The Gallery
This topic has moved here: Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Eight!)
  • Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Eight!)
Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Eight!)

Posted by: Commander GX
Bungie.Match.com: Our Johnson knows what the ladies like.


Posted by: S p h 1 n X O 7
You're a FABLED Heroic member now Bloodguard? Congrats.

Now, what does Fabled indicate...?


Really high post count.

  • 11.27.2011 3:08 PM PDT

Alright, thanks.

  • 11.27.2011 7:43 PM PDT

only the best game ever.
~Sur Squishy
XBL: D a r k s t a r
PSN: darkstarrr
Minecraft: The_Dark_Star

Forum Rules | Terms of Use | Code of Conduct

Posted by: S p h 1 n X O 7
You're a FABLED Heroic member now Bloodguard? Congrats.

Now, what does Fabled indicate...?

This thread explains all titles and how to get them. If you have any other questions about titles and how to get them, just refer to the thread that I just link you to. ;-)

  • 11.30.2011 5:01 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

:| I dislike making announcements on this story, but it's been a while, so I thought I'd try to make things clear.

I was originally going to put up a gigantic tenth chapter and end the first act with the eleventh, but a mix of lack of time and struggles to put fingers/pen to the keyboard/paper has greatly slowed progress. I'm somewhere around a third of having the tenth one complete.

So, I'll be splitting it in two. That way, I can get content out sooner and not just seem inactive. With this in mind, I'm a couple of thousand words of the completion of the tenth chapter, so expect that within 1-2 weeks. The eleventh may take a fair bit longer than the tenth, but that's for us to worry about later on.

Though this announcement was mainly for everyone else, it relieves me a little also. Because, you know, I'm paranoid and all that. But to those that keep up with this, I hope this makes things a little clearer. You'll be hearing from me sooner than later, and with a lot more to say.

  • 12.06.2011 4:02 AM PDT

"Life to you stepson and everlasting glory. " Thifes World.

Well i want to say good work keep going. Have fun with it i like to free form my storys. But i have a genral outline. My hand writeing is horrable. So writeing them down would be hard to read at moments. * /Facedesk* Too much work to write it down twice so thats why mine look rough. But i played Rpgs such as D&D to have a outline think out things ect.

I still wonder what Elites eat don't you ?. Anywho i will keep reading post ya next time!.

  • 12.06.2011 1:10 PM PDT

No u


Posted by: commander tempu
I don't even...


Bloodguard nice job. Keep it up. I am a bit disappoint that you are splitting the chapter but this is still one of my favorite fan fictions I've seen. Keep it up ole' chap.

  • 12.06.2011 2:28 PM PDT

No u

Bloodguard..

Y U NO POST CHAPTER IN TIMELY MANNER?!

  • 12.12.2011 3:55 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Just to see you complain, Jensen. :D

  • 12.12.2011 11:19 PM PDT

No u

Fair enough... fair enough...

  • 12.12.2011 11:39 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Finally, it's finished. I hope you deem this worth the wait, guys.

Chapter Ten: Detour

For a moment, Rodney could feel his world beginning to crumble. His team was the foundation upon which he had built his immense set of skills. The deaths of his first two team mates had swept through his being like a raging storm, leaving him with a battered mindset and unrelenting determination to rebuild, erecting new in place of old. But this was too much for him to take. Such a toppling thought was akin to an otherworldly beast laying waste to the world that he had made for himself and his team. It simply couldn't be. And thus, the destruction ceased, and he was free to think rationally once more, albeit with a vice of fear clamped around every thought to register within.

However, just because he had staved off the mental devastation that had so nearly levelled the surface of his mind, it did not mean that the strain of such an exertion would leave him in a flexible state of mind. His thoughts folded together, merging into one lane that met at its destination with no obstructions or offshoots, closed off from any alternative outcome. He paced the length of the Pelican's troop bay a couple of times, unable to shake his decision. Baldemar stood to met him as he strode past, and Rodney stopped to acknowledge his team-mate, but it was obvious to both of them that no words would suffice.

Frantically, he approached the cockpit, Baldemar at his shoulder. Nearly unable to restrain himself, he reached a hand out, gripping their pilot's shoulder and stooping down to speak on his level. "Please, you have to go back! I need to check on my team! They're somewhere down in the wreckage!"

Keith slightly turned his head towards the SPARTAN, keeping his eyes fixed on the skies ahead. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir, this mission takes priority over any other matters. I apologize."

This was not an answer that Rodney was willing to accept. Without realizing it, his grip on Keith's shoulder became tighter and tighter, as if gears of instinct were pulling his hand closed beyond his consciousness. "You don't understand, my team is down there! I have to get down and assist them! Hell, even their vital readings are on the fritz after that explosion, I can't even tell if they're alive or not! Please, you have to go back!"

The pilot began to explain yet again of his constricting orders, but was cut off as the grip on his shoulder became too painful for him to tolerate. A gasp of pain escaped Keith's mouth as he flinched, attempting to bat Rodney's arm away, to which the SPARTAN became aware of how tight his grip had become, and removed his hand meekly. "Look. My orders are to be followed otherwise, and as badly as you want off this ship, you just don't have the authority to overrule my orders. I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be." Rodney could tell that the words spoken to him attempted to appease his pain, but his wounds were cut too deep into him to be healed by a mere apology.

