- soulguard
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- Exalted Mythic Member
Notes: Well, here we go. As promised. This is a shorter level, but still meaty with fun. I wanted to make one more edit check, but i'll do that for the FF.net post, so feel free to post any oddities you may encounter. But beyond that, enjoy...
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Level 9: Return of Sangheili Honor
Abu Simbel Airfield, Egypt
November 2, 2552
A plume of superheated dust and matter, vaulted into the air as a bubble of over pressurized air swept across the region. In its wake was an ever expanding avalanche of rocks and dust. Anything in its path would be instantly vaporized, or crushed under the immense wave of debris. A Fury Tactical Nuke, though clean of radiation, was still a devastating weapon.
The earth rumbled as the ever expanding pressure rolled outward from the detonation point. Instantly the Flood winked out of existence, no longer a threat to humanity or the Brute occupants. The Brute ship rocked sideways as the powerful explosion washed over its shields, but those same shields also protected it, saving the thousands of Brute forces on board.
Yet on the ground, speeding toward the north, were seven ghosts and one specter. Racing ahead of the wave of destruction and attempting to avoid death. The weapon was released before they had expected, but none the less they retreated from the area with only a hairs breath of a chance to survive.
Palab’s ghost quickly took the lead, his smaller frame provided a lighter weight on the ghost’s engines and naturally made him faster then the Elites at his side. He looked into his rear, and watched as the sky flashed red, then orange and pink, before returning to what was considered a normal hue of yellow and blue. The plume of smoke was a clear sign that this was a bad place to be, and he quickly faced forward to make sure his path was clear.
Simyaldee’s Specter trailed the pack. It was slower then the ghosts, but still putting up a decent amount of speed. At the gun turret stood the massive Elite, Gridolee. He hung for dear life, knowing that behind him was a storm of heat and debris. Together their chances of escaping were slim, and even though they had a two minute head start before the explosion occurred, neither of the Mirratord Warriors was sure if it was enough. The human weapon had a reputation of being effective.
Simyaldee turned on his team channel. “No matter what happens brothers, do not stop!” His voice echoed into the ears of all the Elites. The rumble of rocks and wind crept louder into Simyaldee’s ear. He looked back, and showed no concern as a boulder the size of a wraith rolled behind him and was gaining at a faster pace, and it was consumed in a cloud of dust and sand. He looked up to Gridolee as the young Mirratord Warrior forcefully looked down to him from the gun turret. His eyes showed his nervousness, and Simyaldee sensed his fear, but no words could calm him.
Simyaldee faced forward held down the accelerator and closed his eyes, not in fear, but in thought. He could not outrun the boulder, and if he attempted to turn the Specter out of the boulder’s path he would loose momentum. Simyaldee did not fear death. Death was inevitable, and any warrior accepted its prospect. It loomed in the face of anyone who lifted a weapon or stood on a battlefield. To die in battle while defending what you believed in was a death of honor.
With his eyes closed, a distant memory flashed before him. A figure he had long considered gone from his conscious thought. Her scent filled his mind as if she sat at his side; a forgotten love. Simyaldee had embraced being a soldier, determined to lead the Mirratord and find the truth in the Prophets lies, but his determination had overshadowed his past. He had nearly forgotten her, and though she was died many years ago, she remained his reason for leading the Mirratord.
Simyaldee opened his eyes and looked into the dusty sky. “Vasmeola…” The name escaped his mandibles with a soft mumbled that only his heart could hear. But soon the sound of metal churning in rocks filled his ears. The two warriors were tossed to the wind as a pulverizing amount of pressure swelled around them.
Simyaldee pulled his arms and legs inward, turning himself into a ball. He closed his eyes and struggled to hold himself as tightly as he could. He was caught in the wave of destruction, and the sound of rocks bouncing off of his enhanced Mirratord shields constantly filled his ears. He knew that Gridolee was out there going through the same ordeal, and his heart went out to the young warrior. It seemed as though he was being tossed around forever, but eventually he could no longer hear anything but a loud hum. Then there was no longer any pain or movement. Only silence filled the world.
The nothingness at the end of life.
Several hundred yards ahead of the Simyaldee and Gridolee’s resting spot, Palab plowed forward as the Elites at his side began to mutter over the channel.
“We lost the Lieutenants!”
