Episode I: Welcome to the Frontier []
Still, this doesn’t stop people coming out here to find their dreams, whether it be a life free of the government, or a life free be a bandit. But like all things, it’s never going to last. The UNSC and the Republic exert more and more control every day, and the constant infighting of the Jiralhanae is beginning to subside, with the High Chieftains exerting their power here too. The constant approach of the Covenants splintered successors, the Remnant and Storm is a constant reminder too of the oncoming war.
Introduction[]
Welcome brave soul to the first episode of Hammer Fall! This will be our first true foray into this new and unchartered territory, so you will be warned that this is going to be a little bit up and down. If you're reading this and don't have a faction, don't fret! Hammer Fall is joinable the entire way through the story!
Your opening post of the roleplay should detail a brief explanation of how your faction came to be in the Frontier, and what their overall aims are. At the end of each of your posts, your game moderator (For now only Ajax), will post a reply, giving you objectives to strive towards. He'll also update your faction stat tracker (Leave that only to a GM to update).
RP[]
NPC[]
These posts are solely to introduce the NPC factions into Hammer Fall, to add depth to it's background.
Task Force Gladiator[]
ONI Task Force 19[]
Blackjack Company[]
Fleet of Sacred Commitment[]
Justiciar Cadre "Poisoned Curses"[]
The Shadowed Night[]
Covenant Remnant "Fleet of Infinite Glory"[]
Storm Covenant "Fleet of Righteous Jurisdiction"[]
Veneritus Clan[]
Blood Pack[]
Koldat Keep[]
Tur'Oav Raiders[]
Empire of Koroku[]
Tzxyzyl Hives[]
Libertatem Populi[]
Watchtower Corporation[]
Ajax 013[]
Tyraxus Clan[]
Volendrunus Clan[]
Illan 'Inerevar[]
Ryuko Kawada[]
Post 1[]
Chot’Nar was dragged down the stairs, his claws barely hitting the steps as his two Jiralhanae captors dragged him from the arena. Almost carried by the two of them, he was taken through the catacomb where other Gladiators, like himself, waited their turn to fight. The whole entire chamber stank, mixtures of sweat and blood, with a few other distinct smells that offended his nose. He was dragged to the back of the chamber, and brought into a cell, his wrists pushed into the manacles hanging from the wall and then locked in, with an echoing click. One of the Jiralhanae handlers gave him a firm kick, to remind him who was in charge then both left, shutting and locking his cell door after themselves. Straining briefly against his restraints, he settled into a more comfortable position, with his arms above his head. He clicked once then twice then looked to his surroundings. His cell was positioned in the corner, with only one neighbour. He looked over to her and smirked. A human, a female one at that.
“So you’re my company for the next hour until my master picks me up.” He chuckled “Great....” He rolled his head back over to look at her, but his words had elicited a response
“No talkie?” He asked in his native language “No speakie?” He asked in Jiralhanae
“I speak Sangheili” she responded, her accent near perfect
“Oh.... That wasn’t expected.” He responded back to her in Sangheili “Where’d you learn it?”
“State of Vadam. My family were vassals to a elder of the keep before slavers got me.” She said, looking straight ahead and out of her sell “I’m gonna pay ‘em pack.”
“Keep telling yourself that human. We’re doomed to die in these arenas.” Chur’Not said, leaning back against his restraints “You at least got a name?”
“Ry-u-ko” she said, emphasising the syllables so he couldn’t mistake it “What about you scalie?”
“Chur’Not. Who owns you?” he asked idly
“Nobody owns me!” she snapped back
“Of course not. That’s why you’re chained up in this cellar with a collar.” He said, smirking at the heavy steel collar bolted around her neck
She just frowned, still refusing to look at him. Chur’Not looked his new companion up and down, trying to get a feeling for her. Like every other slave in this pit, she was stripped of clothing, and collared, but she bore a lot less scars than other gladiators. That either meant she was really new to this, or she was good, better than the others. Chur’Not would just wait to see. He didn’t need wait long. Two Jiralhanae, private hands, not arena staff, stopped in front of Ryuko’s cage and opened it up. Chur’Not half expected her to fight like a cornered animal as they stepped closer to her restraints, but she didn’t, she just glared. Its all the resistance she could offer. All the resistance any of them could offer. But Chor’Not recognised that look. There was a killer instinct there. The hired help loosened her chains so each one held one of the restraints coming from her wrists, then pulled her to her feet and marched her through the gladiator pit, past cages of the other fighters. She was lead up a set of stairs into a private chamber, the heavy door sealed behind them. She was facing down, her expression like stone, etched onto her face. Grim determination. Determination to survive, to escape, to have her vengeance. There was a shout, drawing her sight up, her eyes tracing the source. The creature in front of her was a disgusting, to say the least. It was a Jiralhanae, but somewhat short for one at seven foot and nine inches, with well groomed hair, but utterly corpulent. His gut was flowing over his belt, and his multiple chins masked any sign of what may once have been a neck. He stank of sweat and filth, since he gorged himself for most of the day, and rarely bathed. She could barely bring herself to look upon his disgusting hide, but the smell was inescapable. The two handlers hacked hard on her chains, bringing her down to her knees. Calistus stepped forward, placing his hand on Ryuko’s head, which she tried to evade, to no avail.
“My gladiator, are you ready for your fight?” He said, his Sangheili rough. She didn’t respond, but only glared at him. He motioned to his two henchmen, who moved to unbind her restraints, taking them off her chaffed skin. She just remained there, on her knees, knowing escape was impossible, at least in this situation. They opened the storage crates to the side of Calistus and opened them up, revealing their contents. Her armour and weapons. She closed on her, roughly pulling her to her feet. She shrugged off their claws and took the armour herself, attaching it to her body, clipping in the constraining armour. The entire get up was insulting, on so many different levels. First off, it was revealing. Calistus did this on purpose, he knew there were humans out in that crowd, humans who’d leer at her, and undoubtedly bet on her, filling Calistus’ coffers. Secondly, it was a mockery of Sangheili battledress, with traditional covers on her arms and legs made of a damage resistant polymer, though it was unlikely to deflect a blade. The armour itself was ridiculous. A deep navy blue, with red markings, it featured an encompassing curiasse, covering her front and back, from her neck to her navel and fitted with the most ridiculous shoulder guards, that curved upwards, intended to give her a more fearsome appearance, though it just interfered with her peripheral vision. Around her waist she was fitted with a fauld, a series of overlapping plats running down her tights, suspended by the same belt that held her codpiece in position. She was also given boots, greaves and vambraces, and fitted with Sangheili-style coverings, on her arms, running from her thumb to mid-way up her upper arm, and matching ones running from her ankles to just above her knee, and a similar piece below her curiasse, covering her neck. Once she was in her armour, with the helpers checking the straps, one of them fetched a locked container and opened it up in front of her. Her weapon of choice in the arena. A single edged longs word, with a circular hilt. The blade was wickedly sharp, but rarely took a life. She took it from the padded case with one hand, and looked the blade up and down, before taking its full weight in her hand and took it out, to rest at her hand.
“Master Calistus, she’s ready.” One of the hired hands said to the fat sloth, who just smirked, showing his rotten, jagged teeth.
“Come slave.” He said, waving his hand as he began to walk out of the preparation room into the entrance. Ryuko’s grip on her sword tightened, her muscles tensing up, like a compacted spring. She followed him nonetheless.
“Your opponent today is a human, like you. He’s the top of this league. He wields a sword and shield. Light armour though. Humiliate him.” Calistus said, walking with Ryuko towards the arena gates. Light shone through them, the only real light in this place, the effect was almost blinding. “I’ll be watching from the stands. Put on a good show.”
Calistus left her to walking the rest of the corridor alone. As she got closer to the exit, the din of the crowd got louder until she exited the corridor, onto the soft sands of the arena floor, deafened by the crowd around her. The arena was built from the same purple alloy that the ex-Covenant used, and oval shaped. The stands had room for a few thousands, and it was packed to the rafters. Above them it was exposed to the elements, but was thankfully a bright day. She gave her sword a twirl, hand wedged in the hilt to prevent it falling, as her opponent came out to a series of cheers. She looked to the crowd and sneered. Repulsive creatures, who enjoyed on the misery of others. Her eyes then caught her owner, Calistus, up in one of the ‘VIP’ boxes. He had a concubine on each arm, attending to his needs, entertaining him, feeding him, but his eyes were very much locked on Ryuko. She just growled and turned back to her opponent. He was a big guy, heavily scarred, dark skin with dark hair, and Calistus’ information was spot on. He carried a tear drop shaped shield and a short sword, but aside from a helmet blocking his face, greaves and a fauld, he had no armour. This was going to be a difficult fight, she knew that. But this was entertainment, not a battle. She looked to the side at the ‘enforcer’. He passed for a referee, and usually stepped in when the fighting got too violent or somebody was clearly defeated. Usually. She gave the crowd a look either side, seeing the crowds baying for blood, then back to her opponent. The Enforcer gave the sign, stepping away from the two fighters. Now was the time for battle. They began to circle, her opponent keeping his shield to his torso and his sword in ready position. Ryuko meanwhile, was much more relaxed. She didn’t walk in a warrior’s stance, she strolled, she swaggered, and she strutted, her sword resting on her shoulder. After a few laps of the arena, with the crowd getting louder, she stopped, causing her opponent to stop dead in his tracks.
“Hey, are you going to stand there, or are you going to actually do something?” She mocked, gesturing at him. An easy goad.
He charged, screaming as he did, shield first, intending to deflect her first blow and slash at her. Ryuko sidestepped him, bring her sword about and hitting him on the back of the head with the hilt. He stumbled, knocked off balance, but quickly recovered. He turned around, sword ready. Ryuko just smirked. The crowd booed. He was the favourite, but she wasn’t adverse to upsets. He returned with a swing, aiming for her guard. Ryuko parried, and brought her sword about to blow, only to meet his shield, a spray of sparks erupting where the tip skittered across the burnished coat. He lunged again, trying to skewer her. Ryuko just laughed. She rotated her body at the waist, the blow missing her. Taking his sword arm with her free hand, she punched her opponent in the face with the knuckle duster like handguard on her sword. Sure, there was a helmet on his head, but his head would be ringing. He’d feel it. Not as much as she’d hoped though. He broke her lock before she could land the second blow by swing his shield around, intending to clothesline her with it. She put up her sword arm to defend herself, but it was a bad move. The corners of that shield were sharpened. Even though there was plating there, the shield corner found purchase in flesh. On her sword arm no less. She was knocked back, gritting her teeth, a trickle of warm, crimson blood running down her arm. The crowd cheered for her foe. It must be nice to have the home field advantage. Her enemy smelled blood, literally, and charged, shield first, intending to bowl her over. He tried to slap her with that shield of his, hard enough to land her flat on his ass. No such luck for him. She took the blow, digging her heels into the sand, only being pushed back. While still off balance, she took her foe down a notch. A swift knee found purchase in his gut, knocking the wind from him, before a balled fist came down on his ribs like a hammer. Ryuko circled to get to his left and landed a firm blow to his face, sending him sprawling. His back exposed, Ryuko swung out with her blade. The injury wasn’t going to let her swing with her full power, but that bastard sure as hell wasn’t walking away from this scrap unharmed. The blade cut into his shoulder blade, too shallow to cause real, long lasting harm, but it met bone. He roared in pain, almost dropping his shield. Before he could recover, Ryuko kicked him at the base of his spine, sending him forward and onto his face, kicking up dust. She prepared to go in again, blade ready to chop him in half when the enforcer stepped in. He roared at her, that huge truncheon that passed for symbol of office blocking her. She knew better than to fight the Enforcer, who would of once been an experienced Gladiator himself. She spat on the ground and walked back, stomping her feet, before getting the required distance and turning back and screaming at her foe.
“Hey, bastard, get up, I’m not finished with you yet!” she yelled, taunting him. He shakily got back to his feet and turned back to her, his entire body bristling with rage. She saw it when his back was turned, the butchery to his neck, just below the rim of his helmet. Somebody implanted a berserker implant. It was designed to increase adrenal response and aggression in combat. She was never fitted with one as almost all of her owners considered her too aggressive already. However, this placed her at a disadvantage. He was coursing with ten times more adrenaline than her, and would fight through pain like it was nothing. ‘Screw these odds’ she thought to herself, the odds never concerned her before. Fight like you mean it.
“Gladiators like you are terrible, thinking you’re all high and mighty with no skill.” She sneered. She loved running her mouth at this kind of dumb fuck.
The guy charged, swinging his sword like mad. Ryuko ducked under the clumsy blows and when he swung too hard, his whole body rotating, she took her chance. She swung, hard, catching the edge of his shield, knocking it sideways. She lunged now, catching his ribs, cutting him deep. He wasn’t even aware of that pain though. He recovered and came forward, intending to use his bulk against her. He slammed his shield hard into her side, cutting her. It wasn’t deep, but damn it, it stung. However, his sword swung in. She was ready to parry, but underestimated the strength of that swing, she was knocked aside. Trying desperately to regain her footing, she ended up tripping over her own feet and being turned around, her back now facing her. She tried to swing her sword around, enough to distract him, but it wasn’t any good. His sword found its target. The blow landed on the back of her thigh, above her leggings, but in the section unprotected by her faulds. It was deep, and it was long, but thankfully her tendons and arteries were missed. She stumbled forward, blood coming out of her wound, tiny splatters hitting the sand. Meanwhile he was gushing blood from his side, leaving a trail. She had to end this, before she was skewered. Limping forward, she turned around back to face her enemy, teeth gritted. Pain like this didn’t bother her. Not anymore. She just had a few new scars to show off. Her foe though, he knew this fight was entering a close. He charged forward again scissoring the air with his sword, attempting to get her by quantity of blows, not quality. No matter. She took a step to the side, dragging her blood covered leg as she did, and moved her sword hand, so she was holding the blade of the sword itself. As he lunged she parried with the hilt, catching his sword in the guard. Trapping his sword hand, she lunged, shoulder first, planting those big spiked pads into his chest. Finally, they were good for something. She slipped the circled shaped hilt down his sword into it passed the hand guard and was onto his wrist, then twisted the hilt, causing his lower arm to go in the wrong direction, dislocating his elbow, with a satisfying pop sound. Dropping his sword from his now useless, flailing arm, she twisted her body under his arm and then spun the blade on the hand guard and cut the blade into his shield arm. It cut deep into the meat, but barely bit into the bone. Her final punishing blow in this flurry was an uppercut, shattering his jaw.
Knocked back, both his weapons falling from his grasp, she dragged her sword from his arm and threw it off to the side. She didn’t need it anymore. As he fell onto his back, she leapt upon him, pinning him with a knee planted on that wound of his, and tore his helmet from his head. His face was bruised, and a trickle of blood running from his mouth. Not good enough. She needed to show this people that she was the victor here. She began to pound on his face, punch after punch, decimating his facial features. His eye swelled up, his cheekbone collapsed, his nose dislodged, his face cut open all over and his front teeth missing. After five or six frenzied blows, she clasped her blood soaked hands together like she was praying and raised them above her head. She was going to show this crowd what she did with their heroes. One huge, leather hand wrapped around her wrists as she tried to bring down her finishing blow. The Enforcer stepped in. He dragged her from her position atop her foe and across the sands, while she kicked and swore. Two runners came from the opposite gate and took each arm of her foe and dragged him away, leaving a trail of blood as he went. He’d probably live, but he’d need that helmet to hide his disfigured face. Once he was out, the enforcer held her for a moment longer, until she calmed and went limp in his grasp. He released her onto the dusty floor, kicking up dirt, then took her by her right wrist and lifted her to her feet, then held that wrist aloft. She was marked the winner of this fight. Gazing around the crowd, there was very much a mixture of responses. She’d put on a good fight, so she got a lot of cheers for that, but she’d upset the crowds favourite, so there were more than a few boos and jeers. She didn’t care. She didn’t fight for these animals. She looked up to her master, he smiled and nodded at her. She just scowled. She didn’t fight for that bastard either. She fought for nobody except herself. The enforcer released her hand. That was the signal to leave. She picked up her sword and put her good hand to that wound on her thigh, then limped away, back to her gate. Limping through, Calistus’ two guards awaited her. Taking her weapon then summarily stripping her off all of her armour, most of which was now damaged, dirty and blood soaked.
Once she was out of it, one of them took her by the arm and walked her out, to a different part of the Gladiator pits. Walked through, the smell of stale blood and powerful disenfectants reached her nose, informing her she was being taken to the Chiurgeon. What passed for a doctor for these apes, they were closer to butchers. She was walked through the door way into the infirmary, where several Gladiators lay, with various levels of injury, ranging from cuts and bruises to dismemberment. She was pushed forward, limping into the office. The doctor looked to her, blood smeared down the front of the apron. He circled her, looking at her injuries, then pushed her to one of the tables. She hated being pushed around, but fighting this guy, well, that just wasn’t worth it. She climbed onto a table obviously meant for larger beings, then lay down face first propping herself up with her good arm. The doctor had little in patience of bedside manner. He jammed a device into the wound, causing her to wince, and filled the wound with a healing foam. Similar to BioFoam, it was analgesic, anti-bacterial and promoted cellular regeneration. Sealing up the wound with self closing staples, which dragged the skin back into position, it was cleaned with a strong antiseptic and an adhesive patch was placed over it, to keep it covered, rolling over, she bared her wounded arm. Treated in the same, brusque manner, she just sighed with exasperation and looked away while the healer worked. The Chiurgeon spoke to her handler in their native tongue, most of which she didn’t catch, and then he came back to take her by the arm, dragging her off the table.
-Work in progress-
Actene[]
Cleansing Blade[]
Post 1[]
| User | Actene | ||||||
| Name | Cleansing Blade | ||||||
| Allegiance |
| ||||||
| Leader(s) | Shinsu 'Refum | ||||||
| Attributes | |||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
The pirates never saw it coming.
When the first explosions tore through their encampment and sent every raider in the compound stumbling out of their barracks and into the night, their leader groggily took charge of his confused, half-inebriated crew. The hulking Jiralhanae fumbled with the clasps of his armor, one hand clutching his gravity hammer as he bellowed for a report from the sentries and raged at the others to take up positions against the unseen attacker.
The jumbled medley of Kig-Yar, Unggoy, and humans who raced to the compound’s perimeter found the corpses of the night patrols slumped at their posts, their throats slit or their brains blown out by needle rounds. The pirates who rushed to examine their fallen comrades only had a few seconds to examine the bodies before the plasma charges planted under them detonated, consuming entire squads in waves of blue fire and sending others tumbling from the compound’s parapets, thrashing and screaming from the burns and shrapnel.
As the survivors struggled to regroup and their chieftain bellowed for pilots to get dropships into the air, dark shapes dropped down onto the compound’s walls. Energy swords sprang to life, cutting down terrified pirates on all sides. The shapes never stopped moving, darting from target to target and leaving nothing but dead and dying pirates in their wake.
One Jiralhanae, a lieutenant in the chieftain’s skeleton pack, grabbed a human subordinate and used the screaming man as a shield against the energy sword that flashed up at him from the shadows. The human’s quivering corpse dropped down onto the blade’s owner, who took only a moment to slash the body in half. The lieutenant snarled and fired his Spiker rifle. The enormous rounds tore into the pieces of the human’s body and crashed into the shields of the shimmering figure that had just killed him.
An active camouflage unit flickered and petered out, revealing a dull-armored Sangheili warrior with a helmet that concealed its face and tapered out into a prong that extended beneath a pair of dimly-glowing eyes that held within their pupil-less depths the promise of swift death.
The lieutenant faltered, hypnotized by that cold blue visage. He never got off another shot. The warrior’s blade flashed once, relieving the Jiralhanae of the arm holding the Spiker. The sword altered direction in mid cut and returned back down to remove the warrior’s head before he could even register the loss of his arm. The Unggoy behind him squealed in fear as he toppled. They were dead before the first cries could leave their masked lips. Another warrior emerged behind them and killed them with a series of precise jabs from his wrist-mounted energy gauntlets.
The warrior who had killed the Jiralhanae nodded at the newcomer. Although the pirate she had just decapitated could never have known it, the Sangheili behind that grey, faceless armor was a female. Her fellow warrior returned the nod and they both turned away, their camouflage units reactivating as they dashed off to continue the slaughter.
The compound was a madhouse. A handful of survivors ran screaming from the walls, only to be cut down by shots from the furious Jiralhanae who had taken up positions around their bellowing Chieftain. The pilots had scrambled into their Spirit dropships, only to find that the controls were not responding, their energy cells mysteriously depleted. Only one Spirit lifted off, drifting listlessly above the compound as its pilot struggled to find targets he could actually shoot.
The Spirit’s flight did not last long. The pilot hadn’t even had time to fire a shot before something crashed down onto the dropship’s hull. The pilot’s head jerked up, searching for the source of the noise. Moments later his cockpit’s emergency seal was ripped open and something large and heavy dropped inside. An energy gauntlet silenced the pilot’s surprised cry and the Sangheili warrior wielding it shoved the corpse aside and guided the Spirit in a tight turn, training its plasma turret on the pirates below.
The Chieftain and his pack stood alone in the darkness. The rest of the pirates—the ones who weren’t lying dead up on the parapet—shrieked and screamed, running to hide within the compound’s buildings or simply throwing down their weapons and screaming for mercy from their unseen attackers. Only the Jiralhanae remained, glaring furiously around their encampment for some sign of the enemy amidst the light from the flames.
The captured Spirit fired first, sending concussion rounds from its turret crashing down towards the Jiralhanae formation. The warriors dodged the ponderous barrage, baring their teeth and laughing as two warriors darted forward with fuel rod cannons at the ready.
The Spirit’s shots were suddenly joined by a flurry of turret rounds from above. These blasts ripped through the warriors with a tight pattern of shots, blasting first at the fuel rod wielders and then creeping up in a steady barrage that sent dead and dying warriors tumbling off into the shadows. Something flickered in the darkness above the compound, blotting out the stars as its active camouflage peeled away. The Phantom dropship descended, hovering beside the captured Spirit and raining down fire on any pirates who dared raise their weapons against it.
As the chieftain herded the remnants of his pack back towards the compound’s command center, streams of plasma fire struck them from three sides at once. A trio of Sangheili warriors darted in a loose formation around them, picking off the remaining warriors like wolves circling trapped prey. Plasma rounds splashed uselessly off of the chieftain’s armor as he stood amidst the bodies of his fallen pack. Baring his fangs, he raised the gravity hammer and bellowed a challenge at the pitiless phantoms who had crushed his hopes and dreams with such ease in so short a time.
Off in the darkness, an energy sword flashed to life. The chieftain spun, bringing his hammer up as the female warrior charged towards him. Plasma shots bloomed from a launcher embedded in the armor under her wrist, flaring towards the chieftain’s face and momentarily blinding him. With a bellow of frustration, he swung the hammer down at his new opponent with a clumsy but powerful blow.
The female rolled to the side just in time, her shields flaring as they met the wave of energy that exploded from the hammer’s impact. Without hesitating, she drew a second blade from her hip and lashed out at the hammer’s head. Sparks erupted from the weapon as the blade cut into its energy supply, draining the gravity generators and turning it into little more than a blunt instrument.
The chieftain didn’t hesitate. Flipping the hammer around, he slashed at the warrior with the vicious blade protruding behind the hammer itself. The warrior leapt to avoid the blow; as she descended, her legs landed on the hammer’s handle with stunning agility. Before the chieftain could react, she darted up the weapon and jumped, vaulting up over the chieftain’s head. Both blades flashed as she descended and she came dropping low to land behind the Jiralhanae.
With a long, rasping cough, the chieftain fell to his knees. Blood flowed from wounds in his neck and back, coursing down over his battered armor. The cough became a drawn out gasp for air.
The warrior turned back and, with the calm disinterest of an afterthought, brought a blade down on the dying chieftain’s neck. Head and body tumbled to the ground in opposite directions.
Both energy swords winked out. The warrior returned the handles to her belt and looked around. The violence that had swept over the compound like a wildfire had died down as swiftly as it had come. The Phantom dropped in low, still covering the courtyard as more grey-armored Sangheili leapt down to the ground and joined the assault team in canvassing the area. Some began sweeping the buildings while others darted off to secure the landing pads. Along with the grounded Spirits, the pirates’ collection of gunboats and shuttles remained in their berths. None of the pirates had even had the chance to reach them.
One of the new arrivals approached the female, who observed the proceedings from amidst the corpses of the chieftain’s pack. Both warriors raised a hand in greeting.
“Nicely done, Pula,” the newcomer said, indicating the chieftain’s corpse. “You and the vanguard barely left us any work at all. Not that these vermin where any challenge at all.”
“Murderous thugs,” the first warrior, Pula, agreed. “But at least this one knew how to die well.”
