- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Mr. Clark's idea
Up amongst the cloud’s she could see a streaking object. It was moving incredibly fast, and seemed to be emitting some kind of energy, as it was easily detectable from such a large distance.
“By the Gods,” ‘Eranumee said. “Could this be the messenger that the Arbiter spoke of?”
“If messenger means ‘big giant missile that’s about to burn us a new -blam!-’, then yeah, I guess it is,” Johnson said in response.
A missile? No, that’s definitely not a missile.
The object was closer now, it seemed to have descended thousands of feet in only a few seconds. Jan put her augmented eyes to use, and straining herself she could see the general outline of the object through the small pair of binoculars.
“It’s a person!” Jan exclaimed in shock.
“Say what?” Johnson said, before peering at the object a little closer. “Holy -blam!-, she’s right. Did some poor bastard not have his evac chute open up?”
“No Sergeant,” ‘Eranumee said with conviction. “He is our savior.”
Johnson didn’t look convinced, but as more and more of the object appeared, Jan was beginning to think that the Elite might be right.
The armor looks a little different, but that is definitely something a Spartan would wear. It’s impossible to think, but that has to be the Master Chief!
“Well, where’s he going to land?” Johnson asked. “If he’s our savior than it’d be nice to know he won’t land right on top of our -blam!- heads.”
No sooner had Johnson spoken, when the human clad in the odd armor had slammed into the ground, creating a crater nearly forty meters in diameter. Somehow the soldier had controlled his decent as he had landed, kneeling with one leg, his body low to the ground and looking as if the incredible force of slamming into the ground hadn’t effected him in the slightest.
“-blam!-…” Johnson muttered as the figure climbed to his feet, dust and debris from his impact clearing around him.
The strange energy peeling off of him seemed to increase as the figure glanced at his surroundings, and saw that he was situated dead-center between the city of Gestahl, and the Covenant forces intent on capturing it. Jan couldn’t help but shudder as a tendril of fear raced down her spine whilst the cold gaze of the armor-clad creature swept over the battlefield.
“What are they doing?” Jan asked, in regards to the Covenant forces. They had stopped in their approach and were staring at the mysterious soldier.
“Probably deciding who’s side that guy is on,” Johnson said. “Kinda like we are. Either way, considering he just dropped out of the -blam!- sky, something tells me he’s gonna mess at least one of us over.”
“What do you think?” Jan asked ‘Eranumee. The Elite turned and nodded solemnly.
“All we can do, is trust in the Arbiter’s words. I shall pass the word along that the soldier is not to be fired upon.”
As the Elite began to leave the room, Jan returned her attention to outside the window, where the soldier was now making slight gestures while facing the Covenant force.
“He must be talking to them,” Johnson said. “-blam!-, and we can’t hear him from over here.”
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“-ight me my cowardly enemy! I am not an innocent woman, nor a child with whom life has just blessed! Come and I shall give you a death far too merciful than you deserve!” Cyriacus shouted, using the ancient tongue of the Majal.
How unfortunate, my enemies seem to be too shocked to respond to my presence.
Cyriacus adjusted the output levels of his armor, mulling over the influx of energy he had absorbed when he obliterated the Forerunner ship high above the planet in orbit.
If they do not wish to come to me, then perhaps I shall give them reason to.
The crackling energy that swarmed around his form seemed to intensify before suddenly dimming, and became concentrated along both his arms.
Which force to strike at first? Those situated in the city will be easier to attack as they are confined to the buildings, while these here in the open fields have many opportunities to flee.
The distant row of alien tanks rumbled with power, and became the focus of Cyriacus’ attention.
The ground forces it is then…
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“What the hell is he doing?” Johnson asked as he peered through the pair of binoculars that Jan had handed him. Out in the center of the battlefield, the lone soldier had began to warp the distorted energy that surrounded him, and was now facing the Covenant forces entirely.
“Whatever it is, something tells me it’s going to be big,” Jan commented off to the side.
No sooner had the words left her mouth when the soldier out in the field suddenly unleashed a hellish shockwave of energy. A pillar of powerful energy, brighter than anything they had ever seen, drove straight down through the center of the Covenant infantry units, throwing the enemy soldiers on the fringes of the attack high into the air. Those in the direct bath were not so lucky, as they seemed to disappear entirely within the confines of the amazing display of power.
The pillar of energy finally stopped its furious charge as it slammed into a tightly knit unit of Covenant Wraith Tanks. Wraiths were well known for their heavy shielding and fortification, but in the face of such an attack, they were shredded as if they were constructed of paper. The gravity propulsion drives used to give the Wraith it’s ability to hover became overloaded and promptly exploded, raining smoldering wreckage down upon those troops unlucky enough to be close by.
A long moment of awe-like wonder seemed to overcome the battlefield, as the Covenant forces stared at the damage left in the wake of the soldier’s attack. Johnson watched the scene unfold, speechless for one of the few moments in his life.
Like a rope pulled too tightly, the silence snapped, and was replaced by a furious rage brought on by the Covenant forces, who unleashed a massive wave of plasma energy towards the lone soldier. Johnson swore every last soldier must have fired their weapons at the soldier.
The intensity of the attack seemed to burn the air itself as the plasma sailed across the open field towards the soldier. In defiance to the coming wave of certain death, the soldier remained rooted in his position, staring back at the Covenant forces with arrogance.
“He’s going to be killed!” Jan shouted, and before Johnson had a chance to see what she was doing, the girl had leapt to her feet and was rushing out of the room.
“Jan!” Johnson shouted after her, but she was already too far gone, and after an internal dispute he returned his attention to out the window, where the wave of plasma was just about to envelop the soldier.
“There ain’t gonna be nothing left of the poor bastard,” he muttered.
In contrast to Johnson’s words, the second before the soldier was melted by the attack, he thrust his arms wide, off to his sides, and a brilliant flash of light shot out across the battlefield.
“-blam!-!” Johnson cursed, throwing his arms up to block out the light. His eyes burned, giant red spots swimming in front of him despite the knowledge that he had closed his eyes. For a moment he was certain he had gone blind.
By the time he had managed to crawl back to the window, his vision had slightly cleared, granting him a hazy view of the battlefield. The view afforded to him was enough to give the Sergeant enough cause to think that now might be a good idea to get out of the -blam!- building.
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Cyriacus let his armor take the brunt of the Covenant assault, the force of the enemy attack cracking the hardened metal beneath his feet and driving him deeper into the crater. The gigantic wave of plasma had given him nearly tenfold the amount of energy that the shielding on the vessel out in space provided him. It would take a few moments to cultivate and transfer the raw energy, and until then he would be exposed to enemy attack.
The enemy forces were not idle after they launched their volley of plasma energy. The hundreds of thousands of ground troops had begun their charge towards him, intent on ripping apart whatever remained of his body after the plasma energy struck him.
To their credit, the enemy stumbled only slightly after Cyriacus absorbed the plasma volley with an ease that bordered on impossible. Their bloodthirstiness seemed to have overridden the self-preservation instincts all creatures were born with. These creatures were intent on rushing to their deaths, and Cyriacus would be loath to disappoint them.
The armor on his arms shifted, and panels along the length of his forearms opened up, allowing the large pointed blades to be freed on each arm. The blades were attached to his armor, and as such he would be forced into a lightning-quick battle style. He would need to last for several minutes before the energy he absorbed could be processed and filtered, which meant he’d be given a chance to murder his enemies with his own hands.
As a malicious grin spread across his face behind his helmet, Cyriacus felt a pulse of energy through his body. A voice was calling out to him from somewhere, but from where?