Pacing the length of the troop pay as would a caged predator, he debated madly with himself as to what his course of action should be as everyone else watched on. I can't leave them there. I can't! And so, he decided, he would not. He wildly turned around, arms about him as if he'd lost his way amongst a crowd and his gaze fixed on Baldemar. At this point, his team-mate knew that Theta's leader was going to do something drastic, but not even he could foresee what Rodney had in mind. Rodney paced towards the troop bay door, allowing Baldemar to stand and trap his leader in a confined space. But as he attempted to calm him down, he found himself being gently pushed back. He found no threat in the action, so he did not choose to retaliate with force. Rodney walked him back into the cockpit, and when they came to a standstill, he spoke. His voice was dampened with absolution, and Baldemar had to strain to hear what was being told to him.

"We have to save them, Baldemar." And with that, the SPARTAN turned around in a heartbeat and sped for the door. He braced himself for the impact, gaining an unconquerable momentum in just a few mere steps. Metal collided with metal, and before anyone except Baldemar had time to react, Theta's leader had crashed through the Pelican's troop bay door with a thunderous crash. The door flung wide open, and despite the robustness of its build, it was not meant to withstand such punishment. The door snapped from its hinges, plummeting to the world below. Baldemar stopped just short of the edge of the cargo bay, staring out into the canyon below as he caught sight of his leader. "Follow me. Lock your armour," he heard over Theta's comm. link, and without another choice to take, he sighed and leapt after his Commander, every thought in his head protesting the decision.

Through the night they tumbled, both SPARTANs having locked their armour to survive the fall, the hydrostatic gel layers within the suit pressurizing to withstand the impending collision. The Pelicans had flown back down into the canyon once more after their surprise engagement, so the fall was not from a truly dizzying height. Even so, Baldemar had greatly hesitated upon the Pelican's ledge, for the idea of jumping from a dropship to meet the canyon's surface below did not particularly mix well with his sense of logic. Wind and air blasted past them as their velocity increased, roaring in their ears and distracting them from any coherent thought, just as it had been for Rodney back on the Pelican.

With the momentum of a freight train, Rodney slammed into the ground, the collision jarring him to the extremities of his limits. His armour groaned and screeched as it grinded against the rocky canyon floor, and he shortly came to a stop, rolling onto his back and staring up into a world that wavered and distorted. The effort to stay conscious quickly became herculean, but Rodney was spurred on by an almost instinctual drive to rescue his two team-mates, and he resisted the serene invitation for rest with every last bit of his resolve.

His armour unlocked, and as he felt his body fall limp, he attempted to sit up. Upon doing so, his bearings shifted greatly, and he was once again unable to keep his grip on the world around him as it swam before his distant gaze. Slowly, he forced a rigidity down, and like an anchored ship, his presence came to a halt, the night returning to its previous manner. Securing his posture by resting his arms behind him, he studied the environment around him, methodically checking over the inner systems within his heads-up display and making sure that neither he nor his suit had been damaged.

Looking in the general direction that Sierra Company had flown towards, he spotted Baldemar groggily rising to his feet; a reassuring sign that challenged Theta's leader to stand also. As he rolled over onto his hands and knees to lift himself up off the rock he rested upon, Baldemar approached his Commander, worried sick that his impromptu decision may have cost him greatly. Neither man seemed injured upon their initial inspections of each other, although the way that Rodney wobbled on his hands and knees had Baldemar slightly concerned.

Extending a hand out for Rodney to grasp, Baldemar helped his leader to his feet. After a second spent composing himself, he gave a curt nod of thanks and turned to begin the journey towards his fallen comrades. But as soon as he attempted to move out, a hand clasped his shoulder. He turned to meet a blue visor fixed on him, and he could now see the concern etched on it, as if it projected the worry from his face.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Baldemar asked, his tone of voice suggesting that he was on the verge of an outburst.

"Permission granted." Rodney braced himself for an onslaught.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I am well aware of the situation at hand, and I am ready to do whatever I can to help our team, but I will not have you potentially risking your life on such a needless and reckless plan! Not only are we disobeying orders, but you have also forced the door off of the Pelican we had boarded! Damaging UNSC property! What we're doing isn't going to do us any favours in terms of where we stand, you must know this!" He would have continued his rant, if it were not for Rodney interrupting him by brushing the grip off of his shoulder.

"Look," he started, an air of finality about his words. "We're down here now, where we need to be. We're alive, and we're unscathed. Let's worry about the repercussions later and go save our team. Understood?"

Baldemar hesitantly nodded, still wracked with concerns despite Rodney's attempt to alleviate them.

"It'll be okay, Baldemar. This isn't something we can't justify." Rodney turned, not wanting to delay any longer. Taking a couple of steps forward, he suddenly crouched and took off, launching into a sprint that would carry him across the canyon. Left with no choice but to follow, Baldemar repressed his fears and took off after the black armoured SPARTAN, forcing aside the worries that Rodney had shrugged off.

Across the canyon they raced, each powerful stride bringing them closer to the crash site. The frantic rhythm put their burdened mind at ease, for such a pace was not easy to maintain, and the distraction from castaway worries snapping at their heels was welcomed with open arms. Neither could be sure exactly how far away the rest of Team Theta were from their current location, for their optics suites, even at their maximum range, could not pick anything out from the obscured canyon, regardless of what spectral field they observed in. Both had concluded that distance was to blame, and so they kept running.

  • 12.13.2011 4:25 AM PDT
Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Ten, yeah!!!)

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

While they ran, Rodney weighed their endurance versus the distance of their team. We can't have flown too far away from them. I'm still surprised that we're too far away from them to pick anything up. While the endurance of a SPARTAN was next to none, still he questioned whether they would be able to make it to the artifact site in time to make a difference in what he surmised to be a battle of staggering proportions. Whether they would actually make a difference was another matter, one he didn't wish to linger on.