The other warrior chuckled. “We can only hope that our real enemies know how to die as well. At least some of these fools might have escaped had they not just stood out here for us to shoot. I hope they enjoyed their last stand, though I doubt anyone will care to remember it.”
Pula said nothing, looking down at the chieftain lying amidst the bodies of his faithful pack. She could have let the other warriors finish him off from afar, but seeing him standing there among the bodies with the light of the fire illuminating his armor had stirred something within her. It had seemed proper that he should be given the chance to swing his hammer at a foe rather than be cut down from afar like the others, helpless and alone. She had given him a worthy fight, and yet she knew that her comrade was right. In the end, the chieftain’s defiant stand had earned him nothing but death. Such foolish chivalry was not the way of the Cleansing Blade.
Another warrior jogged up, another one of the Cleansing Blade’s female combatants. All who served the cause were expected to hone their skills and take up arms against whatever enemies their commander set them against. This was not Sanghelios, their beloved homeworld. There were no keeps to rule, no bloodlines to manage. Driven out by their own, by the very people they had sacrificed their lives and their honor to safeguard, the Blades now knew only this lawless frontier, where they dwelt amongst the very scum they were sworn to eradicate. But they would survive and adapt, just as they always had.
“We have secured the facility,” the other female reported. “The ships and prisoners are being secured, as ordered.”
“Right then.” The strike leader turned away and activated his communicator. “Time to inform Commander ‘Refum of our glorious victory, eh?”
He paused, tilting his head up towards the night sky that was now cloudy with the smoke from the fires that burnt around the compound. “Though something tells me he already knows.”
Pula could hear it too, a low rumbling that grew steadily louder and seemed to fill the air with the advent of its approach. All eyes turned upwards, prisoners and warriors alike, as a dark shape pushed aside the clouds and darkened the stars as its shadow fell across the compound. The once-smooth hull of a Covenant warship, now pitted and scarred by countless engagements, loomed over them all, gazing down on the burning compound like an enormous purring beast.
“The reports are in,” Umbra ‘Vesic announced from his post on the Cleansing Fire’s bridge. He looked expectantly to where his commander stood in the center of several dozen monitors and display consoles. “The compound has been seized and Herrulus is dead. The scum that were not killed have been rounded up along with the slaves they took from the human convoy.”
“Yes, Umbra, I am aware.” The commander swiped a hand across one of the displays, scrolling through the data streaming in from the warriors on the ground. “Shur did well for his first field command. We should remember that for future assignments.”
“We cut through their ranks without even a single casualty,” Umbra said with a cold smile. A few of his fellow bridge officers let out short chuckles. “Even with our reduced numbers, these scum are no match for the Blade.”
“Yes,” the commander said, still engrossed in the mission reports. “It would seem the rumors regarding the prowess of Herrulus and his crew were greatly exaggerated. As you said, our victory today was over scum. Nothing more.”
He turned his head upwards and met Umbra’s gaze with a calm, measured eye. “Don’t be too quick to declare triumph from a skirmish with the lowest sort of filth. We were not driven from the homeworld by pirates, but by warriors. We may face pirates out in this frontier, but the true rulers of this sector are warriors as well. One victory does not make us conquerors.”
Umbra clicked his mandibles and bowed his head in deference. He knew the truth in his commander’s words, but he couldn’t deny the fervor that was still coursing through his veins at the strike team’s onslaught. It had been too long since the Cleansing Blade had known true victory. Their last few months had been a long string of sacrifices and retreats, stalling and evading the government fleets sent to exterminate them. The Blades had needed this victory even more than they had needed the equipment and resources the strike team was currently pillaging from the compound. In its way, it was proof that their cause was not dead, that they were still a force to be reckoned with.
“I want the captured pirates and their prisoners processed separately,” the commander ordered. “Get them off the strike team’s hands and aboard the Fire as quickly as possible.”
Umbra nodded. “The pirates will need to be interrogated. How will we determine which to question and which to simply execute?”
“I doubt Herrulus shared key tactical data with the peons outside of his own pack. Any information that is of true value will be amongst his personal files. The strike team will handle those when they take possession of his vessels.”
“Then why—“ Umbra cut himself short. It was not his place to question his commander, particularly in front of the entire bridge crew. “Forgive me. I will relay your orders to Shur and his warriors.”
The commander nodded. “Do so.”
The Cleansing Blade did not hold with the gaudy rank colorings of the old Covenant that many Sangheili still clung to. Each warrior’s armor was dull grey, with small markings and digital identifiers denoting their place within the movement. The commander’s was no different: a battered, pitted combat harness of the kind once worn by the Covenant’s elite special forces warriors. Even now, decades since the Schism, Umbra still felt a twinge of pride when he saw the legacy of his old unit. Even to the uninitiated observer, the commander did not need any kind of markings to denote his place within the brotherhood of the Cleansing Blade. He carried himself with a casual, almost careless grace, relaxed and yet utterly alert at all times. Umbra and any number of Blades would gladly go to their deaths at a single word from him. He was the author of their victories, the fabric behind their struggle, the one who had led them through the fires of battle again and again and the warrior who had brought them out of defeat and led them out to this frontier at a time when others had faltered and swayed in the force of their enemies’ overwhelming might.
Shinsu ‘Refum, commander of the Cleansing Blade and Black Knight of Sanghelios, turned back to the displays around him. Umbra and the rest of the bridge crew followed suit. A minor victory this might be, but it still required the same level of diligence they afforded to the battles that would determine the future of their species.
And those would come, in time.
“The compound has been completely secured.” Shur ‘Vadum had removed his helmet in order to give his report, tucking it respectfully under his arm as he addressed the officers within the conference chamber. From where she stood by the door, Pula was impressed by her friend’s composure. She had seen plenty of other junior officers tremble and fumble when addressing the Cleansing Blade’s leadership, but Shur spoke clearly and without hesitation. “All of the enemy dead and those who surrendered have been tallied, accounting for all of Herrulus’s crew. Most of my team remains in the compound. Some of the pirate vessels were better secured than we anticipated.”
From his position at the head of the conference table Shinsu ‘Refum nodded. “Very well. Meet with the personnel officer before you return to the surface. He will assign you a Huragok and its assistants to help breach the remaining vessels. I want every scrap of that compound searched for intelligence.”
Shur raised his free hand to his chest in a salute. “Understood, commander.”
“An impressive first command,” Shinsu noted. “I trust that you will maintain your performance when we face our true enemies.”
The young warrior bowed his head. “I offer my all to the Blade.”
“Your sacrifice earns you a share in our fellowship,” Shinsu replied, completing the invocation. “Return to your post.”
Shur gave Pula a friendly nod as he passed her on his way out of the room. She inclined her head in return as he passed through the and slipped his helmet back over his head.
Back at the conference table, Shinsu and the other officers had turned their attention to a series of maps that had sprung up in front of them. Apart from Shinsu, Umbra, and the Cleansing Fire’s two most senior officers, holographic images of the Shipmasters commanding the Fire’s escort corvettes paced around the table.
“The pirates have been secured in two of the forward brigs,” the Fire’s security leader reported. “Their human prisoners are under guard in the rear hangar.”
Shinsu nodded. “We will contact the colony they were stolen from. With any luck, the humans there will offer safe berth in exchange for their return.”
“And the prisoners?” the security leader asked. “I would prefer not to have to waste too much time and effort on feeding the scum.”
“You won’t have to,” Shinsu told him. “Interrogate the Unggoy among them and find out where they hail from. We will return them to their homes as soon as we are able. Make sure they are clear on who we are before they are released. Their account of our attack here should do interesting things for our reputation out here.”
“What of the others? The humans and Kig-Yar?”
Shinsu pulled up an enlarged image of the pirate compound. “They will be returned to the surface, along with a small detachment of warriors to keep them in line. We will put out that Herrunus was killed in a raid and that the survivors from his crew are trying to rebuild. More raiders will quickly flock here to finish them off.”
He nodded at one of the holographic shipmasters. “Yul, you will keep the Preserver in this system to establish a more suitable base of operations around the compound. Set our prisoners to work mining the area for anything we can use to trade, but make sure they are treated well. They know the planet better than we do.”
The hologram let out a low chuckle. “So I’m to be the overseer, then? Very well. I’ll take comfort hunting down the scum who show up to cause trouble.”
“I’m assigning additional warriors to the Preserver,” Shinsu told him. “Capture as many of the vessels as you can. We need more than just the current strike force if we are to match the major powers in this region. Interrogate the captives and add them to your work force, unless you can find other uses for them. I trust in your discretion.”
“As you wish, commander.”
“And where will the rest of the Blade be going?” Umbra asked, leaning against the table. Pula had never liked the Blade’s second in command. He had none of Shinsu’s finesse and embodied every bit of old-guard prejudice that the Cleansing Blade was meant to discard. Whatever the qualities had kept him at Shinsu’s side for so long were, Pula couldn’t see them.
“Deeper into the frontier,” Shinsu answered, waving a hand over the hologram. The compound vanished and was replaced by images of several ships: the Cleansing Blade’s modest fleet. The Cleansing Fire itself was a deadly cruiser that had brought down vessels many times larger than itself in the past, but the rest of the fleet consisted only of corvettes and light frigates, along with a handful of transport ships that supported them. “We were fortunate enough to extend our intelligence network into this region even before the government moved against us in force. Our spies report that conflict is stirring, particularly amongst the Jiralhanae clans. I plan to offer the Blade’s services to whichever faction proves liable to succeed.”
Umbra bristled. “We fight to ensure the rejuvenation of our people, not for the whims of those mongrels.”
“Those mongrels have proven to be valuable allies in the past,” Shinsu reminded him. “It is they who possess the true strength out here. They have little love for the Vadams or the government that drove them into these parts after the Schism, which means that we may very well have enemies in common.”
He summoned up a map of the frontier. “The government cannot pursue us here in force and risk sparking a renewed conflict with the Jiralhanae. If any agents are sent in to track our movements, our brothers and sisters who remained behind in Sangheili space will alert us of their mission. Without interference, we will thrive here. We will grow strong, as will those we support and defend. When the time comes to return to the homeworld and defeat our true enemies, we will have the support of a stable frontier to aid us. The Sanghelios government’s seizures of colonies in these parts have made it unpopular. We will show them a different face of the Sangheili, and they will support us for it.
“We are weak now,” he told the officers. “Our warriors are some of the finest our people have ever seen, but there are not enough of them. Our fleet is small, unable to be more than a precise strike force. Pride and honor are luxuries that come only with power. The Vadams and their government understand that well. The Cleansing Blade fights from within the shadows. You all knew this when you discarded your honor to follow me. I will not allow old prejudices isolate us from the sources of power out here. If we must humble ourselves and become the tools of Jiralhanae or worse, we will do so.”
Shinsu paused, looking at each officer in turn. “If any of you object to my leadership, state your grievances now. The warriors under your commands will follow your lead, and we cannot afford divisions within our ranks.”
Every warrior, including Umbra, lowered their heads and brought an arm up in salute. The hologram of Yun let out another laugh. “Without you, commander, where would we go? We have given up everything for the Blade, for your vision. There is nothing left for us to return to.”
“The corruption that eats away at our people from within must be destroyed,” Umbra put in. “We set aside our honor in order to fight it without hypocrisy.”
“Then you have your orders.” Shinsu turned off the table’s holograms. “Return to your posts. Have the warriors under your commands redouble their efforts at training. We are still at war, and our days of retreating from the enemy end now.”
Pula remained where she was, keeping silent guard by the door as the officers departed. It was only when Shinsu approached that she broke away from her position and moved to stand at his side.
“There is a matter with the human captives I must attend to,” Shinsu informed her as they left the conference chamber. “In the meantime, I have a new task for you. You are familiar with the warriors within the fleet?”
“Of course, commander.” Pula trained with different cadres every day, lending her skills to training masters and keeping an eye out for hidden talent within the Cleansing Blade’s rank and file.
“You will assemble the best agents you can recommend, preferably ones that can operate in small teams. Just because our fleet is small does not mean our reach has diminished.”
“When the warriors are assembled, what will you have us do?” Pula asked, keeping pace at a respectful distance behind Shinsu.
“I will dispatch you to different areas of the frontier. You will make contact with as many of our spies as you can, though you will keep your allegiance hidden from all others. Infiltrate as many groups as you can, be they pirate bands, mercenary groups, or even the Jiralhanae clans. Gather as much intelligence as you can and, if need be, strike from the shadows to remove potential threats.”
Pula nodded. The Cleansing Blade’s strike teams were forces to be reckoned with, but its true strength had always lain with its skills at subterfuge, sabotage, and assassination. “I will assemble the warriors at once.”
“Excellent.” Shinsu didn’t break his lengthy stride. “The warlords will find our ability to strike down their enemies to be valuable beyond words. And as for the enemies that we will make out here, well…”
He cast a glance at Pula over his shoulder. “I expect that they are not long for this galaxy.”
She brought an arm up to her chest. “They will feel the Blade’s judgment, commander.”
Shinsu nodded and continued his march down the darkened corridor, leaving Pula alone with her thoughts. She watched him until he had disappeared into the shadows.
From the day he had found her squatting amongst the ruins and corpses of her village on Sanghelios, Shinsu had been her reason for living. He had been barely alive that day, his body flayed and battered by the torture he’d received at the hands of government warriors, and yet when he had looked down at her he had seemed magnificent as he did now at the head of thousands of devoted warriors. He had taken her in when the rest of Sanghelios would have left her to die, had trained an orphaned peasant girl as a warrior when any other Sangheili would have cast her aside like trash. No matter where his path took him—to the seat of government on Sanghelios or to a black pit of scum like the frontier—she would follow as faithfully as she always had.
There was work to be done. Pula turned away and headed down the hall to find the first candidates for Shinsu’s assassination teams.
The small line of humans cringed away when Shinsu approached. There were eight altogether, their clothes and flesh made ragged by the abuse of their pirate masters.
Shinsu glanced at one of the two guards watching over them. “Where are the others?”
“They have been moved to a holding area to await return to their colony,” the warrior explained. “These are the ones who asked not to be returned. We gather that they are criminals of some kind or another and would face punishment from their own even after their captivity.”
Shinsu nodded, moving down the line of humans. A few looked back up at him, only to shudder and quickly look away. He must look like some kind of monster to them, like one of the demon Spartans that had terrorized him and his fellow students in the tales they had heard on Sanghelios.
“Give them a choice,” he announced, glancing back at the guard. “They can return to their own kind, or we will put them to work on one of the transport shuttles. Be sure to emphasize the Blade’s dim view on treason or thievery within its ranks.”
The guard seemed surprised at the idea of humans working on Cleansing Blade ships, but he said nothing. Shinsu continued down the line and was about to turn away when he came to the last one in line. This one stood a few paces away from the others and didn’t so much as flinch when Shinsu looked down at him.
The prisoner was not much to look at, even by human standards. A young specimen, his rags seemed even dirtier than the others and his face and hair were covered with grime. Underneath the rags, Shinsu saw several fresh cuts in his flesh, markings that he recognized as being crude Jiralhanae runes. He’d seen them before, carved into the flesh of many fellow Sangheili: the mark of a disobedient slave.
“And who might you be?” he asked in a common human dialect.
To his surprise, the young human smiled and replied in thickly accented Sangheili. “Who wants to know?”
“You speak our tongue?” Shinsu asked, reverting to his own language.
The boy jerked his shoulders in the human equivalent of a shrug. “Some.”
“Are you a criminal, like these others? Why do you refuse to return to your own kind?”
Another shrug. “They don’t want me. These bastards don’t want me either.”
Intriguing. “What was your crime?”
“Some people tried to kill me. I killed them first. Besides, no one wants a Spartan kid. Freaks like that shouldn’t breed, or that’s what they said.”
Shinsu did not startle easily, but he was still taken aback by the human youth’s words. He was the child of Spartans? He looked the human over again. Yes, he was ragged and bloody and looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days, but there was a confidence to his posture that stood out from the slumped heads and downcast eyes of the other slaves. And there was something in those dark eyes of his. A certain hunger that Shinsu knew all too well…
“If you are the son of such warriors, what are you doing out in this frontier?” he asked. “Where are your parents now?”
The human’s mouth twisted. The smile was still there, but it no longer reminded Shinsu of grins he’d seen from other humans. This was more like an animal bearing its fangs. “Dead,” he replied. “And the bastard who murdered them is somewhere out here on the frontier. I’m going to find him and then I’m gonna kill him.”
“I see. And what is your name, human?”
The boy’s eyes never left Shinsu’s. “I’m Han.”
“You are barely more than a child by your own species’ standards. Why should I not simply give you back to the colony the pirates took you from?”
“I know how to fight. I’ve made it on my own out here this long. And I know things. Brute clans, Jackal raiders, things about human colonies. You keep me around, and I can help you.”
Shinsu stepped closer to the bloodied slave. Han didn’t back up even a step. “And why would you side with me? My warriors may well turn their weapons on humans before we are finished out here.”
Han shrugged. “The humans out there tossed me out. They don’t want me; maybe I’ll have better luck with you guys.”
Perhaps Shinsu saw a bit of himself in this defiant youth. Perhaps the Cleansing Blade needed to evolve more quickly if it was to survive. Whatever the reason, Shinsu knew that this human would not be going off to work on a transport ship. “I am Shinsu ‘Refum, commander of this force,” he told the human. “You interest me. Serve me and my warriors, the Cleansing Blade, and I will ensure that you are fed and instructed as one of us. Aid us in our struggle and we may even help you carry out the vengeance you desire.”
The hungry look hadn’t left Han’s eyes. “Trust me, commander,” he said. “You won’t be disappointed.”
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Secure Position | The Cleansing Blade have captured their new base of operations, they just have to secure it. This will involve adding a number of prefab buildings, defensive positions, armouries, hangars, barracks and places for their captives. Such work is rarely resolved quickly, but will reap numerous benefits. They must also be prepared to defend themselves against the inevitable attack. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Gather Intelligence | Knowledge is power, and right now the Cleansing Blade are woefully diminished on that front. Using their extended spy network, they need to infiltrate and gather intelligence on other forces throughout the area and, if needs be, eliminate threats. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Allegiance | The Cleansing Blade require allies in the area, preferably strong allies who share their views and enemies. This will obviously require help from the intelligence gathering operations, but any ally would be willing to pay the Blade's plenty of money for their services, allowing them to grow and expand. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
Post 2[]
| User | Actene | ||||||
| Name | Cleansing Blade | ||||||
| Allegiance |
| ||||||
| Leader(s) | Shinsu 'Refum | ||||||
| Attributes | |||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
"The raiders are moving in, fast and low."
"Increase power to forward shields, let the first corvette pass beneath us. Starboard weapons prepare to fire. Target their engines."
"They have released dropships. Multiple contacts detected."
"Keep the Seraphs in formation. Banshee squadrons, engage the dropships. Alert the ground forces to prepare for a surface assault."
"Plasma torpedoes from the second corvette, targeting the Preserver! All decks, brace for impact!"
"Seraph squadrons, now! Their shields are down, target their weapons and hangar bays."
"Direct hit on the first corvette! Its shields are down!"
"Boarding parties, descend!"
Shur 'Vadum opened his eyes, emerging from the river of communications traffic and glancing about the Phantom's drop bay at his fellow warriors. Even with the helmet covering his face, they caught his meaning and nodded in response. Plasma repeaters and storm rifles whined and hissed as the warriors prepared for the attack. The Phantom lurched and jerked; Shur did his best not to think about why it might be taking evasive maneuvers.
He turned to the warrior beside him and spread his arms, fighting down the fear coursing through his veins. "Puq, my armor."
Puq nodded and quickly checked over Shur's armor, looking for any deficiencies that would prove deadly once they exited the dropship and entered the vacuum of space. Once he was done, Shur returned the favor as the rest of the warriors—his warriors—did the same around the troop bay.
Shur stepped back and checked his weapon once more. There were ten other warriors in the Phantom with him and twenty more in the two other Phantoms that composed their boarding party. All his command. His responsibility.
"We offer our all to the Blade," he muttered tersely to Puq, shifting his legs as the Phantom shuddered beneath them.
His fellow warrior gave him a short, almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. "Our sacrifice earns us a share in the fellowship," he replied. "We face these scum so that we may bring hope to our people. It is not our fate to die here today."
Shur turned away as the pilot's voice barked over their communications channel: "Approaching the drop point now! We will not stop, so get off my ship as soon as the doors open!"
It was time. Shur stepped carefully forward, strapping his storm rifle onto his back and taking up his position on one side of the Phantom. Puq did the same on the other as the rest of the boarding party formed up. The Phantom rumbled ominously. It is not our time to die, Shur told himself. It is not our time to die.
He looked back at the assembled boarding party and raised a clenched fist. They were all warriors of the Cleansing Blade and he was their commander. There was no place for fear now as they stepped out onto the battlefield—even if there wasn't actually a field to step out on.
"Shipmaster 'Oltem says that corvette belongs to the Cleansing Blade now!" he announced, opening a channel to his other warriors and praying that his bravado did not sound as hollow to them as it did to him. "Those pirates seem to have a different idea! Let's go serve their eviction notices!"
The warriors raised their weapons and barked in agreement. Shur braced himself against the bulkhead, feeling sick. The pilot snarled and the Phantom trembled. "Doors opening now! Move!"
The cabin was already decompressed, so Shur felt nothing as the doors slid open to reveal the inky black of space. Then if was filled with armor as the warriors on his side darted past and vanished into space. Shur waited for the last of them to jump, then forced his legs to move and propel himself out of the Phantom and into space.
For a moment he floated through the blackness, oddly peaceful as the Phantom vanished. Then he saw the burst from plasma fire and twisted his body around to see the distant outline of the Preserver as it traded fire with the second of the two corvettes who had come to relieve the Cleansing Blade of their first prize. But there was more plasma fire bursting around even closer than that, and he twisted back around to see the battered surface of the first corvette drifting just beneath him.
Shur activated his thruster pack and lurched forwards, descending on the corvette alongside his brother and sister warriors. Thirty lights winked on his helmet display like the stars around him, thirty warriors ready to fight and die at his command.
Not die, Shur reminded himself grimly. Not today.
There was a gaping hole in the corvette's superstructure just in front of him. Shur flashed an alert to the boarding teams. "Kera, take your lance and half of Puq's," he broadcasted. "Assault through the upper observation deck. Puq, bring the other half of your team with mine. We will strike through that hole."
Both sub-leaders flashed acknowledgements. Shur altered the course of his thruster pack, soaring towards the makeshift entrance. Plasma fire burst and exploded around himm; he tried to shut it out, focusing instead on their entryway and any threats that might show up to try and stop them.
He alighted on the unshielded hull, the magnetic clamps in his armor latching his feet into place on its scratched and dented surface. The rest of his team landed around the hole, advancing carefully, weapons at the ready.
Something stirred just above him. Shur jerked his head up in time to see a battered human Pelican rise up to loom over him. Its chin mounted turret turned towards them, ready to sweep him and his team from the hull like insects off a Jiralhanae's hide.
The pirate dropship never got to fire. A torrent of plasma fire tore clean through it, blowing the Pelican in half. Shur ducked as the debris cascaded overhead, followed a moment later by one of the the Preserver's Banshee fliers. Their comrades were with them, clearing the way so that they could advance.
Shur gestured to his team with new-found confidence. "Breach the ship!" he ordered, detaching from the hull and shooting into the hole. "Show these pirates what it means to challenge the Cleansing Blade!"
"A fine catch." Shipmaster Yur 'Oltem nodded at the battered corvette that now floated over the captured pirate compound. "The commander will be pleased."
The boarding party had done its job well: aside from the damage his own corvette the Preserver had dealt to its engines, the warship was relatively intact. The same could not be said for the second corvette that had come with it. The sustained assault from the Preserver's plasma torpedoes and Seraph squadrons had torn the pirate vessel to shreds. The debris from the ruined vessel now drifted lazily in the atmosphere above. It was the beginnings of a graveyard that Yur was confident would grow larger very soon.
Beside him, the boarding party's leader shifted slightly. Shur 'Vadum had commanded the attack that had captured this compound, Yur remembered. This was his second command and his second victory, another key success for the Cleansing Blade. A promising start. Shinsu had ordered Yur to watch this one; clearly the commander's perception had been spot-on.
"We paid a price for it," Shur noted. He didn't look like a successful young officer. If anything, his slumped shoulders and weary expression made it seem as if he had lost the battle. "I lost five warriors capturing that vessel."
Yur had seen this attitude before, back when he had fought as an officer in the old Covenant. It always cropped up in the young ones. If he didn't stamp it out now, it might ruin this one entirely.
