite wearing blue armor queried.
“Allow, no. A first strike need not be a killing one.”
The response was agreeable enough, though ‘Lygotee knew the whole thing was just speculation.
“Listen to him.” A voice in the back rose up.
Elites turned to view the speaker, curious who would place so much faith in the seemingly mad Elite whose words bordered on heresy even as the rest of them agreed with him.
‘Lygotee’s mouth opened in complete awe. He could have swore he was looking at either a perfect copy of ‘Obaulee or ‘Obaulee himself, but he had seen the unfortunate Elite die and then seen his body after the fact- not to mention it had been disposed of already as well.
“If you put your trust and faith in anything, put it here, brothers.” The Elite added. “Brutes have no honor, and they relish the death of anything that is not their own!”
Every Sangheili knew that- but to hear it voiced aloud evidently got their blood boiling, and the words were met with loud cries of agreement. The crowd closed again, and ‘Lygotee lost sight of the Elite he thought looked- and sounded, as well- like ‘Obaulee, but he knew he couldn’t escape very fast if ‘Lygotee were to press into the crowd and seek him out.
When he got to the place, though, there was no one of any kind of similarity to what he’d just witnessed. “‘Obaulee?” he asked, looking around.
‘Pohamee appeared in his peripheral, and he turned to see his teammate. “Leader, ‘Obaulee is dead. You know this.”
‘Lygotee looked back at the scores of Elites surrounding him, but he was forced to nod, and concede the point. He was foolish to think anything else, he knew- he had seen the evidence of the death personally, every last second of the event. Another scan of the crowd turned up ‘Lavuree, though, and together the three made their way to the corridor where their personal quarters were.
‘Lygotee frowned when they passed not one but three Brutes heading out of the hall. There appeared nothing amiss, though, when ‘Lygotee entered his room, so he decided to dismiss it until later. He spared a moment to look at the calm, quiet interior of the space before moving deeper in, able to feel the heartbeat of the Radiant’s main power cores in the utter and complete silence. He had just begun to remove his armor when he noticed an unusual item that resembled nothing he was familiar with resting on the floor next to the back wall.
Curious, he went to pick it up when he suddenly realized the nature of the item due to a dim light node blinking once on the side. Quickly he withdrew his hand. It wasn’t timed- it was rigged to do its thing by another means. Motion? No, he had moved plenty before it without it doing a thing. Heat? That spot was the hottest place on the floor here- so it wasn’t heat sensitive. ‘Lygotee spent a moment pondering the problem, but ultimately could think of nothing- so he turned back to the door to seek the advice of his teammates, but he paused in revelation when he saw the door panel.
Someone had removed it and put it back. There was glue to hold it in place, and for the slick, almost liquid nature of the glue, the panel had slid somewhat before it could dry. ‘Lygotee sighed. Oh, this was good. He had probably triggered a programmed setting on the thing- would it go off if he reopened his door to attempt to escape it? Or would it do so if he even touched the panel’s control, regardless of the button’s former function? He couldn’t be sure- but now he had an idea as for how to circumvent the device. Brutes could be annoyingly subtle when they weren’t going berserk, but they were not especially bright. The allowance for the panel to sag like it had was evidence to this. ‘Lygotee reached for the other control the door owned and locked it shut. Then he called ‘Pohamee with the comn unit within the matrix of his armor as he donned the parts he had removed.
{Leader?} The signatures of each comn unit always told the receiver who was calling- it helped tremendously when an irritated warrior who wanted to vent was contacted by a superior.
“‘Pohamee… are you yet in your quarters?”
{No, Leader.}
“I have come upon a problem involving the function of my door. Would you get an Unggoy up here to cut it open? It seems to have seized.” ‘Lygotee mentioned, casually.
‘Pohamee hesitated, but despite his noncomprehenson of the situation, agreed anyway, figuring ‘Lygotee would explain his rather odd tone considering the circumstances later. First off, why did he want out almost directly after going in? {Yes, Leader. Give me a moment to comply.}
‘Lygotee wondered how long he would have to wait, but impatience was not a virtue and especially not in this case. While he waited for rescue, he turned to the device on the floor to determine if it was explosive or merely harboring a tank of compressed toxins. If it was explosive, it would make a noise and leave a mess, but the subtleties of the Brutes were limited, so he began to doubt it would merely chase him out gagging on toxic fumes even before he was able to confirm the doubt. ‘Lygotee wondered how many other rooms had been booby-trapped like his, and how many had entered them without realizing what he had.
Finally, the comn unit alerted him to an incoming transmission. {Leader. Stand away from the door.}
“I am at a safe position from it, ‘Pohamee. You may commence work.” ‘Lygotee responded, standing and turning to see the progress. If it triggered the mine somehow despite, he would have his armor and shields, but there really was no place in the room for him to seek cover from it. Anywhere was as good as the next place, and if it went off, there would be nothing he could do about it at all.
The bright phosphorescent line in the purple metal of his door grew in length slowly and gradually, but the mine on the floor never so much as blinked the little light-node again. When an oval had been successfully cut, the Elite took the shape from the hole and leaned it on the wall of the corridor while the Grunt went about manipulating his gear. ‘Lavuree stepped through, and looked at each before speaking. “Someone has attempted to begin the fight I spoke of this night.” Stepping aside so ‘Pohamee could look in, ‘Lygotee extended an arm to the defeated mine on the floor.
‘Pohamee’s eyes widened. “I have seen just such a device in my own quarters, Leader. I did not get the opportunity to step inside, however… was it responsible for sealing the door?”
‘Lygotee shook his head. “No, I did that. After some scrutiny of the situation I determined it had been wired to the door operations and I feared to open the door a second time would cause detonation.”
‘Pohamee looked at it, them at ‘Lygotee. “Leader… ‘Lavuree and many others have already retired. How do we warn them without causing chaos and without causing some of them to activate their devices?”
‘Lygotee contemplated that. “Tell them the corridors have been vented of atmosphere by the Brutes. Tell them to exit their quarters through the air cyclers above the rooms.”
“Many will despise these orders, Leader- crawling through an air duct is far from honorable.” ‘Pohamee answered.
“It is nothing to do with the honor of the Sangheili to remain alive and circumvent the pitiful attempt at cleverness the Brutes have implemented, ‘Pohamee- and this is not a strike. It is merely the means by which we will preserve our brothers until we do need a strike.” ‘Lygotee explained. “Tell them as much if you will. The Brutes have made their move… now it is our turn to deal.”
‘Pohamee nodded his head. “Yes, Leader.” And with that he began to radio everyone he had numerals for and having them do the ones he didn’t. ‘Lygotee didn’t like the idea of filling the air ducts with Elites either, but it was better than blowing them up while half-awake. There was simply no way of knowing how many rooms had been rigged, and how many would be crawling with the rest needlessly.
After a moment, and some feedback had happened, ‘Pohamee turned to ‘Lygotee again. “Leader… they are following your instruction. But they wish to know where they might exit their newfound travel means.”
‘Lygotee considered that. The lie to send them up there to begin with would complicate that… but there was one place the Brutes couldn’t vent if they wanted to, even though they had yet to do anything of the kind anywhere; Hydroponics. He relayed as much to ‘Pohamee. It was a fair enough location, and large enough to hold them all as well. It was also a place that no one would question, because it was only logical to assume such a place had air even if the rest of the Radiant did not.
Plants generated atmosphere of their own accord. ‘Pohamee sent the information along, aware the Hydroponics chamber was enduring a ‘night’ cycle where the plants were in partial hibernation as like nightfall on a real planet, and the darkness would mask much of the influx of occupants.

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“Leader, we cannot take the Brutes alone.” ‘Pohamee mentioned, after he had closed the comn channel.
“I am aware of the circumstances, ‘Pohamee. Let me think- better, help me think.” ‘Lygotee replied. “In the meantime, we need to join our brothers in the Hydroponics chamber so they might not see we are in a place that is supposedly air-free.”
“Yes, Leader.”
“I’m with you.” The Unggoy added, enthusiastically.



End of chapter One


Tell me what you think, yell, scream, throw fits, or cheer with enthusiasm as you see fit. Oh and do tell me about it if there is a typo I somehow managed to miss. Thanks ~ Aardvark

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Chapter Two, part one:
2240 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