Above the clashes of rock and metal, the two suddenly became aware of a faint whine approaching from over the cliffside to their right. You've got to be kidding me. "More patrols?" Rodney asked over their team comm, mentally punishing himself for not anticipating any more resistance.

"So it would seem," Baldemar replied warily, actively searching for any means of hiding from what they guessed to be a Spirit dropship on the prowl. A hand signal from his leader made him aware of a cluster of loose rock, and both SPARTANs quickly made their way to the rocks and scrambled into their midst, effectively burying themselves and removing them from the watchful searchlights of the passing Spirit.

Although the wait was not an extensive one, it still troubled them greatly; the rest of their team was likely on the Covenant dropship's path, and even though there was no other sensible choice but to let the Spirit pass and follow cautiously, the fact that they would not be able to reach their team-mates before the Covenant sneered at them, fraying their already weary nerves. Rodney peered out of the loose rock after checking his weapons over for any damage from the fall, spying down the canyon with his helmet optics.

"I can see the crash site now. That must mean we're at least a kilometre from their position," Rodney nervously reported, scraping together a plan. "It'll take us at least approximately a minute and twenty seconds to get over there and intercept them, so we have to time this down to the dot. Fire from range, we don't know what sort of infantry that ship is holding. How many clips do you have left for your assault rifle?"

"Only two, and my second has but fourteen bullets remaining." Baldemar could sense that he was the weak link in his plan, and even though his close-quarters skills were sufficient enough, he didn't want to take the risk of getting in close. In response, Rodney handed him the M7S he had been using as a secondary weapon up on the mountain.

"That should do the trick," Rodney said as he handed over all his ammunition for the silenced SMG. Clambering out of the rock, he set his sights on the Spirit ahead as Baldemar stepped out beside him. Already, both SPARTANS had their optics locked on the dropship, and anticipated its drop-off as a beast would anticipate the chase after its prey. The very second that signs of slowing and descent showed themselves, they began to run.

Critically analysing their timing, Rodney felt fairly confident that they had taken off at the correct moment, and that all that was left of their rescue mission was to eliminate whatever emerged to inspect Theta's crash site. "Hopefully, we can catch them as soon as they've been dropped off and take them by surprise." Though the statement was more of a reassurance to himself than it was advice to Baldemar, it still served both purposes well enough, and both soldiers sped with purpose driving them past the limits of mere men.

Ahead, the Spirit gracefully levelled out a couple of metres above the canyon floor, opening its doors to release a search party intent on inspecting the human crash site and finishing off whoever remained. Soldiers nimbly hopped out, as one stayed behind to speak with one of the pilots.

"You are sure that you do not wish for your transport to linger here while you inspect the human ship, Girugus?" the pilot asked, not sure what to expect.

"I am sure. You speak as though you sense a trap," the Brute Captain replied, his tone suggesting he thought little of the Sangheili's courage.

"I know not of what lies within those remains. Humans are tenacious and cunning; this situation resonates with a foreboding as such."

"Do you not believe the received reports of the fighter pilots that you read to us? A clean kill was confirmed." Splaying a hand over to the Pelican's wreckage to reinforce his point, he continued. "The scattered metal before us implies this. You truly believe humans are capable of withstanding such devastation? Even if they could, they will be in no condition to offer any worthy resistance."

"I merely interpret what my intuition tells me. My brothers of old have fallen victim to such attacks before. I would not risk this squadron's safety without at least some means of superior firepower at hand. If not here, than at least some small distance further on from here."

"I would expect no less from your kind, Sangheili. Leave us be for now, while we recover what we can from here. I would prefer such firepower up overhead, on watch for any more humans wishing to reach what the Luminary has discovered. You would at least be more useful then, rather than as you are now; whining in fear of what could be."

The Sangheili pilot muttered in disgust, almost hoping that the Jiralhanae would meet their end in an ambush from the human wreckage as he prepared to take off again. "Very well. I will circumnavigate the canyon and return at a later time."

Girugus leapt from the Spirit's bay doors, letting them close as their transport ascended to the shrouded skies. "Sangheili," he spat to his pack that stood before him, "cowards! Why we have not arose past their status by this point is a mystery to me." His pack roared in agreement, and the other Covenant accompanying them stiffened at the blood-curdling yells.

As the Covenant squad maliciously approached what remained of the Pelican, so too did Rodney and Baldemar, watching as the Spirit took off once more. Both SPARTANs let out a heavy sigh of relief at the sight; neither of the two had any idea how they were going to take the Covenant ship down. Still though, it won't be gone forever. He quickly lifted a hand to his comm, relaying his concerns to Baldemar. "We're going to have to work fast, otherwise they might get hold of Boris and Henry before we do, and that Spirit may return while we're still fighting."

"You voice my own thoughts on the matter," Baldemar replied. "We should be arriving at optimal range approximately... now." He unlatched one of his three remaining grenades, priming it and leaping into the air as he tossed with all the necessary might in order to propel it towards his target. Rodney took that as a cue to begin lining up his shots, and he skidded to a halt in order to lower himself to one knee, waiting for Baldemar's grenade to detonate.

Both SPARTANs watched as the grenade soared through the air, hissing ferociously as the chemicals mixed inside. Girugus's keen hearing picked up the sound, and he turned alertly to check his surroundings. To his surprise, a frag grenade bounced a few metres ahead of him and settled beside his feet. With a rumbling growl from deep within his chest, he kicked the grenade away and ordered his squad to be on alert. He could almost hear the Sangheili pilot mocking him as he scanned the general direction where the grenade came from.