"Then do not disgrace their memories by acting as if their deaths were in vain," Yur snapped, turning a cold eye on the young officer. "Five warriors for a warship is a price worth paying. They gave their lives for the Blade and we are stronger for it. They will not be the last warriors to die under your command. When entire lances must be sacrificed, when ships and all their crew must burn to ensure our victory, will you sulk and pity yourself then? Will you?"
Shur did not answer, but he did not wilt or cringe away before the Shipmaster's scolding. Instead he straightened and met Yur's eye. There was no defiance, no wounded pride in the young officer's look. The sadness was still there, but there was understanding as well. Yes, Shinsu was right. This one will make a fine addition to the Blade.
"Mourn your fallen comrades," Yur continued, turning his gaze back up towards the captured corvette. "Thank their souls for your victory. Then discern why it was they died and be sure that more do not perish in the same manner the next time you take the field. Dismissed."
Shur raised an arm in salute and turned away, heading off to the landing pads where the rest of the boarding party waited to return to the Preserver. He passed through the bustling compound where captured pirates and Cleansing Blade warriors alike were hard at work repairing the damage done during the pirates' short-lived counter attack and continuing their expansion of the facility. It was slow work, but work that had to be done if this was to become a proper foothold for the Blade. Yur glanced out beyond the laborers to the makeshift training field where a lance of new initiates was conducting a mock assault on a trio of damaged Spirits. The initiates' active camouflage shimmered in the dim sunlight as watchful instructors prowled the perimeter with powered-down beam rifles, "tagging" any warrior who made the mistake of revealing themselves too heedlessly.
This was not to be the crown jewel or even a stronghold for the Cleansing Blade's revival. If the next assault proved to be too great for the Preserver and its complement to handle, Yur was fully prepared to retreat, burning everything he and his warriors had built up behind them. It was low work that offered neither honor nor glory, but it was a task that the Shipmaster took on without complaint or resentment. Had he been in search of honor or glory, he would have remained a loyal warrior of the government, never needing to forsake his keep and his bloodline and pledge his life to the Cleansing Blade.
Yur turned away from the training field and marched back towards the compound's command center. There was much work still to do. The newest prisoners would need to be interrogated and dealt with, the Preserver's damages needed to be seen to, and warriors would need to be assigned to repair and crew the captured Corvette. None of his warriors were sitting around idly, and neither could he.
"I do not like this place, Pula."
Pula glanced about the dingy market and adjusted the robes that folded loosely over her armor and weapons. Beside her, Inti 'Andal kept close to her, eying the crowd around them nervously. Sangheili and aliens from all corners of the galaxy bustled around them, haggling over every product imaginable: food, vehicles, weapons, armor, even slaves. Everywhere Pula looked, money and lives were exchanging hands. This truly was the frontier, far from the customs and niceties of Sangheili space. As long as the right coin could be produced, anything was for sale.
It turned her stomach, but her personal feelings didn't matter. We will thrive here. This will be the pit from which we rise.
"It does not matter if you like it," she told her companion, forging a path through the crowd. “This is a battlefield, not some resort you picked out for yourself.”
Inti bobbed her head in assent but stayed closer to Pula than she should have. Pula considered scolding her for that as well, but decided against it. This was Inti’s first deployment away from the confines of the Cleansing Fire and its sterile, hologram-filled training rooms. Pula had seen her in action there, a keen shot with a carbine and an even defter hand with a blade. But she needed to experience the galaxy away from Sangheili planets and Sangheili-run warships; Pula had selected her for this mission in the hopes of polishing a diamond in the rough before it was snatched up by one of the Blade’s main line units. For now at least, the younger warrior’s apprehension fit their disguises well: two female merchants just off the transport here on Fell Justice, looking to find their fortunes on this miserable hive of scum and villainy.
Pula led Inti away from the market, consulting a small map on her datapad. “Is anyone following us?” she said quietly.
Inti swept a glance at the streets behind them. “None.”
“You are wrong,” Pula replied, not looking up from her map. “That Unggoy has been tailing after us since before we entered the market.”
Inti blinked. “What Unggoy?”
“The fat one arguing with that last weapons merchant.”
“How can you—“
“Learn to tell aliens apart. See beyond merely the fact that they are not Sangheili. You will never survive as an agent out here if you do not.”
Inti ducked her head. “Understood.”
“As it so happens, this tail happens to be our contact.” Pula gestured at a narrow alley between a small shanty town of prefab dwellings. “Follow me.”
They sidled down the alley. Pula leaned against a rusting, corroded wall and tapped her datapad to signal the other Blade she had brought with her to Fell Justice. Mir should be somewhere in the area, watching Pula and Inti from a distance through the human-style sniper rifle he loved so much. Inti turned outwards, watching the street they had just left.
Someone behind them entered a small, squeaking cough.
Inti moved at once, a plasma pistol whipping out from under her robes to aim at the squat Unggoy who had appeared on the other side of the alley. Pula glanced up from her datapad, first at Inti and then at the newcomer. Her companion was far too jumpy, but at least her reflexes were up to scratch.
The Unggoy raised his thick arms, palms out. “Please,” he said in fluent, albeit high-pitched, Sangheili. “I don’t particularly like it when people point weapons in my direction.”
Pula nodded to Inti, who lowered the pistol. “I apologize for my companion. It is her first assignment in a place such as this.”
The Unggoy nodded and waddled closer. “Nothing to apologize for. Give her a few weeks under me and she’ll be better than most of the agents in that farce your government calls an intelligence network.”
Inti gave Pula a questioning look. “Under him?”
“Lens,” Pula said, addressing the Unggoy. “This is Inti ‘Andal, one of the new agents the Commander has assigned to you. Inti, this is Lens. He is your new superior officer and you will afford him the same respect you would a shipmaster back in the fleet. Understood?”
Inti nodded slowly, but she looked dubious. The Unggoy known to the Cleansing Blade by the code name “Lens” gave a small chuckle.
“I wouldn’t be too worried, young one,” he said, craning his neck up at the two Sangheili. “You’ll find I’m not anywhere near as formal as the warriors from your fleet. Two agents… the Black Knight certainly is generous.”
“The Commander was under the impression that you required more, ah, striking power,” Pula said, indicating Inti. “The two with me may lack experience in your field, but you will find that they are capable fighters.”
“Yes,” Lens said, scratching idly at the mottled, pockmarked skin above his methane mask. “I did mention as much in my last report. Though you won’t mind if I want to see their skills in action myself. A ‘pop quiz,’ as my human agents might call it…”
Something rustled in the street behind them. Pula spun just as a flurry of spikes shot down the alley. They tore through her robes, only to be stopped in their tracks by the armor concealed underneath. Three Jiralhanae in battered armor stood clustered at the alley entrance, spiker rifles at the ready.
Pula reached for her energy sword, but there was no need. Without warning, two of the attackers were on the ground as if they’d been run over by an invisible train. The third only had a moment to realize that his friends were down before his head jerked slightly to the side and he joined them in the street. Blood trickled into the cracks around their bodies.
Pula turned around just in time to see the grenade tumbling towards Lens. Shoving the Unggoy roughly to the ground, she reached out and batted the grenade back out into the street beyond where it exploded. Someone screamed and there was the sound of rushing feet just beyond.
Inti was already moving. She leapt up, pushing herself off the wall and vaulting over Pula in a single bound. The younger warrior darted around the corner and vanished. A second later, Pula and Lens heard a muffled cry followed swiftly by another. The alley fell silent save for the ringing in their ears from the grenade blast.
Inti walked back into the alley, deactivating her wrist gauntlet. “Three of the, two Kig-Yar and one human. All dead.”
Lens got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Ah, yes, one of the benefits to living on Fell Justice. Nobody questions the occasional explosion or corpse in the street. That was very well done. Those hoodlums have been causing me problems for a few days now.”
Pula gave him a sidelong look. “You allowed them to track you here? What if they had killed you?”
Lens shrugged. “I was confident the Black Knight would not field incompetents. He has not disappointed me yet.”
Someone laughed from above. On the roof of one of the prefab buildings, another Sangheili emerged as if from thin air. Wearing battered , unmarked armor Mir ‘Demal rested the human sniper rifle on his knee and gazed down at the small gathering. Mir was short for a Sangheili—Pula had seen some humans who were taller than him—but he was utterly deadly with his rifle and the energy sword that hung from his belt.
“I had my eye on them when they followed our Unggoy friend out of the market,” he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “But I wasn’t sure that they’d actually attack, so I stayed my hand.”
“They’ll do,” Lens told Pula. “They’ll both do quite nicely.”
Mir laughed again. “I think I will enjoy this assignment.”
His active camouflage melted back on and he vanished, gone without a trace to continue keeping an eye on the surrounding streets. Lens nodded to Pula. “They’ll be in good hands, I assure you. And I will be needing them more than ever.”
Pula nodded. “The frontier is on the move.”
“Indeed. The Tyraxus tribe mobilizes for war, we of the Cleansing Blade move against pirates, and I hear a particularly well-armed band of armored humans recently struck a Jiralhanae slaving camp.” Lens shook his head. “These are eventful times, to say the least.”
Pula hesitated. “Armored humans. Does that mean they have Spartans operating out here?”
“I know for a fact that Spartans are indeed working on the frontier. But my agents tell me this is another group altogether. I will gather what information I can and relay it to the Commander as quickly as possible. Though he should also know that the Sanghelios government is not the only immediate threat. They have more than just those buffoons they call agents to rely on.”
Lens turned to go and Pula indicated to Inti that she should follow. There was no need for farewells or parting orders. Her sister warrior knew her duty and what was expected of her. She would acclimate to this new environment just as Pula had when Shinsu had raised her up from the ashes. Lens and his agents already dominated the intelligence field on Fell Justice and the surrounding systems. Inti and Mir would become excellent operatives under his command.
“I am told elements of the Vadam Keep may be operating here on the frontier, independently from the normal government channels,” Lens told Pula over his stocky shoulder. “I have, of course, already informed the Black Knight as much in my latest report. However, given his, ah, interest in that bloodline’s affairs, I feel it prudent that all of his agents be on the lookout for further signs of activity.”
Pula smiled, pulling her tattered robes closer. “That blood-stained keep is no longer the Commander’s chief concern, but I will watch for their actions all the same. If they try to hinder him or cause him any harm at all…”
Lens laughed. “I can already hear the sound of corpses falling before that blade of yours. Until we meet again, Pula.”
“The fighter squadrons are in position, Commander. Their presence has not yet been detected.”
Shinsu surveyed the holo-displays from his position on the Cleansing Fire’s bridge and nodded. “The pirates seem to have taken notice of our treatment of Herrullus. They are already banding together, waiting for us to strike.”
Umbra nodded grimly, surveying the image of the planet the Cleansing Blade’s strike force was about to approach. “This is nothing like our first engagement. The pirates outnumber us nearly three to one here and we lack the Preserver and her complement. If this goes badly…”
“It will not,” Shinsu said simply. “Our advance teams have seen to that.”
In spite of the coming battle, the bridge officers couldn’t help but smile amongst themselves. The pirate vessels were about to encounter a tidal wave of malfunctions and catastrophically-timed accidents. Targeting systems would encounter bugs, misplaced plasma charges would detonate, and in some unfortunate cases entire life support systems would shut down. The Blade’s strike teams had slipped into the pirate lair just a few days before and lurked there still, ready to cause even more havoc once the battle commenced.
“Relay the message to all ships,” Shinsu ordered. “As soon as the Fire enters the enemy’s sensor range, we commence the assault.”
Umbra turned to the bridge crew. “When this day is over, we will have claimed this world, its resources, and the ships of those pirates who thought they could cower here in safety, free from retribution for their murder and thievery.”
There were nods all around. The crew was ready for this, ready for another challenge. From his position, Shinsu let out a short chuckle.
“They certainly did not count on our murder and thievery, eh Umbra?” he said, folding his arms. “I believe our newfound benefactors will be most pleased with this little endeavor.”
The pirates who were about to feel the fury of the Cleansing Blade had made the mistake of raiding ships belonging to the wrong people. Those same people had made it clear to the Blade’s agents that they would be most grateful to anyone who might put a stop to those raids once and for all. Shinsu had been more than happy to offer his services, particularly when he’d learned that the newest addition to his crew had experience with this particular settlement.
Han crouched near Shinsu, idly reviewing data on a small tactical screen at his feet. He had traded out his slave’s rags for better-kept human clothes that he’d picked up on the last port of call the Cleansing Fire had stopped in. A pistol hung from a shoulder holster on the tactical vest he’d donned over the new clothes. A few bandages were still visible, covering the places where the Jiralhanae had marked him.
Shinsu glanced down at the young human. “I must thank you again for your assistance here. Your information on their defenses was quite enlightening.”
Han bobbed his head, not looking up from the pad. “I ran some jobs for these guys a few months back. Left when they wanted me to start helping them ship slaves. I don’t mind selling them out one bit. Besides, it’s fun watching you guys operate. Makes me want to stick around even longer.”
“Well then,” Shinsu turned away. “I would hate to disappoint you now that I have raised your expectations so high.”
He signaled the navigator. It was time to advance. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 1 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Secure Position | The Cleansing Blade have captured their new base of operations, they just have to secure it. This will involve adding a number of prefab buildings, defensive positions, armouries, hangars, barracks and places for their captives. Such work is rarely resolved quickly, but will reap numerous benefits. They must also be prepared to defend themselves against the inevitable attack. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Gather Intelligence | Knowledge is power, and right now the Cleansing Blade are woefully diminished on that front. Using their extended spy network, they need to infiltrate and gather intelligence on other forces throughout the area and, if needs be, eliminate threats. |
|
In progress | ||||||||
| Allegiance | The Cleansing Blade require allies in the area, preferably strong allies who share their views and enemies. This will obviously require help from the intelligence gathering operations, but any ally would be willing to pay the Blade's plenty of money for their services, allowing them to grow and expand. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Stop the pirates | The Cleansing Blade have found a wealthy benefactor who has been upset by recent raids on his ships. Should the Blade put an end to this threat, they'll see substantial... gains. Aside from the cash reward, there's also the opportunity to capture enemy ships, materiel, arms, vehicles and the enemy personnel themselves, should the Blade feel merciful today. |
|
Not accepted (two posts) | ||||||||
Post 3[]
Five years ago, Death’s End had been founded by a coalition of feuding pirates who had been fighting each other for so long that neither their chieftains nor their crews could remember exactly why they hated each other so much. So rather than ruin themselves with endless fighting, the pirates had banded together to ruin others. They had overrun Death’s End, enslaved its colonists, and established one of the most successful hubs for criminal trading outside of the Nexus. With its shipyards, thriving black market, and simple code of law (Don’t shoot at us and we won’t have to torture, mutilate, and enslave you) Death’s End had come to be known as the unofficial capital of the Equinox Sound. Billions of credits’ worth of drugs, slaves, weapons, and all other manner of goods had passed through the planet, a pirate’s paradise of lawlessness and greed.
No longer.
Now the vessels that had come to the planet in search of fortune now fled the system as fast as their Slipspace drives could warm up. The cruisers and destroyers that had made up the defense fleet listed aimlessly or burned up in the atmosphere as the Cleansing Blade strike force drifted amidst the ruins, dispatching boarding parties to the disabled ships and blasting apart any pirate suicidal enough to continue the fight. The shipyard dockmasters sent desperate hails to the Cleansing Fire, lowering their defenses and allowing squads of the Blade’s warriors to march into their command centers and seize control. The pirates on the surface who could not evacuate in time could only wait helplessly as their attackers secured the upper atmosphere. A few of the less sensible pirate chieftains turned their weapons on themselves or set their ships to self-destruct. In less than three hours, this small fleet of outsiders had changed the face of the Equinox Sound forever.
Aboard the bridge of the Cleansing Fire, Shinsu surveyed the battle reports from the rest of the strike force. He tapped a finger thoughtfully on one of the command consoles, eyes narrowed in thought. Umbra and the rest of the bridge officers watched their commander carefully, waiting for his pronouncement.
Shinsu turned away from the reports. “We are committed now,” he said calmly. “Umbra, reorganize the strike force. Get the Caregiver and the Bearer of Burdens to the nearest undamaged dry dock and have their crew enact repairs. The Avenger and her escort will be in charge of organizing the ships we captured. Assign skeleton crews to all of them and have them rendezvous back with the Preserver at the base camp. We don’t have time to fold them into the strike force.”
He turned to the navigations officer. “Bring the Fire down into the atmosphere. Prepare for a surgical bombardment of the three most prominent settlements. Squadrons from the Avenger will assist us in identifying targets. Hurry, I want all forces ready to withdraw from this system within the next planetary cycle.”
Umbra blinked. “We aren’t staying?”
“No, we are not. Distribute the orders, Umbra. Every second we remain here talking is a second lost.” Shinsu turned back to his command console and opened a link to the Fire’s security officer. “Major, the Kig-Yar vessel we captured during the fighting, the one that attempted to slip by us. Identify its shipmaster and bring her aboard. I have questions that need answering.”
The Kig-Yar shipmistress was a bold one, Shinsu had to give her that. She folded her arms and glared up at him as he entered her cell. “I don’t know who you and your warriors think they are,” she hissed angrily. “But you are all dead. You may as well go crawling back to Sanghelios now. It is the only chance you have to escape any of this.”
Shinsu clasped his hands behind his back and returned the glare with calm interest. “Oh? I wasn’t aware that I was in so much danger. Would it trouble you to enlighten me?”
“You can attack chieftains,” the shipmistress snarled. “You can raid colonies, prey on trade routes. There is no end to the strife in this sector. But no one attacks Death’s End. No one!”
“And yet it appears that I have done so. Quite successfully too, I might add, with a rather paltry strike force. I’m surprised the place survived as long as it did.”
“Are you really so stupid, you Sangheili buffoon?” the Kig-Yar spat. “You have just destabilized this entire sector! In a week’s time every pirate with a crate to fly in on will be swarming here from every corner of the frontier. Not that you will be alive by then. The families of the ones whose ships you just burned will see to that.”
“Perhaps.” Shinsu regarded the shipmistress coolly. “But that is my concern, not yours. Perhaps you could explain to me what a warship belonging to the Khok clan is doing here, in this den of pirates.”
The shipmistress laughed scornfully. “You ignorant fool, I stole my vessel from the Khok years ago. My crew is my clan, I have no other.”
“Then you must be the most dutiful Kig-Yar I have ever met. According to your ship’s manifest you have sent tribute back to the Khok after nearly every raid. Clearly you wished to repay the debt you had incurred with your theft.”
The shipmistress stared at him, the spines on her neck quivering with anger. “Don’t mock me, Sangheili. Perhaps I am a privateer in the Khok’s service. By the laws of my people it is a legitimate means of collecting revenue. What of it?”
Shinsu raised a conciliatory hand. “Nothing of it. Based off your manifests, you and your crew have many successful raids to your credit. Though I wonder why a privateer such as yourself would lie to protect her employers. It is a legitimate business method after all.”
The shipmistress only glared at him. Shinsu sighed and shook his head. “You are not the first Khok ship I have encountered in the Equinox. Perhaps the excessive presence of their privateers here violates some sort of law I am unaware of. Regardless, it doesn’t concern me in the slightest. I am not interested in blackmailing your clan.”
“Then what do you want, Sangheili? To humiliate me here before you enslave my crew and take my ship?”
“On the contrary. When we are done speaking, you will be returned to your ship unharmed and released to go about your business.”
“I am no fool, Sangheili. What do you want in return?”
Shinsu bowed his head. “Simply put, I seek an audience with your clan leaders. Grant me that and I assure you no ship under my command will ever fire upon a Khok vessel again.”
The shipmistress watched him carefully, searching for some trap in his words. “The clan leaders may not want to hear anything some Sangheili pirate has to say.”
“Then tell them that the Black Knight of Sanghelios is willing to come into their territory with only a small vessel. If I must come alone to have this audience, I will do so. Relay this message and impress upon them that time is short. As you mentioned, this entire sector is about to become a very dangerous place for me.”
“They will want to know what you wish to speak to them about,” the shipmistress warned. “If you only wish to seek their protection from the storm you have unleashed, they will kill you on the spot.”
Shinsu shook his head, spreading his mandibles in a tight smile. “Hardly. Tell your masters that I am going to give them the Equinox Sound and everything in it. That should be enough to secure my audience, don’t you think?”
"The force is ready to move out," Umbra reported from his console. "Final boarding checks are completed. We await your command."
Shinsu nodded, his eyes fixed on the image of the Kig-Yar shipmistress's vessel as it hurried away from the rubble around Death's End and vanished into slipspace. "Plot a jump back to the base camp for now," he ordered. "We will need to regroup and recuperate. This attack will draw plenty of attention from many powerful factions."
Umbra indicated the monitor. "Do you think the pirate vermin will be true to her word?"
"She has no reason not to," Shinsu replied, folding his arms. "We relayed our message well enough."
He motioned to the bridge crew and they sprang into action, bringing the Cleansing Fire away from the battle zone as the rest of the Cleansing Blade's task force fell into formation behind it.
"The shipmistress had some interesting things to say about the state of things here on the frontier," Shinsu told Umbra. "We are not the only Sangheili out here. The Storm Covenant are also expanding their interests here. And if our presence and the Storm's activities are not enough to draw in the homeworld's force, then perhaps the Fallen will."
Umbra's mandibles spread in surprise. "The Fallen are here?"
"Where or in what force, I cannot say. But it doesn't surprise me. The frontier is hardly the most novel place for a rogue group to seek refuge, wouldn't you say?"
"When they learn of our presence, they will come for us. Atsu 'Hidal will not have forgotten our betrayal."
"Indeed he will not." Shinsu had formed the Cleansing Blade in the shadow of the Fallen, playing the obedient pawn for the separatist group long enough to strengthen his own position. Once he had gathered enough warriors and vessels he had broken with them completely. Many of the Blade's officers were former Fallen warriors who had defected alongside their commander. The Fallen had not taken the desertion well.
"We will need to be on guard against them," Umbra observed as the ship jumped to Slipspace. "They will want our heads."
"So will every pirate lord and slaver who had investments on Death's End," Shinsu reminded him. "They have no reason not to wish us dead. But the Fallen are different. Their immediate goals will be similar to ours, at least to a certain degree. They can be reasoned with."
"Their immediate goals, maybe, but beyond that?"
"Best not to linger too much on our differences, or at least not to their faces."
"So you intend to make peace with them? Trust them? Approach them?"
"Peace would certainly leave us free to pursue our own objectives. But I will wait for them to approach us. Which they will do, of course, We simply have to be patient."
"And from there? Surely you don't believe they can be counted on as allies."
"Not in the traditional sense," Shinsu agreed, gazing into the light of slipstream. "But beyond that, it all depends on how one approaches the problem."
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 1 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Secure Position | The Cleansing Blade have captured their new base of operations, they just have to secure it. This will involve adding a number of prefab buildings, defensive positions, armouries, hangars, barracks and places for their captives. Such work is rarely resolved quickly, but will reap numerous benefits. They must also be prepared to defend themselves against the inevitable attack. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Gather Intelligence | Knowledge is power, and right now the Cleansing Blade are woefully diminished on that front. Using their extended spy network, they need to infiltrate and gather intelligence on other forces throughout the area and, if needs be, eliminate threats. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Allegiance | The Cleansing Blade require allies in the area, preferably strong allies who share their views and enemies. This will obviously require help from the intelligence gathering operations, but any ally would be willing to pay the Blade's plenty of money for their services, allowing them to grow and expand. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Stop the pirates | The Cleansing Blade have found a wealthy benefactor who has been upset by recent raids on his ships. Should the Blade put an end to this threat, they'll see substantial... gains. Aside from the cash reward, there's also the opportunity to capture enemy ships, materiel, arms, vehicles and the enemy personnel themselves, should the Blade feel merciful today. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Meet the Khok | Playing a dangerous game, Shinsu plans to meet the leaders of the Khok, with no protection. While an allegiance could provide them with innumerable funds, materials and power, such allies are fickle and what they may ask of the Cleansing Blade is something that goes against many of their morals, and could bring them as low as the pirates and slavers they often battle. |
Missions from the Khok Clan |
|||||||||
Post 4[]
The pirate moon where the Cleansing Blade had made its first beachhead had grown in the short time since its change in management. The Cleansing Blade had put their captives to work gainfully, and their reward was a base of operations many times larger than the compound they had taken from the pirates. Two corvettes loomed over the complex as below them the base bustled with activity. Dropships and fighters refueled on landing pads while warriors stocked warehouses full of weapons and supplies. The architecture was a hodge-podge of Covenant and human equipment, nearly all of it taken from the vessels and compounds of the pirates the Blade had spent the past few weeks dominating. There wasn't much in the way of aesthetic beauty to the layout, but artistic design was a luxury few could truly afford.