Hydroponics consisted of a single square mile’s worth of imported terrain, the soil often more than fifty feet deep. It was unlevel, and in some places, untended, giving it an almost natural forest-like feel. Limbs covered in leaves and some that were bare drooped across what had been a walking-path just three months ago.
‘Lygotee remembered walking it, remembered the look of the path it followed through the trees and underbrush. In the center was the largest known species of tree, but it was in the center of a large meadow-like clearing in the middle of the faux forest. It was almost as if a piece of a planet were right down the hall- one of the pluses to being stationed on an orbital platform rather than a cruiser or dreadnaught. At first inspection it seemed huge, yet if one spared the time to explore the whole area it presented itself as being rather small.
‘Lygotee had run longer stretches than it could provide while still in training. He had always rather liked the vegetation, yet could never seem to bring himself to linger in Hydroponics for any more time than it took to cross from one door to the next between corridors. Now he stood under the eave of the edge of the chamber, staring out into the thick vegetation with an unreadable look on his face. His lower mandibles clicked once when his reverie was disturbed by motion to his left, but he recognized it quickly enough as the teams of Unggoy he had sent out to practice earlier that evening. The weary grunts were packing it in for the day and hoping to head for their racks in the methane chambers three decks below. He considered stopping them, but if the mines set in the Sangheili quarters were set to go off when the doors opened a second time, then the Brutes weren’t liable to expect any fireworks until morning- and a tired grunt was worse in battle than one who merely had bad aim.
He looked away, deciding to let the Unggoy sleep. Tonight the Sangheili would not sleep- Hydroponics was no place to catch one’s rest, but scattered hidden amid the trees the Elites had hunkered down, most of them willing themselves to gain as much rest as they could. They all knew that once the fighting started, it wouldn’t stop until one side or the other was completely erased from the decks of the Radiant.
“I thought I would find you here, Leader.”
Startled, ‘Lygotee jerked out of his half-asleep stupor that he hadn’t known he was in. Too much still and quiet would do that to a body, he mused, but he still berated himself for his inability to govern his reactions to his environment. That had been his most defining fault of all, though his quality seemed to have been being the one that was always awake when everyone else was asleep. Tonight appeared the exception.
A soft laugh followed the motions of the black-clad Elite as they sat beside him under the eave. “You shouldn’t fight it- you’ll need all the rest you can get.”
‘Lygotee tried to focus on his new companion, but the dark dressage hid them nearly completely from view. Had they activated their camouflage engines he might have seen them better. “You shouldn’t be calling me Leader.”
He received what he figured was an expressive look, but it was too dark to tell what the expression had been. “I may call you what I will, Commander. It is my right.”
‘Lygotee nodded- he had to agree with that, at least, as it was a good point. “Leader, then.” He conceded. “What brings you to this place at this hour?”
“You did, Commander, or had you forgotten already the pain you fear to feel should your brethren die without opportunity to fight back?”
“I have not forgotten… am I permitted to know who you are, or shall you always remain a shadow to me?”
“You ask the questions you know the answers to, yet you never fail to seek the answers to the ones you do not. Tell me, Commander ‘Lygotee, why you hold a fondness for a thing you dare not linger near?”
‘Lygotee frowned. “I remain where I am taken, and I follow the oath of my fathers.” He replied. “I have my Elites and the Covenant… and nothing else. Tonight I wonder if I shall keep the last.”
His companion spent a moment in reflection. “‘Lygotee, Answer me this just once.”
‘Lygotee looked at him. “Ask.” Without knowing who he was speaking with, there was no way he could address them properly, so he didn’t even begin to try. If they required a proper address, they would reveal themselves so he might.
“Many Commanders feel a bond of friendship with their teams, yet you have taken yours to a bond likened to that of your kin. Why.”
“We are all brothers.” ‘Lygotee began, but he trailed off before he could add anything else in lieu of the upraised hand he suddenly noticed.
“Did I not ask you to be honest with me, ‘Lygotee?”
‘Lygotee thought about that. “No.”
“Then I make the request now.”
He sighed. “What do you expect me to say? We are a team, we function as limbs on a single entity, and we do it well. The loss of one of our number will decrease our efficiency and the loss will be felt for some time to come for this… and other reasons.”
“Other reasons?”
“Would you have me fill the night with tales of yester or would you prefer I not answer that?” ‘Lygotee asked, feeling a little stressed.
The Elite only nodded. “You asked me why I am here.”
“I did.” He inclined his head.
“I will answer you. My purpose here was to watch the Prophet of Mercy, and ensure nothing ran amiss. In so doing I was witness to your meeting with him and it piqued my interest.” He looked over at ‘Lygotee. “I heard your warning to the Sangheili here on the Radiant. I was impressed by your care for the welfare of our kind, even despite the will of all others.”
“I am not here to start a fight.” ‘Lygotee answered, sternly. “We will not betray the Covenant unless it betrays us.”
“I fear it already has… brother.”
‘Lygotee looked back, then. “Explain yourself.”
“The Humans have pushed the Prophets to bolster the conflict and many forces were sent to their Homeworld. However you have all been left out of a revolution that occurred within the forward ranks of the Covenant, but it is about to reach for you.”
“The influx of Brutes…”
“Among other things.”
‘Lygotee shook himself. This was lunacy! The Brutes were probably just looking for ways to mock Sangheili honor and stability without being blamed outright for unrest in the Covenant. ‘Lygotee sighed. As much as he liked the thought, he realized it wasn’t quite true, and he could never convince himself that the Brutes would play so nicely.
Elite blood would run before this was over. If ‘Lygotee had anything to say about it, it would not run alone. “Your words are heresy, whoever you are.” ‘Lygotee snapped. “Do not speak them further. I will not be privy to a plan to dismantle the Covenant.”
“Plan? What plan? The only ones with plans are the Prophets. The rest of us merely subsist in the fashions we find approachable. You may not enjoy this change, and indeed there is little doubt it will hurt. But it is upon you whether you would be a part of it willingly or not.” The Elite answered. “You recall the Demon?”
“I do.”
“He returned after the destruction of the first Halo, to the second. There he slew the Prophet of Regret. You may understand how shaken Truth and Mercy were. It is what caused the change of Honor Guards.”
‘Lygotee wondered whether to laugh at the lunacy or gape in shock. A Prophet was dead? How could that justify using Brutes as guards? They would be as liable to kill the Prophets themselves than wait for the Demon to do it. “How many of the Honor Guard fell that day?”
“All of them. Every one Regret had in company was killed as well- though we can not know for certain how many were slain by the Demon and how many simply did not get clear of the temple before the Fleet opened its guns on the structure. They flattened it, you know. Trying to kill the Demon. He escaped anyway.”
“I have no doubts that he did.” ‘Lygotee muttered. “He has proven himself many times to be formidable. It was he who cut a swath through our brethren in order to access the means by which he committed his first deed and earned the title of Demon.”
His companion smiled. “You don’t follow the Covenant blindly, I see.”
“How could they justify disbanding the Elites on that?” ‘Lygotee asked. “The Demon cannot be stopped by normal means and even the Honor Guard have a limited arsenal with which to perform.”
“Such arguments would put you at odds with the Hierarchs, Commander. The Brutes murdered a great number of your kin for such views. The High Council threatened to leave the Covenant, which got the conflict started, but it hasn’t ended yet- even though the Arbiter himself was there to bolster the ranks with morale.”
“The Arbiter was said to have died already.” ‘Lygotee mused. “How do you expect to convince me that he lives still?”
“The Great Journey was forestalled by his action alone. The Brutes have lost their Chieftain because the Arbiter killed him.”
‘Lygotee gave his companion a curious look. “The more words I hear from you the less I like you. And the less I like the situation.” He said. “You make heretical claims and blasphemous statements… but at this hour I feel to call you down would be the deaths of us all. I don’t know if what you say is true, but I know the Brutes well enough, and I can see when a thing looms over me.”

  • 03.14.2007 11:24 AM PDT
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“Don’t ever let that wit go, Commander.” The stranger said, as if he were proud of ‘Lygotee for some reason. “It’ll save your life someday.” He stood, and walked away, leaving the Commander feeling mixed and confused. He knew what was likely to happen and what would happen if certain things turned out a certain way, but there was no telling if it would. Just a lot of signs pointing to that it could. Still, he didn’t like any of it and the last thing he wanted to get caught up in was a civil war inside the Covenant. Prior to the declaration of holy war on Humanity, things had been relatively quiet. The integration of the Yanme’e into the Covenant had been the biggest thing he could recall.
‘Lygotee stared into the trees for a moment, trying to think of what he would do if he ever had to answer for this. If he ever had to explain to half the population of Sangheili why he had gotten them out of their beds at an ungodly hour to rest them in Hydroponics.
If… if he lived through this. Something in his gut was telling him how much he needed to stay aware, how this could become so much worse than anyone might anticipate. And he knew if things did get out of hand there would be no help for it, because in the end they were still going into this with only half their hearts for the fight; many still were undecided whether there would be a fight. No one doubted it was a good possibility, but possibilities never told truth for fact, and the truth was what they so desperately needed right now.
The Brutes had one over them already by the fact that they alone knew whether there would even be the suspected and partially anticipated conflict. ‘Lygotee wished ‘Obaulee could be there, wished his team were whole. The odds would not be so bad if they were all there. Nothing frightened him when the three were there with him. Sadly he shook his head. ‘Obaulee was the last thing he was liable to get right now, and a complete team was out of the picture. Someone new would cause disruption and upset the already chaotic pattern they once had shared. His team had lived up well to the title of Elite; between the four of them, there had been nothing they couldn’t accomplish, although their tactics had been something more than normal.
Adaptation had come in the form of ‘Obaulee. The Sangheili had taught the rest of them what the meaning of improvisation was. There had not been anything quite like ‘Obaulee. ‘Lygotee ran his taloned fingers along the armor on his mandibles, remembering the last mission they had done together. One tiny misstep had doomed them all. Everything had gone very wrong very fast and even before the mission objective was in sight. ‘Lygotee hadn’t let a moment pass that he hadn’t thought of what things would be like if he had simply greeted the traitorous Unggoy with a plasma bolt to the face. The event made him question his leadership quality, but ‘Pohamee and ‘Lavuree only leaned on him more, as if ‘Obaulee had been a crutch removed at a bad time, leaving them only one person left to support them.
He didn’t believe he was worthy of their loyalty anylonger, but at this point to retire would be a bad thing. And even if he managed somehow to pull that off, he would only be kicking himself more when the news reached him later of the systematic annihilation of all Sangheili aboard the Radiant.
‘Lygotee began to consider what might become of them all if they did happen to defeat the Brutes and persist despite any conflict. Would the Great Journey leave them behind? Or did that matter anymore? If they were all dead before it happened the same outcome was assured. What was the point? ‘Lygotee didn’t want to die, but it wasn’t beneath him to dedicate it to a worthy cause. For the longest he had assumed the Covenant was that cause. Yet the more time passed the more he came to realize that everything he had known or thought he’d known had all been a lie.
The Covenant was crumbling around him, and no amount of dedication or blood could seal it back together. The Sangheili were being evicted, eradicated… erased.
‘Lygotee spent a moment in reflection, contemplating the patterns of action they could take when the conflict began and the shooting started. How many would die? How many would never know if their efforts were for good or in vain? How many more would sacrifice everything for nothing? Who would see the end? Who would be able to forgive him, when it was all said and done, after many of their brothers had died and all that remained was a blood soaked truth?
“Let go.” ‘Lygotee turned his head, curious who had spoken. At first he wasn’t sure if it was even addressed to him, but the Sangheili standing beside him was facing him. ‘Lygotee blinked. How odd… behind the Elite were the sands of the desert following the borders of a plain where the Academy was. He remembered the place as being where he had stood just before graduation, trying to make sense of something that so many years later he still didn’t understand. Cloaks snapping in the stiff, hot wind, the two of them had stood there overlooking the sweeping desert for several hours. No one came to them, complained about them missing time in the school.
‘Lygotee shook himself. Eight years ago that day he had been here, and here he stood again. It occurred to him it wasn’t likely to be real. Was he that exhausted? Doubtful. He’d only missed a few hours of sleep total. A day shy of his deployment to join them, his bloodline had been completely wiped out. All the Sangheili bearing any relation to him were gone in the blink of an eye, and all that remained of the contingent of vessels was glitter in the cosmic picture. Even the Prophets hadn’t known what had happened, but they quickly found out- all the scout and recon vessels sent to investigate suffered similar fates until they figured out the space was booby trapped by natural anomalies. It was a no-fly zone found the hard way.
‘Lygotee stood very alone against all that could be thrown his way and he knew it. Right there facing the open, empty expanse of desert, he had never felt it more. The memory revived told him the feeling had returned. He had worked hard to forge his surrogate family, and now it was slowly being stripped from him, too. ‘Obaulee was only the first. ‘Lygotee could only wonder, wait and fear.
After they were gone, what was left?
‘Lygotee turned from the sight, but there was nothing else to look at, nothing there but the individual beside him rendered in fuzzy detail. He lowered his head, and closed his eyes. Eventually, a similar fate would be dealt him and on that day he would define whether he should be remembered or forgotten, the last of his bloodline and the sole survivor of the biggest catastrophe known to the Covenant Archives. A million lightyears could never be enough space between him and that looming shadow on his heart. He had known a number of them- cousins, parents, uncles and aunts, a sibling and their mate.
It was all gone.
‘Obaulee was gone.
‘Lygotee had never felt more alone.



Chapter Two, part two:
0215 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

Enin ‘Lygotee shot to his feet, the hiss and spit of his energy sword coming active in his grasp alerting a pair of Sangheili to his left. He looked around, wondering where he was, before his posture straightened and he touched the power stud on the sword again.
He ran a hand over his face, and sighed. Nightmares. He always had a few, but now was not a good time. How could he expect to rest if they woke him every few hours? He checked his arm-chrono, and frowned. It was early enough to catch the dead asleep. Shaking his head at the frustration, ‘Lygotee decided to walk for a stretch before doing anything else. His method of arousal had left his system shot up with adrenalin, and for it he knew he could never go back to sleep.
Casting the Elites to his left a look, ‘Lygotee decided to go right; he didn’t need to have any close encounters with anyone who might want to talk to him, and he didn’t feel up to answering a query after his health. Aside from the content of his dreams, he was fine, and if that wasn’t obvious he wasn’t going to answer it. What troubled him was the fact had been easily concealed from the others until now. Here they could all gather like an audience and see him fly from sleep into a battle-ready stance without prompting, and ridicule him for it. He often couldn’t remember what in the dreams woke him like that, but when he did he put it out of his mind in favor of other things. Any Sangheili warrior worth his salt would never show weakness.
‘Lygotee followed the outer walk around Hydroponics, trying to soothe his nerves and regain his frazzled composure. If his team saw him like this, they would doubt his ability as a fighter. He hated not being able to gain any decent rest in his own quarters, but there was no way he was sleeping with a mine primed to blow right beside him. As he walked he slowly worked out the cramps in his shoulders, borne of resting in his armor and sitting up. He’d had worse, and less, but here he didn’t need to. It irked him to be so constrained by such a pathetic yet unmeetable foe, powerless to solve the problem.
He paused by the air vent that took atmosphere from Hydroponics and sent it through the rest of the station, and studied the reflective metal grill over the hole. The latches were open, likely because they had been forced open and couldn’t be closed again due to the push without some similar force. ‘Lygotee looked from the grill reflecting the twilight star shine through the open windows above the trees to the wall beside it.