Damnit. In reply, Rodney signalled to begin firing, to which Baldemar began shooting at one of the two Jackals, aiming for the small gap in their defence gauntlet. His small burst of bullets struck the Jackal's hand, causing it to flinch and recoil from the sudden, blinding pain, allowing him to aim for its body and finish it off. He moved his crosshairs over to the second Jackal as Rodney quickly took out all three Grunts, the last to die barely having time to question his faith as a burst of three bullets sent him on.

As they both fluidly moved their aim over towards the four remaining Brutes, they found that all four had taken cover behind the Pelican's wreckage. Both SPARTANs quickly found themselves to be prime targets as returning fire blazed towards them. They quickly split up, coming to the realization that the only cover around the immediate area had already been taken over, and that neither of the two had anywhere to go. If we even try to get near enough to use any of the other wreckage, we'll be shot to bits, Rodney thought as he strafed and ducked, only able to dodge so much of the shots being taken at him. His shields quickly flared up, protesting the abuse they suffered at the hands of the Brutes in cover.

Taking quick shots every time they found the chance, they occasionally forced one or two of the murderous Jiralhanae back behind their haven, lessening the barrage they had to withstand just enough to let their shots ring true, and within a few more bursts, Theta had the advantage back on their side of the field. The Brutes tried to wrench it back from their grasp, but every time they rose from their cover, they were forced back down again once more, lead smashing into their shields, denied the killing blows they wished to inflict.

Near the edge of his vision, Baldemar saw his leader snaking his way towards the repurposed wreckage, drawing closer with each successive strafe. Hoping he was reading the situation right, Baldemar slipped away to the left with the finesse of a veteran infiltrator, deflecting all his attention to Rodney. A quick glance from his leader confirmed his hopes, and Baldemar began a crouched run towards the Pelican's remains, watching forward in case his vanishing tactic hadn't succeeded.

[Edited on 12.14.2011 12:13 AM PST]

  • 12.13.2011 4:26 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Up ahead, a Brute emerged from the wreckage, its expression manic and its eyes bulging. Sick of hiding from its prey, it launched itself forward with as much fury as power, marauding towards the black-armoured Demon with the anger of an entire bloodline surging through its veins. Bullets struck its shields instantly, faltering with every impact. They soon gave way, abandoning the Brute in his darkest hour. Another three-round burst followed suit, and it fell forward, thumping into the ground and rolling over, its life quickly spilling from its wound.

As Rodney finished off his assailant, Baldemar reached the main bulk of the Pelican's fuselage that the Brutes had taken shelter behind. He slowed his run down to a crawl, then stopped, poised to strike like a coiled viper. Taking his last grenade from his belt, he primed it to fire and lightly tossed it over the hunk of metal that separated the two opposing forces. It landed with a resonant thud against the rocky floor of the canyon, and all three remaining Brutes instantly sought to escape the impending blast.

While his pack brothers dove to either side of the human grenade, Girugus took a chance, hoping the gods would approve of his bravery. He leapt over the Pelican with unrivalled power, spotting the Demon as he sailed overhead. You have rewarded me, oh, gods, he thought as he swooped down to crush the Demon beneath his boots, and I will repay your kindness with the blood of these heathens. But, as he soon saw for himself, this would be no easy task. Inferior human weaponry fired up at him, meeting his power armour head-on and disposing of its shields before he had even met the ground below.

Baldemar quickly leapt aside, gracefully following through and pushing himself back up onto his feet as he turned around to meet the Brute Captain charging him once more. The sight almost caught him off-guard, and he only just avoided having his gun swatted from his hands as the Brute raked at him with its monstrous paw. He lowered his gun for a moment, ducking under the strike, then launching himself forward and attempting to knock the Brute backward in an effort to give himself room to fire the killing blow.

Girugus refrained from changing his fighting stance, even at the sight of a Demon warrior attempting to collide with him. Instead of defending and using the Demon's own momentum against him, he strode forward once more and brought his behemoth leg up, forcing his knee out and into the Demon's defences. He noticed his opponent had managed to react fast enough to bring its arms up and somewhat deflect the blow, but Girugus knew that at least some damage had been done. Not even an opponent such as the one before me could present itself unscathed after such an attack.

While Baldemar saved himself from meeting the Brute's knee with his helmet, he was still flung back as thought he had been hit with a wrecking ball. His shields dissipated under the immense impact, and sparks flew as he grinded along the canyon floor, a horrific screech of metal clashing with rock echoing along with him as if his suit had found a way to vocalize its suffering. Just before he came to a halt, Baldemar rolled backward, using his last momentum to right himself once more so he could rally his defences as quickly as possible.

Baldemar's mind flashed for a second as he lifted his hand away from the grip of his gun, up to his team comm. "Sir, on me," he quickly spoke over their line, his eyes firmly locked on the charging Brute before him, watching the shields on the monster flicker back to life. His hand left the comm. and flew back down onto the shotgun's rugged grip, and, Baldemar quickly fired another shot, leaving it susceptible to their weaponry once more. He immediately entered a defensive stance, stepping to the left as a paw swiped upwards at where he had been standing a second ago. Three bullets struck the Brute in the skull, and it fell forward on its own momentum, crashing to the floor below with a resounding impact.

Having knocked off the proverbial head of the beast, Rodney brushed his sights back over the Pelican, watching for the two remaining Brutes to show themselves once more. But as he kept watch on their last known position, they did not surface to meet the challenge. His HUD recognized Baldemar as Rodney watched him sneak back up to the Pelican, and as Baldemar inquired as to the plan with a simple look back over his shoulder, Rodney began strafing around to the side of the wreckage in a wide arc. "On my mark, jump the wreckage and engage the contacts at point blank," he ordered over their comm., hoping to create a distraction that Baldemar could act upon.