Umbra looked down on the surface from one of the patrolling corvettes' observation decks. It was a far cry from the mighty, sprawling encampments he had once seen during his service to the Covenant, but it was also a mighty step up from the desperate fleet that had fled Sangheili space a few months ago. He had despaired of their losses then, questioning his own wisdom in pledging himself to a beaten organization. Shinsu had told him then that the Blade would recover, that theirs was a cause that could never truly be destroyed. At the time, Umbra had not believed him.
Now he saw the error of his thinking.
"I was ordered to report to you," a quiet voice said behind him. Umbra turned to see Pula standing in the doorway, hands clasped behind her in a gesture of curt deference.
"So you've returned from Fell Justice then." Of all the innovations and breaks from Sangheili tradition Shinsu 'Refum had committed, his use of female warriors was the one that troubled Umbra the most. He did not question the abilities of Pula and the Blade's dozens of other female recruits; Shinsu and his officers held them to the same harsh standards they held all of their trainees. Pula herself was far more than Umbra's equal in combat; only Shinsu himself surpassed her as far as bladecraft alone was concerned.
No, Umbra's objections lay in the imbalance such reforms threatened to bring to Sangheili society. Warfare was the realm of males; the females handled the equally important task of managing the keeps, the bloodline, and the infrastructure. There was honor to be had in both realms and Umbra saw no reason to risk imbalance by casting aside tradition.
But Shinsu's command was law and Umbra was sworn to obey his commander. He inclined his head to Pula. "The commander departs for the Kig-Yar territories shortly. He has left orders regarding the operations he previously discussed."
"Of course." Pula did not like being left here while her commander went off alone into the midst of thieves and pirates. But she was loyal to Shinsu's orders, just as Umbra was. Her place was wherever the Blade needed her to be. She just would have preferred that place be at Shinsu's side.
"The Blade will continue consolidating in the commander's absence," Umbra told her. "You are to oversee the placement of more strike teams as well as the elimination of a few notable targets." He handed her a datapad.
"These are the commander's orders?" she asked, looking over the data.
Umbra bristled. "Of course. Who else would give them?"
"Another officer. You, perhaps." She did not look up from the datapad. "The commander could have left his orders to be interpreted by others."
"If you require instructions to fall from his mandibles alone, then you have failed as a warrior," Umbra said coldly. The instructions came directly from Shinsu, but the thought that his own orders carried less weight with this upstart female burned him.
"From the commander or from another, I will obey," she said simply and departed with only a cursory nod. The orders on the datapad would be carried out as she saw fit. That was how Shinsu wanted it, though now Umbra itched to impose restrictions on her actions. He thrust the annoyance aside and turned back to the activities below. Shinsu would be leaving soon and the Blade's shipmasters all had orders on when and where to strike next. The operation was expanding faster than they had anticipated and Shinsu intended to maintain that momentum even as he dealt with the Khok on their own turf.
Umbra would remain here on the mother base to administrate the logistics of the consolidation. It was a role he welcomed; he'd commanded combat units during the war with the humans, but administration was his specialty. Developing the Blade's foundation would be a welcome break from the duties as a warship officer.
His gaze turned towards one of the landing zones. From this height he couldn't quite make out what was happening down there, but he didn't need to. A sense of uneasiness fell over him as he looked down to where his commander would be setting out for his meeting with the Khok.
Umbra might take issue with Shinsu's methods, but his goals were sound and Umbra had thrown his lot in with the Refum heir and his radical movement. Shinsu was both his commander and his comrade. The thought of him placing his life in the hands of Kig-Yar pirates filled Umbra with both admiration and dread.
I have trusted him this far, Umbra reminded himself. It's a bit too late for doubts now.
"Very few of us like this, you know," Yur 'Oltem told Shinsu. A team of warriors prepped a small shuttle as the Cleansing Blade shipmaster stood alongside his commander. "Of all the potential allies on the Frontier, you choose to court the Khok?"
"I have found Kig-Yar useful allies in the past," Shinsu replied. "Ambitious enough to risk battle, yet careful enough to weigh their options and consider the risks. And if they do betray us, they will most likely do it through proxy. That will give us time to prepare."
"It is still a risk," Yur replied. "Even if this alliance of yours goes off without a hitch, their requests may be... excessive. After all, it isn't every day a pack of Kig-Yar have the chance to make use of warriors like ours. They may force us to do things that are... problematic."
"Which is why I am not simply handing the reigns of the Cleansing Blade over to the Khok." Shinsu watched the warriors make the final preparations for the shuttle's departure. "We enter any agreement as allies, not the Khok's hired muscle."
"As long as you know what you're doing." The shipmaster shook his head. "We may have seen success so far, but we aren't exactly in much of a bargaining position yet."
"Then you should work extra hard to improve that position in my absence. Umbra will ensure that our power base remains intact while you and the other shipmasters continue raids on pirate strongholds. We must be prepared for anything."
"Especially with you off fraternizing with Kig-Yar pirate queens," Yur laughed, but his humor quickly subsided. "I wish you would take more than just a pilot and that human prisoner. This could very well be a trap. Pula at least could--"
"Pula's potential merits more than just a constant place at my side," Shinsu cut in. "She is more useful as a warrior than a bodyguard. And don't be too worried for my safety. There are more forces at work here than just a meeting with the Kig-Yar. The matter we discussed..."
Yur nodded, but his mandibles worked uncertainly. "The Fallen. Because making a bed with the Kig-Yar wasn't risky enough."
"I will deal with the Fallen. How that happens will depend on the situation." Shinsu strode towards the shuttle. The strange young human, Han, hurried after him. Yur did not know why his commander kept the human around, but that wasn't his business. Let Shinsu 'Refum have his whims and eccentricities. There was always something more going on when the commander was involved.
Aboard the shuttle, Shinsu settled into his seat and opened up a datapad as the ship lifted off. It would be a long flight through Slipspace, and he had a good deal of work to do before they reached Khok space. The Kig-Yar would get more than they bargained for with the Cleansing Blade. It was a risk, as Yur had noted, but nothing was gained through caution.
Shinsu leaned back in his seat and opened a communications line to Fell Justice. "Lens," he said aloud. "I need whatever information you can gather on the Fallen."
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 1 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Meet the Khok | Playing a dangerous game, Shinsu plans to meet the leaders of the Khok, with no protection. While an allegiance could provide them with innumerable funds, materials and power, such allies are fickle and what they may ask of the Cleansing Blade is something that goes against many of their morals, and could bring them as low as the pirates and slavers they often battle. |
Missions from the Khok Clan |
In Progress | ||||||||
| Consolidation | The Blade's position by no means. Given a list of targets, Pula must deploy her teams and eliminate those who may threaten the delicate balance they have achieved. To this end, they must act quickly, discreetly and with determination. |
Failure to eliminate threats now may result in difficulties later |
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Base Reinforcement | The home base of the Cleansing Base is under way, but by no means finished. Umbra has the important task of turning the base, and those sworn to defend it, into a finer tool. This will take significant investment in wealth and resources, but will allow their ground operations and supplies to expand. |
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GM Reply[]
The lonely shuttle dropped back into real space, a circle of light marking its return to reality. As the ship drifted into the given coordinates, it became apparent of the extent of the Khok's power. Numerous raiding vessels, decorated with symbols of glory, with threats, with brutal imagery. Shinsu was expected, as numerous raider-classes surrounded his ship, weapons trained. Terse orders were barked over the communications channel for Shinsu to follow them to the docking ring above the planet where the Khok made their home.
Escorted from their ship, by the chattering pirates that made up the Khok's war host. Carefully eyeing him and his strange human companion, their fingers never strayed far from their triggers, and their weapons remained in their claws, lowered enough to give the sense of being non-threatening, but could be quickly raised to gun them down. Most were twitchy. They'd heard of Death's End, and many had also heard tales of the Black Knight of Sanghelios. They didn't trust him, or his offer of alliance. As they marched him across the deck of the docking ring, they witnessed the extent of the Khok's entrepreneurial greed. Cargo containers filled with industrial goods and foodstuff were mixed alongside battle scarred crates torn from the cargo holds of enemy vessels, and crates filled with captives, to be ransomed, sold on or enslaved. Once at the orbital elevator, linking this docking ring to the ground, they were met by an older, more well dressed Kig-Yar. As they approached, he motioned for the pirates to lower their weapons. They seemed to relax and stepped back.
"The Black Knight is our guest, not a prisoner to escort." he said curtly, before turning to Shinsu and smiling, showing his long, yellowing teeth. He stepped back and bowed, his hand directing him to to the pod in front of them. They were shown into the pod with the elder and a pair of guards, and shown to the VIP booth. Such pods were used to haul cargo up and down orbital elevators, using gravity lifts to carry them up and down. A curved glass window gave them a view of the cargo bay below them. They were packaged with a haul of slaves. Given they were being taken to the surface, the Khok were likely taking them as their own slaves. Numerous different species, all of them in disarray, with guards walking around the exterior, guns at the ready to put down anybody who dared fight back.
"As you can see, sir Refum, the Khok makes a substantial contribution to the local labour market. Such wretches, taken from poverty or from our enemies. They were be given the opportunity to work again, for meaningful gain." the elder said, eyeing Shinsu's reaction. His unflinching return was not unexpected.
Gravity for a brief moment shifted as the pod was released from its berth and fell down the tunnel of artificial gravity, falling towards the planet, comfortable reaching the ground, though the odd shake and rattle would unnerve some. Falling into its berth on the the surface. Shinsu was escorted to a waiting transported, and from the elevator compound, taken to the chambers of the Khok elders. Their compound itself was an unusual mishmash of scavenged materials, Covenant pre-fab buildings and their own ingenuity, bound together in a way to give it a sense of tattered nobility. Brought to the heart of this structure, Shinsu and Han entered their council halls, a dark, circular chamber, hewn from bedrock, and illuminated by a holographic light above them. A semicircular table lay in front of him, with seven seats, one vacant until filled by the elder that guided him down, whom through small chat had revealed his name as Garr. In the shadows, to the side, the captain held by Shinsu lurked, arms cross, a sneer across her snout.
"Our affiliated captain brought us that the black knight of Sanghelios has offered to give us the entire sector." the lead elder said, leaning on the table, his features rendered under heavy shadow by the lighting directly above him "Now, say us mad, but such a promise from an outcast pirate, is.... difficult to swallow."
The table murmured in agreement, whispering to one another before turning back to Shinsu, 7 collections of eyes studying him.
"Perhaps a show of sincerity, to you would be willing allies of our great clan?" one asked
"A demonstration of the supposed strength of his force?"
"Ah, yes, the Cardinal issue." the leader elder spoke up. If you can fulfil a task for us, then we will hear you." he said, motioning for an unseen servant to bring forth a data slate, projecting a series of holographic sheets. Flicking through them until he reached one, he opened it up.
"We loaned money to a human colony, so they could build their infrastructure, and repay us. They instead refused to repay their debt, and instead spent their money on defences, to prevent us from reclaiming what is owed to us." he said, flicking through ledgers, showing capital given "If your forces are so skilled, then taking out their ring of defences should be of ease. However, leave the colony intact, as its difficult to collect debt from charred buildings and slaughtered corpses." leaning back "Once you've eliminated the defences, our debt collectors will take what is necessary."
"We will reconvene when you have done this for us."
Simon-G294[]
Post 1[]
"I've got my charges planted. I've got two Jackals on your roof. They're covering my area, if I move, they'll see me."
"Did you get the spots at the west junction?"
"Yeah, I got 'em."
"And did anyone see you?"
"No! I used the supply ducts, just like Diana showed us on the blueprints."
"Okay, so I'll add them hearing you stamping around in the vents and filling you with holes to the list of things I already have to worry about."
"I'm telling you, my stuff is good to go. What about your sectors? Bet the hinge-heads find your charges before they find mine. They just have to follow the stink."
"Hilarious. Keep your day job." In the shadows on the roof of the warehouse overlooking the secluded depot something sidled along the wall and braced itself on the ledge overlooking two bored Jackal sentries. The avian snipers chatted idly with each other as they scanned the landing platforms and fueling junctions below. Neither of them so much as looked up as the shadow detached itself from the wall and dropped down with a dull wumph just behind them.
The snipers whirled, but the shadow was already in motion. Its hand shot up and buried a knife in the closest guard's neck. A swift blow to the throat of the second sent the Jackal sprawling before it could even cry out in surprise. As the wheezing sentry tried to scramble backwards, the shadow drew a wicked-looking machete from the sheath strapped to its back and brought the blade down into the terrified Jackal's skull. The last thing the guard saw was its own panicked reflection in the shadow's dull visor.
Wiping the alien blood off of his knife and machete, the shadow knelt over the bodies and opened up a com link from inside his helmet. "Zoey, snipers are down. Get your ass moving, I need you in position with the backup detonator."
He picked up one of the dead Jackals' beam rifles and linked it to his HUD, zooming in on one of the far junctions. A small figure darted out into the open, dashing past a trio of patrolling Elites before throwing itself down behind a parked Wraith tank.
He opened the com again. "I saw you. Bang, you're dead."
"And you ride on me for not taking everything seriously," Zoey groused. "Get going, or they'll get me!"
Clad in his grubby, battered Semi Powered Infiltration armor, the mercenary known as Stray set the beam rifle aside and relieved the guards of their communications gear. He jacked them into a handheld scrambler and opened a new com channel in his helmet. "Here's the signal you needed. Get to work."
"Not a shred of manners," a new voice purred in his ear. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't appreciate me."
"Just hurry up and fuck their systems for me, would you?" Stray set the scrambler aside and scanned the depot. The locations of the guard patrols were flagged on his HUD; he'd tagged most of them as he'd slipped through the security fence. Zoey had lasered the rest, her gear feeding the data into his helmet. No one was yelling or shooting, at least not yet. So far so good.
"You always make such a fuss about dragging me along on these little outings," Diana said, her voice tinged with mocking displeasure. "And then there's never any challenge worth the effort."
"I take it you're done?" Stray unslung the shotgun from his back and eyed the four story drop from the warehouse roof to the ground below. The height made his insides clench, but he pushed back the instinctive fear and looked over to the depot's command center. Four Elites and a mixed bag of Grunts and Jackals milled about the only entrance. One of the guards bore the distinctive gold trim of a Storm Covenant officer; the others were all junior warriors. "We're already behind schedule and I don't want my ass getting shot off when the shit hits the fan."
"The local garrison is about to experience some catastrophic communications failures." Diana's voice carried an undercurrent of cruel humor. "Among other things."
Stray tapped his com. "Zoey, you clear?"
"If by clear you mean 'up to my waist in sewage', then yes." The girl sounded like she was trying to talk and hold her breath at the same time. "I'm clear."
"Just be careful you don't run into any pockets of methane." Stray unclipped a grappling pistol from his combat harness and took aim at the ground. "One stray plasma round and you'll be painting the walls. And it's going to be a pain in the ass when I have to scrape to your insides off all that expensive gear I'll be salvaging."
"Oh, thanks." Not even the stench of whatever waste-disposal system she'd crawled into could curb Zoey's combative urge. "You ever try not being an asshole sometimes?"
"Sometimes." Stray smiled in spite of himself. He lined the grapple gun's sights up at an angle to the ground, keeping an eye on the patrol positions. "It's not very fun though."
He flashed a ready indicator on his HUD. One green light blinked on, swiftly followed by several swift yellow flashes. The board was set. Time for the light show.
"Zoey, we're green," he said into his mike. His finger tensed against the grapple's trigger. A Grunt
patrol meandered into view down below, oblivious to the danger that now lurked all around them. "Keep your head down."
He fired the grappler. A line of coiled steel shot down and embedded itself in the ground. The Grunts yelped and whirled at the sudden noise, but before they could even pick out the grappling wire Stray had unclipped the safeties from the kill switch on his combat webbing. His gauntleted hand closed around the detonator and he mashed his thumb down on the trigger.
A wall of fire erupted from the nearest junction and engulfed the refueling platform. Refined plasma charges boiled in their crates and sent a tidal wave of explosions tearing across the deck. Jackal sentries hissed and shrieked as fire washed over them. Before their comrades on the other platforms could react, more explosions ripped through their own stations. Thunderous blasts punctuated by terrified screams split the night air.
Stray disconnected the grappel piton and swiftly lashed it to the side of the warehouse. Below him, confused guards rushed into view. Elite officers barked orders to their troops, snarling with fury as they yelled into communications channels that suddenly didn't work. Grunts panicked and fired their weapons every which way, adding a welcome extra layer to the general pandemonium.
It was hard not to grin at his handiwork, but Stray was already one armored foot over the edge. The ground below was swarming with angry Covenant, but there was one last bit of fuel to toss on the fire below. The helmeted saboteur grasped the detonator again and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
"The fuck...?" Stray mashed the detonator, looking over at the main vehicle depot. The raised platform was crowded with lines of Ghosts and Banshees; some Elites were already scrambling into their flyers, directed by the one Storm officer with enough initiative to bellow orders over the sounds of carnage rather than fumbling with his useless radio.
"Zoey!" Stray snapped. "The vehicle depot! You were supposed to rig it!"
"Uh, no I wasn't!" came the furious response. "You said you'd get it since it was closer to the-"
Stray killed the link. Right now he couldn't really remember whose job the vehicles had been, though an embarrassing little voice in the back of his head was fairly certain it had been his. Right now he had a whole lot of pissed off Storm Covenant between his position and the main objective: the command center.
Engines whirred overhead. All eyes turned skyward as a trio of Phantom dropships burst through the billowing smoke and dropped into a hover above the depot. A few of the Grunts cheered in relief, but the Elites brought their weapons to bear. They recognized the insignias carved into the dropships' hulls.
"I was wondering when they'd show up," Diana noted drly. "Lucky thing for you. How do you forget about a target like the vehicle depot, anyway?"
"Shut up."
Plasma cannons on the Phantoms swiveled and opened fire. Heavy concussion rounds tore through the scattered Covenant below and blasted what few Banshees had managed to take off out of the sky. Doors opened up on either side of each Phantom and disgorged a hive of insectoid Drones. Behind them followed two dozen bulky warriors clad in buckled armor: Brutes.
There would be no better time to make his move. Stray swung himself over the side of the roof and grabbed hold of the grappel cord. He dropped down to the ground in a controlled fall, the shock of the impact coursing through his body like an electric current as his feet hit the ground. But his muscles were augmented to handle the force, his bones hardened to deal with far greater trauma. He was running before he'd even recovered from the impact, darting through the fires towards the command center.
The battle raged around him. Brutes tore into the outnumbered Elites as the Drones swooped in and out to pick off the frantic Grunts and Jackals. Stray brought his shotgun to bear, searching for some path through the melee.
There was none.
Stray kept running. Even in armor he was smaller than any of the Brutes and Elites. Even without the darkness or active camo to hide him he became a shadow once again, darting and weaving around the combatants. An Elite got in his way and a blast from the shotgun knocked it flat. A Grunt stumbled in front of him and he sank a knife into its throat without breaking stride. A few Elites caught sight of him and tried to get a shot off, but it was impossible to aim amidst the desperate onslaught. The Brutes ignored him; their chieftain had set down strict warnings against harming the heathen they had paid to soften the depot for them.
He cleared the burning combat zone and hurried up the ramp to the command center. Most of the guard detail had rushed off to join the fight, but the gold-armored officer had stayed stubbornly at his post. Two Brutes already lay dead at the threshold of the command center; the officer stood over them, energy sword in hand. His slitted yellow eyes burned with anticipation as Stray hurtled toward him.
Sword and warrior lunged as one. The blade plunged into Stray's chest and passed effortlessly out the other side--along with its owner. The officer yelled in surprise as the hologram he had just stabbed vanished; stumbling over the edge of the ramp, he threw himself down on one knee to catch his balance.
Something flashed in the officer's peripheral vision. The last thing that went through his head was the roar of the shotgun and several dozen pellets of concentrated buckshot.
Stray hurried around the officer's corpse and raced over to the command center. Plasma rounds burned craters in the smooth Covenant architecture as he braced himself against the wall and swept the area for more guards. Everyone, defenders and attackers alike, were busy slaughtering each other out in the courtyard.
Perfect.
"Diana," he called out, sidling over to the entrance console. "What's the picture inside?"
She flashed security footage onto his HUD. Two Storm warriors crouched behind hologram monitors, rifles trained on the door. A third figure, taller than the others stood off to the side. Stray couldn't make out his rank from the angle of the monitor, but it didn't matter. There was no time to puzzle things out now.
He opened up a pouch on his hip and loaded three shells--marked and colored differently from the M45's regular ammunition--into his shotgun. Sliding a small, dense charge out of another pouch, he braced himself against the threshold. "Diana, open her up."
"Enjoy yourself in there," the AI purred. The doors slid open and Simon sent another hologram dashing into the room. The Elites opened fire, riddling the lightshow with a fusilade of wasted plasma. Before they could even realize their mistake, Stray had leaned around the door frame and tossed the small charge inside.
The EMP blast washed over the warriors, frying their shields and weapons in an instant. Stray threw himself into the doorway the moment the air had cleared. His shotgun's barrel passed over the nearest warrior's torso and fired, engulfing the Elite in a swarm of tiny explosive charges. The warrior's body was torn to pieces in the blast. His partner's cry of surprise was swiftly cut off as a second blast shredded him as well.
Stray raced over to the warriors' cover. He was pulsing with energy, every nerve and muscle in his body firing on all pistons. Adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins as he searched for the third Elite. They slowed every moment of combat into a blur of instinct and observation. One part of his mind was the feral creature that tore his enemies apart; the other was the calculating killer that directed the beast. Beneath it all churned an undercurrent of excitement, a forbidden thrill to be had in each kill and victory.
Once the battle was settled, he would fall back into his usual routine of pretending this savage side did not matter. But for now, he indulged in the power surge wholeheartedly.
Something moved in the corner and he fired. The explosive pellets rent deep craters in the wall, but a flash of blue energy brushed the fire and microshrapnel aside. An Elite in the crenelated maroon armor of a Storm zealot stepped out of the smoke and cut loose with a plasma repeater.
There was no time for a second EMP charge. Stray rolled behind the computer monitors, dropping the shotgun and drawing a pistol while he was still on the ground. He leaped up and fired at the furious zealot, magnum rounds bouncing off the warrior's powerful shields. The zealot snarled and raised a hand, as if in challenge.
Stray's motion sensors suddenly flashed with movement from behind. He spun in time to see two large figures flash into existence by the door. A blur of gleaming metal and glowing orange weaponry hurtled towards him.
"Oh, shit," Stray muttered.
The Promethean Knight raised its weapon. Its backup sidled around behind it, a lightrifle swinging up to take aim. Stray took it all in as the moment stretched out before him in a brutally obvious tapestry. The zealot would move in for the kill while he dealt with the knights in front. A pincer trap, and he'd walked right into it. The only thing left now was...
Stray threw himself forward. He crashed into the first knight, throwing all his weight into the attack. The Forerunner mech staggered backwards and fell. Its helmet-like mask opened up, thrusting a terrifyingly organic skull image up at its attacker. Then the automaton shuddered and went limp, its body disintegrating into sparks in a hardlight data purge.
Stray raised the glowing energy sword he had just plunged into the knight's chest and charged towards the second mech. A hardlight blade sprang to life and missed his head by an inch as he ducked past and cut the knight down with a furious blow. The knight fell back, a sparking gash cut into its chassis. Stray brought the sword back down and sent it to the same strange oblivion as the first.
Something moved behind him. He spun and brought the energy sword up in time to block the furious zealot's cut at his neck. Stray stumble back amidst the sparks of the destroyed knight; the portable little energy sword hilt might make for a great cutting tool but true use of the blade was an art and he was no duelist. The zealot, far more versed in the use of the Sangheili cultural weapon, easily parried his hasty slash and knocked the energy sword out of his hand with a deft twist.
The zealot glared down at Stray, the prongs of the Covenant warrior's energy sword tilted toward his throat. "You dare to defile the weapon of my people, human?"
"Well, I could only get around to it after I pissed on your ancestors' graves," Stray replied. His mouth tended to take over in situations like this. "Had to start somewhere, you know?"
The blade shot down. Stray ducked under it and lashed out with a kick to the legs that slid across the warrior's shields. He drew a knife and rammed it into the zealot's wrist, punching through the rest of the shields and dragging the surprised warrior down to the ground. Stray's free hand shot up to his shoulder and seized hold of the machete hilt. The zealot lay prostrate beneath him, sword arm pinned to the floor by the knife blade.
Trapped. Vulnerable.
The machete came up and then plunged down. The zealot let out a shivering cry as the blade cut into his exposed throat. Stray hacked down again and again, a fierce euphoria racing up from the force of each blow and spreading into the rest of his body. The Elite's neck was stubborn; even with Stray's augmented strength it took three good blows to completely sever the head from its body.