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The fleet standard purple looked a silvery grey under the dim light, but if he studied it long enough he could tell it wasn’t really grey at all. Looking past his armor-clad thighs at his hooves, ‘Lygotee studied the dirt on his boots. It was only enough to make his otherwise clean armor look spotty where it was covered by unreflective soil, but it made a pattern of interest. Hearing movement to the side, he looked up to see a Sangheili leave the treeline and walk past his position as if he had his cloaking engine active. ‘Lygotee knew better than to assume they didn’t see him, though. All Sangheili had excellent senses, and he was also standing against a reflective wall- at the very least, he was rendered as a silhouette.
This did not appear to deter the fellow from ignoring him, though, but it wasn’t as if that bothered him- however the proximity did, and he resumed walking. ‘Lygotee wasn’t a large Elite, but he was tall- which gave his frame the false appearance of being overtly thin. He was light on his hooves, quick with action and reaction, and lithe as an athlete. Though it hurt to perform such a task, he knew he was capable of bending himself nearly double backwards- a fine quality if only under certain circumstances. ‘Lygotee folded his hands behind his back as he paced, thinking and trying to compose a comprehensive plan if the Jiralhanae- though better known as Brutes in ‘Lygotee’s opinion- ever found them before all of them could waken and be ready.
The pensive Elite strode after the sound of soft breath on foliage, aware more than half had been more successful at getting a few more hours of rest than he. He didn’t need to awaken them too early. They would need all the rest they could get if things turned south. He found a broadleaf tree to stand under, and stared into the forest, speculating how many were actually present; they were too numerous to be revealed by a single scan of the trees, yet he doubted there were that many more besides. Sensing a presence beyond the sightline approaching, ‘Lygotee held to the Plasma Rifle still clipped to his hip and stepped forward, cautious of finding a Brute.
“You often remind me of a frightened youth when you’re nervous, Leader.” ‘Lygotee recognized the voice instantly and turned to see his effort had been thwarted by his teammate. He wasn’t that surprised. ‘Lavuree had always been one notch above his skill at stealth, but the best thing he was good at was his ability to make someone that was on to him believe he was several feet from his actual location. The quality had stayed his life on numerous occasions.
“And you remind me of a flightless bird seeking the sky in a panic when you are.” ‘Lygotee replied, tartly. “You know I am far from at ease this hour, ‘Lavuree- why do you torment me so?”
The Elite folded his hands behind his back and shrugged, though he remained expressionless. “Is it unwise to test one’s Leader for sureness before a battle we may or may not see? You are so wound up it hurts just to watch you walking.”
‘Lygotee tilted his head. “Why would that be a problem? My ability does not wane under pressure. You have witnessed that personally.”
“Yes, Leader. But it never hurts to be certain- your words, I believe.”
‘Lygotee scowled at him, but he couldn’t protest. Indeed they were his own words, and ‘Lavuree was right, again, about that reflection ‘Lygotee was casting. The Commander had some problems, not just faults, and every once in a while, they would show their ugly heads for all the Covenant to see. Though possessed of an efficient team and owning good proficiency himself, and having few if any failed missions under his belt, ‘Lygotee had been slow to climb the rank ladder because he was considered unstable. No one could know, not even him, when that instability would wreak its havoc.
He didn’t have a problem with fear- he had learned long ago how to deal with and master its influence, along with all his other instincts.Fight and flight had been killed, in favor of calculation and execution. Panicked frenzies accompanying instinctual reactions had become very unhealthy for him while still in training. But the onset and timing of his internal struggles unsettled him. How would he know if he needed to withdraw? He knew one thing, though. Eventually, it was going to spell his doom, and there was no amount of aid from his team that could save him.
“Why are you up so early, Leader?” ‘Lavuree asked. “Your wandering has awoken several of the others who feared your footsteps belonged to a Brute.”
‘Lygotee had no excuse. “I am up because I wakened and could sleep no longer. This waiting has destroyed my nerves and I fear to be numb for a week.”
‘Lavuree laughed softly, amused by the joke. “Leader, even if you cannot sleep you may do well to preserve what energy you have. Find a comfortable place and sit down.”
‘Lygotee frowned up at the skylight. “I am far too restless to pull off such an action. Surely you recognize that.”
‘Lavuree took his shoulder in hand, catching his gaze. “Leader.” His voice had an edge to it- he was pressing his luck by attempting to give a higher ranking officer an order, and more so by trying to enforce the command. But it was a legitimate request- and ‘Lavuree had pointed out he was doing what he had not wanted to by wandering; waking the others. He had a point, and a prominent one.
‘Lygotee brushed the hand down, but nodded. ‘Lavuree had never done him wrong. He could forgive this once. “I will find a place to sit.”
“Thank you, Leader.” ‘Lavuree stepped back, allowing his Commander room to move, and watched as he paced silently away, aware that ‘Lygotee was stressed indeed to have let such an encounter pass without comment. He feared his kind might never know retaliation if a fight broke out. But beneath that he worried more that he had caused such a fight, and carried the wondering sadness that if that be the case, how he might atone for it, or if anyone would ever forgive him at all.
‘Lavuree understood the position took more strength than he had to hold up against it. The massive weight would crush him, but ‘Lavuree knew not how to help or what would become of his Commander after the fact.
Four hours passed without a single incident, but hardly any who had come awake had been able to go back to sleep. The Hydroponics bay had begun to shift, the occupants restlessly stirring and becoming slowly active in the light of the new day. The star the station’s orbit was around glared brightly into the trees, shining through the overhead windowpanes. It was a translucent metal, though, not any sheet of silica. Glass was far too fragile to use on hull side placements in the deep cold of space. The tiniest micrometeorite would shatter the whole pane.
‘Lygotee met ‘Pohamee at the fourth sector door, but only because he had seen his teammate there and walked the distance to share a few words. “Morning never looked so blasted grim.” ‘Pohamee commented, after his Commander had come to a stop.
“Ah, yes. Not all mornings are good as we would wish.” ‘Lygotee agreed.
“What do we do now, Leader? Many would do best to have their armor systems with them- and most do not. And I myself am fighting a losing battle against hunger.”
‘Lygotee smiled. “Easy, ‘Pohamee. Back through the air ducts, one or two, to collect and retrieve then distribute the armor they left in their quarters, and when we are all suitably armed, we may traverse this Station to the Resource Chamber for the meal you crave.” He picked absently at a bracer. “I admit to wanting to eat too.”
‘Pohamee smiled at him. “That, Leader, is because you are mortal, you are Sangheili, like the rest of us.”
‘Lygotee gave him a playful frown. “I never pretended to be more than those things. I am no god nor shall I ever aspire to be. Gods have to keep people that hate them.”
‘Pohamee gave him an interested look. “Hate them?”
“For every religion there are heretics, unbelievers, and infidels. It is a function of life to be this way.” ‘Lygotee answered. “So some or most honor them- alright, what to do with the dissenters?”
‘Pohamee laughed. “Continue your speculation, Leader- I will dispatch runners for the armor and explain the morning’s plan to the rest.”
‘Lygotee nodded his approval, and watched as ‘Pohamee left at the same pace that ‘Lavuree approached. “Is this door one of those we wish sealed and guarded, Leader?”
‘Lygotee turned to look directly at ‘Lavuree before answering. “That question you should ask of ‘Pohamee- this was where he stood before I gave him instruction.”
“I understand…” ‘Lavuree gave the door some study before looking again at his Commander. “I might inquire as to your master plan for this day.”
“I have none.” ‘Lygotee admitted. “I hope to rely upon the witness and thought of these Elites in the hours to follow.”
“What of the others? The Unggoy are not a part of this unrest we are feeling.”
“I have a suspicion they may wish to help resolve it, despite that- the Unggoy have no love for the Jiralhanae. Perhaps in them we may invest an ally.”
“Maybe, Leader, it would be best to leave them out of it.”
“While I see that as an option, ‘Lavuree, I do not doubt if the Brutes decide to cause a fight between us the Kig-Yar will join them.”
“What makes you so sure of this, Commander?” ‘Lavuree asked.
“I was merely voicing a hunch, ‘Lavuree. Do not presume to take my words as fact.” ‘Lygotee advised.
“Yes, Leader.”