Both SPARTANs tensed as Rodney neared a point where he'd be able to see behind the Pelican, and as soon as he got to that point, Spiker rounds immediately tore through the air towards him, driven on the bloodlust of the Brutes. "Mark." Rodney continued to fire, while Baldemar nimbly leapt up on top of the wreckage, careful as to not land too loudly and alert the Brutes of his presence. Sensing an opportunity, he carefully laid down his shotgun and drew both of his combat knives, moving up to strike like an assassin from days long past.

Pushing off from the Pelican, he sailed through the air, legs forward and body poised for the kill. He landed between the Brutes, deftly bringing both of his knives down into the necks of either Brute. His inertia brought the Brutes face-first into the ground beneath them, and were it not for the unfathomable pain of the blades, they would have immediately tended to their broken faces. From an outside point of view, it would have seemed that the time for tension had passed with the lives of the Brutes, but Rodney and Baldemar didn't take a moment's rest after the immediate threats to their team had been neutralized. In their eyes, the gravity of the situation had only worsened, for now, their uncertainty as to the fates of their team-mates would stand the test of reality.

Without even stooping down to retrieve his knives, he quickly set off around the wreckage, searching desperately for a sign that Henry and Boris had landed near their encounter. Wounded metal laid scattered like the lost souls of a ravaged city, and he knew that his comrades could be anywhere amongst the remains. Thoughts of incertitude wracked his already fragile hopes of finding them, and he almost had to stop his search to calm himself. If only their tags were visible, he thought, concerned by the fact that he couldn't pick up any signals from either suit. This implied that both suits had taken serious damage in the fall, possibly to the point of irreparable fault.

Rodney's voice quickly brought the fleeting Lieutenant back to attention. "Baldemar, here. I've found Boris." Baldemar took off at once, arriving beside his Commander as fast as he could. Rodney was clearing debris from on top of the unconscious SPARTAN, and it was obvious that getting him out would not be an easy ordeal. But with both men feverently working to set him free, eventually they managed to release him from his prison. His body was rigid, telling Rodney that his armour was still locked. And yet, he still wasn't receiving any data from his suit.

Thinking quickly, Rodney opened up a compartment in his right forearm gauntlet, revealing two black wire jacks. He flicked his wrist, swinging the wires around and catching them in his hand. With the other, he selected two adapters, sliding them out of their pre-determined slots and attaching them to his wires. Stooping down to one knee, he reached down with his free hand and opened the same compartment on Boris's gauntlet. Reeling out the same two wires from his suit, he gripped them with his free hand and inserted them into the adapters from his own suit.

"Are you sure your suit will be able to restart his?" Baldemar asked, taking a seat beside his Commander who now sat cross-legged, his stare gripped by the sight before him.

"I can't count on it, Baldemar." He spoke without turning towards him; it seemed that he was completely immersed in his work, though all he did was watch and wait. "But we've got to at least try. It shouldn't take much power to get his suit running again, but whether it only needs a reboot or a constant external power source is yet to be determined."

Reawakening Boris's armour was an eerily silent process, and the many layers of tension hanging in the air around them only amplified the nausea deep within either man's knotted gut. With only the slain Covenant around them for company, Theta watched on, hoping against hope that they could get their friends out of the mess they'd found themselves in alive. After a few minutes, Boris's service tag appeared over his suit along with an ally indicator. His suit was online. Rodney and Baldemar exchanged a glance of relief, either SPARTAN beaming beneath their helmets.

From his TAC-PAD, Rodney was able to access the suit mechanics of his team-mate's armour and unlock it once more. With a button press of confirmation, the SPARTAN fell limp before them. Now, it was just a matter of waking him up. Accessing his vital readings, Rodney made sure that he was alive and uninjured before he decided to properly handle him. He rose to one knee and delicately raised Boris up to a sitting position, then lifted his arms up and slightly pulling them back, applying pressure to his chest and trying to force some stimulation into his system. Within a few seconds, Boris awoke with a groggy start, which prompted his leader to drop his arms and assess the man.

"Name and rank, soldier," Rodney ordered, beyond relieved.

[Edited on 12.14.2011 12:12 AM PST]

  • 12.13.2011 4:28 AM PDT
Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Eight!)

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Boris slowly looked around to his leader, a smile inching its way across his face as he recognized the man before him. "Boris-081, Lieutenant. Sir." Rodney offered a hand up, and Boris clasped it gratefully. After a few seconds of blissful silence, Rodney pressed on with his assessment.

"From what I could read on you, your electronic systems seem to be operating normally. Can you confirm this?"

After a few seconds of silence, Boris searched his whereabouts for a gun. Realising that all of his were either missing or wrecked in the fall, he had to quickly borrow the M7S that lay at Baldemar's feet. Picking it up, he assumed a firing stance, checked over his systems once more, then fired a burst over at the canyon wall opposite them and replaced the magazine with a fresh one, placing the minimally used one back into an ammo pouch, where four other M7S ammo clips lay dormant. Everything seemed to be in check, and he reported as such.

Rodney nodded in reply, letting his relief about their situation speak for him. Boris held out the rifle for Rodney to take back, but Theta's leader held up a hand, insisting that he keep it. "You don't have any weapons for yourself. You should probably keep that, so you can keep your distance from any other enemies we might encounter." Baldemar pulled out three more clips from his pouch and handed them over, to which Boris graciously accepted and slotted them away.