Stray lowered the machete, breathing heavily. He knelt beside the body of the warrior he had just killed, armor stained with splashes of purple blood. The rush of primordial thrill was gone and for a moment he glanced around the ruined command center and wasn't quite sure what to do next.
"Had your fill?" Diana asked, the usual mockery gone from her voice. She sounded genuinely interested.
The question shook Stray back into action. He jerked his head and suddenly he was back into business as usual, unmoved by the grisly violence he had just orchestrated.
"The rank's right," he said, setting the machete aside and pulling a small datapad from one of his pouches. The little gizmo was an expanded civilian Chatter design onto which he had bolted all sorts of additional. One of these bonus functions was a substance analyzer that was quite good at examining any sort of material he passed over it--including blood.
He dipped a finger into the pool of purple blood at his knees and pressed it against the scanner. "Storm Covenant zealot, got enough clout to have a couple knights waiting in the wings. Should be our guy. How's the DNA looking?"
"It matches," Diana replied. "Kyer 'Benav, hinge-head big shot. He's wanted back in the human colonies for war crimes, on Sanghelios for being part of the Storm Covenant, and by the Brutes because they've just got a thing for dead hinge-heads."
"Tuka's intel was solid." Stray rolled the decapitated Kyer over and began rooting around in his armor. "Let's see what he's got."
"Better hurry up with that," Diana replied. "Your friends from the Covenant remnant are wrapping things up outside. They'll be in here looking for more Sangheili to string up any second now."
"Stall them," Stray ordered, cutting open Kyer's armor and inspecting the body sheath the zealot wore underneath. "Have some fun with the security systems if you have to. Where's Zoey?"
"Still hiding beneath the latrines," Diana replied. The command center doors shut and locked themselves; Stray could hear Brutes yelling from outside. "Out of curiosity, which do you enjoy more, bringing her along with you on these outings or seeing how angry you make Cassandra when you do?"
"Well maybe she'll be less eager to tag along on the next one now that she smells like Elite shit." Kyer had a small container near his chest. Stray flipped it open and found a miniature trove of the dead warrior's personal affects. "And Cassandra can keep it to herself. If Zoey wanted to be a clinic assistant, she'd have stayed back on Fell Justice. She wants to be out here."
"Ah, the life of a frontier gun for hire. What's not for a girl to love?"
"That's rich, coming from you." There wasn't much in the box, just a small religious icon, an arum puzzle cube, and a Sangheili-made data chip. Stray pocketed them all.
"Has anyone ever told you what a terrible guardian you are? By meatbag standards, that is."
"I didn't volunteer to take care of her." Stray didn't like the direction this conversation was going. Then again, conversations with Diana hardly ever pulled into any luxury location. "She helps me work, I feed her, train her, and give her a place to sleep."
He shrugged. "And pay her. Sometimes."
"If it makes you feel better, I think you're doing a wonderful job. For a violent, maladjusted public enemy."
"That's reassuring." Several loud bangs crashed against the door. The Brutes were done waiting around. Stray retrieved his knife and machete, wiping them off before sheathing them and picking up his shotgun.
The door burst open and a trio of Brutes leaped in, Spiker rifles at the ready. They scanned the room and lowered their weapons with irritated grunts as they realized their human hireling was the only thing inside still breathing.
"Take it easy, guys." Stray slung the shotgun and picked up Kyer's head. It was a disgusting trophy, but he'd need some proof that he'd killed the Storm Covenant warrior. Someone would pay good money for it; Stray just hoped the credits came through before the head started to stink. "I'll just be taking this with me. Everything else is yours."
Not one of the Brutes so much as looked at him crossways. A good sign... or a bad one. It really depended on how you looked at things. Stray decided to just be relieved they weren't trying to shoot him on sight and strode out of the command center, gory price in hand.
"Do we really have to take that thing with us?" Zoey demanded, indicating the dark-stained bag lying beside Stray. "I just spent two hours hiding in shit water and even I think that's disgusting."
"If you have a better way to prove I killed his sorry ass, I'd love to hear it," Stray replied. "And sewage is a great hiding spot. I've done it plenty of times."
"Yeah, well you've got a helmet. With filters." Zoey indicated her own gear, which consisted of little outside of re purposed combat fatigues and FLC gear. A sickly green crusting had formed over just about all of it. Her helmet, scavenged UNSC Marine gear, lay off to the side, covered in gunk. Her tangle of red hair was streaked with bits of alien refuse. "How come I don't get body armor?"
"Because you aren't the one who has to go toe to toe with Elites and Brutes. And you're expensive enough to look after as it is."
"Says the guy who tried to blame me for not rigging the vehicle depot."
"Shut up and finish with your bodies. I want to get out of here before these guys get bored and start to think we look tasty."
Zoey let out an exasperated huff and got back to rooting through the pockets of the dead Jackal at her feet. She started with the head, working her way down the body just like Stray had taught her, pocketing spare credit chits and any tools that looked like they could be of value. At fourteen years of age she was already cynical and suspicious of everything, traits Stray had gradually passed down to her ever since he'd pulled her out of the burning ruin of her parents' farm. Small-boned and skinny, she nonetheless moved with a determined confidence accentuated by the scavenged military gear she wore and the submachine gun slung over her shoulder. Her well-muscled hands pulled bits of clothing off the Jackal in her search for valuables. Her voice held a husky undertone, as if it she had stolen it from a larger woman. "We've taken some crap jobs before, but I never thought we'd be working with the friggin' Covenant."
Stray glanced over from the Sangheili corpse he was stripping. The Brutes had busied themselves with looting the burnt-out depot, with some loading supplies onto their Phantoms while others picked over the Storm Covenant bodies for weapons and valuables. A few Sangheili warriors had been unfortunate enough to survive the assault. The echoes of their pained screams drifted across the smoky air; the Brutes were always in the mood for a bit of sport with their captives.
"I thought you'd appreciate the irony of Covie on Covie violence," he told her. "Storm Covenant hates the Remnant and they hate 'em right back. I don't care who wins their little turf war. Long as I get paid and a bunch of these psychos wind up dead, what's not to like?"
"Great, now you're a performance artist. You sound like Diana," Zoey muttered. A Drone fluttered close to their small collection of bodies and she shooed the chitinous alien away with the butt of her SMG. "Why'd they even hire us? They hate humans."
"Their chieftain's a bit more savvy than most when it comes to ops like this. But none of them will admit a couple humans did most of the real work for them, which means the Storm Covenant won't have a reason to be pissed." Stray rolled the dead Sangheili over and pocketed the last of the dead warrior's valuables. "But you're right, it's time for us to get moving. These guys are about to move out and the Storm's gonna have reinforcements down here eventually."
Stray tugged his helmet back on and cast a look around the ruined depot. The Remnant had done a number on this place themselves, but his and Zoey's explosives had made it all possible. War really was good for business, even if you hated both sides of it equally. He briefly wondered if he should use the rest of their charges to rig the Remnant Phantoms and send these Brutes sky-high when they took off. It would rid the galaxy of a few more murderous scumbags; Stray's finger brushed against his shotgun as he watched two laughing Brute warriors use a dead Elite's open chest cavity as a latrine.
But in the end, what good would it do? The survivors would report back to their chieftain and then he'd have the Remnant after his head. Let other people worry about killing these guys. That wasn't Stray's job anymore. That wasn't who he was anymore.
"Let's get out of here," he told Zoey.
"About time." She scooped her own salvage into a satchel hanging at her side and strapped the oversized helmet onto her head. "Please tell me we're going someplace better than this."
"Gotta make sure our cash comes through for this job." Stray headed out of the depot, grabbing the sack with Kyer's head on his way out. There was a gang of Jackal smugglers shuttling arms for the Storm Covenant garrison on this miserable rock. They'd agreed to be his and Zoey's ride out of here in exchange for a few tips on where they might find some nice salvage in the wake of the Covenant factions' brutal skirmishes. "After that, well, word on the 'net is that the frontier's heating up. A whole bunch of people gearing up to kill each other. And where there's war..."
"...there's money," Zoey completed, falling into step behind him. "I knew I should have stuck with Judith. She just stole things; she never dragged me into war zones."
"Why didn't you, then? I'm not forcing you to stick with me."
"Just tell me we're getting a little rest first," she said, avoiding the question. "Just a few days. I'm exhausted."
"We're low on just about everything," Stray agreed. "Gotta stock up on munitions and supplies, figure out where the money's at next. You looking for a vacation resort?"
"You're about to say something sarcastic, aren't you?"
Stray shrugged. "I may have been about to talk up Fell Justice's nonexistent finer points."
"Figures. But at least that shithole's better than this one."
"There we got. That's the spirit." Stray kept walking, leaving this latest battlefield behind. There had been a time when he'd fought for something more than credits. He'd been Simon-G294, Spartan of the UNSC, a soldier of humanity. But that past was gone, as dead as the Storm Covenant he left behind in the depot. He was here now, a wanted traitor doing his best to scrape by on the frontier. He was tired and he was hungry and he was ready to get paid and find a nice corner to curl up and fall asleep in. This wasn't the first battlefield, or the last. But there was something else he'd come here for besides the Covenant Remnant's credits. He reached into the pouch containing the data module he'd taken off of Kyer's corpse.
"Diana," he said inside his helmet. "Get a line to Tuka on Fell Justice. His data was spot on. Kyer's dead, and I got his data module."
"And he told you Kyer was too well guarded," Diana laughed. "Shows how much he knows you."
"He knows me plenty," Stray retorted. "Whatever's on this thing is worth a fortune. He knew that'd get me on the case."
"You're greedy, but at least you admit it. Most meatbags can't even get that far."
"I'm not greedy," Stray replied, and he meant it. "The more cash you have, the easier it is to stay alive. Plus, I owe him a few."
Stray glanced down at the data chit. "And something tells me that when we're done with this thing, he's going to owe me quite a few more."
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Get Paid | A bloodied burlap sack containing your bounty may be a coll sight, but somewhere along the line, you gotta trade that for whatever passes for cash with these Covvies. |
+1 Wealth |
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Get to Fell Justice | Fell Justice is supposed to be great this time of year! If you ignore the criminals, slavers, mercs, etc. And its going to be a great place for your next job. |
New Job |
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Investigate the Data Module | Tuka's intel was good, and this big-wig looked to have some kind of expensive trinket. Surely Tuka, or somebody else on Fell Justice could find out more, and even pay for it. | Information on the Data Module | Not Accepted (0/2 Posts) | ||||||||
Post 2[]
“Remind me again why I’m the one who has to carry your disgusting severed head?”
“Oh, quit whining. It’s not that heavy, and besides, I got a box for it, didn’t I?”
Zoey hefted the box in question, a miniature freezer that their Jackal chauffeurs had sold them for cheap. Stray had stashed Kyer’s head inside it, cutting off the stench and more importantly preserving the DNA from purification. He wasn’t too bothered by the smell of rotting flesh; he’d gotten used to it a long time ago and with his helmet filters it was easy enough to avoid. Zoey was a different story, and he’d bought the box in the hopes that it would at the very least put a lid on her complaining.
So far, it hadn’t worked out so well.
Stray and Zoey headed away from the Jackal ship, moving out of the cramped docking bay and into one of Fell Justice’s seedier spaceport terminals. Truth be told, there weren’t that many places on Fell Justice that weren’t considered seedy, but this place held a record for the amount of murders, brawls, and drug deals that went down on in and around it on an hourly basis. The result of this dubious distinction was that it didn’t have much in the way of security guards, janitorial staff, or staff of any sort at all, which made it an excellent place to slip on and off the planet without attracting too much attention.
They cut an odd pair, strolling through the bustling terminal. Even in a crowd containing the collective vagrants and lowlifes of every race in the known galaxy, they were hard to miss. Stray, faceless inside his cracked and dented armor, strode into the throng, shotgun slung casually across his shoulder. He was shorter than the Brutes and Elites and even some humans, but the tide quickly parted to let him pass unhindered. Even on Fell Justice, a shotgun, machete, and body armor made life a lot easier. A grubby poncho draped over his shoulders and torso hid the array of weapons strapped to his stocky frame. Appearances got you a long way out on the frontier, but there was no call for letting people in on absolutely everything you were carrying.
Zoey trailed a few steps behind him, lugging the freeze-box that held their grizzly prize. In a more refined setting, an underage girl armed with a submachine gun and wearing a loose assortment of scavenged body armor might have drawn unwanted attention, but here on Fell Justice no one spared her a second glance. The only one who did see opportunity in her youth was a juvenile Kig-Yar, and he swiftly regretted it. The would-be pickpocket made a passing swipe at one of the pouches at her waist; Zoey dropped him with a swift kick to his spindly legs followed by a few more blows to the chest for good measure. The failed thief rolled away from her boots and scrambled off into the crowd.
Stray caught sight of the exchange through his helmet’s rear-viewing cams and grinned behind his visor as Zoey hurried to catch up. “You’re turning into a nasty little piece of work,” he commented over his shoulder.
She scowled at him over the top of the freeze-box. “Yeah, well that’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Glad to see my training’s paying off.” He sidestepped to avoid a particularly noxious puddle of excrement.
“Not just you. Judie’s the one who taught me how to deal with pick pockets. She actually made an effort to teach me things. Unlike some people I could mention.”
“Oh, yeah? If Judy was such an awesome teacher, why’d you come back to me, huh?”
“Because I didn’t want to wind up stealing cars on Talitsa the rest of my life, that’s why. Not that I’ve done much better with you. Instead of stealing cars, I’m blowing stuff up for you and getting shot at. Half the time I wind up stealing cars anyway.”
“I’d like to say you’ve learned well, but considering all the times I have to clean up your screw-ups I’d say you’ve got a long way to go, my little disciple.”
“I’m going to throw this box at you.”
Stray laughed, though his eyes flicked through the crowd, constantly vigilant for anyone or anything that might be a threat. There were always plenty of armed thugs and guns for hire on Fell Justice, but he could see even more than usual around him in the crowd. There were the usual swaggering criminal types, but mixed in with them now were quite a few guys who looked like they actually meant business. The rumors about the frontier heating up were true, Stray noted. Shit was about to start going down, if it hadn’t already. He could only hope this would be the good kind of shit, the kind that kept him and Zoey fed, and no the bad kind, the kind that glassed planets and saw ONI hit squads sicced on his ass. “You damage that head and it’s coming out of your pay.”
“You haven’t paid me in three weeks, asshole.”
“Uh, what do you call all the food and gear I give you? Bullets and satchel charges don’t grow on trees, though it’d be pretty awesome if they did.”
“You promised me a regular salary.”
“Oh, not this again. Does it look like I get a regular salary? I give you cuts out of all the payoffs , and that’s not counting all the free training I throw in on the side.”
“I haven’t seen a credit from the last job come my way,” Zoey pointed out. There was no talking her down: when she was after something, she sunk her teeth in and didn’t let go. “And every time I ask you to teach me something, you come up with an excuse and put it off. And then you complain whenever I slip up out in the field.”
She narrowed her eyes, the most deadly-serious fifteen-year old in the galaxy. “And that’s not even counting the times you screw up and blame it all on me.”
“Look, I’ll shovel some creds your way once we get the cash for the Kyer bounty. Jeez. I take you in, put clothes on your back, give you weapons, and teach you how to survive out here and this is how you repay me.”
“Oh, don’t even try that line again. If I weren’t already holding a severed head and wading through Jackal droppings I just might throw up.”
They went back and forth all through the terminal, keeping at it even as they stepped out into Fell Justice’s crowded slums and pushed their way through the filthy streets and alleyways. Zoey might be a noisy little scrap of a thing, but Stray couldn’t fault her for it, not really. He’d been the one to teach her not to take shit from anyone, after all; it was hard to get on her for realizing that “anyone” included him as well. She’d come a long way since Stray had dragged a terrified, sobbing girl away from the flaming wreckage of her parents’ farm. She’d been eleven then; the only way she’d survived was by growing up brutally fast, but it was no more than Stray expected. After all, he’d been fighting on the front lines of a war when he was only twelve years old.
Besides, she made for better companionship than Diana. The AI didn’t need a chip to transfer herself from planet to planet. She rode the invisible networking signals that connected every planet in the galaxy, popping up wherever and whenever she pleased. So far Stray hadn’t heard from her since they’d lifted off from the Covenant war zone, but he knew she’d be pinging his coms again soon. But seeing as she was always insisting he figure things out for himself, she probably wouldn’t be there to offer any help on new jobs or the Covenant data disk at his side. Diana picked and chose when to place her formidable capabilities at Stray’s disposal, and most of the time she was content just to sit back and enjoy watching him struggle.
They made their way into a cramped alley, which opened up into a small courtyard that was marginally less filthy than the rest of the slums. A hodge-podge of residents--humans and Elites, mainly—lounged around a grungy apartment complex. Children darted in and out of the vehicles parked nearby as adults hung out laundry, tinkered with datapads, or chatted with each other in the shadow of the buildings that towered up in the distance.
Stray mounted the stairs to one of the apartment blocks. The complex wasn’t even an intentional zone; someone had just stacked a bunch of pre-fab buildings on top of each other, welded them together, and started charging rent. That was how things got done here on Fell Justice, and aside from all the crime and gang wars things tended to turn out pretty well.
A few locals gathered in the shadow of a single-story at the edge of the courtyard prefab caught sight of him and waved. A few called out some choice barbed greetings. Stray responded with a creative hand gesture that brought peals of laughter from a few of the children who saw it.
“Yeah, even when you’ve got a helmet and a shotgun nobody respects you,” Zoey commented. “You ever think you could use some sort of image change? Maybe a hundred percent less shit?”
“You can just stow it,” Stray warned. “Friggin’ ingrates. After all the times I’ve protected that damn med clinic.”
“Uh, half the time you’re the reason it’s getting attacked,” Zoey reminded him. “And besides, it’s not like Cassie needs any protection in the first place.”
“You can keep quiet, or I’ll tell her you call her that without permission.”
Zoey snorted but decided to give it a rest. They reached the landing at the top of the grated stairs and approached the nearest door. The biometric scanner sloppily welded beside the door read locked, so Stray pounded on the frame with the butt of his shotgun. “Hey, Tuka, it’s us! Open up!”
No answer. Stray rolled his eyes and beat on the door again. “Come on, unlock this thing!”
Still nothing. Zoey set the freeze-box down and plopped down on top of it. “Guess he’s not home.”
“I told him we were on our way,” Stray grumbled, opening up his radio contacts in his HUD and selecting the one marked “Tuka ‘Refum.” “He’s usually here at this time of day anyway. This friggin’ sucks.”
“Yeah,” Zoey agreed. “It’s a Monday. There’s always hot water on Monday. I was looking forward to a shower.”
“Inconsiderate hinge-head,” Stray grumbled, pinging Tuka’s frequency. “Some cat probably got stuck in a tree and he just had to go save it.”
Tuka didn’t pick up. Stray closed the com channel with a groan. “I told him to expect us.”
“You know, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen if you’d just pitch in for the rent on this place,” Zoey noted. “Then he’d get your bios added to the scanner and you wouldn’t need him to let you in.”
“Or maybe he could just do a friend a favor and get me added anyway. It’s not like I’m crashing here all week, just when we’re on the planet.”
“Says the guy who charges Tuka every time he wants something from your ration stash.” Zoey sighed. “If Diana wanted to be helpful, maybe she could hack the door for us,” she added pointedly.
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” Stray shook his head in disgust and headed back down the stairs. “She keeps telling me she’ll rig up some sort of hacking software for my datapad. Not that that ever happens either.”
“So, what do we do now?” Zoey asked, hefting the freeze-box once again. “Crash with Cassie?”
“Might as well head to the clinic,” Stray agreed wearily. He had been looking forward to a bit of down time before getting back to business, but as long as Tuka was AWOL he might as well knock some more business items out of the way. He motioned his charge on ahead.
“You go get down there and let her know that she’s got our bright shining faces for company again,” he told her, opening another com channel from his HUD. “And I hope the clinic’s not busy today, because I need somewhere nice and secure to cash in the hunting trophy.”
“Oh, wow, selling off a severed head inside the clinic.” Zoey laughed nastily as she lugged the freeze-box past Stray down the stairs. “That’ll make her day.”
“I’ll deal with the fallout later.” Stray checked his contacts again. Unlike Tuka, he knew Lens would be punctual. That crafty little Unggoy always was when business was concerned. “Now get on down there. I’ve got a call to make.”
“Remind me why my clinic is the best place for you to make your blood deals?” Cassandra asked wearily, observing the proceedings going on in the center of her med clinic with a critical eye. She stripped off a pair of bloody operating gloves and undid the bun holding back her hair; the sleek brown locks fell down to her shoulders. “We just had the results of about three alley fights roll through here. Extra body parts are the last thing we need in here.”
Stray shrugged. He’d taken off his helmet and tucked it under his arm; his poncho was folded under his shotgun, propped up against the door frame. “He likes this place,” he said, jerking a thumb at the squat Unggoy examining the contents of the freeze-box. “Besides, I like some extra security for these things.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Great. Now I’m a part of your murder racket.”
“Geez, everyone’s a critic. I’m back after three weeks offworld and the first thing you do is complain about me killing some hinge head.”
“You can kill as many hinge heads as you want, just don’t drag their corpses through my clinic.”
From the operating table, the underworld broker known as Lens gave Stray an approving nod. “The DNA matches,” the Unggoy said, putting away his analyses tools. “This is him all right. And here I thought no one would get him. Kyren was one of Jul ‘Mdama’s more careful subordinates.”
“Yeah, well I had a nice tip on where to find him. Though he was still a bitch to take down.”
“Yet take him down you did, and here is the proof.” Lens made a note in his datapad. “I can offer you ten thousand for him.”
“Oh, fuck no.” Stray shot the Unggoy a cold look. “The bounty on this guy’s twenty thousand. And after the trouble I went to, I should charge more.”
Lens spread his hands apologetically. “Bounties fluctuate with the times, Stray. You know how it is. Ten thousand is what he is worth now.”
“Twenty thousand was what he was worth when you put me on the scent.” Stray was shooting high here, but that was just the nature of the beast. “I want what I’m due.”
“Technically I don’t have to pay you anything,” Lens pointed out. “I have confirmation of death, which is all my contacts want. And you know what happens if you threaten me.”
“Not physically. But I could put the word out that you’re a lying piece of shit. See how that affects your business dealings.”
“Fair enough,” Lens said with a nod. “Fifteen thousand, and not a credit higher.”
“Why the hell do I bother doing business with you?” Stray grumbled, playing the part of the disgruntled merc. It was an all an act, this whole bartering nonsense, one that he and Lens put on out of sheer force of habit. “Fine. Pay up.”
Lens made a few notes on his datapad. “A pleasure, as always, Stray.” The Unggoy hopped down from the operating table and gave Cassandra an appreciative nod. “And thank you for opening up your clinic for us. Fell Justice can be such a difficult place to find neutral ground on.”
“You just keep the gangs out of this neighborhood,” Cassandra told him. Everyone on Fell Justice did deals with the underworld, even the ones trying to be angels of mercy. Angels working in hell couldn’t avoid the brimstone entirely.
“Of course.” Lens looked back up at Stray. “Are you sure you’re quite that angry with me?”
Even when Lens was several heads shorter than you, it was impossible to look down on him. Some people simply had that flair about them. Lens certainly did; it was what helped a innocuous Unggoy like himself dance through Fell Justice’s underworld, dispensing contracts, payments, and information deals without winding up on the other end of a hit job himself.
“You’ve already got another job offer?” Stray asked, leaning against one of the medical counters. “Usually I can catch at least a week’s break from you. Things really are heating up out here.”
“You should be grateful,” Lens told him. “More job offers are never a bad thing.”
“Depends on what they are,” Stray retorted. “And who’s giving ‘em.”
“Well, you did just express a lessened desire to do business with me…”
“Can we just skip the games? I haven’t had a shower in two weeks.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Cassandra muttered. “I’ll get the air freshener.”
“Well, I have heard rumors concerning Storm Covenant activity out in the neutral territories,” Lens told him. “They are expanding their influence here, as are just about every rogue state and independent faction these days. Their current spat with the Remnant is no accident; they are both fighting for control of certain systems. Systems that contain, well, as they put it, ‘holy relics.’”
Stray could feel Cassandra’s gaze on him. He knew what she was thinking, because the same thoughts were flashing through his own head. “Forerunners,” he said evenly. “The crazy hinge heads are after Forerunner tech.”
“Indeed. They believe that the Frontier is a vault of untapped Forerunner potential and they hope to secure it before the greater powers that be catch wind of them. The interests I represent would very much like it if the likes of the Covenant were not the ones clinging onto it when the UNSC and USR send their fleets to secure them.”