  • 03.14.2007 11:30 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

“How fare the Sangheili this morning?”
“I have heard more lines poised in jest than ire, Leader- some joke how long it has been since they had slept on real soil, others at their histories with insects.”
‘Lygotee nodded his approval. “Good, they are amiable. This will stall any disturbances within our own at least for now.”
“There was one I thought we should keep an eye on, though, Leader.” ‘Lavuree mentioned. “A Watchman, called Domavai.”
“Domavai? How interesting… I had not known there were any aboard the Radiant with so little field experience.”
“His honorific is misleading, I might note.” ‘Lavuree mentioned.
“How?” ‘Lygotee looked at his teammate curiously.
“While he has seen no battle, Domavai has been credited with the deaths of not one but two Lekgolo that presumed to fire up at the balcony where a squadron of Sangheili and Unggoy stood. He isn’t unproven.”
“I see.”
“At report, he had no weapon with which to meet them.”
“You wanted to watch this one? Why? He seems perfectly capable to me.”
‘Lavuree cast his Commander a look ‘Lygotee found unreadable. “Leader, he strikes me as one we may not be able to rely upon under great stress. I wanted you to be aware he may not live up to old standards as there are some things that can only be done once. He may be the kind of Sangheili nothing wants to mess with- I do not discount that. But he may very well be the kind of untrainable youth that gets by on meager grades and the actions of his fellows to see him through. He has accomplished something of note, it is true. But I do not see him as a great asset and we do not need to mistake him when it matters.”
“So noted.” ‘Lygotee acknowledged. “Who can we rely upon, then?”
‘Lavuree gave the sifting crowd of Elites a glance. “I do not know their names, Leader. You may need to see to that yourself, as I am not renowned for my character judging ability.”
“Very well.” ‘Lygotee stepped from the door, but that was all he did. An Elite clad in blue armor followed by one in yellow stepped up, blocking his way. ‘Lygotee looked first at the blue-clad, then the yellow. “Supreme Commander.” There was only one aboard the Radiant that wore golden armor. Though he was honestly surprised to see him here; the Supreme Commander didn’t bunk with the rest of the Sangheili in that quarter, as he had his own.
“You have some explaining to do, Enin ‘Lygotee.”
“I would gladly answer any and all questions you have, Supreme Commander.” ‘Lygotee inclined his head in the superior’s direction. Looking back at the Supreme Commander’s escort, he greeted the fellow with a curious look. “Do you require something of me also?”
“Not before the Supreme Commander.” He wisely decided, stepping aside. Now it was clear the one had not been following the other, but merely aiming for the same destination a step behind. ‘Lygotee nodded to him.
“You may consult with ‘Lavuree here if it is not urgent or a private matter. I will hear of it when the Supreme Commander has finished with me.” Turning to the aforementioned, ‘Lygotee added, “Do you require private discussion or does the current location please you?”
The Supreme Commander eyed him for a moment, before deciding. “We will speak alone; come with me.” ‘Lygotee didn’t hesitate when the superior officer turned away, keeping stride a step to his right and rear- following leadership yet not surrendering completely his own authority by being off to the side a little rather than fully behind. ‘Lavuree watched them go, able to tell by the direction they were headed that the Supreme Commander was going to use the foyer to his personal quarters as the mentioned private area.
He looked at the blue-clad Elite they had left behind, then. “What is your name and rank?”
The Elite stiffened to an attentive posture. “Hoku Zimivee, Field Master.”
“And what did you need the Commander’s attention for?”
“There is air in the corridors again. But there have also been reports of four out of five of the quarters erupting in unexplainable explosion upon opening of the doors.”
“He knew this. Had you used the air shafts like he instructed, you would not have needed the doors and not triggered the mines. The loss of atmosphere in the corridors was a ruse intended to maintain order while the majority of you were only half-aware.”
The Elite pondered that. “And to discourage useage of the doors…”
“Exactly. Do you see now what happens when you disobey an order?”
Zimivee frowned, but pensively, not irritatedly. “Yes, Leader. I will relay this to the others.” He looked up to meet ‘Lavuree’s gaze. “Leader?”
“Dismissed.” ‘Lavuree watched him go, noting the nature of his stride. Apparently he didn’t much like the turn of events, but he wasn’t too pleased with his brothers who had dared open their quarters’ doors, either. Satisfied, ‘Lavuree turned his gaze out to the entrance to the corridor that his Commander had disappeared into.
‘Lygotee had handled the situation here smoothly, and he was good at keeping his cool, even in surprise, but in private the Supreme Commander could roast his cool without stirring the other Sangheili and possibly get a reason to depose ‘Lygotee entirely.
Currently all that ‘Lygotee heard was silence, though. He watched as the Station’s highest ranking officer walked a few paces away and turned to face him fully from that distance. ‘Lygotee never let his shoulders relax, never let his gaze wander. He knew he was here for something less pleasant than he might have liked.
“Tell me something, Commander.” He was older than ‘Lygotee, but it only showed as hardened features, not softened or sagging ones. Age could not defeat this Elite- it would take something less subtle.
“Yes, Leader.”
“Why have all my Elites spent the night in the Hydroponics bay? What meaning is this? What are you up to?”
“I only had their well being in mind, Leader. The Brutes laid mines in our quarters, but I was the first to notice. So I made sure none were harmed by evacuating the Sangheili quarter entirely.”
“The Brutes laid mines in your rooms? Why? Brutes prefer to watch when their prey dies- even more prominent is the preference to become lathered in the prey’s blood.”
“I believe they meant to thin our ranks before doing that, Supreme Commander.” ‘Lygotee added. “Brutes love to do the things you mentioned, it is true. But Brutes have no honor, and they do not like to die to feel the power the action gives them.”
“You believe they mean to start a fight? You have lost your mind. I will have you removed of your head for this lunacy.”
‘Lygotee’s features tightened, but he held his pose. “If you wish proof of my claims, Supreme Commander, I can show it to you myself. You are renowned for your wisdom and wit. Do not fail your reputation now when it counts most.”
The Supreme Commander gave him a dissatisfied look, but he obliged by opening a comn channel to another Elite- though he meant to speak first, the noise that came through the device drowned him out and rewrote the expression on his face.
{ Move away from there!! } The words were shouted so loud they were quite audible over the following explosion and subsequent scream of combined surprise and pain. The Supreme Commander cast his glare at ‘Lygotee.
He grimaced. “I had hoped they would not encounter that…”
“What have you done??”
‘Lygotee looked the Supreme Commander in the eye. “Not half what I had hoped. That they have set the mines off is testament to that, Supreme Commander. Humor me this day. The Jiralhanae mean ill for us, and I only meant to prepare our brothers for that.” He spread his hands. “What would you have of me, Leader?”
{Don’t move, this will hurt.}
The Supreme Commander grunted. “We will see if you are right. If you are, you will be rewarded for your foresight and planning in advance.” He said. “If you are wrong, I shall kill you myself.” He cast his gaze over the Elite before him. “Why are you carrying a sword?”
“It belonged to my forefathers. My fifth forefather built it himself.” ‘Lygotee answered. “It was given to me when I entered the Academy, Leader.”
“That explains why it is so odd looking.”
{By the Prophets. Stop! I told you not to move. Your blood will fill all the perforations in the floor.}
The Supreme Commander looked at his comn unit, and switched it off. “I assume you have a method of determining the nature of the placement of these… ‘mines’.”
“I witnessed three Brutes leaving before noticing the mine, Leader. It was only a logical conclusion.”
“Why would the Brutes attack us? We are part of the same Covenant.” He waved loosely. “And the Prophets would never condone such wanton actions aimed at its destruction, considering how much time they put into building it.”
“I spoke with the Prophet of Mercy yesterday. He revealed nothing of anything and denied me the answers to the questions I presented. He thought it reasonable to leave me with a little religious advice as enough.”
The Supreme Commander gave him an unreadable look. “You spoke to him yesterday? At what time?”
“Evening, Leader.”
“He must have left almost directly after seeing you, then. The Prophet of Mercy is already arriving at the Sacred Ring.”
‘Lygotee found he was somehow unsurprised. Of course the Prophet had only been passing through. They didn’t like to be near any real conflict- and even if he hadn’t condoned it, perhaps he sensed it and had moved on as fast as his ship could refuel. That had been the only real reason for the stop to begin with. ‘Lygotee stared at the Supreme Commander without seeing him. There would be bloodshed, but it wouldn’t run pure. Of that he was certain. Creatures of the Covenant from all walks of the galaxy would be there when it began. Perhaps there would be a cease-fire after a time, but it could never happen fast. ‘Lygotee understood that.
Even the Supreme Commander understood that.

  • 03.14.2007 11:34 AM PDT
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Not bad.

  • 03.14.2007 1:38 PM PDT
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Zomg!


Wall O' Text Crits Forum for 125,612 damage!
Forum dies!
Wall O' Text casts intellect debuff on Gh0stly Assassin!
Debuff decreases intellect by 1000!
Wall O' Text Crits Gh0stly Assassin for 999,999 damage!
Gh0stly Assassin dies!

Wall O' Text has defeated Forum and Gh0stly Assassin in a duel!

  • 03.14.2007 1:42 PM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Does that mean you DO or you DON'T like this...?

  • 03.16.2007 8:45 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Chapter Two, part three:
0845 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

In the span of a few short minutes there seemed an eternity had conspired to pass. If he had known that it had meant to try a stunt like that, ‘Lygotee would have tried to compensate. For now, though, he could only improvise and move on.
“Leader, look here.”
‘Lygotee turned, to see an Elite he had never spoken with before addressing him. He dismissed the question of identity to see what was in reference. At the door’s seams there could be seen a stripe of lumpy, oddly- textured metal, following the outline if where the parts of the door would separate when it opened. He gave it an interested look. Many Elites had already gone beyond this point, but it wasn’t evident why this door had been sealed shut. It was a side passage, one of perhaps hundreds that went to the same destination from various points. Still, it was worthy of note considering that destination might be where the Brutes were doing something. He extended a hand, and touched the end of a claw to the weld, but it proved old- it had long ago cooled and gotten hard again. The door was sealed. ‘Lygotee looked at the Elite that had pointed it out.
“Why would they seal this door? To keep us out of there they would be welding doors all day.”
“I don’t know, Commander.” He responded, studying the scene ponderously. “I just noticed this was the fourth door that looked this way.”
‘Lygotee paused. “The fourth, you say?”
The Elite met his gaze, and nodded. “Yes, Leader.”
Bile welled in his throat. A trap. Again. He touched the activation switch on his comn, but it wasn’t tightband. Anyone with an operating comn would hear. “Move with caution, brothers. Something else isn’t right this day. Keep your weapons and your wit primed.”
“The Brutes probably heard that, Leader.” The Elite beside him mentioned.
“I do not care if they did.” ‘Lygotee muttered, giving the sealed door a contemptuous look. “The arthropods won’t know what to make of it anyway. They have doubtless made more preparations than this, and cannot know to what I refer.”
He received a muted nod in reply. The Elite didn’t even react to the reference to the invertebrate name. Hardly anyone would have protested the accusation. Maybe the Jiralhanae would know, maybe they wouldn’t. But everyone had their armor and weapons with them, as well as there being more than seven in proximity. Hundreds all filed to the Resource Chamber, following the same hall. ‘Lygotee met up with more than half the Radiant’s compliment of Sangheili warriors, when he reached the Resource Chamber. Still more were coming in. The room was large enough to accommodate them all, but it hadn’t been meant to service them all at the same time. It was meant to handle multiples of species, though, which was why it was as big as it was.
‘Lygotee paused to survey the shifting mass of Sangheili, and found himself awed for the first time since he left the Academy for the fleets of the Covenant. They were magnificent. Each tried and capable, hardened and sure warriors who had each seen enough and some of them too much. ‘Lygotee tried to pick out the one ‘Pohamee had mentioned with the honorific vai, but after several minutes gave up and surmised he might still be enroute. If he was as green as ‘Pohamee said, he didn’t show it in the way he carried himself if he really was there already.
‘Lygotee spotted his teammates, but before he could consider joining them he spotted the Supreme Commander again, and wondered if the effort would be worth it. The officer had made himself quite clear that anything wrong would be on his head- if it was a heavy load his head would lose its hold on his shoulders.
Shaking it with a sigh, ‘Lygotee made for familiar company anyway. There could be nothing to help what happened, though at this point he was reluctant to address it as an if anymore. The Brutes meant something- and it wasn’t nice.
After he had gained a meal and sat with it to eat, the first of the Unggoy began to arrive, though there were still no sign of any Kig-yar anywhere yet. ‘Lygotee watched as the still bleary-eyed grunt toddled over to the food nipples suited to his kind. The Elite had become accustomed to the varying methods by which the creatures of the Covenant consumed sustenance, and found the actions easy to ignore. Slowly the little creatures accumulated and on occasion got underfoot of the bigger Sangheili. This always caused a commotion, but ‘Lygotee could only smile. The five-foot Unggoy were always the ones under the hooves of the seven-foot Sangheili, though usually this had nothing to say about who was knocked down for the encounter.
Small though they might be, there was no pull quite so strong as that an Unggoy could deliver when his little foot was caught under something heavy. And there were few who could take a sudden removal of their footing with grace.
Several got into arguments, but these were short-lived, as the Sangheili were expecting a fight with the Brutes and understood the Unggoy were not their enemies. The Unggoy, for their part, were not terribly inclined to argue with an Elite, and abandoned the tirade as soon as it became apparent they could.
Still, there wasn’t an Unggoy who didn’t have an opinion, which enabled the argument to start to begin with. ‘Lygotee watched as the milling crowd of his kind began to sift away from the rows of food nipples, unwilling to continue that activity, which though was slightly uncharacteristic of normal Elites, pleased the Unggoy, who could now breakfast in peace- relatively speaking. ‘Pohamee moved in his peripheral, catching his attention, but though the Elite said nothing, he was wearing an amused smile. What piqued ‘Lygotee’s interest was the fact that it wasn’t directed at the events surrounding the Unggoy at all. ‘Pohamee was smiling because of ‘Lygotee.
“What?” ‘Lygotee asked, petulant.
‘Pohamee just shook his head, mandibles snapping in a gesture of dismissal. “Nothing, Leader.”
‘Lygotee knew better, but he knew it wasn’t worth pursuing too, so he let it rest at that. ‘Lavuree, for one, was wearing the same expression. He, though, was wisely trying to conceal it with a clever guise of focusing the look at his food. ‘Lygotee shook his head at his companions, and finished his own meal. When each had finally finished, he spared them each a look. “Ideas?”
“Leader?” ‘Pohamee asked, puzzled.
“I was alerted to the fact that the doors along the corridor to get here are all sealed shut. I doubt each and every one of them can have hull breaches beyond them, so the Brutes must wish to funnel us somewhere. Ideas?” ‘Lygotee elaborated.
“I noticed that. I also noticed they missed two doors which I thought were mistakes until I realized I knew what was beyond each of them- very strategic.” ‘Lavuree mentioned. “I don’t think the Brutes are that good at planning ahead, though, Leader… I have seen them. They don’t know the first thing about welding or brazing. My guess is they got the Kig-yar to do it.”
“Or they got the idea from the Kig-yar to begin with and simply took it to give it back.” ‘Lygotee added. “What can we do to counter that?”
“Standard grenades don’t even mar the laminate on the walls, Leader.” ‘Lavuree mentioned. “We would need to have something bigger and more heavy to open them again. But if we did it would destroy the Brutes’ plans to force us down a certain route- not to mention they forgot to post guard to make sure we don’t pop them open while they aren’t looking…”
‘Lygotee nodded. “Good so far.”
“Brutes, post guards? That requires forethought that involves actual cognitive ability. Brutes that can pilot starcraft are rare. Brutes that can come up with a plan without help don’t exist.” ‘Pohamee stated.
“Perhaps, ‘Pohamee.” ‘Lygotee said. “But don’t underestimate them- though I agree we should consider the Kig-yar more carefully.”
“We are in the company of many brilliant minds, Leader.” ‘Lavuree mentioned. “We should run these things by each of them.”
“Who did you have in mind?” ‘Lygotee asked.
“The one who came to speak to you before the Supreme Commander called you away- Hoku Zimivee… a Field Master. I also spoke with Avin Szęnaqee and his Commander, G’vil ‘Döthumee. They all struck me as merely needing the prompting to devise stratagems with which to subdue the Brutes completely.”
“They have laid mines in our quarters and spilled Sangheili blood.” ‘Pohamee snarled. “They will pay for that. I will not be satisfied with their mere subdual.”
“Are you willing to sacrifice the honor of your entire bloodline for this vengeance?” ‘Lavuree asked, his own tone unforgiving. “We are not going to cause another Uprising and be hung by our entrails for heresy!”
“Peace, brothers, we needn’t fight amongst ourselves.” ‘Lygotee said. “Brutes are what they are and will never be anything but. We on the other hand have potential and capacity to grow beyond pettiness. But ultimately I am forced to agree with ‘Pohamee. The Brutes started this… but we will end it.”
“Forgive my intrusion, brothers…” An Elite said, nearing their table. “But I heard you speak my name and wondered if you meant to call my attention…”
‘Lygotee looked up at them. “Which would you be, then?”
“I am Zimivee, Leader.”
“Ah… I recognize you now. You pointed out the welding.”
“Yes, Leader.”
“We didn’t call for your attention. But now that we have it, you may join us in our deliberations concerning the situation. ‘Lavuree tells me you are recommended as an able thinker to add to the pool of thought as for what we may do and how we might do it in light of recent events.” ‘Lygotee extended an arm to a seat that was as yet untaken.


