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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.
This is just to introduce Al'Katal and his situation, things will start in another part or two, which will be shorter. Feedback is appreciated.
Prolague: The Will of the Forerunners
Al'Katl had been a great general. He had fought many battles, and he was an Elite who never lost, until now. He had lost all of his honor with one stupid mistake. He slept with another Elite's mate. When this was discovered, the Prophets stripped him off everything he had, his weapons, golden armor, and his pride.
Al'Katal slammed his fist into the door of a lowly bar, full of the scum of the Covenant. Grunts, back stabbing Jackals, filthy Brutes, and desolate Elites just like himself. The fallen warrior dropped into a chair in the corner of the bar, there he slouched in the shadows, ashamed.
He had been living in the lower districts of this covenant city for three years, rotting away in misery. A piece of bread bounced off the back of his skull, he turned sharply in his seat and snarled at a bickering Jackal. This one had been giving trouble every time he entered the place. Al'Katal got up, and walked toward the table where this pest resided.
Five companions of the Jackal sat beside him, plasma pistols holstered at their sides. Al'Katal realized that they were serving the prophets in war, but what else did he have to lose?
The Elite leaned across the table until his face was right in front of the Jackal's.
"For your sake." Al'Katal said in a low rough voice, "Do not do that again."The Elite's mandibles flexed in anger. The Jackal hissed and spat in the Elites face. Al'Katal had had enough.
The Elite grabbed the Jackal by the throat. The alien squirmed in the vice grip of the enraged Al'Katal. The Jackal's companions jumped out of their chairs and reached for their plasma pistols to save their commander, but was too late.
Al'Katal had already slammed his combatant onto the cold metal table and was smashing his skull in with one fist. He picked the headless Jackal up off the table, and swung it at the others. The bird like creatures flew through the air and hit the wall of the building. Purple blood sprayed the near by spectators.
Everyone was silent, Al'Katal knew he wasn't welcome here, but this would be the third place he was thrown out of today. Two Brutes walked towards him. The Elite was strong, but without a weapon, he was no match for the colossal aliens. Al'Katal moved his mandibles, as if he was preparing to destroy the Brutes, but his efforts would be futile.
The two aliens grabbed him by his torn clothes. Al'Katal struggled, but failed to break free. One of the brutes kicked the back door open, and both of them launched him through the air onto the dirt covered metal of the city, the holy metal of High Charity.
[Edited on 08.23.2009 6:38 PM PDT]