"Right. Now that we're sorted, we better find Henry," Rodney said, his pleasant tone falling away in place of a stoic, serious voice. One capable of commanding such a team as his. Taking a couple of seemingly leisurely steps around the wreckage, he spied the deceased Brute Captain's Carbine, and with a split second's approval, he ventured over and scooped it up, placing it upon his weapon attachment and looting all the ammo he could find upon its former bearer.

As his team followed, they passed the other bodies that had fallen against Theta's mettle. Baldemar stooped down to withdraw his blades from the two Brutes they had been impaled into, and after wiping the alien blood off onto their matty hides, he resheathed each blade back into his armour. They paced towards each other, settling in a position between either of their necessities. Not wishing to spend any more time on anything but their last objective, Rodney turned his attention back to the SPARTAN-II, wishing to extract all the information that he could.

"Can you give us any clues as to Henry's path from the ship compared to yours? Did he land close to you, or did you lose him in the explosion?" Rodney sounded a lot calmer now that he had at least one of his two missing team-mates rescued, but the lightest trace of anxiety still audible in his voice made it clear that all was certainly not well.

After a few moments of fiddling with his helmet, Boris looked back up at his leader. "I was pushed back from the explosion, but according to the glimpse of him from my helmet feed, he was sent that way," he answered, pointing towards the canyon wall on their left. "Either he's landed up on the ridge, or he hit the wall and came back down."

Rodney processed the remark for a while. Thoughts of leaping out of Pelican, unassisted save for his armour, didn't bother him at all. It had been a necessary action. He'd had no fear. But the sudden thought of Henry smacking into an unforgiving wall of rock and tumbling all the way down forced a wedge of doubt into his confidence. It was as if the helplessness of it all had channeled into him, recounting every blow of his fall with a pang of dread.

But he had no time to think suck things. Besides, if he came off the cliff, he'd be closer to it than the wreckage here in the middle. He's got to be up there. Wrenching his gaze away from the cliffs and back to his team, he prepared to give the order to move out. "We would've found him by now if we were down here. There'd be too many signs to miss. I'm certain he's up on the cliff." As he spoke, a new fear crept along his train of thought. It'd be a lot easier to spot him up there. Especially by air.

With a sudden burst of fear driving him forward, Rodney took off, bounding and winding through wreckage to get to the canyon wall. Quickly, the ground beneath him began to steepen as he neared the wall, and as his team followed closely, he jumped at the wall, grabbing hold of one of many erratic ridges. He began to race up the canyon, the thought of Henry at even higher risk of danger snapping at his heels and determination driving him upward.

Theta could almost hear the wall asking them if they were hoping for an easy climb as they ventured on, grip by aching grip. Their armour didn't add to the brighter side of things either; though it gave them a tremendous boost in climbing power, its weight put a tremendous strain on the rock they ascended upon. Shaped and moulded from ancient rivers no longer rushing through, the most it was used to accommodating now was the wind passing through. And as a result, the three SPARTANs quickly found that they had to move as fast as they could, for fear of hanging on too long and coming loose with the rock that faulted underneath them.

Around the halfway point of the climb, foot and handholds were becoming trickier and trickier to pass over. The SPARTANs found themselves having to try and avoid hugging the wall, for the dips and jutts of the ridges they scaled were becoming too irregular to properly get past. This put extra strain on their bodies, and as they progressed further, the climb started to take its toll. Bit by bit, they could feel a dull ache loom closer, like dark skies on the horizon. But the reassuring sight of the top of canyon wall above them cast the thoughts of fatigue away, and they carried on at a pace no man could ever hope to achieve.

Before long, Rodney thrust his arm out and gripped the very top of the canyon wall. Reaching out with his other arm and getting a secure hold, he powerfully launched himself up, landing on the tip of his feet as he haunched on the precipice of the canyon. Quickly, he spotted an object in the distance, but as he zoomed in for a closer look, his horrors leapt out at him, revelling in their fruition. What he saw was a Spirit dropship, nestled upon the ground. And its pilot was advancing towards the stirring Henry.

As his team made it up, Rodney unholstered his BR and went on the offensive. Burst of bullets coursed into the Sangheili's shields, and the sight of three Demons forming upon the canyon's edge struck a bolt of fear deep within its heart. Honour quickly crumbled beneath superstitious horror, courage gave way under paralysing terror. No other answer beat through its head, no other demand cried to be heard. All it could do was run, and so it ran. Turning back towards its dropship, it prayed to the gods above that its shields would absorb enough of the death being hurled towards it.

But the damage suddenly multiplied, and before he could pray for acceptance onto the afterlife, he fell to the ground, punctured and lifeless. Henry attempted to stand as his team rushed to his aid, but as soon he put pressure on his right leg, a malevolent pain seized him as if the very ground beneath him had struck him. A gasp of pain escaped his clenched teeth as he fell back down to the ground, quickly surrounded by the rest of Theta. At last, they were reunited once more, but the joy of the occasion was lost on the other members as they assessed Henry's condition.

"How bad is it?" Rodney asked, gesturing to his leg as he knelt beside him.

Henry shook his head as he attempted to sit up. "I think my femur's broken." Boris stooped down on his other side, and with the help of his team, the injured SPARTAN was at least partially able to stand. With his arms around their shoulders, he continued. "Not to mention my optics suite's kicked the bucket. My HUD isn't showing." At his observation, Rodney suddenly noticed the lack of the service tag reading.

"Well, in your condition, we're going to have a lot of trouble reaching our destination unless we board that Spirit," Rodney said, indicating it with a quick glance. "Does anyone object to us travelling via Covenant aircraft?"

"I can only think of one problem with the plan," Baldemar began, "but I consider it to be a serious one. Will we be able to communicate with any UNSC personnel from the Spirit? If we can't, then it's likely we'll meet heavy resistance upon trying to enter the battleground."