[Edited on 03.22.2007 10:15 AM PDT]

  • 03.22.2007 10:08 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Obligingly, though unsure if he could provide in this new duty, Zimivee moved to the seat and sat down. “Continue without me, brothers- I have nothing at this time to contribute and can only give insight on what I am already certain has not been hashed to death already. I would also appreciate knowing what ideas have already been discarded.”
“Very well- a wise approach, I might say- so listen carefully.” ‘Lygotee told him.
“What if nothing else happens?” ‘Pohamee queried. “It could be they will wait for us to make the first move. As much as I wish to crush them I am not that easily goaded into foolish action.”
“They have already begun, ‘Pohamee.” ‘Lygotee mentioned. “We have three dead brothers and five injured ones just from this morning.”
“So are we going in?”
“I somehow doubt the wisdom of that option.” ‘Lavuree added, speculatively. “I don’t intend to allow them to whittle us down little by little, but I doubt they can resist open combat for long either. As for us, I am unsure how to proceed, but I am certain that heading into their nest would be bad. We could take it, I suppose, but it seems to me it would be a victory bought at too high a price. Look how much preparations they’ve done where we were watching them. There is simply no knowing what to expect when going into there.”
“I like your point. Well made, ‘Lavuree.” ‘Pohamee mused. “But while it tells us what not to do, it still leaves us no direction on what to do.”
“I confess I had no intention of trying to add anything of that nature to my explanation.” ‘Lavuree said. “Primarily because I have nothing in the department to give.”
“I have a pretty good idea where they’ve holed up most of their numbers.” ‘Lygotee said. “I found a problem with the location almost as soon as it became obvious as where they were. There would be no way short of divine intervention that we could enter without being bottlenecked and wasted in the doorway.”
“Stealth.”
The three who had been speaking at length turned to regard the input.
Zimivee looked at them each in turn. “Stealth. Is it not obvious, brothers? If we cannot meet them in battle on the floor where they stand, then we must seek another route. You gave us the idea when you routed us from bed last night, Leader… I hadn’t known until then that I could fit in those places.”
‘Lygotee and his team exchanged glances. “How would this plan be executed?” ‘Lygotee asked.
“Well, not everyone can be up there. It would be backed up all over the station and the drop in airflow would alert them and render the effort moot. If we did follow their funnel with a few of our number to instill the thought that their poor plan had worked, then they would be distracted enough to allow any covert operations to go off without a hitch.”
“You’re implying something. Elaborate.” ‘Pohamee stated, his eyes narrowing.
“They’re holding all the munitions, you see.” Zimivee clarified. “They have the corridors to the armory and the bays sealed off- they brought a lot of munitions with them so both places will be rich in weaponry and ammunition. We will run shy faster than they will because they do tend to be capable of taking more damage before dying.”
“He’s right.” ‘Lygotee mentioned. “I hadn’t thought of that… you see what wisdom you hide from us, ‘Lavuree?” His accusation was in jest, though it was also genuine, and was accompanied by a light push on ‘Lavuree’s shoulder.
‘Lavuree just clicked his mandibles in mock irritation.
“What do we do as for the ones that want to kill them all without bother for tactical value?” ‘Pohamee asked. “I noticed at least one of them thinks like these Brutes would be easy kills if someone would just grant him a sword.”
“He isn’t getting one.” ‘Lygotee said. “It comes as simple logistics. Some of us are still bitter. I find that understandable yet distasteful as well. I still do not know why this conflict of interests has come to this, though I aim to find out. Preferably, before it ends on a note that is too sour for the High Council to swallow.”
‘Lavuree cast Zimivee a glance, his face clear but his eyes betraying his pensive mood. The gaze made the younger Elite squirm.
“‘Lavuree, ideas?”
‘Lavuree looked over at them all. “For what, though? So far we have little to go on and less to gain. I realize the Jiralhanae will never let us have that kind of grace period, but I still believe it would be better to stay our weapons until we have more intelligence on this rather strange series of events.”
“Well spoken, brother, but it does not help the situation.” ‘Pohamee said. “As you yourself pointed out- the Brutes would never allow us that kind of time.”
“What would you have me do?” Zimivee offered. “I am admittedly not the best of those here this day but I was at the top of my class in stealth and recon… I could infiltrate and look around. One Sangheili will be missed easier than half a dozen or more still.”
‘Lygotee looked at him. “How long do you plan to take at this mission?”
Zimivee shook his head. “I want to give you something reasonable, but I know circumstances aren’t always congruent to plans. I would say then that it may take longer than my camouflage battery will last. To that end I doubt I could find a good enough hiding place to wait for it to recharge, either.”
“So take two.” ‘Lygotee prompted. “They are small and can be clipped to the same area on your belt if you can rearrange the rest of your equipment to allow.”
‘Pohamee nodded his agreement. “I hope you know to be mindful of your scent- the Jiralhanae have noses better than the Unggoy.”
“No they don’t- they merely listen better.” ‘Lavuree stated, flatly. “I have seen an Unggoy stagger at an odor he found pungent and distasteful that the Jiralhanae missed entirely. I believe it was the Jiralhanae the grunt was smelling, at that.” Turning to Zimivee, he added, “Find the one you feel faint to breathe near, and hold position beside it. The others will not be able to smell you.”
“But if I’m feeling faint to breathe near him…” Zimivee protested.
“No one here has said you may not take a breather with you.”




End of Chapter Two. It may take me a little while to get chapters 3 and 4 up, but I already have them written, I just am having trouble with my web connection. Keep your fingers crossed, but don't hold your breath.
~Aardvark

  • 03.22.2007 10:13 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Chapter Three, part one:
1115 hours; Central Command Station Radiant.