Stray folded his arms. “You want guys to run out and grab this shit so that you can sell it to the UNSC.”
“They will take it by force if they know the Covenant factions are trying to gain an upper hand with them. And if the zealots do succeed and somehow turn the technology to their advantage, well, I’d just as soon not live in a galaxy like that. I’m sure you agree.”
“So I’d be running out there and snatching this stuff out from under a bunch of crazy psychos’ noses, then handing it over to you and your buddies so you could sell it to the UNSC. You’ll forgive me if I don’t think that sounds like I wind up with a whole lot. If I wind up with anything outside of an energy sword through my gut.”
“Well, there would be plenty of opportunities for you to shave a few artifacts off the top before anyone else took possession. A few weapons alone would be worth a fortune, if sold to the right buyer.”
Stray laughed humorlessly. “And all I have to do is fight off the whole Covenant armada, plus anyone else who shows up with the same idea.”
Lens shrugged and headed for the exit. “I’m not suggesting you go in alone. There are plenty of interested freelancers who might join you on such an endeavor. Assemble a feasible force, and I could perhaps ensure that you received the funding of a proper expedition, even. Of course, that would just be the start. The Covenant are quite secretive about the locations of their excavations; if my own agents and those of professional intelligence agencies have been kept in the dark, well, you’d have quite the job of finding it yourself.”
Stray’s thoughts flashed to the data disk still sitting inside his pouch. “Yeah,” he said as Lens passed through the door. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“There goes the smartest gas-sucker on the Frontier,” Zoey said to no one in particular. She was perched up on a stool in the corner, absent-mindedly listening in on local transmissions with the aid of a descrambler device jacked into her headphones. “Hey, I’m hearing stuff about a firefight down in the warehouse district. Apparently some crazy hinge-head went and pissed off a whole bunch of criminal gangs and now they’re all trying to kill him at once.”
“Just one guy?” Stray laughed. “That pulp stain’s gonna be a permanent landmark.”
“From the sounds of it, he’s driving them crazy. No one can get a lock on him and he’s just picking them off like flies.”
“Great.” Cassandra glanced out the clinic window. “We’ll probably see some mobsters coming through here begging for help, and all the other staff have turned in for the night.”
“Ah, they won’t bother with this place.” Stray scratched his mop of dark hair. “Not after the ass-kicking you gave them last time they showed their ugly faces.”
Cassandra shot him the evil eye and passed over to the sink to wash her hands. She was young, only about twenty or so, the same as Stray. You wouldn’t expect someone of her age to be running a med clinic, but then again most twenty-somethings hadn’t been the most gifted field medic in Gamma Company once upon a time. She had set up shop on Fell Justice less than six months ago, but already no one questioned her expertise at patching up those unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of the usual gangland politics that went on in the slums. No one saw her as an easy target, either.
Some of the gangs had, but only just once. Cassandra’s response had been to strap on her armor, grab a magnum, and shoot down the first two waves of extortionists. When the only two survivors had surrendered and been taken inside the clinic for treatment, the gangs had mounted a rescue attempt to free their “kidnapped” fellows. It was only then that they realized the apartment complex was home to several retired warriors, a determined neighborhood militia, and one very grumpy Stray. The pre-fabs still sported plasma burns from the shoot-out that had followed, but the gangs hadn’t ventured near them since.
“So where the hell is Tuka, anyway?” Stray asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not like he checks in with me every time he wants to take a stroll.”
“I told him we were coming, and I haven’t done anything to piss him off. Not that I remember anyway. Dropping out like this isn’t like him.”
“If you really don’t have anywhere to go, Zoey can stay here,” Cassandra offered.
“Oh, great, and I can sleep outside?”
“I only have the one extra cot,” Cassandra replied with a shrug. “Besides, I know you. You’re fine with sleeping on the floor.”
“Yeah, very funny. See who’s laughing next time you need me for…” Stray trailed off as a warning light flashed on his datapad. Frowning, he checked the screen. That was a signal only a few people knew, a distress call that Diana would never use and that Cassandra and Zoey couldn’t have fired because they were sitting with him in the clinic. Which meant it was…
“Zoey,” he snapped. “That fight in the warehouse district. You said it’s just one hinge-head?”
“Yeah, the gangs are still after him—“
Stray grabbed his shotgun. Cassandra glanced over at him with a frown. “What… oh. Tuka.”
“That asshole just shot off a distress call. That’s him the gangs are gunning for, the stupid shithead.”
“So that’s what he’s been up to these past few weeks,” Cassandra shook her head. “I should be surprised and horrified, but I’m not.”
“And he picked now to piss them off.” Stray tossed Zoey’s bundle of gear over to her. “That son of a bitch, he knew we were coming, so he went off and started a gang war. I’m getting roped into one of his stupid justice crusades.”
“And you’re still rushing off to help him,” Cassandra noted, walking over to a foot locker on the other side of the room. “Well, yeah. I’m going to rip him a new asshole for this, and I can’t do that if the gangs have creamed him before I get there.”
“He’s either a lot smarter than you give him credit for or a lot dumber than I thought he was.” Cassandra opened up the footlocker and started to pull out the components to her SPI armor. Stray looked at her, surprised.
“You’re coming?”
“You said it first, someone needs to save his stupid ass.” Cassandra shrugged and began strapping the armor components on over her clothes. “Besides, I could use a little refresher. It gets pretty stifling, here at the clinic.”
“You’re call.” Stray tugged on his helmet and headed for the door. “Zoey, get me a route to the warehouse district.”
“That should be easy,” she said, pulling on her LBE. “Just follow all the pissed off gangsters.”
Sonasaurus[]
Freelancers[]
Post 1[]
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"I'm in position, Carolina. You and your boys all set?"
"That we are. Have fun, guys. See you on the far side."
Agent Texas cut the transmission by sending a simulated blinking motion to her armour. She shifted from her prone position at the side of a medium-sized hill and slid the two SMGs on her sides off her armour, checking the weapons one more time. Satisfied, she glanced sideways at her partner for the mission. "On three."
Agent Montana nodded wordlessly, and Tex could almost see the focus in her partner's eyes from behind the silver-blue visor. The plan was already set. There was no reason for delays.
Both Freelancers jumped up and out of cover as two simultaneous grey blurs, almost invisible in the darkness as they closed the distance on a trio of Jiralhanae sentries that had just passed not twenty feet from their hiding place. Tex's SMGs sprayed a rapid discharge of silenced rounds at two of the Jiralhanae, sparking off their power armour but not penetrating. They flinched nonetheless, and fumbled to bring up their weapons, but by then she had already closed in on them. One metal fist collided with a Jiralhanae head with enough force to cave it in partially and splinter several pieces of the unfortunate alien's skull, but before they could react, she had already run past them.
The two remaining Jiralhanae turned without thinking, giving Montana the chance to slip her combat knife under one of the enemy's helmets and slit his throat. She gave the last sentry enough time to turn around and present his unprotected eye sockets to her. And surely enough, he obliged. The barrel of the SM6C/SOCOM jerked slightly as the bullet discharged through the alien's eye and into his brain, dropping him with barely a sound.
Three guards per patrol, Tex thought, prepping an explosive and sliding it under one of the bodies. Better than two, but not enough to stop us. Not even close. She slipped a second explosive onto the reinforced main doors they were standing in front of.
"Let's move, quickly," Montana said over the COM. "It's only a matter of time before we're detected, and Jiralhanae can smell blood easily."
Tex nodded, engaging her active camouflage. She had forgotten for a moment that Jiralhanae had an excellent sense of smell. Sometimes there were drawbacks to not having some of the abilities that a human being had.
Montana had already disappeared, no doubt to carry out her part of the plan. Tex made sure her camouflage was fully functioning before heading off to do her part. She keyed her COM. "Wyoming, got your eye on me?"
"Of course, my dear," drawled Wyoming's voice in her helmet. "You're running towards three more of those Brute chaps. Should I take care of them?"
Tex ducked into the shadows of the camp wall as she saw the trio of Jiralhanae rounding the corner. Though it was unlikely that they could spot her blur in the dead of the night, it didn't hurt to be careful. For now, at least. "That's alright, Wyoming. Let's not leave too many bodies until we're supposed to."
From his position on a top hill a hundred yards away, Wyoming shifted his sniper scope to where Tex and Montana had left the bodies of the sentries. "Roger. I've got movement here. Looks like they're taking the bait."
"Get ready then," Tex said. She waited for the sentries to walk past her before continuing, trying to keep her movements silent. "I'm almost at the objective. Keep your attention on the doors. I'll be fine."
"Way ahead of you, Tex," Wyoming murmured, aiming his sniper rifle at the explosives she had attached to the slave camp facility's main doors. He waited for the group of Jiralhanae emerging from all directions to gather around the bodies of the sentries before resting his finger on the trigger. "Knock knock, mates."
He fired, and the round flew straight and true, dead centre on the explosive on the doors. The entrance was blown wide open, and a split second later, the explosives Tex had hidden under the sentries went off. The explosives had been set to detonate as soon as the one on the door had done so, and in the blink of an eye, the gathered Jiralhanae were consumed in a deadly fireball.
A bit unorthodox, perhaps, Wyoming thought, adjusting his aim on the Jiralhanae he had sighted inside the camp. But I suppose it's all part of the plan.
Meanwhile, Tex heard the commotion and knew she didn't have a lot of time. She had no doubt that Montana would do her job, but they were here for more than one reason.
There was somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty-two slaves at the camp they were attacking. Human slaves, and as soon as the Freelancers had found out about them, everyone had agreed to try and free every slave they could find. They were currently in Jiralhanae territory, and the goal was to get them out and into the safety of the nearest human colony. But we only have one Slipspace-capable ship, and a limited amount of resources, Tex had pointed out. How are we going to do this without risking our only ride out of here?
Carolina hadn't seemed too worried. You leave that to me, she had said.
So they made a plan. And then they added a few elements to make sure everything worked out the way it was supposed to, with a reward or two for them to keep for their troubles. With every camp the Freelancers raided, they also took a fair share of the riches that the Jiralhanae were so fond of stashing. It was pretty much bizarre technology and other materials none of the Freelancers really wanted to keep, but Tex knew Iris Sabio would be willing to trade most of the resources for a fair share of money. And for whatever even she didn't have any use for, there was always the option of selling the leftovers to a keen-eyed Kig-Yar.
Taking what we need so we can protect humanity, she thought as she climbed over the back wall and made her way stealthily through the camp. Just like we always do.
She made it into the camp's main facility without any trouble and disengaged her camouflage. She would probably run into one or two Jiralhanae, but this was a slave camp, not a high-command centre teeming with enemies. The security here was enough to keep the slaves in line but was laughable to someone of her skill.
And sure enough, as she sprinted towards the small facility's data centre, she saw Jiralhanae emerging from the doorways, guns trained on her. Dumb gorillas. They're so confrontational and eager to kill something that they don't even think a plan through. Almost carelessly, she took the C70 shotgun off her back and dashed through the mass of aliens, firing the automatic weapon almost point-blank into their hides with little pause. Shotgun casings clattered to the floor as she reloaded the gun swiftly. She cleared the Jiralhanae group before they noticed the SLE7 grenades at their feet. The explosions barely died down before she walked smoothly through the doors into the data chamber.
It was deserted inside. The Chieftain of the camp was either not present, or Montana was doing a very good job of keeping him busy. Either way, Tex quickly inserted a data chip into the main terminal, and waited as it leeched every bit of wealth out of the system. A fair portion of it would be currency that could be converted to cR, but whoever was doing the providing sent more resources to keep the camps running than actual money. Nonetheless, the data obtained would contain access codes to numerous resource storage caches not far from each camp, and it even came with the location of the sites to make things easier.
"Tex? I've got thirty-one prisoners accounted for," said Montana over the COM. "Wyoming's moving up, but I need you here ASAP. In about five minutes I'll have a tough time keeping them alive on my own."
Tex watched the blinking red light on the data chip to flash green before withdrawing it. "Copy that. I'm on my way now."
She turned around in time to see a fancy-armoured Jiralhanae standing in the doorway wielding a gravity hammer. She snapped up the shotgun and managed to squeeze off two shots, both of which flew wide and just skimmed the alien, before the hammer came down and cracked open the floor. The shockwave knocked Tex back into the terminal and her weapon went flying away. Shields flickering, she rapidly drew her SMGs and put every single bullet she had on him, leaping to and fro to avoid his hammer.
The next blow destroyed the terminal, and Tex soared over the Chieftain's head and landed behind him. She pulled out her combat knife and stabbed it into the back of his hand, prompting him to howl and release the weapon. She brought up one SMG and pointed it at his head, prepared to rip his face open with a burst of gunfire.
But the Chieftain was still holding onto the hammer with his other hand. He swung wildly but with a blinding speed, sending the hammer's business end flying towards her head. She ducked, and the weapon whistled as it flew past her head. She primed another SLE7 and activated its sticky function, attaching the explosive to the Chieftain's crotch before leaping away.
The grenade detonated in a blue explosion, which was quickly followed by a yellow-white one as the fragmentation charge also detonated. One of the Chieftain's limbs landed on Tex's shoulder, and it was too bloodied to identify. She quickly brushed it off and ran out of the facility.
She immediately spotted Montana and Wyoming along with the slaves that had just been rescued. They were all in the centre of the camp, with what looked like an entire platoon of Jiralhanae bearing down on them. What kept them alive were all the stationary energy shields deployed in a circle around them. And for good measure, there were numerous bubble shields set up within perimeter and the civilians were huddled inside them.
Mont really is a quick thinker, Tex thought as she squeezed between two of the deployed shields, switching her close-quarters weapons for the more accurate Covenant-issue rifles lying around. "We going to kill all of them?" she asked Montana as they fired bursts of needles from their acquired rifles.
"Nah, just making sure you showed up so you don't get left behind," Montana replied, blowing apart one alien as she covered him with the deadly rounds.
Wyoming had opted to keep using his sniper rifle. "As much as I like a last stand, chaps, I do hope our dear Carolina won't be much longer now. I'm running out of bullets here."
"She won't let us down," Tex said, reloading her rifle and sweeping up another handful of needles from the ground. She glanced once at the slaves inside the bubble shields. They were dirty, ragged, and miserable-looking. They weren't out of danger yet, and it was clear that they knew that. Well, I hope she shows up soon. The enemies were getting closer, and there didn't seem to be any shortage of them.
"Take cover!" Montana shouted. She ducked into the formation of bubble shields, and Tex did the same. Wyoming fired off a couple more shots before he followed suit. Beside them, the slaves were trembling with fear as the gleam of the Jiralhanae's eyes could be seen even in the darkness. Now all they had to do was close in...
The almost inaudible sound of Seraph fighters were heard for a brief moment before the fighters appeared out of the night sky. And then a hail of plasma torpedoes rained down on the camp, tearing holes in the walls and buildings. The ground shook as it was bombarded with bright blue explosives, prompting some of the slaves to duck their heads beneath their arms. One by one, the stationary shields flickered out and died as the torpedoes blew apart the generators. The Jiralhanae were running for cover, but to no avail; their silhouettes were outlined in flashes of blue and white before they were vaporized one after another. Tex waited grimly for the plasma storm to pass, hoping that the bubble shields would not fail.
And then it was over. The ruined camp became silent as the Freelancers stepped out of their cover, with the slaves following apprehensively. The grounds were littered with wreckage and half-melted remains of Jiralhanae corpses, and the only sound was the hiss of steam rising from the craters that the torpedoes had left.
"Hope that wasn't too rough for you guys," came Agent Colorado's voice from over the COM.
"Not at all," said Montana with a laugh, waving at the lead Seraph in formation above them. "You enjoying your new toy, Hal?"
"Once we all learned how to actually target with the torpedoes, sure," he replied. "Truth be told, some of us just had to fire randomly by the time we got here. I'm surprised we didn't accidentally kill at least one of you."
The banter was cut short as a Phantom swooped in on the remains of the camp. Its hatches were down and Carolina was standing in the troop bay. Tex led Montana, Wyoming, and the slaves towards the dropship. "Well, come on then. Don't step in the craters, unless you fancy radiation poisoning and having your foot burned off."
"Oh, very charming," Wyoming quipped.
"I was talking to them," Tex pointed out. "You don't need your feet to be a sniper, do you, Wyoming?"
"Glad to see you're so concerned for my well-being, Tex," he replied sarcastically, climbing aboard the Phantom. Tex didn't reply to this as she and Montana helped boost the slaves up two at a time, and Carolina and Wyoming would pull them on board. Everyone was soon secured, and the dropship took off with the Seraphs flanking it.
Carolina was looking over the slaves. "Well done," she said. "This all of them?"
"No casualties," Montana said, though she said this without smugness. That was how Montana always was, matter-of-fact when it came to the mission and never allowing for arrogance.
"Good," said Carolina. "We got the corvette. York is leading the others to clear it out right now. Once we secure it, we'll meet up with the three teams raiding the other camps. Which one's the closest from here?"
"North's team is thirty klicks southwest of here," Tex said. "After we pick them up, we should have enough numbers to get started on looting the resource caches."
Carolina nodded. With only twenty-seven Freelancers in their group, sometimes it was difficult to get too many things done at once. But they were proficient and knew how to do their jobs properly, and Tex wouldn't trade any one of them for a hundred soldiers.
"For the next five days, our task is to fill the corvette with every last being we can liberate," said Carolina. She turned to look at the slaves, who were listening to her words in silence. "All you're asked to do is to wait until we've done that. Then you'll be flown out of Jiralhanae space and back to your colonies."
They simply stared at her, as if uncomprehending.
"You'll have to stay here, in enemy territory, for a little while," she said. "But that doesn't make you their slaves anymore. You're all free."
And then Tex saw the understanding show on their faces. It was followed by relief, which blossomed into hope, and then broke out into pure, unchecked joy. And as she listened to the sound of their broken laughs and their cheering, she felt that for the first time since the Freelancers arrived, what they were doing really was worth something after all.
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Regroup | The Freelancers have split into several smaller cells to liberate various slave encampments on this planet. Before they can continue their operations, they have to regroup |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Raid enemy supplies | The enemy has left substantial supplies behind, in various scattered caches. If the Freelancers want to continue what they're doing, they'll need these supplies |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Get the hell out of dodge | The Freelancers are dangerously close to stirring up the hornet's nest. While they have yet to alert the enemy at large, its only a matter of time before they bring the full brunt of their enemies down upon themselves. This may require a fast escape, which means every slave may not get liberated today. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
AHaloSniper[]
Chancer V[]
Post 1[]
| User | Ahalosniper | ||||||
| Name | Chancer V | ||||||
| Allegiance | Unaligned | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Gavin Dunn | ||||||
| Attributes | 
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| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
| Edge of the Suma System, Hydra Major |
Gavin had a theory about starships, and it was that, like pets, ships tended to resemble their captains. Not in a literal sense, really, but in a way that once you had a good look at the ship, you probably had a good idea of who the man that owned it was.
For example, he’d once known a squat little Unggoy who’d had both the ambition and intelligence to pilot an orbital harbor tug, but the barnacle-covered creature was a hopeless slob. The Grunt had filled the thing’s compartments with discarded methane canisters and fast-food moa burger wrappers, and that dented little tug was the only ship he’d ever seen that spilled when the boarding ramp was lowered.
Likewise, the officer of the UNSC Navy standing in his dilapidated old freighter’s cargo bay had the same sharp lines and uniform gray as the patrol boat he’d come from. Without bothering to look up from the data pad he held, the Lieutenant asked, “You have licenses for carrying this particular sort of cargo?”
Gavin sighed in exasperation and just about beat his head against the crate filled with civilian rifles they stood next to, fed up with the routine the officer was reciting. Squeezing shut his eyes, he motioned at the datapad and replied irritably, “Yes I’ve got the paperwork filled out, it’s all there in the file. Scroll down.”
Fortunately, the Lieutenant had patience enough for the both of them. He dragged his finger up across the tablet’s surface, and nodded once he came to the page in Gavin’s credentials he was looking for. “Ah, very good. I only ask because it’s an unusual amount of weaponry for a ship like yours to be transporting.”
A ship like his. A ship like his was an Argo-class freighter, probably one of the last examples of the transports that’d once been known to fill the skies over every minor and major human colony, decades before the Covenant war. The shape of its hull evoked memories a generation old of days when humanity had been looking to expand, colonizing new planets at the edge of a final, never-ending frontier. Times which had come again after the war ended.
Under a hundred meters long, it was a speck of stardust compared to the grand warships of Earth and Covenant empires. Its hull plating was a checkerboard of bare metal, with old plating riveted alongside new parts that’d replaced ones older still, but its smooth silhouette still made it prettier than a big, bulky DCS-class cargo ship. Two rotating thrusters were mounted just aft of her sleek nose and cabin to make her dance nimbly in atmosphere or out, while a heavier pair on her tail provided the real kick. And she had a slipspace drive for a heart that would carry her between the stars.
Her name, the Chancer V.
And like his ship, Gavin Dunn hadn’t undergone properly thorough maintenance in a while. Spare credits for things like a haircut were hard to come by, so his long, black hair had just been combed back under a baseball cap. There was a coat of dark stubble around his chin, and a plain dark coat around his shoulders. Standing on the deck of the Chancer’s cargo bay, Gavin seemed like he was in exactly the right place in the universe.
But then, the Marines providing the Lieutenant’s security detail kinda got in the way of that picture.
Gavin had been just about to enter slip and leave the system when the UNSC patrol vessel Topeka hailed them. While Gavin and his crew had stood down engines immediately, it’d taken the Topeka two hours to get its boarding team together afterwards, putting him behind schedule and doing no wonders for his mood. He guessed the rumor about sailors posted to assignments like these being the incompetent and disgraced were true.
Still, he couldn’t blame them for the stop too much. Most movement of freight and passengers was handled by the DCS for cheaper than an independent captain could offer, so he was immediately a suspect for smuggling. To help things along, he volunteered the nature of his current job to the Lieutenant. “The guns are going to a trader colony just starting up in Hydra Minor. They’d feel safer having a little firepower for security since the UNSC patrollers are busy pulling me over.”
He couldn’t help the edge of bitterness, which got him a stern look from the Lieutenant. At that point, Gavin decided to hold his tongue for the rest of his background check. If the Navy man didn’t want to be there any more than Gavin did, he’d do well to avoid drawing the ire of a bureaucrat.
After a few more uncomfortable minutes, the Lieutenant nodded and offered the pad to Gavin. “Alright, you’re cleared to carry on, Captain Harkness, and we’ll transmit you a clearance code to avoid this sort of thing happening again. Apologies for the delay.”
Gavin showed the man a grateful smile, which helped to hide the smug satisfaction that came with one of his aliases holding up. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You boys just have a good orbital cycle.”
With a polite nod, the officer turned about and disappeared back through the docking tube, and the half-dozen Marines that had accompanied him fell in with rifles lowered. Now that they were no longer surrounded, Gavin and his ship’s first mate, the old man named Tom Spender, relaxed noticeably. Gavin crossed the deck to the docking tube and sealed it shut, then reached out to an intercom stationed on the wall beside.
“Allana? We’re clear, airlock’s sealed. Let’s slip on out of here.”
His co-pilot answered a moment later. “Roger that, Captain. Warming up the drive now, and we’ll make the jump point in five. Guess you got that cute little cadet to fall for it.”
Gavin smiled to himself. “Yeah, we got away with it this time. Take us out, I’ll meet you up there in a minute.”
“Yes Captain.” Her reply was punctuated with a burst of static as the com terminated, and immediately Gavin felt the subtle shift in inertia that meant the ship was moving. The constant whine of the engines changed, too.
Tom shut the rifle crate’s lid shut behind him with a click, chuckling. Pushing the wind out of his old lungs made for a sort of crackling in his voice, like an outdated radio. “Shouldn’t risk a rightly built-up alias like that. Should’ve used a throwaway, like your real one.”
“Mhm.” Gavin nodded. It did make sense to keep a good record for an alias, otherwise it was no good. “Why would I use the name that’d get us arrested?”
The old man cackled. “Protects the reputations of your fake ones. I like ‘em better anyway.”
Gavin just rolled his eyes and took a position next to him along the crate’s edge, helping to shift it back to where it could be tied down. Tom was just a bit crazy, and he’d known it from the day he’d been a cabin boy on the first Chancer years ago. Every once in a while in those days, Captain Spender would cause a real emergency just to test Gavin, to see if he could handle it, and it’d nearly gotten them all killed several times. But there were few spacers that’d been in the black as long as Spender, and darn it, Gavin’d sworn he would learn from him. And what he’d learned had served him well.