Rodney appeared to mull the point over before replying. "I guess we'll find out once we're inside. In our current situation, we don't really have much of a choice. If our luck is out, and we aren't able to contact our forces, then we'll just have to think on our feet and try to sneak in." With his free hand, he signalled to move out.

Theta covered the short distance as quickly as they could, but the amount of time it took hammered in the fact that they needed the Spirit if they were ever going to make it. Passing the burden of assisting Henry over to Baldemar, Rodney ducked under his arm and approached the Spirit, finding that the former pilot had left its cockpit entrance in its "tuning fork" wide open. Stepping into the alien craft, he seated himself at the controls, skimming foreign dialect until he found a function that seemed to fit the bill. With a light tap, the troop bay doors folded out like the wings of a bird of prey gearing up for its hunt.

  • 12.13.2011 4:28 AM PDT
Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Ten, yeah!!!)

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Supported by his team, Henry managed to get inside the Spirit's bay door, and took his time getting seated, making sure he didn't aggravate his injury any further. Once they'd all boarded, Rodney tapped the function again, and the doors retreated back inward, like birds huddling towards their parent. He'd spent the time waiting for his companions deciphering the ship's controls with his TAC-PAD's translating systems, and with a few more precise taps, the ship began to hover.

Rodney took hold of the rather cumbersome flight yoke, needing both hands to swing the Spirit around. He tapped a few more functions until a bar showed up on its panel. He slid his fingers forward over the bar, and the dropship suddenly lurched forward as if it was whipped by a cruel higher power. Once he felt sure enough of his ability to fly the ship, he re-accessed the movement panel and slid the bar fully forward, and the ship responded with a jolt as it took off into the last few moments of the night. Rodney could see hints of the sun's return in the sky above; the black of night had softened, now showing hints of swirling blue and grey.

Finding himself idle, Rodney skimmed over the alien languages once more, searching for a way to contact his allies out at the site they sped towards. After a painstaking ordeal, he eventually found the function that switched the ship's transceiver on. After a few more deft taps, an input screen showed itself, and Rodney stopped short. Who am I going to contact? He searched the screen over, his mind actively working over any possible solutions to his dilemma. An icon stood meekly in the corner of the screen, and Rodney pressed it anxiously, finding that it read "search" in his own language.

For a moment, the screen stood still, as if it was now aware of the intrusion of humans and refused to help him any longer. But the screen flickered back with a view of the canyon around him, and to his relief, a mass of icons dotted the map before him. He was instantly able to determine the different symbols, and soon learnt their meaning. He tapped one of the three "enemy" signals, and requested to hail them. A lump of ice grew in his throat as a reply boomed through. "You've got a lot of guts hailing this firebase here in the middle of all of this, scum. This better be a message of surrender." The tone of the responding voice carried acid, and though there seemed to be a lack of accumulated hatred associated with veterans of war, the man's voice sounded bitter enough to send his message across.

"Sir, this is SPARTAN Rodney-257 of Team Theta, en route to your location. My team and I experienced some... complications on the escort over here, and we've been forced to board an enemy craft to make the rest of the journey. Am I understood?" Rodney asked authoritatively, hoping whoever was on the receiving end didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary. Not that their situation was at all ordinary.

"SPARTAN, are you in any danger?" came the reply, visceral tones changing on reflex to alertness and lucidity. "Are there any immediate threats to you on board your vessel? Have you been taken hostage?"

"No, sir," Rodney answered, hoping that their situation was at least believable enough for them. "All hostiles were eliminated prior to boarding this ship. Our only immediate concern is a wounded SPARTAN of my team, but that will have to be dealt with on site. I request that you spread the message to your men, or whoever's in charge, if you aren't in position to do so. You'll spot our service tags before you spot our vessel. We don't want to be taken out by anyone on our side."

"Understood," the voice replied again after a couple of seconds. "I just hope you realise how this sounds to me. Your arrival will be anticipated." With that, the frequency was terminated, and Rodney sat a little easier. After informing his team of the conversation, he began going over their course of action once they arrived.

"We're going to be inhibited by Henry's injury, so we'll have to quickly set him up at a sniper post," he instructed, to which Henry replied with a small, apologetic grunt. "Once we're sure that no harm will come of you, Henry, then we'll move out and restock ourselves." His team acknowledged their leader's orders, and for the rest of the journey, all was quiet, save for the whine of the Spirit as it glided over the canyon below.

A short time later, Rodney banked left, remembering the battle placements on the Spirit's frequency layout map, hoping to avoid any Covenant resistance. He didn't trust their cover enough to try to sneak behind enemy lines. They flew over a squadron of M140SPR Mobile Artillery Assault Platforms, better known to the UNSC as Fox Cannons. Used from range to bombard enemy forces with 175mm shells, the squad rained hell on the attacking Covenant armada from the protection of higher ground. The squadron was largely numbered, and Rodney guessed it wouldn't be the only one up on the lip of the canyon.

The artifact site came into view as they burned through the distance, and the battleground below raged with malice and desperation. The UNSC had fortified themselves within the crater-like canyon, positioned mainly towards the rear, but a large number of front-line forces ventured further out into the canyon, and the expeditionary forces seemed to be positioned in front of a large, metallic grey platform, unlike anything he had seen before. Also, he noticed a similar looking structure built into the wall behind the UNSC's embankment. This must be what everyone's here for today, Rodney mused.

