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  • Subject: [Story] The Heretics (Part One is up)
Subject: [Story] The Heretics (Part One is up)
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Prologue

Sangheilios - The beginning of the Age of Reconciliation

Veros 'Keldum, High Councilor of the Sangheili(*1), sat uncomfortably at the table which resided in the center of a fairly large chamber. His two bodyguards - warriors of which he had chosen personally - stood at either side of him, ready to strike at the sight of danger.

A San 'Shyuum(*2) entered the chamber, via the great doors, hovering on his Gravitational Throne.

"Veros," the San 'Shyuum regarded.

"Disdain," Veros confirmed. The San 'Shyuum known as Disdain was complemented with his own set of personal guards as well. Obviously, neither of the leaders were willing to take chances.

"So," Disdain finally said, after a long moment of silence. "You have agreed to meet with me. Now, let me ask: do you know what I offer?"

"A truce. We fight for the same puprose: find and preserve the Sacred Artifacts."

"Quite so." Disdain said, folding his hands together. "I find this fighting to be rather..." he searched for the right word. "...barbaric. I have come to learn your race is a very noble and honorable one; true warriors. Whilst mine preffers to use brain over braun, we study transcripts, and bury ourselves in research."

"And?" Veros asked, arms folded.

"And, I have a proposition. What say you ally yourselves with us San 'Shyuum? We obviously share the same goal. I see no good in fighting, for it is pointless."

Veros thought a moment. The San 'Shyuum had a point, the fighting was pointless.

"Very well, what have you in mind?" asked the Councilor.

Veros and Disdain debated for the next several hours. Finally, amused with their compromise, the leaders of either race signed a treaty, speaking for their own kind.

So full of hate were our eyes that none of us could see.
Our war would yield countless dead, but never victory
, Veros had signed on the treaty.

So let us cast arms aside, and like discard our wrath.
Thou, in faith, will keep us safe, whilst we find the path.
Disdain had finished.

The two races named this document the "Writ of Union,". In the text, both races agreed to ally, and preserve the sacred artifacts. This document was also the start of the Age of Reconciliation, the first known years of the Covenant.

But that is not all.

Shortly after, the text was ammended, establising laws, rules, and rites.

And so it is decided that all Sangheili and San 'Shyuum must except our faith, and preserve the Sacred Artifacts. Any person who does not meet these standards shall be considered a heretic, and, therefore, be sentenced to death. Disdain had ammended.

Within the Writ lay the foundations of the Covenant . . . but even after many years, there are those who choose not to believe in the Great Journey. They believe the Prophets are false, lying imposters, and will do everything in their power to spread their own beliefs.

These rebels were known as the Heretics. And this is their story.





*1 - Sangheili: the Covenant name for Elite.

*2 - San 'Shyuum: the Covenant name for Prophet.

[Edited on 09.30.2009 4:00 PM PDT]

  • 09.30.2009 5:32 AM PDT
Subject: [Story] The Heretics (Prologue is up)
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Do not waste your tears, I was not born to watch the world grow dim. Life is not measured in years, but by the deeds of men.

Posted by: goldhawk
We should know better, because we are better.

It is interesting to see how you will use this chapter to support the rest of the story also the definitions for Sangheilli and San'Shyuum may help those less familiar with the Covenants true names. Very well done.

  • 09.30.2009 3:32 PM PDT
Subject: [Story] The Heretics (Part One is up)
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Part One - Heretics

Sangheilios - Ninth age of Reclaimation

Saal 'Yamun staggered back, falling to the stage floor as yet another blow collided with his skull. He cupped his hand below his mandibles, catching the purple blood that fell.

"Fellow races of the Covenant!" roared a Sangheili, spreading his arms out to an audience. In reply, the audience cheered and howled at the sign of the beating. "Let this be a lesson to all who do not mind the Path!" he finished, kicking Saal in his side. The Sangheili yelped in pain, coming to a slow stand still.

"Fools..." muttered the Heretic.

An energy blade came into life in the other Sangheili's hand. Saal stared at it emotionlessly, not fearing the beams of plasma which sparked beneath the hilt.

"I am sorry, Heretic? Perhaps you would like to speak a little louder?" asked the Sangeili, grabbing the heretic by the neck. Reluctantly, the Heretic stood, his tall, naked body before the croud.

"Fools!" he repeated. The howling and cheers stopped, replaced by silence. "You and your precious artifacts," the Heretic spat, blood staining the metallic floor of the stage. "Thinking what, I wonder?"

Saal let his question settle within the audience for a few moments, then nodded as he answered his own question. "Thinking that the Great Journey will meet to save you? That you will walk the Path into the lights of heaven?

"No, you are all, despicable, incompetent, fools!"

The Sangehili beside Saal grabbed his arm, placing the blade to the Heretics neck. It singed his skin, leaving a scar.

"And so the Heretic dies!" he stated, pulling back his sword arm, preparing to decapitate the other Sangheili.

But he got no such chance.

A moment later, four Sangheili rose from the crowd and onto the stage, throwing back their cloaks. Their orange-like armor was revealed; the armor of the Heretics. Each of them pulled out weapons of their own, roaring Saal's attacker a challenge. This came as a surprise to the Sangheili, whose sword arm was cut from his torso, dropping to the floor. The executioner screamed, grabbing the nub where his arm had once been.

With another swipe from the Heretic, the Sangheili's head came clean off his body as Saal backed away. The audeince was scrambling, either running for dear life, or to meet the Heretics in combat.

Within moments, an explosion sounded from the top of the Chamber, tearing a hole through the roof. Saal smiled wickedly as a Phantom flew overhead, sending a gravitational beam onto he and his four allies. The ascended through the air, carried by the beam, and stopped once they came into the bay of the Phantom.

"Full trhust. Now." Saal ordered the pilot, who nodded his head, then accelerated.

"Saal?" asked one of the four whom had rescued him.

"Yes, Juro, my dearest friend?" Saal asked, clasping the Sangheili on the shoulder.

"While you were captured, the 'Covenant' attacked our station. I am afraid the battle has been lost, but we have found a new place to hide. For the time being, it will have to do."

Saal pondered his friends word, then nodded his head. "Do not fret, my brothers," said the Heretic, putting on a sinister smile. "I have obtained what was needed. The day will be hours."

[Edited on 09.30.2009 4:03 PM PDT]

  • 09.30.2009 3:56 PM PDT
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No matter how many seals are killed by sharks a year, it never seems to be enough :D

I just read your prolague, Very good :) I can not say I have ever seen a poem incorperated into a story effectively. This is a true piece of artwork. Keep it up!

  • 10.01.2009 6:50 PM PDT