The crate came to rest in its right place, and Spender went around to get the straps and tie it down. Gavin left him to it, crossing the cargo bay again and starting up the ladder to the upper deck. He climbed out of the ladder well once he reached the top, and turned up the corridor to the cabin, passing the galley and life support room on his way.
Though the hallway outside was brightly lit, Gavin’s eyes had to adjust as he stepped inside the cabin’s narrow doorway. Starlight and glowing consoles were the sole illumination here. He shifted left to his seat, while Allana made the final calculations for their jump at the co-pilot’s station right of him.
“We’re hovering on the jump point now.” She told him as he fell back into his worn leather seat. Her hair was worn back in a ponytail, and her pretty face was just starting to show signs of age. Her eyes were older still, having been with Gavin through all he saw on Mamore. But not a day of it showed in her self-satisfied smile as she finished typing a command in. “You didn’t have to bribe him, did you?”
Gavin shook his head. “Nah, he didn’t know much of what he was doing. Guess the obvious cargo kept him distracted.”
Walking in and seeing a worn-out little ship like this carrying so many weapons in the open must’ve been pretty unusual for the Lieutenant, but there really was nothing illegal about it. Gavin had the paperwork all filled out, and out here there was a legitimate need for people to have weapons to defend themselves. If the officer had thought to start tearing up the deck panels, though, the two or three dozen military-grade assault rifles might not’ve cleared the check . . .
Allana idly turned a dial. "So, we get to Rourke's Retreat, drop off the guns, get paid. And what then?"
"Same as always." Gavin replied. "We finish one job, we find another." That was how it was for a ship like his. Living so small wasn't easy. You had to constantly have a source of income, for food and fuel. Always moving from one planet and paycheck to the next. It could be an exhausting way to live, and often times dangerous, but Gavin found it suited him.
The smile on Allana’s lips curled farther as she looked up from her instruments. “You want to press the button?”
It was actually a switch, but Gavin played along. “I do love buttons.”
As his hand found the activation switch for their Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, Gavin looked up out of the wide window in front of them, and his eyes drank in the light coming off those stars, specks in the void like his little ship. And with just a twitch of muscle, he threw the switch that started tearing a hole in subspace before them.
A tiny supernova suddenly sprang into existence in front of the bow, and widened into a swirling maelstrom of bright blue energy that literally possessed only two dimensions, height and width. A tear between the normal three dimensions and the eight beyond it. This new drive cut open a portal that they slipped through, instead of the old ones which enveloped ships in a bubble and winked out.
Allowing himself an upturn of one side of his mouth, Gavin pushed the ship forward into the portal, abruptly removing them from the space of the local system and setting them adrift in the currents of an intangible sea lying parallel to the whole of the universe.
That Damn Sniper 00:35, May 7, 2013 (UTC)
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Deliver the goods | The Chancer V is filled with a cargo of legal and illegal firearms, destined for the Rourke's Retreat. The crew need to get these dropped off, get through the hand over safely and and get paid. |
+1 wealth |
Not accepted (1 turn) | ||||||||
| Get a new job | Legal haulage jobs are difficult to come by, but usually present the opportunity to earn a decent pay cheque without running foul of the law. Illegal jobs pay substantially better, but the consequences can be dire, such as being chased by a UNSC cruiser, or caught with 800 kilos of Pyrox-3 nerve enhancer on the Sangheili-side of the border. |
|
Not accepted | ||||||||
Post 2[]
| User | Ahalosniper | ||||||
| Name | Chancer V | ||||||
| Allegiance | Unaligned | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Gavin Dunn | ||||||
| Attributes |
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| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
| Unsanctioned Settlement “Rourke’s Retreat,” planet Tierra Roja, Hydra Minor |
The air was hot, and heavy with dust. Gavin’s nostrils flared in irritation, which led him only to breathing in more of the red silt as he passed under the wood roof of a covered square between two of the township’s largest buildings, which wasn’t saying much.
Nothing here was built higher than two stories, and the whole of Rourke’s Retreat covered only about the size of a game field or two. Dirt lay thick over everything like drifts of snow, the town just having weathered a sandstorm before the Chancer arrived. Everywhere except these open-air markets, set up to offer shelter from the local star.
Between the posts standing under them for support, vendors offered black corn from farms out of town and iced water bottles for as much as seven credits a pop. Although this particular square had attracted a relatively large crowd, there was nothing Gavin was interested in, and he pushed through to the next street to get back to his ship, stepping out from under the cover.
Everything not cast in shadow here was tinted by a deep, bloody red light, reminding him of a sunset even though it was about midday. Gavin had never been to Earth and seen a red sunset, had no connection between the color and that time of day, but something in the back of his mind still insisted night was approaching. Something instinctual . . .
He let the feeling go as he neared the end of the road, spotting the Chancer where he’d set down on the outskirts. Its boarding ramp was down, leading into the cargo bay where Spender was supposed to be supervising a handful of the colonials unloading the weapon crates. Instead, he was fending off a few of the grubby children that’d gathered around to see the spaceship, the most adventurous ones having tried to climb it.
But the thing that Gavin was intent on was a figure overseeing it all, a plump man with his hands on the head of a cane named Rourke. Walking towards him, Gavin could see the white clothing he wore might’ve looked good in the red sun color if it weren’t for the thickly-ingrained layer of dirt that had ruined what was once a fashionable Inner Colony outfit.
Rourke turned as he approached, and stood with an impassive expression as he asked with dissatisfaction, “What’s this I hear about you not being able to pay credits?”
To his credit, though he knew he’d been found out, Rourke didn’t shy away from his lie. “I believe it means that we don’t have the sufficient sum of cee-ar to pay you in full for the delivery. Did you not understand?”
Gavin had understood all right. He knew very well by now what he didn’t want to hear when he heard it. “What I understand is your moisture farmhands over there are pulling the cargo out of my ship while you’re not paying me.”
“Now, Mister Dunn,” Rourke said, looking down to grind the end of his cane in the sand. “We have excess building supplies we’re willing to give you, worth almost twice our agreed price. You can easily sell those for a good profit, but we are very much in need those guns. If you were to back out of our arrangement . . .”
“Me back out?” Gavin said, nearly laughing. “Look man, I’m not the one who lied about a solid credit payment!”
“Gavin, calm down.” A hand was placed gently on his shoulder, and fell away as he spun to face the placating voice. Allana stepped close and held his gaze with her wide, amber eyes, turned red by the planet’s sun. “It’s not like we’re trading something for nothing, and they’re going to fuel us up before we go.”
“It’s not that it’s a bad trade, ‘Lana, it’s that it isn’t the trade we agreed on.” Gavin told her, exasperated. “Those guns are worth hard credits, credits we need to eat and keep up maintenance.”
She smiled reassuringly. “Well it’s not like we can eat guns, either. And besides,” she glanced over at the Chancer’s ramp, drawing Gavin’s attention to the starry-eyed kids “the people here might need them, to protect what’s theirs. Know the feeling?”
Gavin shifted his gaze from them to her to the ground, before looking out towards the horizon away from the settlement. “Alright, alright. But what are we supposed to do with permacrete mix and lengths of rebar?”
Allana crossed her arms smugly, and Gavin knew it meant she’d been waiting for him to ask that one. Something in her grin made him feel like he’d just walked into a trap. “At least I keep up on the news vids. There’s a big construction boom in some of Fell Justice’s cities, it’d be easy to find a deal.”
“Fell Justice?” Gavin asked. “Are you kidding?”
A frown appeared on her features, head tilted. “What’s wrong with Fell Justice?”
Gavin lifted his open hands, searching for the right word or the right reason. “Massive Oonskie civilian grid integration. Sangheili government and a huge criminal underground. Uh-uh, too many networks with connections that could reach someone looking for us. It’s a bad idea.”
Allana tipped her chin down, pouting in such a cute, fake way. “Well, I suppose we could jump over to the next little trader colony without any credits and see if they need any building supplies. You know, instead of taking the sure thing.”
Dammit. She had him there, and he knew it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she planned this all along. While Gavin was happy to stay on a small ship, skirting the borders of civilized space, Allana was an Inner Colony girl, and hated that they couldn’t get into cities very often. And now she’d found the perfect excuse.
She smiled sweetly as she noticed the slump of Gavin’s shoulders. “Fell Justice?”
“Okay. Fell Justice.”
That Damn Sniper 02:55, May 14, 2013 (UTC)
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | |||||||||
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Deliver the goods | The Chancer V is filled with a cargo of legal and illegal firearms, destined for the Rourke's Retreat. The crew need to get these dropped off, get through the hand over safely and and get paid. |
+1 raw materials |
Completed | ||||||||
| Get a new job | Legal haulage jobs are difficult to come by, but usually present the opportunity to earn a decent pay cheque without running foul of the law. Illegal jobs pay substantially better, but the consequences can be dire, such as being chased by a UNSC cruiser, or caught with 800 kilos of Pyrox-3 nerve enhancer on the Sangheili-side of the border. |
|
Accepted | ||||||||
| Get to Fell Justice | Well, Rourke's Retreat was a bust. Perhaps you should ask for payment up first next time? Now you're best best for shifting this building material is getting to Fell Justice and selling it. This of course means slipping past UNSC patrols, Sangheili patrols, criminals and finding a place to safely land, then of course somebody to buy this from you. |
|
|||||||||
Post 3[]
| User | Ahalosniper | ||||||
| Name | Chancer V | ||||||
| Allegiance | Unaligned | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Gavin Dunn | ||||||
| Attributes |
| ||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
| 3122 Hours (local time)
Location: In decaying orbit around Fell Justice, Dara system |
"Orbital control, this is Captain Schenk of the Nauti Lady. We're looking to pay your planet a visit, and could use a flight path, over."
Gavin sat at the Chancer V’s controls, intent on his instruments. If Fell Justice's air traffic network wasn't ready for them yet, he didn't want to fall into the planet's gravity well and waste fuel climbing back out.
On your average Outer Colony, flight control wasn't as big of a deal. You wanted your NAV computer to handshake with any other ships that happened to be flying by, but for the most part you had a planet's entire sky to maneuver. But Fell Justice wasn't just some Outer Colony, and spacers liked to say that on a good day you'd have a tough time getting just enough space to play Tetris with your ship.
Fell Justice was like the frontier's nerve center, feeling out every pain and plight in its reaches by the rumor and gossip passed between the thousands of ships coming and going every cycle. Here, worn-out little freighters like Gavin's flew alongside former Covenant warships refitted for transport, business, or pleasure. The world had been first colonized by humans, taken by Covenant in the War, and finally in joint custody under Sangheili control while everyone was rebuilding.
"Ship Nauti Lady," droned a gruff, humorless voice. He was obviously Sangheili, and obviously missing the thought Gavin had put into the pun when he'd created the alias. "What is your intended destination?"
"Was thinkin' Trinidad." Gavin answered by speaking into a headset he wore over his black baseball cap. "Heard the Old Father's got the best drinks this side of Epsilon Indi."
"This is an exaggeration, human." grunted the traffic controller. "You have been granted clearance, and flight path coordinates have been transferred to you. Welcome to Fell Justice."
"Plenty thanks, control. We're out." A short burst of static sounded through the headset as the channel broke off. Gavin leaned back in his chair and murmured to himself, "Gotta love the way Elites advertise. You'd think they'd make the effort to reel in a few tourists."
He turned to glance at Allana sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "So how'd I do?"
Her wide brown eyes shifted to him from under a pair of goggles strapped over her hair. "A little too friendly. Most controllers deal with a hundred busy pilots a day, and the friendly ones are usually trying to cover up something."
"What can I help it if I'm a friendly guy?" Gavin replied with a smile. He really should have let her handle the call, but he'd let her have the last one, and she knew things about COM chatter that Gavin could learn from.
Allana had been the radio operator for his unit of the HLF during the Mamore Insurrection, and more than that, was sly enough to run a bluff on anyone whose signal she dropped in on. Once, she'd held off a platoon of UNSC Marines with nothing but a radio booster pack. In time, however, what she eavesdropped on had concerned her enough to come to Gavin, and she'd been the first to join his plan to desert the Insurrection.
Sunlight glinted from her reflective goggles, and Gavin turned to see the fading light of Dara-α setting on Fell Justice's horizon. Night on the near side made the planet appear black, while the star it was eclipsing in the Chancer’s view shone just right through the world's atmospheric layer, making its rim glow blue. It wasn't an everyday sight on a planet with two suns.
In that layer of blue, strange shapes either glinted silver or cast in shadow. There lay Sublime Grace, a network of orbital and sub-orbital stations held together by the strands of a tram network. Just one of the myriad stations was a whole city, and one of those cities was their destination.
"Trinidad." Allana stated as she began preparing the ship for descent. "Sure there's a parking space up there we can afford?"
Gavin kept on smiling as he adjusted the Chancer V’s COM and typed in a civilian Chatter number. "I might just know someone willing to put up with us."
| 3138 Hours (local time)
Location: Sublime Grace Module 23 ("Trinidad"), Fell Justice, Dara system |
Navigational lights flashed as the Chancer V pulled out of the cold night sky through a soft plasma barrier and into the warm floodlights of a hangar built into the side of the Trinidad sub-orbital station. The screaming whine of engines started dying down as an Unggoy on the hangar floor waved the well-worn freighter in with a pair of glow rods.
Metal pillars unfolded from the freighter's keel and connected with the deck, hydraulic joints hissing as the ship's weight came to rest on the landing gear. After a moment, the cargo bay's door swung down, creating a ramp to allow Tom Spender down from inside the ship.
"Get atta here, wouldja?" Spender barked, shaking a withered leg and leather boot at the Unggoy who tried to walk up the ramp past him. It squeaked at the elderly human and scurried out of the way.
A moment later, a woman with a belly wider than a Jiralhanae's shoulders lumbered around the corner of a rusty Traxus forklift. The curves of her oil-splotched jumpsuit bulged over the sides of a toolbelt laden with jangling wrenches and spanners. Dirty blonde hair flowed out from under a matching leather skullcap, and her pudgy face peeked out from between her long bangs.
Spender smirked as she approached. "I can drive that forklift if you want to get here quicker."
The woman glared at him. "I'm only going slow so you'll drop dead of old age by the time I'm there, geezer."
Spender raised a brow, nodded, and stepped aside as she reached the foot of the ramp and put one leg up on its step. At the back of the Chancer’s cavernous cargo bay, footsteps on the metal stairwell heralded Gavin and Allana's descent. Gavin vaulted the railing and shouted when he spotted her. "Myrtle!"
"Hiya, shrimp." Myrtle called back, resting a hand on her raised knee. "Did your flying break something so bad you needed me again?"
"Give me a little more credit than that. It takes a major fuck-up to break something I can't fix." Gavin walked over and had to lean down to give Myrtle a hug. She wrapped her wide arms around him tightly in return, giving him a pat on the back before they released.
"I did teach ya well." Myrtle said, and looked Allana up and down as she walked up. "I see you'n Tom have brought a new fledgling out to our end of the galaxy."
"Allana, meet Myrtle Kalani. Mechanic of the first Chancer, and the best mechanic on Fell Justice." Gavin said, clapping Myrtle on the shoulder. Allana inclined her head politely.
The big woman crossed her arms over her wide chest and looked appraisingly at Gavin. "So, if it ain't repairs you's lookin' for, what's got you coming out this far? I know the price of fuel kinda rules out friendly visits."
"We got stiffed, sort of, on our last job, and we're looking to offload our substituted payment to the building contractors 'Lana hears've been working on the planet lately."
"Well, you're not looking in the right place. Sublime Grace?" Myrtle tapped her foot heavily against the hangar deck. "All metal. You should look somewheres on the surface. Ah, Wellington, maybe."
"I know, but all the business is done up here. Maybe if you find a buyer for us, we can cut you in for some percent. 'Sides," Gavin said, "we've got to pick up another job before we ship back out. Heard of anything?"
The mechanic pinched her chin in thought and frowned. "Nothing that's not already been snapped up. Lot of competition for jobs out here, at least for ships. I might have something you could do for me, if you're gonna be out looking and short of creds to pay me for the hangar you're using up."
Gavin laughed. "Alright, a favor's one thing I can afford to trade. What needs doing?"
Myrtle sighed, and glanced around briefly to make sure the four of them were alone. "Something's been up with the local gang scumbags lately. They're all skittish, and've been paying the usual suspects for some high-grade illegal-type equipment no one knows what they're doing with. Somethin's coming, Gav, and I want to know what before it hits. There's profit to be had in knowing what's up."
Gavin's face turned grim. Small-scale gangs were dangerous, even more so than the big ones. The Syndicate, for instance, was more than just a petty crime ring offering smugglers a job, but at least it had restraint. While they were trying to get on top, a smaller gang would go to some pretty violent extremes to get the leg up on the others. If they were spreading up into Sublime Grace, Gavin wouldn't mind being apprised of the situation himself, even if he were here for just a couple of days. He didn't want his ship getting caught in the crossfire.
"I'll have a look into it. Meantime, I'm gonna take a walk and see if I can find a lead on our next cargo. Tom, 'Lana?"
Allana smiled, flipping a credit chit from the pocket of her green vest. "We haven't been to a planet, never mind a city, with so many people in months. I'm going out on the town."
She strode away, her work boots loudly announcing her departure as she sauntered out of the hangar. Gavin could only watch her go, knowing there was nothing in his power that could stop her. He cast a sidelong glance at Spender. "Are you gonna go shopping, too?"
"Hell no, and I won't be helping you with that weaseling you call work neither. I'll be at the Old Father." Spender replied, already moving his old legs. "At least somebody ought to be out drinking when we tell it to the traffic controllers."
Gavin raised his hands in mock exasperation as Spender left, but let them slap back down to his sides after a minute. Tugging the brim of his cap to Myrtle, he called back over his shoulder as he headed out himself, "Look after her. And keep the little methane-breathers out of my ship."
That Damn Sniper 04:18, April 20, 2014 (UTC)
LoyalHaloFan[]
Maeridus Clan[]
Post 1[]
| User | LoyalHaloFan | ||||||
| Name | Maeridus Clan | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Maeridus | ||||||
| Attributes | |||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
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Kautok became the new home of the Maeridus Clan after they were exiled from Doisac in 2556 of the human calendar. With three ships, a CCS-class battlecruiser, albeit a less armored and with fewer armaments than standard Covenant issue, and two CRS-class light cruisers, left Doisac and headed for the Frontier regions. The Maeridus Clan found it exceptionally difficult to set up a new home, but when they did, they fought for the next eight years against the Temanus Clan for control of Kautok. The war finally ended when Temanus had exhausted his resources and pleaded with Maeridus to spare his Clan and family. Maeridus was merciful, but requested that the Temanus Clan become assimilated into Maeridus' clan, when Temanus accepted the terms, his Clan was given land and a new beginning. The Maeridus Clan later grew in size and by 2575, they had spread out across a wide area of land, numbering a population of just shy of two million. With prosperity and growth increasing year by year, a few settlers also colonized the moon of Kautok a year before, and numbered a population of just a few ten thousand.
Vartarum was standing next to Maeridus on the balcony overlooking the city of Keniot, he spotted a storm coming their way from the North. "It has been nearly ten years since we've made this place our home."
"Indeed it has." Maeridus said. "It was a bloody conflict. But we allowed Temanus to live and gave him land that he later named Kinlum. In return, his clan will aid us in time of need."
Vartarum looked at Maeridus, he looked up at the incoming rain clouds, drifting ever so closer to Keniot. "I know what you're thinking, Vartarum." Maeridus returned a glance to him. "I want to return home as well."
"It has been thirty years since we were exiled. Let us go home, to Doisac. We can make peace with Gaius and Marius if we just-"
Maeridus interrupted him. "If we go, we'll all be killed. My blood, your blood and everyone else will be slaughtered. We outright defied them, siding with Jornaeus the Mad, and it cost us our homes, our honor and our place alongside our brothers on Doisac. The only way we can return home is if we take it by force, or we regain our honor and return as heroes of the Jiralhanae!"
Vartarum saw Maeridus tighten his grip on Jorin'kinal, the gravity hammer heirloom of Maeridus' family, passed down to him by his father, and his father before him. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the Chieftain's manor. Maeridus and Vartarum shielded themselves from the dust and smoke. When it cleared they saw it. "The Barracks District!" Vartarum spat. The barracks district was up in flames, black and gray smoke rose into the air and blended with the clouds above. Maeridus and Vartarum heard the crackling of wood as the fire spread from the explosion.
A guard burst into the room. "Chieftain Maeridus and Captain Vartarum! It's the Falkans! The Julraka raiders have returned!"
"They're back?" Maeridus turned to the guard, he set his hammer on his weapon rack. "They were supposed to be gone from this world! We threatened their heads on spikes if they did not accept my pardon!" Maeridus contained himself. He felt like he was about to enter a berserk, he tried outweighing his anger to stay calm, but as became too strong, he smashed his fists against a table, cracking it in half and sending a pitcher of water flying through the air and splashed all over as it hit the floor.
"They're Kig-Yar Maeridus, all they do is lie, cheat and steal." Vartarum said.
"Guard, how bad is it? How many souls are lost?"
"Faernom and Garnus took several casualties, but we've turned the Market District into a makeshift aid station. Haedoim however," The guard paused. "took a much heavier toll than the other two. Dylus and Beccabeus are dead."
"But they are two of the most elite of the Haedoim Legion! They led Haedoim to glory during the War for Kautok." Vartarum said, he looked down at the remains of the Barracks District. "Do you know how this Kig-Yar got into the city, let alone got inside the Barracks District?" Vartarum turned back toward the manor guard.
"We did find this." He took out what looked like a fragmented piece of active camouflage equipment, it was badly charred and cut in halves. A chunk of the Kig-Yar's arm was still attached to the gear.
"I had also forgotten about those. We don't come across these very often anymore." Maeridus said, crossing his arms as he inspected the active camouflage gear that the guard was holding. He looked at the piece of arm that remained. "I see that our perpetrator is nowhere to be found?"
"The Kig-Yar used himself as the bomb. Nobody could remember if he was wearing the bomb or was carrying."
"We'll have to take action, and inquire Temanus about this." Maeridus stopped, as if he gathered his train of thought. "Guard what is your name?"
"Madlus, my Liege."
"Madlus, get word out to the walls, heighten city patrols and I want the Faernom and Garnus legions patrolling as well. Seal the gates after we leave."
Madlus bowed, and headed out to complete his task. He rushed down the hall, and exited the manor.
When Madlus was gone, Vartarum spoke up. "Maeridus, you mustn't leave. It is not safe."
Maeridus took Jorin'kinal off the weapon rack. "I know." Maeridus also grabbed a plasma pistol and holstered it. "You're coming with me. We'll also bring Nylus and Hektanus with us, along with twenty of their best troops.
"But they are the commanders of the Haedoim Legion! They should remain here, guarding this city."
"I did not ask for you counsel, Vartarum. Temanus has some explaining to do."
"You think he is behind this?" Vartarum asked, still standing on the balcony, the glare from his armor went away as the storm blocked out the star above and moved in on the city. Rain came down and Maeridus could hear the crack of lightning and the boom of thunder, and it helped put out what was still burning in the Barracks District. Vartarum moved inside as the rain hit his fur.
"No, but he knows the Julraka Kig-Yar. He may have some knowledge if they're still on this world. If they are, they will cause problems." Maeridus started for the halls, but stopped before the door. "And we'll have to eliminate them for good. Come now, this storm is only getting worse. We need to set out for Mylot soon.
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Visit the Temanus | The Maeridi have been attacked, likely by Julraka raiders. Their vassals, the Temanus, have had dealings with these low creatures before, and may provide some insight on the nature of this attack. Of course, that requires getting across a stretch of open ground without being ambushed. |
Information on the nature of the threat you're facing. |
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Restore Order | With a bomb detonated in the barracks district of Keniot, and the majority of the Maeridus leadership out of the city, chaos reigns. Order must be restored, fires put out and repairs started. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
Andromeda Vadum[]
Russian Criminal Syndicate[]
Post 1[]
| User | Andromeda Vadum | ||||||
| Name | Russian Criminal Syndicate (RCS) | ||||||
| Allegiance | Insurrectionists | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Vladimir Gorbachev | ||||||
| Attributes | 
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| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
Vladimir Gorbachev was sitting in his co-pilot chair, drumming his fingers against the arm rest. To his left are two other Pelicans and to his right two more. His pilot was none other than Victor Ivanov his sworn ally.
Victor Ivanov, "ETA, 30 seconds, prepare for anything that gets throw at us."
Vladimir Gorbachev, "No matter, treat these Sangheili with respect, so we can get the goods. We are allies remember?
The RSC soldiers laugh in the background.
The pelicans approach the docking bay of a CRS-class light cruiser.
Victor Ivanov replies, "Ship belongs to the Covenant Separatists, sir. What is it we should do?"