“By the blood of our ancestors, we will avenge them!”
“They shall not be forgotten!”
Palab sat in his ghost and faced forward. The Mirratord second was gone, killed in an act of desperation by the very humans he had stayed behind to help protect. Was this betrayal? Did the humans do this on purpose? He looked back and watched as the sand began to slow, the rocks quickly vanished and the powerful wave of destruction was left behind. They had made it to the two mile border of the Nuke’s radius.
Palab slowed down and eventually stopped. The Elites at his side did the same. Palab watched the wind in the upper atmosphere catch the crest of the plume cloud and begin to drag it away slowly. It was beautiful sight, he thought, but not the way a warrior of Simyaldee’s legend should have died.
“Sir.” A Sangheili in red questioned. “The Jiralhanae ship still approaches.” In the distance, in the heart of the blast plume, the gigantic Assault Carrier parted through the cloud and came to a stop.
“Find he body.” Palab stated.
“Sir?” The Elite questioned.
“Simyaldee. We find he body. We not leave him here.”
The Elites looked to each other in confusion. “Sir, we do not dishonor the death of a warrior who has died in combat, by removing them from the battlefield. We must leave Simyaldee and Gridolee’s bodies to rest here.”
Palab looked to the Elite, and lowered his head. He knew that was their way, but Simyaldee was a legend. In countless contests, on countless worlds, Simyaldee’s name echoed on the tips of every Elite tongue, but Palab knew him as his leader, and the one Elite that respected his kin.
“… Palab, Simyaldee… somebody answer me!” The transmission was filled with static, but Palab knew the voice of the honor human, Eric Raynord.
“Me copy.” He replied with a heavy brow. Palab knew that Eric had nothing to do with this dishonorable act, but he was still human.
“What’s your status?” Eric questioned over the COM, as the signal finally cleared.
Palab looked up as Eric’s Pelican slowly began to lower in the distance. “Simyaldee gone and Gridolee gone. They not get away from human weapon.”
“What?” Eric questioned in a shocked reply. The Pelican settled and the Grunts literally began to roll out of the ships belly.
Melanie was the first to run to Palab’s side. “We lost Simyaldee?” She questioned as she stopped near the group of Elites. Their anger was apparent as they encircled her and began to snarl.
“Back off!” Palab shouted to the enraged Elites. “She follow orders, fight with Simyaldee. She not to blame.”
“The humans cower behind their weapons and would not send aid or support!” An angry Elite roared. “This female human is no better then the others! Our brothers’ blood is on her hands!”
“Easy big fella!” Melanie fumed as the towering Elite stalked forward; yet she wasn’t going to back down. “They would have killed me as well, if you didn’t notice! You’re not the only one that stayed behind!”
“Stop it!” Palab shouted. He stood between Melanie and the Elite and pushed them apart. “We no fight each other. Brute’s coming.”
Eric jogged toward the commotion. “Don’t dishonor Simyaldee by loosing your temper. We need to prep our defenses and get ready to make a stand. Palab…” Eric paused as he looked down at the Grunt, he could sense that a part of Palab was gone. Simyaldee’s death affected him, it affected all of them. “Palab, get your troops to the southern gate of Camp Eden. That Nuke didn’t destroy the ship, but it looks like it slowed them down. At least we don’t have to worry about the Flood.”
Eric powered up his COM, “Chief, you copy.”
“Roger. Status.” Kelly replied.
“Simyaldee and Gridolee are KIA. Palab and some of the Elites are on their way to you.”
“Simyaldee’s dead?” Kelly questioned. “Understood. I’ll notify the rest of the Elites ground forces.”
“Careful, Sir, they may not take the news too well. I advise telling the Elder.”
“I’ll take that under advisement. Get your group up here ASAP.”
“Roger that.” Eric ended the COM. “Palab, the Chief is going to pass on the word to the Elder and the rest of the Elites in the tank division. We should hurry and catch up.”
“Sergeant Palab, Sir, look!” An Elite pointed into the distance as the Jiralhanae assault cruiser stopped over the remains of the airfield, and powered on multiple grav-lifts. “What are they doing?”
Palab sniffed the air and turned back to his ghost. “Giving me more time to prepare. We go to human Camp.”
[Edited on 05.29.2007 7:24 AM PDT]