“Find it!” The Jiralhanae were worked up about something. Zimivee wondered what it could be, since he was still in the process of coming in. They couldn’t have noticed him that quickly. A pair of Kig-yar stared through his photoreceptive body, their odd way of seeing the things they looked at making them blind to his presence. He wasn’t sure, but he had heard one of his classmates at the Academy call them a nearsighted, facet-visioned creature. The fact that the tone of voice used had not been condescending made him wonder if it wasn’t true or just a perception. Facets in their vision or not, he had never seen a Kig-yar yet that had faceted eyes.
“Find it, you incompetent fools!” A Brute smacked his massive fist into the arm-shield of a nearby Kig-yar, sending the unfortunate creature flying so he actually did hit the wall before slumping onto the floor. Zimivee was grateful he had been born a Sangheili.
He backed into a shaded area between crates of weapons and their accompanying ammunition blocks when the enraged Brute turned to look his direction. When in motion his light-bending cloaking device made the places behind him from any observer look distorted- distorted in the shape of an Elite. But under low-light or no-light environments, the standard cloaking device made the wearer perfectly invisible. Hence Zimivee’s choice in locations for retreat. He stared the Jiralhanae down for a good twenty minutes in perfect silence until the creature finally turned away, stomping off in such a fashion that made Zimivee wonder if he was capable of stealth of any type. Even his footfalls were loud, not to mention he seemed to want to buff his toes on the floor’s textures while he walked. The Sangheili moved from his corner and across the bay floor, which at the moment was littered so heavily with boxes and crates of things he felt he could have gone without the active camouflage through it and still gone unnoticed.
He had yet to see a single Unggoy or Sangheili anywhere, but he paused to consider when he saw what he at first thought were Kig-yar with their arm-shields deactivated. It seemed odd to him that Kig-yar would do a belly-crawl across the floor without prompting, but on closer inspection he found to his dismay they were not in fact Kig-yar at all. Jackals were not insectoid.
It looked like a hive-squadron’s worth of the bug-like Yanime’e, all crowded across the lone empty space on the floor of the bay. If one altered their focus on the sight it would look as if the multitude of up-thrust legs were a fuzzy layer of coarse hair lying on the floor. Zimivee smirked as the next thought crossed his mind, but he moved on to look at more and listen in on more.
Like a rug made from Jiralhanae skin.
He came across another irritated member of the Brute’s gathering, though there were many dozens here and this seemed to be an isolated anger incident. This one had a silver dorsal stripe in his coat of fur, making him look rather odd, but everyone who came in contact with him seemed to respect rather than mock him. Zimivee stuck to his side as he traveled to a certain area in the cargo-clogged chamber, but found the trip was not liable to be a short one when that area proved to be the docking seal of the vessel the extra Jiralhanae had arrived on.
Five days ago Zimivee would never have dreamed of doing something like this, but today it didn’t seem so unnatural. He was led down several corridors before coming to a room that looked like a sub-operations command chamber for the vessel. In there he saw more personnel, but most of these struck him as background noise. The one standing on the control platform was facing the scrolling holographic display, but he didn’t miss when Zimivee’s escort walked up the ramp.
Zimivee spared the two a speculative look, and determined they were related somehow. The one they had gone to see turned halfway to greet them. “Report.”
Zimivee’s escort gave a partial bow. “The Elites remain speculative at best, Father. The despicable creatures have gathered in the Resource Chamber to feed.”
“Good… they have not seen their doom coming for them.”
“Pity we could not spoil their food.” The silver-striped Brute muttered.
His sire turned on him in what Zimivee thought was a rather over-reactive rage. “Do not question me, runt! You will do only as I tell you to! I will not stoop so low as to sicken my prey before I rip them to pieces. This is a moment I want to cherish forever and I will not allow you to ruin it!”
Zimivee’s escort growled in protest, but bowed his head anyway. “As you wish, Father.”
Turning away to see the display again, the elder Brute snarled over his shoulder, “Go and make sure the Elites have not gathered their weapons, Doaedemet, and ensure the sniveling grunts that follow them are still locked in the Bottom Quarter.”
Doaedamet muttered something guttural, but left it at that, leaving the Command Chamber for the decks of the Radiant as bid.
Zimivee frowned, looking past the elder Jiralhanae at the displays. When the hairy beast began to sniff the air curiously, the Sangheili moved away a few paces. The air up on the platform wasn’t moving, so any scent would be pooling at their feet. He hoped if this commanding Brute did smell him he would assume it was a drag of scent from his son’s being on the Radiant.
Relief swept the young Sangheili when the Brute dismissed the smell and looked down at a fellow Brute beyond the semi-translucent holographic displays. Zimivee peered closer at the information displayed therein, wondering what he was looking at. The ship had been tied into the station’s network somehow, he guessed, to be working that way. While this was bad initially, it let Zimivee know at least part of their plans. They weren’t going to light up the Radiant and let her remains smolder in space; they wanted to take her in one piece. The Radiant was a rather insignificant outpost, non-tactically positioned and not within decent range of relatively high-demand resources. It had only one redeeming quality, really- since it was built the reason for it’s placement had moved elsewhere- a combat front- but the warriors stationed there did tend to come away with a little better understanding of the ways they were meant to follow.
Reading off the data on the grids, Zimivee decided to take a small risk. He took a data crystal he had been using to keep little notes of things he found either amusing or interesting on, and plugged it into the terminal. Once he had established a connection window, he began downloading data. It wouldn’t hold much- he would need to be very picky. He carefully looked over the data he was swiping, edited some of the things he saw were inconsequential, and began seeking more. There had to be records of the plans they had for the Elites of the Radiant somewhere, here…
A noise turned his head, and he saw too late the elder Brute moving his direction. He had noticed there was unusual activity in the holographic displays there, and would want to stand verily with his nose in them when he came to a stop. Out of options, Zimivee sank to the floor and slipped over the edge of the raised deck to hang rather precariously by his fingers off the edge. There were two lowered slots in the floor opposite one another on the sides of the raised platform where the holographic displays were, and this made dropping from the perch less of an option than he would like.
A more experienced Elite could have done it, but Zimivee wasn’t good enough for that- he couldn’t figure out how one could drop several meters and not make a sound. That and he always somehow lost his upright position when he let go of any footing or holding he had to make a drop. Usually he landed either badly on a hip or noisily on his knees. Zimivee could only bemoan his predicament. If the Brute found his crystal, he would know something was up. And there really was little to keep that from happening.
Zimivee felt his hoof touch on something that he felt was solid, so to alleviate the pressure on his fingers he rested that hoof on it. Looking down he nearly panicked when he saw there was nothing there.
No one had told him he would be accompanied! Praying they wouldn’t make things worse by assuming he was on to what they were supposed to be doing and assume he would help, Zimivee looked up and pulled mightily to rest an elbow on the deck at the feet of the commanding Brute. Briefly he wondered what would happen if he were to kill this one, right there right now, but dismissed it- his son would only be too happy to take over. Any chaos they might hope to achieve would never happen, and from the way the two had spoken, Zimivee knew letting the son run things would make them worse.
His foothold lifted him slightly, so as soon as the Brute turned away at the beckon of a subordinate, Zimivee was onto the platform and back at the crystal. As soon as he saw it was filled to capacity, he yanked it without regard to the program the action would undoubtedly screw up- there was a certain method by which data-holding devices were meant to be integrated and removed, but only if one deemed the host computer of value.
Taking his prize, Zimivee was content to flee. He had gained enough- not to mention he had just spiked his system so high on adrenalin he just knew he was nolonger of use under the circumstances. Stealth could not be easily maintained when one was shaking from a chemical high. He was partway to the exit at the dock when his active camouflage suddenly failed, the battery depleted and spent. He felt lucky and knew someone was smiling on him when there proved no Brutes or Kig-yar around to spy the event.

  • 04.01.2007 2:42 PM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Quickly he activated the second one he had brought along, and though he knew he would have some left over when he was safely away, he found himself hoping he wouldn’t have to do that again.
For most of the way he found himself at a swift jog or an all-out run, but it didn’t matter. Panic truly gripped him when he arrived at the doors to see them closing- and already they were too close for him to slip through, even if he had made it to them and they had paused before continuing.
Determined not to fail, Zimivee put on a new burst of speed, crystal in hand. He reached an optimal distance when the hole was no bigger than his fist, and extended his arm in the fashion his father had taught him; if there was nothing else he was good at, Zimivee knew he could always redeem himself with that he had never failed to hit a target he threw something at. The crystal sailed cleanly through the hole, and the doors sealed behind it before it could land. Zimivee dropped his running momentum to a knee, to stop himself before he could slam into the doors, and though he did manage that, he still wound up on his side in a sprawl before he stopped… just three inches shy.
Zimivee let himself lie where he had fallen, panting hard and fully out of breath. He knew he was still hyper when he realized company was coming before he even saw it. Determination drug his carcass from the floor and moved him to a side passage, despite his burning muscles and weary senses. How he planned to survive the next several hours would be purely up to his luck and ingenuity.
Wary, jumpy and fidgeting, Zimivee watched the Brute walk up to the sealed doors and thump them once with a fist. He sniffed the air and grunted, either disinterested or satisfied. He turned and began to walk away, back the way he had come, but Zimivee couldn’t hear a sound past the thunder of his own heart pounding in his ears. It was racing, even after several minutes of holding a stationary position, and he got the feeling it was liable to continue like that for at the very least a couple of hours until he had determined his surroundings were not evidence of certain death; he knew logically there were several methods by which he could outlast each and every Brute on the ship- but his problem remained as he was currently unaware of any of the said methods.
At first it seemed a genuinely hopeless situation. He felt cowardly for hiding from them, but he knew better than to suppose getting himself killed for the sake of honor would please his superiors much. Not to mention he would be dead…
Zimivee’s gaze traced the Brute all the length down the corridor until it was out of sight around a corner. When it was gone from view, he thought to move from his place for somewhere better until he realized there was another of the Jiralhanae coming. This one wasn’t content to just thump the doors, though, and leave- the Brute took one look at the barrier and turned his hairy back to it, in favor of watching the hallway ahead of him. A moment of speculation later, Zimivee witnessed him touching his communications unit and raising it to his lips.
“No sign of the intruder. But I can smell him. He is nearby.”
Zimivee wanted to panic, unsure what to do about that at first, but the feeling passed quickly enough when he came almost immediately upon an idea. Plucking his plasma rifle from his belt, he took the power node from the underside and restored the gun to its’ place. Though rendered useless for now he knew he could always acquire a new battery from the ship’s armory.
With the node in hand, Zimivee stepped from his hiding place feeling the burn in his muscles from the adrenalin with every move. He strode quietly right up behind the Brute without even warranting a twitch from the beast, but this was ultimately a slight detriment to progress. Zimivee extended his empty hand and poked the Jiralhanae in the small of his back, unwilling to make himself touch the filthy beast any further than that.
He got the desired reaction; the Brute turned, curious what had just poked him, and right on queue he opened his big toothy mouth to bellow at the sight of the young Sangheili warrior revealed before him. Without pause Zimivee thrust his other hand upward, slamming the node down the Brute’s throat and leaving him voiceless and gagging on the foreign object that had been so unceremoniously introduced to his anatomy. Zimivee ducked to the side, more to avoid a weak attempt at grabbing him from the Jiralhanae than to escape the area, rather curious to see what the beast would do to his situation. Even before Zimivee could gain a pace’s distance the Brute managed to void the node from his throat, but directly after he clamped his powerful jaws on it and it burst inside his mouth. Pressurized plasma exploded out from the ruptured node, verily vaporizing the Brute’s head in a single heartbeat. He never got to yell or even react to the pain to his gums that biting it must have caused, before it was over. Zimivee watched with bemused wonder as the Jiralhanae’s headless body tipped over and sank to the floor, the stump on its shoulders sizzling even as much of the loosed plasma began to industriously eat a hole in the floor plating. It wouldn’t go that far, but it just might gain the next deck down before it either evaporated or cooled off.
“Sometimes I wonder at the Prophet’s wisdom at inducting these creatures…” Zimivee muttered, before stepping lightly over the body and making his way down the corridor as he reactivated his cloaking engine. He was still shaking, and still a little nervous about what he could survive and how he would pull it off, but he now knew two things; first he had known already, being that he wasn’t the only Sangheili aboard. He just had to find the other and stick to him. But more importantly, secondly, he now knew he at least was capable of maybe pulling this off, and getting out alive.
Perhaps, after all, there was honor, in hiding when one was out numbered.



Part one of chapter three. I dont have enough time to post more- I have a slow connection and other obligations beckon. Sure would appreciate some feedback in the meantime, though...
~Aardvark

  • 04.01.2007 2:45 PM PDT
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didn't read a word, way to long

  • 04.01.2007 3:37 PM PDT
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lol way too long

  • 04.01.2007 3:43 PM PDT

If you're happy and you know it, you don't need a song.

Just get it published as a book so it doesnt take up too much space

  • 04.01.2007 9:25 PM PDT
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Do it on Fanfiction.net. You'll get better responses there, plus it's meant for this, hence the name.

  • 04.01.2007 9:28 PM PDT
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Dang, it's long.
I didn't think I'd like it.
But I'm still awake solely because I felt like I wanted to keep reading it.

So it gets my seal of approval. Write more!

  • 04.02.2007 1:11 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Thanks for the opinions... I had no idea no one here likes a long story. This isnt all of it, either... I actually have difficulty writing short stories because finding something worth writing about that doesnt take on a life of its own and finding closure for it quickly is hard. CAVX I cant believe you stayed up till the wee hours just reading my fanfic! Wow, gosh... that means something to me.
About FF.net... I actually have difficulty getting around in that site, sometimes my connection refuses to display a page so... I havent even found where Soulguard stays in that place. What a mess.
~Aardvark

Edit; I found it! I'll post it as soon as I get time, I think I've figured out the mess and as it turns out there is a method to the madness there after all. Sidenote; here is some more of the story for this thread.

[Edited on 04.07.2007 9:53 AM PDT]

  • 04.03.2007 5:44 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Chapter Three, part two:
2237 hours; Capital Ship Rampant Generosity

A glance at the power meter on his cloaking devices told him he couldn’t be playing ghost forever. Even as they each in turn overheated and were allowed to cool for the next time around, their power nodes couldn’t last much longer. Zimivee heaved a sigh. He had caused as much trouble here as he dared, but he was worn and weary, and wishing he could step back from it all for a decent piece of rest. Failure or capture was not nor had ever been on the options list, however, although he hadn’t seen many of the Jiralhanae too eager to take him alive.