But the wonder of the spectacle quickly passed in place of a returning fear that had been pestering them ever since they had boarded the Spirit; though they had been assured of their safety upon their arrival, Theta still tensed as they glided over death and hatred, fearful of their own men. It was not a pleasant thought, and the SPARTANs clamped it down into the festering pit of other thoughts they had no time for.

Coming around the rear of the UNSC's position, they managed to avoid most of the monolithic battle waging all throughout Jacinto Canyon. The Covenant charged headlong into a thoroughly fortified UNSC defence force, meeting strategy and rugged determination with brute force and religious fanaticism. Almost all of Atlas's planet-wide might had congregated on a single point, and a vast variety of vehicles and soldiers alike stood their ground as plasma and blood-curdling roars swept towards them like a force of nature, wishing to purge the land of the heresy of humanity.

They landed near one of three firebases which had been set up in anticipation of the Covenant's assault, and a few officers gathered around as Rodney gently descended, unseen signals ordering a platoon of soldiers to stand guard with them as the alien craft descended before them. Landing the ship with a quickly learned skill, Rodney opened both the cockpit door and the left troop bay door, allowing his team to exit. Rodney quickly darted around to the side, where his team was helping Henry off, and where the officers stood to greet their new arrival. Theta quickly snapped to attention and saluted their superiors, to which the salute was returned.

On an order scarcely picked up by anyone else watching, the platoon raised their weaponry, instructing Theta to move aside as they inspected the outside of the Spirit from head to tail, running a number of technological scans to minimize the doubt of their commanding officers. Once their outside inspection was deemed satisfactory, another order was given to search the inside of the ship.

Having looked over the already open troop bay door upon their first inspection, the platoon divided into two groups. The first ten strode around the vessel, intending to inspect its middle and cockpit, while the other ten positioned themselves around the right troop bay door, weapons at the ready in case of Covenant stowaways or masterminds.

The leader of the platoon walked back over to Rodney, beckoning him over to his team and addressing him by name and rank. As he met back up with his team, he gestured to the open cockpit door and looked back up at the armour-clad giant.

"Sir, please open the other door," he instructed, his awe at the SPARTAN concealed by duty and mistrust. Rodney hopped back into the cockpit, and without the need of any translation, tapped the function he recognized to be the other door. As soon as it began to open, the platoon met back up again, rounding on whatever might be inside. But, to their relief, not a thing was visible to any eye or scan.

Peering around the ship, the officers assured themselves that there were no Covenant aboard the Spirit, and that the SPARTANs weren't the victims of an ambush with the potential to end the lives of as many UNSC infantry around as possible. As Rodney rejoined his team, three officers briskly stepped over, unfazed by the cries of war all around them as they looked up at Theta, expecting the salute they were given. Returning the salute, the head officer spoke up, and Rodney immediately recognized his voice.

"Looks like you're the real deal, son," the man replied, sounding far warmer than he had before. "You gave our logistics and surveillance units a hell of a scare." Theta smiled under their helmets, but the man showed no humour in his impression. "We better let you get to the front lines then."

Satisfied with their approval, Rodney prepared to move his team into one of the firebases for a proper rearming, but was stopped short by an alien humming emanating far below the rock they stood on, as deep as the melodies of giants. Theta looked to the officers, but they, too, wore the expression of lack of understanding. Wordlessly, the canyon watched as the platform behind the UNSC's main force began to split in two, making way for whatever resided below.


[Edited on 12.14.2011 12:10 AM PST]

  • 12.13.2011 4:31 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

(And there we are. Be prepared for yet another wait, for the next chapter may be even longer than this. No promises, but hopefully I'll be able to work quicker and get it out sooner. But, for now, enjoy, and trust that I've made this as best as I can.)

[Edited on 12.13.2011 9:04 AM PST]

  • 12.13.2011 8:14 AM PDT

No u

Mmmhhmmm. A masterpiece.

  • 12.13.2011 11:53 AM PDT

No u

This deserves moar attention.

  • 12.14.2011 6:55 PM PDT

Shall read this as soon as I have the time! Blarghairyghaisdu$@%#

  • 12.15.2011 12:50 AM PDT

OH THEE BLOODGUARD, WHEN SHALL THOU GRACE US WITH STORY?!?!

Shakespeare aside, when really? I'm aching for more!

  • 01.20.2012 3:40 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Hang tight. I'm a bit over halfway finished at this point. Besides, you never told me what you thought of the last chapter... :(

  • 01.20.2012 3:52 AM PDT

No u

Come on Bloodguard. Y U TAKE SO LONG?!

  • 01.20.2012 3:35 PM PDT

Crap, sorry Blood, forgot to write it!

But great chapter. Got me enthralled. Especially liked how Rodney was suffering (lol am I evil), and him jumping out the Pelican. And your scenery descriptions are great.

Moar!!

  • 01.21.2012 1:11 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Thanks, diggity dawg. Chapter 11's coming slowly like the last, and I'm kind of dragging. I'll do my best to rock up some inspiration, because this next one is heavily important, and it needs to be as immersive and believable as I can get it.

  • 01.23.2012 12:14 AM PDT

What a waste....

About half through the first part now. One thing to note, you should always be "looking over the shoulder" of one character. I.E, you only really pay attention to the thoughts and motives of one character per chapter/paragraph group/part etc.

  • 01.23.2012 10:16 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: Nocbl2
About half through the first part now. One thing to note, you should always be "looking over the shoulder" of one character. I.E, you only really pay attention to the thoughts and motives of one character per chapter/paragraph group/part etc.
Well... I hope it doesn't bother you too much, cause that's pretty much the same story for the next ten chapters.

I did wonder if would bug anyone. Thanks for addressing that.

  • 01.24.2012 8:14 AM PDT