Eleven hours ago he might have been on the Radiant, standing beside his brothers-at-arms, fighting the Brutes the right way, the honorable way… eleven hours had passed since he had seen another Sangheili. It didn’t seem quite right that he be stuck on the Brute- infested ship alone when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he wasn’t the only Elite aboard. Despite all his searching and investigating, though, he had thoroughly lost his companion the instant he’d left the fellow on the Command Deck before the ship was disengaged from the Radiant. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d done that- his actions had screwed up the navigations, which meant they were simultaneously not going to leave or aim any weapons at the station. And he knew if he hadn’t been as quick as he had been, he might not have gotten his data crystal out that door before it was sealed shut and out of his control. Stolen data trapped within the confines of the place from which it was taken never did anyone any good, ever.

Zimivee strode silently down the corridor, leaving the confines of the engine room behind, and in his wake, another dead Brute. He had always selected his targets by circumstances. Alone was a must- he didn’t need more attention than he could handle, although he had been lucky enough to dispatch a pair of the hairy behemoths when the second turned up unexpectedly during the attack on the first. He had no wont to try that again, however, being as he had taken a nasty blow that caused his current gait to limp somewhat. With an enormous bruise down one side and three broken ribs, Zimivee needed to be more careful. He had no backup, no retreat, no plan B. If he failed to complete even one of his strikes, there would be nothing to stop the Jiralhanae from taking their frustrations out on his unsuspecting brethren.

For a moment, the Sangheili considered using the ship’s systems to track down his only Elite companion, but he dismissed it, as he knew if he did that then the Brutes would not only also know where the fellow was, they would be able to keep track of him for the duration of his stay aboard.

Zimivee didn’t want that. At the first corner he turned, a Kig-yar met him at the bend, and his quick side-step to avoid being run into by the smaller creature alerted the avian-like being to his presence- the number one way to defeat one’s cloaking was swift movement. His body had been clearly outlined, and now he would need to kill the spooked Jackal before it could call for help. Zimivee reached out and snatched the unfortunate by the back of its skinny head and yanked back and down in a single swift motion. This wouldn’t hurt the creature much but it was a surefire way to silence it swiftly. The only sound that escaped the Kig-yar was a muted gurgle as its feet flew out from under it, but Zimivee didn’t take his time. He tore the creature’s head back the way he’d brought it and jerked it upwards even as it clawed at his arm, but once he closed his other hand around its throat it balled up to use its feet as well. The claws on those toes could lacerate even armored places, and the Kig-yar knew this; it also knew it had less than fifteen seconds to live once its throat was compromised and was taking no chances with such a risk.

Zimivee wrenched his grip in two separate directions, hoping to snap the Jackal’s spindly neck, but the bones involved proved hardier than he had expected, and all he got for his effort was a slew of torn muscles in the Kig-yar’s neck. It was trying to scream, but as long as he kept his hand clamped on its windpipe no such action could take place. Finally, frustrated and tired of having to avoid the claws the creature owned, Zimivee pushed the thing to the floor and placed a knee between its shoulders. As such, he pulled the head back and forced it to fold over so it touched the spine it was attached to… and still the Kig-yar continued to fight him. There was no distinctive sound of any bones breaking… how in the world could such a fragile creature be so tough?! They dropped like flies hardly without prompting in battle, their arm-shields the only thing allowing them to last as long as they did, yet here he was trying to kill one deliberately and it was likened to made of rubber! Whatever he threw at it, it just bounced right back.

Zimivee let go of its throat in favor of clamping that hand on its muzzle, using the elongated shape of its own skull as a lever to ease the turning action he implemented. Around the Kig-yar’s head came, and it shot him a nasty, withering glare, but then it turned more and he was out of its sight once more. He marveled at the elasticity of the creature when the first bone came out of joint only at the three quarter mark of the second turn. But the twist had completely collapsed every vessel- beit for air or blood or whatnot- in its throat utterly. After the second snap noise, Zimivee left the body where it lay, plucking the arm-shield from its wrist and moving on at a swift trot.

For once, maybe, something might go according to plan, but that would have to wait until he had a plan. Zimivee attached the arm-shield to his belt, and spared his cloaking device a look. Though it was transparent like himself, he could still just make out the meter on the top of the device to tell what it had left. The heat coming off the thing was becoming enough that he could feel it on his skin through his armor, but it would give him a couple more minutes before it auto-shut off. A couple of minutes was enough to clear the site of his last encounter, and he used them well, waiting until the very last minute to activate his other device as the operating one gave out.

Zimivee looked around a corner he came upon, then behind him, before continuing past, wishing he could figure out where his Sangheili companion was hiding. There was a possibility the other fellow thought himself alone, with the notion that Zimivee had made it successfully off the ship, but Zimivee had trod nearly every inch of every deck looking for him- so unless he was somehow avoiding his search by moving through the opposite end of the vessel at all times, there was no way he could have missed Zimivee’s presence.

Holding one arm to his side and monitoring all angles he came upon as he came upon them, Zimivee began to look for a place to sit. There would be few of those, if any, but he wasn’t immortal and he needed some sort of compensation for all the exertion he’d been through. Looking left down a hall he passed as he passed it, the young Sangheili noted something that gave his journey pause. A door at the other end had guards posted at it, two Brutes at the door itself and a pair of Kig-yar a few paces from it. Whatever was beyond was under no circumstances going to be let out, at least not willingly on the part of the crew. Zimivee wondered what it could be, but he was disinclined to investigate right away. A guard detail like that would warrant later examination, however.

Marking the place in his mind, Hoku Zimivee resumed his walk. Cautiously he passed a trio of heavily armed Jiralhanae, but ignored them once the risk of physical contact was past; they might smell him they might not, but if he ran from them they would most definitely see him. He noted one turning to glance over his massive shoulder at the retreating Elite, but Zimivee didn’t react; there was no reason to, and all the reasons in the world not to.

Zimivee wondered if by his failure to vacate the ship in time to avoid being trapped aboard it could be considered a failure of mission and assignment. The Sangheili back at the Resource Chamber had been counting on him for that data, and the best he could do was fling it onto the decks at their feet? He felt pathetic. He held no wish for death, but he felt he would find it if it didn’t find him soon enough. There simply was no way he cold hold out all alone here trying to hide from a whole ship full of the enemy. Not long enough to get back to the Radiant, anyway. He knew he didn’t have the skills necessary, nor the experience to at least give him an edge to work with.

He’d seen some battle, but strictly speaking, Zimivee was still green. Slowly he made his way farther down the hall, pausing at the gravity lift to check for occupants before stepping in. Thankfully, the device didn’t herald each user with a light or noise, though the push of energies contacting a foreign body where it generated the resistance that made the device work did have a muted hum.

So far, the only Brute to be close enough to hear it hadn’t noticed, or if it had, the stupid beast had made no reaction to it. This time, the room at the other end of the lift was empty, the ship’s crew still believing they were alone and safe aboard their vessel, detached from the Radiant as it was. To their current knowledge, there were no Sangheili on board, but they were still puzzled by the recent drop in crew number, as they seemed psychic to the knowledge that the killing had not been a product of infighting. They would find Zimivee eventually, but for the moment he was still free and anonymous. As long as he had a say, he was going to stay that way.



  • 04.07.2007 9:59 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

Zimivee walked to the door, but hesitated shy of the sensor range that would automatically open it for him to pass if it wasn’t locked. He looked at the frame, then at the door itself, speculatively. The sensors relied on the person or persons seeking passage being hot-blooded or in possession of something that generated heat, as a number of other methods of detection for a door had failed miserably; weight hadn’t worked for that the Lekgolo weighed too much and almost always damaged the pressure point in the floor, and the Unggoy just didn’t weigh enough. Motion sensors kept the doors opening and closing for every tremble that ran through the ship, as any lesser sensitivity would render the passing crew in ridiculous dancing and waving trying to make the dumb doors open.

It had eventually dawned on the engineers that a heat-sensor would work, as regardless of whether the body was cold or hot blooded, the soldiers of the Covenant used plasma weaponry, and onboard a combat vessel, the odds of a passers by being armed were high. Plasma simply didn’t do diddly unless it was roaring hot; and though it was well contained within the nodes it was kept in when not exploding from a grenade or bolting out from a rifle or pistol, it was still detectible as a hot spot to a well-tuned detector. Zimivee stared hard at the door, struck by a realization.

How hard could it be, to do a heat-sweep of the ship, discover him, maybe his companion too? He wouldn’t be able to pass the doors easily without having an unwitting escort, but if he discarded his things, to revert to his cold-blooded nature, Zimivee would be missed.

Another problem presented itself; anywhere he put the stash would be found eventually, by someone, and at that point the more sophisticated sweep of sensory technology would be performed. And even were he naked he would not be missed by that. Zimivee shook his head. Until things got bad, he would need to persist as is; the fewer clues he left the Jiralhanae, the better. He needed time on his side- the more time he had, the more of them he could safely eliminate, and each kill increased his chances of coming out of this episode alive. Cautiously, he stepped close to the door. It gave a faint hiss, and slid open. Zimivee put one hoof forward, and stopped. Four Brutes all stood assembled in the hall, too far to be detected by the door, each and all staring either at or through him.

Hoping and praying it was the latter, Zimivee slowly shifted his weight to that hoof and prepared to move through. With four of them all watching him directly, the odds of his camouflage working to effect were slim indeed unless they all had cataracts. Adrenalin dumped into his system as panic set in in the split second the lead Brute opened his big mouth and bellowed. He’d seen the Sangheili, or his outline at least, and yanked his weapon from his bandolier. Zimivee disregarded his camouflage’s effective parameters and darted to the side to avoid a volley of plasma fire from the rifle in the brute’s hand. Aware he didn’t have near the munitions necessary to take them all down, and knowing he would need to, Zimivee moved the other direction, back past the Brute in the front while simultaneously coming out into the hall.

Evidently possessed of either poor sight or confused by his action, the lead Jiralhanae fired the next few shots after Zimivee’s trail, and not directly at Zimivee. The Elite switched back upon the Brute, and slammed a balled fist into the wrist of the hand holding the plasma rifle. The weapon shot out of the Brute’s grasp, smacked into the wall, and clattered to the floor. Zimivee turned his upper body and slammed the next hit into the end of the Brute’s muzzle, where it was soft cartilage and the impact was liable to hurt more. It worked- Zimivee felt and heard the nose bones crack under his knuckles, and blood spurted from a nostril before the Brute recoiled, howling, both hands on the injury. With that one preoccupied, Zimivee could then take on his brethren without needing to worry about him for a good minute, maybe more.

When the second Brute bolted forward, seeking an enemy, Zimivee pivoted on a hip and slammed a hoof into his belly, staggering him back and causing him to rethink that idea. Zimivee wondered briefly what he was doing; there was no Sangheili alive that could take on a Jiralhanae and win in hand-to-hand combat, let alone more than one. Yet here he was, hitting them with his fists and hooves, maybe an elbow here or a knee there, and all for the sake of his current loadout of weaponry being ill-suited to the task of neutralizing them; a grenade or two would hurt them, but it would also likely kill Zimivee. And shooting them at close range with a plasma rifle was ridiculous- it would just tell them right where he was so they could wring his little neck. Plasma fire took nearly two minutes to burn through Brute hair, mostly because it was matted so thick and pasted down with so heavily with skin oil and whatever they had gotten near enough to collect in their hair- such as dirt and other detritus. Their own lack of hygiene was enough armor to render everything Zimivee had on hand moot. He had to hit them, else he was as liable to do detrimental damage to his own person while he was at it. He had to try- letting them go and tell the others was even more out of the question.

Zimivee would need to kill them all with his bare hands- and by the Rings but the Gods only knew how he was going to pull that off…


Chapter Three, part three:
2237 hours; Command Station Radiant

Thin ‘Pohamee walked back the way he’d come. Fifteen, sixteen, counting. He’d been pacing the length for twenty minutes, but he wasn’t counting the time. The stretch was forty-one paces long, but he seemed to cover it within seconds- and he was just walking. There was no such thing as time for ‘Pohamee, lost more or less in his own thoughts. He knew if anything happened that would require his attention, someone would alert him, and it would be taken care of in due time.

“Don’t wear a hole in the floor, ‘Pohamee.”

‘Pohamee looked up, pausing. “It helps me think.”

“Muscle memory would take care of that walk.” ‘Lavuree scoffed. “You aren’t paying any attention to the objects in passing, and you aren’t listening to the sound of your hooves on the floor, so I say again. Don’t wear a hole.”

‘Pohamee frowned, but he knew ‘Lavuree was right. The two Elites had been waiting for the second dispatch of cloaked warriors to return for an hour. ‘Lygotee had departed with a number of other high-ranking individuals to speak with the Supreme Commander. These were not back yet either, and while ‘Lavuree was content to rest his legs in a reclined position seated at a table, ‘Pohamee had been trying to wear his off.

“Why don’t you just sit down and be patient?”

“Patience has never been an asset to me, ‘Lavuree. You above all should understand that. I am quick or I am dead.”

“But your incessant pacing will not save any lives, ‘Pohamee.” ‘Lavuree mentioned. “You might do well to conserve what energy you own for lasting against whatever siege the Jiralhanae plan to enact against us.”

‘Pohamee turned to see his teammate, facing him fully. “Siege, ‘Lavuree? What do you know that we do not? We have sent numerous spies into that fold and gotten nothing out of it- not even the spies come back!”

‘Lavuree gave him a languid smile. “That is something, at least- we know not to use the tactic anymore.”

‘Pohamee growled with frustration, and turned away. “You cannot possibly be this calm under these circumstances.” Looking past his shoulder at the other Elite, ‘Pohamee asked, “What are you hiding? What do you know that we do not? You have done this to us before- by some method, I know not what, you find out what we need to know and never spare a moment of mystery to it’s pursuit. Do not leave us guessing, brother, this is not the time for games.”

‘Lavuree pulled his legs up and sat forward. “You think I’m hiding something, do you? I have exactly two ideas what you might be thinking- which is it?”

‘Pohamee studied his teammate for a moment. “I must know the choices before I can choose, ‘Lavuree.”

“One, that I have a network, some secret contacts somewhere, and they feed me information, and two, that I have contacts within the Jiralhanae ranks and either they are or I am a traitor to our respective races.”

‘Pohamee threw back his head and laughed. “Ludicrous! You don’t even have friends in the non-secret sector of this Covenant. You always hide behind myself and our Leader for companionship. And as for any treason that might surround you… I cannot say for certain, you might surprise me, but I am apt to deny such an accusation of you.”

‘Lavuree smiled mildly. “How comforting, to know you trust me so well.”

‘Pohamee issued a devious grin. “I trust whom I choose to when I choose to.”

“It has ever been a most annoying quality, ‘Pohamee, but it suits you.” ‘Lavuree stated, resting an elbow on the tabletop and his head on that fist.

‘Pohamee merely responded with a slight inclination of his head, before resuming his pacing. ‘Lavuree frowned, but didn’t say anything, as his first complaint had gotten no result and a second wasn’t liable to, either. He watched as ‘Pohamee paced away, then turned and came back, but instead of turning and going again, the Elite stopped, and faced ‘Lavuree a second time.

“Do you have contacts?”

‘Lavuree raised his head. “Why?”

‘Pohamee shrugged. “I wondered.”

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“Not especially…” ‘Lavuree replied. “But I do have a knack for discovery of the concealed.” He tilted his head. “They’re back.”

‘Pohamee was about to ask who was back when the door to the Resource Chamber opened and three Elites came through, loosening and discarding equipment onto the first set of tables they came to. Seeing none of the usual brass were available, they began to search out the next set down for report. Spotting ‘Lygotee’s team set apart from the rest of the mass of Sangheili, the Elite in charge of the reconnaissance mission moved in their direction.

‘Pohamee turned to see them, as ‘Lavuree rose from his seat to stand beside him. Once the gap was closed, the newly returned Elite, a specialist named Avin Szęnaqee, drew up and held out a hand. In it was held a data crystal that looked like it had been chewed. “We discovered this on the deck by the dock doors where the Jiralhanae vessel had been docked.” He said. “It belonged to Zimivee.”

‘Pohamee and ‘Lavuree exchanged glances. The game was up- if not completely, then mostly. The young Elite was very likely dead, found and killed by the very creatures he had been spying upon. And though he had volunteered, it still weighed heavily on them as it had been they who gave the go-ahead. Taking the crystal, ‘Pohamee plugged it into a terminal, and began to review the data stored therein. His mandibles opened in surprise. “That’s not possible!” He exclaimed.

“What is it, ‘Pohamee?” ‘Lavuree asked, stepping up beside him to see.

“Zimivee must have downloaded this from the main computer on the Brute’s vessel. But according to this, there is no High Council! The entire compliment was destroyed by the Brutes.”

“What?” ‘Lavuree pressed to see for himself. “How can that be possible? What else does it say?”

“Nothing… it looks like it was edited to be a smaller file. This crystal is filled to maximum capacity.” ‘Pohamee sighed. “By the looks of these other files, whomever did the download had a very picky attitude of which bits were important and what could be left out.”

“The Commanders will need to know.” ‘Lavuree said.

“We will tell them when they deem it proper to show themselves again, brother- do not rush yourself.” ‘Pohamee replied, tartly. “I am more interested actually in the last hour of the youth who got this for us.”

“We know nothing. The dock was sealed when we arrived, the crystal lying motionless where we found it.” Szęnaqee put in. “We think it was likely lying there awhile before our arrival, due to that it had been run over once already.”

‘Pohamee shook his head, and looked at ‘Lavuree. “We will need to spare time to find what remains of him later- for now there are too many Brutes about.”

Szęnaqee nodded his agreement. “What else does it contain?”

“Information, little bits, about movements of the Covenant, the reports of the current circumstances surrounding the Human war, and the state of progress on the Great Journey.” ‘Pohamee said, reading off each as he came to them. “Plans for Brute movements, troop deployment and positions… it says the Arbiter was supposedly dead at one date and then he turned up alive again nearly a day and a half later.”

“Interesting.” ‘Lavuree muttered. “It would seem the Covenant has left us behind.”

“Behind indeed. This station is to become a staging area for Jiralhanae troops and ships, and we are in the way. They have full authorization to kill us all.”

Szęnaqee snarled something neither ‘Lavuree nor ‘Pohamee understood, but he gained both of their attentions for it. “They have invited disaster, and disaster was never one to refuse an invitation.” He told them. “They murdered our Leaders… and then they came here and murdered some of our very own. Shall they not pay for the blood they have spilled?”

“Would you give more of it to them in a blind frenzy of rage and pain? We mustn’t grant them such a circumstance; we will show them we cannot be goaded and obliterated with such ease.” ‘Pohamee replied. “They shall pay, each and every one of them, for this aberration they have committed. Gather the others, and waken the Unggoy. They will prove useful.”

Szęnaqee regarded the Elite for a moment, deciding whether to obey the command or not, as the between the two of them, neither held more rank than the other. He finally decided it was a fair enough course of action, and departed to perform as requested despite the chain of command being somewhat rather out of order at current. There was nary a one that felt charging blindly at the Brutes- like a Brute would- was a good idea. After he was gone, ‘Lavuree turned to ‘Pohamee.

“It has started, brother.” He said, quietly. “It has started without us.”

‘Pohamee gave his teammate a curious look. “What has started, ‘Lavuree?”

He shook his head. “Go and rouse the Leaders from their meetings. If we are not moving within the next hour we should lose much ground that we will need in order to hold the Jiralhanae back.”

‘Pohamee sighed. “There you go again, and you haven’t said why this is so and how you know.”

‘Lavuree tipped his head. “Are you willing to gamble that I am wrong?”

“No, not this hour. Our brothers are eager for Jiralhanae blood- let them have it at last. Let them deliver these foul beasts to the Gods where they shall know justice.” He turned from the terminal and made his way to the chamber the officers were using for discussion. ‘Lavuree was not far behind, pausing only to extract the data crystal before following with it in hand.

Chapter Four, part one:
2405 hours; Command Station Radiant

Everything drew to a halt, like a vid slowly freezing due to program error. ‘Lygotee’s breath caught in his throat, and held there for several heartbeats until the moment was passed, and he allowed himself to exhale quietly. Seven Brutes paced away down the hall, sometimes grouching about the thick scent of Sangheili in the corridor; not one had noticed it was full of them. When at last the last one was around the corner and through the last door in sight of the entrance to the docking bay, the Elites sealed the door behind them. ‘Lygotee listened to the melody of Jiralhanae cries of alarm, surprise and pain combined with the stinging metallic notes the energy swords made when sent through flesh. Presently the smell of cooked hair wafted down the hall to his position.

A great number of them had gathered in the corridors outside the bay, and for every batch of patrols sent out a group of Sangheili would slip in- ‘Lygotee was next. He and nine others making a total of ten Elites all passed the door into the cavernous bay past the elbows of the next batch of Brutes, all of fifteen minutes later.

Rendered transparent by the technology on his belt, it was difficult to focus, but he had had enough experience with it to understand what each blur represented; and though all those he dared linger near to were in the same state, he found them easy enough to spot with his experienced eye. A typical Jiralhanae was not apt to look for the distortions unless tipped off there was an Elite somewhere in his proximity that he knew was cloaked. Until the actual combat began, the dumb beats would stay more or less clueless, or at least until some unfortunate was either sniffed out or stepped on by accident.

So far, in the past hour, nothing had gone amiss. ‘Lygotee moved to a good position where he knew he could linger for a good amount of time uncloaked, and deactivated his device so it could get a head start on cooling off. After blinking the fuzz out of his vision, the Commander proceeded to begin the noting and categorization of all the details of the room he was in. He couldn’t see all the places, but he had a good estimation of where a lot of the crates were. There were sentries placed at the entrances and exits of both the detached docks and the corridors, and lookouts on each consecutive level of decking open to the bay. Stars could be seen through the force-shield sealed entrance for maintenance bots and small vessels, and the light by the door to the interstellar ship docking ring glowed prominently red.

‘Lygotee toggled his comn unit, once, three times and once again, and as he gained each acknowledging reply in like kind, he was privy to the amusing spectacle of a nearby Brute granting his comn unit a series of looks while trying to determine why it was clicking- the method of communications between the Elites was for just that reason… any Jiralhanae would be smart enough to recognize voiced commands and replies, and seek ruin upon the plans come to by the Sangheili. But ‘Lygotee had not known what idiocy would yield such comical reactions to a simple sequenced series of clicks brought on by opening and closing the communications channel in use.

After it was quiet again, the Brute growled at the device, and flung it onto the top of a nearby crate as an act of dismissal and mild frustration. Evidently it had tired of malfunctioning equipment a while ago. ‘Lygotee began to wonder what had brought that on, though, as he had no knowledge of anything inside the Jiralhanae fort going wrong.

Concerned something might be very wrong, he toggled his comn again, earning a warning growl from the Brute. A moment later, ‘Lavuree’s response came through, and the agitated Brute reached up and smashed the unit it had just discarded to ease its irritation. ‘Lygotee was not amused. Jiralhanae weren’t usually that easily angered to the point of destructiveness against their own equipment- other members of the Covenant, sometimes their own clan members, but not inanimate objects.

  • 04.07.2007 10:14 AM PDT

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