The CRS-class light cruiser begins to target all pelicans in the area.
Shipmaster, "Identify yourselves human! Or we will intend to fire on you!"
Vladimir Gorbachev replies, "United Nations Space Command. We are friendlies remember? I am the General, and we are looking the frontier. Have you heard of it?" Vladimir Gorbachev puts a half a smile on his face, it was a lie, but a lie that would gain access to everything aboard that ship.
Shipmaster, "No. (to his crew) All units disengage, they are friendlies." (Back to Gorbachev again) "Never heard of the frontier human, maybe it would be in our best interests if we both work together."
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Of course."
All pelicans enter the docking bay and land. All troops exit the Pelicans including Vladimir Gorbachev, Dimitri Khrushchev and Kyle Craig. They head to the bridge. All soldiers exit the Pelicans and scatter.
Sangheili Minor, "Nice armor, human. Who made it?"
The RCS soldier turns his head towards the Sangheili minor, a look of no emotion on his face, nothing but a red visor. His armor was similar to spartan armor colored in Black with grey digital camo , the soldiers stood 7 feet 5 inches tall.
RCS Soldier, "The UEG made it for us. Shipments have been made all over earth. We got them 3rd, then Europe, then Asia." It was a lie, they had stolen a prototype from the research facility on earth and fully designed there own.
On the bridge a hologram of the frontier is pulled up. It zooms in with several factions already forming bases and alliances. Gorbachev gets impatient, if anything he needed to take the ship fast and get to the frontier.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "How long till we can get on that planet."
Shipmaster, "Are you blind? The Jiralhanae have the west under their full control! They and several other factions including the Covenant Remnant!"
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Well then, I guess we'll have to go ourselves." Gorbachev motions with his hand for gas. Khrushchev and Kyle put on respirator masks.
Vladimir Gorbachev takes out a device and places it on the table. "My sincere condolences Shipmaster." The device explodes with a deadly gas poisoning the Shipmaster. The Shipmaster coughs and grabs his energy sword from his belt and activates it, just before he falls to his knees.
Vladimir Gorbachev speaks into his comm link, "Do it." Gunshots can be heard as Sangheili in the Docking bay are shot up by the RCS soldiers. Gas swarms around the ships command and control center. Gorbachev walks over to the Shipmaster and picks up his energy sword. The shipmaster grabs Gorbachevs leg and flips him on his back. Vladimir Gorbachev, "Aaahhh!" An EMP Grenade is then set off in the command center, docking bay, control centers, and so on.
Shipmaster, "You will not escape alive." The shipmaster the throws a hard punch at Gorbachev, breaking the respirator mask, just as the gas clears up in the bridge Gorbachev gasps for air, only to be punched again and his jaw breaks open. His body guard Tony Anderson then comes into the bridge and kicks the Shipmaster in the diaphram. The shipmaster gasps for air and falls to the floor. Gorbachev then finishes the shipmaster off with his energy sword through the chest. The shipmaster is dead. More shots are heard throughout the ship.
Tony Anderson, "You okay sir?"
Vladimir Gorbachev shakes his head 'no' then enters the command center. Sangheili and RCS Soldiers lay dead on the floor.
Victor Ivanov, "The EMP wore off 30 seconds ago, sir."
Suddenly a Sangheili major charges at Gorbachev, but is killed by a lunge with his energy sword. Jacob Price enters the command center and sees Gorbachev broken jaw. He studies Gorbachev.
Jacob Price, "I may be able to place it back into the correct position using the thumbs. Anesthetics and muscle relaxants may be needed to relax the jaw muscles."
Vladimir Gorbachev is then escorted to the ships medical bay. Dimitri Khrushchev comes into the commander center.
Dimitri Khrushchev says, "I am taking command until Gorbachev is recovered. Set course for The Frontier."
RCS Soldier, "But sir we dont..."
Dimitri Khrushchev cuts him off, "Find it!!!"
The crew type rigorously on the control panels and locate the Frontier. They set course for it and engage slipspace.
Jacob Price, "After dislocating your jaw, you should not open your mouth widely for at least 6 weeks. Support your jaw with one or both hands when yawning and sneezing."
Vladimir Gorbachev looks in the mirror and rubs on his cheek smoothly. Very little has changed about his appearance. Gorbachev then gets up slowly and walks to the command center. Everything is fully operational and going to plan.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "What is out position?"
Victor Ivanov, "We are entering the frontier now, sir."
A Holographic map of the battlefield opens up. They zoom in to the neutral territories.
Victor Ivanov, "Which one shall we land on."
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Options?"
Victor Ivanov, "Chimera Beta, Hala Agm Che, others seem to be advanced armies, raiders, or slavery."
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Land on Hala Agm Che, we unpack and set up base. Then we set out to make allies."
They land on Hala Agm Che. And find it filled with raw materials, and resources. The terrain is a vast valley with mountains in the distance.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Unpack! Land the Pelicans and all the weapons and resources on that ship put them in caches!
All RCS Soldiers move in and raid the ship, pelicans fly out of the docking bay and land on the terrain.
Dimitri Khrushchev, "We can build a base camp sir, then make allies and find slaves to work the mines."
Vladimir Gorbachev, "As long as they are UNSC slaves, I dont care commander, find some allies! Mainly we must ally ourselves with the United Rebel front and the Libertatem Populi. Kyle Craig, you will stay and command the camp once I leave."
Kyle Craig, "Of course. At least I get a little command."
5 HOURS LATER
The base camp has been set up. 10 tents and patrols scatter the base. It is nothing more than a medium sized insurrectionist camp. Vladimir Gorbachev is in his tent, looking down at the holographic map determining where he should strike first. When an RSC Soldier moves in.
RSC Soldier, "Sir, everything is finished setting up, refineries and factories seem to be in order."
Vladimir Gorbachev (Mutters to himself), "Should of got some slaves when we had the chance." (To the soldier) Now! once they get back from making allies we then move on to the next objective, acquiring slaves, then we will start mass production. And attack.
His finger trails from Hala Agm Che to Burning Passage and taps on the location, a trail aligns from Hala Agm Che to Burning Passage with a pin point on Burning Passage.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "I hear Kig-Yars make great assassins." He smiles and leaves his tent with his soldier and bodyguard following behind him.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Listen up everyone!!! All aliens whether Sangheili or Kig-Yar or Jiralhanae are consider friendlies until I see fit!!! We dont want to get dominated just because we 'have no soul'!
RCS Soldiers (All), "Yes Sir!!!"
Vladimir Gorbachev picks out 10 soldiers to follow him, along with his retinue crew, picks up two brief cases, both total up to 1,000,000 cR, and heads for the Pelican. They get inside. Gorbachev presses holographic buttons on his arm and his map that he laid out comes into view.
Vladimir Gorbachev, "Fly us out of here. We have some deals to make."
Sangheili Alliance[]
Post 1[]
| User | Andromeda Vadum | ||||||
| Name | Sangheili Alliance | ||||||
| Allegiance | Sangheili Separatists | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Andromeda Vadum | ||||||
| Attributes | |||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
Andromeda Vadum, "Now. The Type-25 Directed Energy Rifle fires short to medium range with 450 RPM. Can anyone tell me its Advantages?"
He was lecturing a class on the Frontier on Sangheili territory, Cradle of Heroes. He was sent here to train new Sangheili recruits with the combination of physical training, field exercises and classroom time would make individuals strong and capable for battle in the Frontier.
Sangheili Recruit, "Such a weapon can inflict very high damage at range. The rifle is extremely efficient at killing "soft" targets, while doing lethal amounts of damage to a heavily armored target."
Andromeda Vadum, "Correct. Anyone else, there is still more to follow."
Sangheili Recruit, "From what I heard, the plasma rifle's high velocity bolt coupled with its kinetic impact to a target can temporarily stun a target."
Andromeda Vadum, "Yes. Now..."
Lex Norsan walks over to Andromeda Vadum, tactfully interrupting his lesson.
Lex Norsan, "And how are the recruits doing today, Vadum."
Andromeda Vadum, "Very good Norsan."
All students stand at attention.
Lex Norsan, "I see you thought them well. Respect and discipline is looked upon greatly in our military. The Arbiter was precise in his decision."
Andromeda Vadum, "Dismissed Field Master."
Lex Norsan, "Actually I was wondering if we can spar."
Andromeda Vadum sighs.
Andromeda Vadum, "Class is dismissed, practice your lesson and those who cant pass the test will not fire the plasma rifle. Understand?
Sangheili Recruits (All), "Yes sir!"
They proceed to the training facility and enter the sparring room.
Andromeda Vadum (Irritated), "And you want to spar because...
Lex Norsan, "Improve myself. I want to be as good as you."
Andromeda Vadum, "Or you want to beat me. Either way perfect practice makes perfect."
They activate their energy swords and assume their fighting stance.
Advancing. Advancing. Lex charged at him with the blade upheld, going to his foreswing and following it with a backswing. Andromeda dodged the first and met the second with his energy sword. The weight of the thing sent his opponent’s blade back, back, back…but not far enough to knock the blade free of his hands. Andromeda shoves his opponent back a few steps. Then performs a crescent kick. Lex becomes off balanced and falls on his back. Andromeda helps him up.
Andromeda Vadum, "You have to do better. Incorporate strategies of your own."
They move back into their fighting stance. Lex in a boxing stance. Andromeda has his energy sword across from his chest and the other at his side.
Lex Norsan, "Good luck, brother."
Andromeda Vadum, "I can say the same to you."
They charge, advancing on each other. Andromeda foreswings across with his left, but Lex blocks successfully, Andromeda then uppercuts with his right and Lex barely blocks that one, the force makes him take to steps back.
Andromeda Vadum, "Cut the opponent off guard with a quick laceration, then finish him off with the uppercut. Congrats on barely blocking that one Lex."
Andromeda Vadum chuckles.
Lex Norsan floor flips and is angered. He charges towards Andromeda Vadum and strikes with fury. Lex swung. His energy sword missed. The opponent managed another smirk, this time at the spryness of his dodge. Then strikes another blow with his seconds energy sword. Andromeda blocks but is thrown back, staggering and falls to the floor. Andromeda gets up.
Andromeda Vadum, "Letting your anger get the best of you Norsan."
Swing. Swing. Swing. The first two missed badly, but the third, a backswing off the one before it, found flesh.
Andromeda looks at his arm and see's a gash.
Lex Norsan (Ashamed), "Im sorry, I-I let my anger get the best of me."
Andromeda Vadum, "It is an insignificant injury. It will heal. Looks like I wont be using that arm for a while."
They both deactivate their energy swords. Lex and Andromeda puts their energy swords back on the training rack.
Andromeda Vadum, "You are a superb warrior Lex Norsan. You caught me off guard, just like I showed you."
Lex Norsan, "Lets get that wound patched up shall we?"
On the Shadow of Retribution Andromeda Vadum sits in his captains chair. Studying the Frontier laid out in a holographic map. He clenches his arm, now wrapped in gauze and bandages underneath his armor. He thinks nothing of it. A Sangheili Major storms onto the bridge.
Jul 'Fornam, "Supreme Commander, we have lost contact with our light cruiser, the Spirit of Righteousness."
Andromeda Vadum, "I'll contact all available crew. Thank you major. (Into comm) All available units, what is your position."
There is nothing but static on the other end. He tries again.
Andromeda Vadum (Into comm), "This is the Shadow of Retribution. Anyone read me!"
Josh Konaree (Static), "I....unknown location sir, some sort of.....coordinates....Humans everywhere!!!....."
The comm cuts dead.
Andromeda Vadum (Over a speaker) "All available units ready for combat, we are going on a search and rescue mission. One of our ships is on an unknown planet and we need to find a Major who doesn't know what is going on."
Andromeda turns to Field Master Zuka 'Soramee.
Andromeda Vadum, "Take a team out there and find Major Josh Konaree. Kill any human out there. They took out an entire crew of our brothers, and they will pay for their treachery."
Zuka 'Soramee, "As your will commands, Supreme Commander."
Thel 'Xofamee, "We have the coordinates! Location on Hala Agm Che!
Ships Crew Member, "Engaging slipspace now!"
The Ship moves into slipspace and few seconds later arrive on Hala Agm Che.
The Pale Kestrl[]
Team Shoto[]
Post 1[]
| User | The Pale Kestrl | ||||||
| Name | Team Shoto | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Shepard-G127 | ||||||
| Attributes | |||||||
| Resources | |||||||
Territory
| |||||||
Shepard-G127 sat in the captains chair of the Prowler Razor Light. His Prowler. It was an odd feeling to know that this small vessel was under his command. He had at best a basic knowledge of astronavigation and ship combat tactics, and yet here he was being asked to lead this little stealth ship into the lawless void of Frontier Space.
Technically that wasn't true, for the duration of their mission Shoto had been given the use of both the Razor Light and the Smart AI Jared, who was at the moment running the final phases of the new prowlers shakedown. Jared would be the ships pilot and chief operator, leaving the three spartans to deal with the more physical issues. Or problems, when they arose.
Their assignment was rather broad, not unusual for this kind of mission. Put simply they are to travel out into frontier space and investigate any possible threat's and eliminate them as well as gather intel on what the other groups are up too.
As Shepard stared out into the empty vastness of space beyond the prowlers view port Jay-G090, Shoto's marksman entered the bridge. "Permission to enter the bridge captain?" he asked with a mock salute.
Shepard spun the chair around to face him, fingers meshed together "Permission granted, Specialist"
Both the spartans grinned at one another and Jay walked over to hand Shepard a datapad. He activated it and being to scan it's content. It was a manifest of all the weapons, ammo, equipment and supplies that the prowler had taken on board. "I got everything loaded in the right place, armouries stocked with everything we should need. And take a look at this" said Jay, scrolling the page down to the bottom. There, below all the numbers, was a note.
It read I heard you had asked to go out again, i'm starting to think you prefer it out in the lawless parts of space than back with the UNSC. Anyway I spoke to Joel and he as able to acquire a few extra gifts for you too use. Good luck out there, keep your head up - Russell
Shepard smiled as he read, Russell always had Shoto's back. Under the note was a small list of extra equipment. Most of it was a few extra crates of ammo, a pair of Railgun's. And a Fury Tac Nuke.
"He always gets us such nice things" Jay sat down at the weapons station on Shepard's right, turning to look out the front view port.
Shepard nodded, placing the datapad on the arm of the chair and turning to his other squad mate who was sitting at Operations. "Jess, Jared. How are we coming along?"
Jess-G128, the teams tech specialist and therefore most qualified of the three of them to help Jared with running the ship, turned to look at him. "We're almost done Shep. All systems are running at nominal"
Next to the captains chair the hologram projector flickered into life revealing Jared. His chosen form was a white robed figure, his face obscured by his hood, clutching a glowing golden spear. Team Shoto had worked with Jared before, before this assignment he had been the AI assistant to Captain Galloway aboard the UNSC Crimson Aurora, and they had gotten along fairly well with one another. He turned to regard Shepard. "I agree with spartan G128's assessment, though having read through the reports coming back from other testing's of this prowler class I can't safely say for certain that it will run at peek efficiency out in the field"
Shepard looked at the little hologram "We can never promise a hundred percent efficiency, can we Jared?"
"No spartan, no we can't. At any rate the Razor Light will fly. We'll just have to deal with the problems as they come"
Shepard nodded and looked back at Jess "Hail the station, tell them we are ready to deploy"
"Aye Captain" She turned to her console and linked the Razor Light's comm link to the nearby Arcus Station, one of the many watch stations that existed along the edge of UNSC space.
"Razor Light this is Arcus Operation Control we have your assessment. Confirm that you are ready to deploy"
"Confirm" Shepard gripped the edge of his seat. This was it, his team was about to be sent off into Frontier space. No restraints, no rules. Just the tools and a target. The best kind of missions.
"We have you confirmed, good luck out there Razor. Happy Hunting"
"Thanks Arcus, Razor Light out" Shepard turned to look out the window again "Jared, spin up Slipspace drive"
The hologram's spear begun to glow "Slipspace drive spinning up, reaching optimum level's in 5"
The front of the Razor Light begun to distort as the slipspace drive begun to open up a hole to another dimension. Next to him Jared aimed his spear forward
"Transitioning now"
'Here we go' though Shepard as the prowler moved forward. And with that they disappeared into Slipspace.
GM Reply[]
The central computer on the Razor Light blurts into life, suddenly and unexpectedly, with information scrolling across the main holographic readout
Shoto Team, my name is Codename: SNAKECHARMER, I will be your point of contact with the Office for the duration of your operations, until otherwise stated. Your first assignment is to investigate unusual signals picked up by our operatives in the Signals Corps.
These signals are in grid quadrant Alpha six-six-niner. Its an uncharted world in Chimera Alpha. That's slaver territory, so keep your head's down. The signals match war-era Covenant communications, but does not match modern Jiralhanae, Sangheili, or Remnant encryptions.
We have no idea what to expect, but given that is a temperate world, its possible it was a former colony until hit by slavers. Support will be provided by the UNSC Eye of Providence, which will be in system three hours after you, and carry both direct attack nuclear weapons and an ONI Security detachment, but they are purely to support you.
I will be back in contact shortly, SNAKECHARMER
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Investigate Mysterious Signal | Your ONI handler has spoken. Unusual signals have attracted the attention of the office, and Shoto is to investigate. You'll be flying blind, so be cautious. |
|
Not Accepted (0/3 posts) | ||||||||
Post 2[]
Shepard read through the message again, a habit that he had picked up after missing a critical piece of intel minutes before a crucial mission. Luckily Jess, who was much more preceptive that Jay or Shepard, had picked it out.
"I've never heard of a Codename:SNAKECHARMER" said Jay as he turned to face the other two "Not that I expected to, I always get the feeling that half the people in ONI don't know who anyone is. That the ones that do keep it that way"
"Your surprised that a group like ONI keeps most of it's people in the dark?" Jess looked at Jay with a confused face.
"No, it's just always struck me as odd is all"
"ONI has run that way for a long time spartan, ever since it's inception I believe" Jared's hologram flitted on again "It's just how the organization became"
"It does seem odd, I mean how does anyone get anything done?" asked Jess, looking at Jared.
The little AI replied with a shrug. "It seems to have worked so far"
"Funny, an AI without the answers. Never thought i'd see the day"
"On the contrary spartan-G090 AI's aren't built with all the answers. Just the tools t find them"
"Ok then Jared" said Shepard "Use those tools and give me a break down of this mission"
The AI nodded and brought up a map of the frontier on the central display. It zoomed in on Chimera Alpha and highlighted a zone designated Alpha-Six-Six-Niner, the objective. The three spartan's crowed around it.
"From what I can gather of the surrounding area Chimera Alpha was once made of 'bread-basket' colonies but ran afoul of the pirates and slavers in the outlying regions. They were wiped out and this sector was turned into a wasteland, mostly used by the same slavers and pirates to hide"
Jay stepped back, getting a wider look at the map "Ok so it's a bad guy hide out. So chances are the communications are just some pirates using war-era covy comms to talk to each other"
"Perhaps, but when have pirates ever felt the need to encrypt their data, they are usually close enough to send it through tight beam transmissions. Or they are all on one ship and so don't need to communicate"
Shepard nodded, still looking at the map "I think Jess is right, comms would suggest that they have ground installations set up. Could suggest slavers but again, why would they have to communicate like that?"
"Could be a slavery market or something?"
Shepard nodded, still looking at the map intently. As if looking at it would provide an answer to all the questions in his head. Who was there, what forces did they have, could Shoto infiltrate and have a look around or would this just be a false alarm. This is always the sticking point in missions like this, flying blind meant you had to think on your feet even before you start fighting.
"Jared, any luck breaking the encryption?"
"No spartan, I am trying but it is slow work"
"I they have a heavy encryption then that means there is something out there worth hiding" said Jay, sitting back down heavily on his chair.
Shepard nodded, whatever was hiding out there. Shoto was going to reveal it.
The space in the Alpha-Six-Six_Niner system was calm, it's darkness a silent void between the worlds that gently spun a graceful solar dance around the bright blue sun's at it's centre. In the systems habitable zone a single world, orbited by a pair of moon's, was the only place that had any kind of movement beyond the ever spinning planet's.
High in the planet's atmosphere a variety of ships maintained geosynchronous orbit or floated further out, coasting on the planet's natural magnetic field. There were various ship classifications in the mish mashed flotilla, from jackal interceptors with a few of 10 to a few large ex-covenant corvettes that could hold a small task force. All were painted with various pattern's and markings to call out the many alliances on display.
Some distance away, hidden by a small asteroid belt, the Razor Light sat silently. It's occupants studying the gathering before them.
"So, there is clearly something going on"
Shepard nodded at Jay's assessment. Of the various scenario's going through his head as they had travelled from the edge of UNSC space to here, on the fringes of Jarilhanae space, this had been one of the likely ones. Though he wouldn't deny that he was slightly disappointed. As first missions go, dealing with a pirate hangout was hardly big stuff.
"Indeed spartan G090" said Jared "The amount of comm traffic they had going on his immense"
"Anything we need to know about?" asked Shepard. Looking at the fleet the had in orbit it's likely that there would be an equally sized ground force.
"Not really, it's mainly just playful banter between the various groups. Bet's and minor disputes"
As he said this three more ships slipped in system, a pair of brute patrol boats and a brute cruiser. Shoto watched as it drifted in alongside the other ships and came to a stop above the planet.
"They all seem to be clustered around this part of the planet" said Jess, pointing out the large patch of land most of the fleet was floating over. She zoomed in on the planet and a few grey black smudges on the landscape appeared, most were fairly small but one sat in the middle of the group and was easily double the size.
"Hang on Shoto, i've got something important" reported Jared suddenly "New comm traffic from the new arrivals. Playing now"
Over the ships speakers the harsh bark of a brute punched it's way over the bridge. "Because of your incompetence we are now late. Get the cargo ready for transport down to the surface. And if it turns out we have missed the trade then I will turn your skin into a grip for my hammer and throw your head to the jackals'!"
"Well now we know what we've found, a pirate meeting. What do you think Shep"
"I think, if that trade is worth a threat like that. Then it's something worth checking out ourselves. Jess get the shuttle ready, we are going on a field trip"
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Investigate Mysterious Signal | Your ONI handler has spoken. Unusual signals have attracted the attention of the office, and Shoto is to investigate. You'll be flying blind, so be cautious. |
|
Not Accepted (1/3 posts) | ||||||||
| Make Landfall | Shoto are close to their destination, its time to make landfall and investigate what these pirates are up to |
|
|||||||||
Post 3[]
The door of the shuttle slide open with a gentle hiss and the last of the afternoon light quietly illuminated the interior. As the door opened Shepard raised his battle rifle and scanned the terrain beyond. Outside the shuttle was mostly grassy tundra and Shepard knew from Jared's scan of the planet that the rest was either scrub land, plains or small mountains. As Shepard surveyed the area jay came to stand next to him, clicking the safety off his DMR and looking around as well.
"Looks like they didn't notice us" he commented, stepping out of the shuttle to look around.
"Or they want us to think they didn't" replied Shepard, lowering his rifle.
"You you think their smarter than their letting on?" asked Jess as she walked out of the shuttle, she had her carbine in one hand while she scanned the data pad on her wrist. She looked back up.
"If they have noticed us then they are keeping tight lipped about us, there's nothing on the radio channel's"
Shepard nodded "Ok, for now we assume they don't know we're here, but be on the look out for anything suspicious. Jess can you link me up too the Razor Light?"
She nodded and punched a few commands onto her data pad. On Shepard's HUD a prompt appeared showing that he had a line of communication to their ship.
"Jared, this is Shepard. You read?"
"I can hear you spartan what do you need?"
"Pull the Light back from the planet, keep out of sight and wait for the Providence. When it shows up tell them to head toward you and stay out of sight, I want to keep the element of surprise for as long as I can. When they got to you, contact me"
"Got it spartan, i'll be on standby until you need me"
"Thanks Jared, Shep out" Shepard cut the link and nodded to his team mates. "Time to find out what those pirates have to hide. Jay, your on point. Find a good vantage point for us to use"
Shoto's scout nodded and begun to head off in the direction of the pirate base, Shepard and Jess just behind him.
They had landed their shuttle a few kilometres west of the base so as to not attract any attention. However while it did keep them hidden it meant a short trek through the scrub lands between them. The three of them ran together, keeping a triangle formation with Jay up front and the other two behind.
As the moved through the hills the last of the days light fell away to dusk and by the time they reached a good vantage point, a large hill to the west of the base, the last light of the day had just disappeared behind the horizon.
The three of them crawled along on their stomach's to the edge of the hill and peeked over. Beyond them was what could, loosely, be described as a common frontier township. The base was mainly made up of prefab buildings, the kind often found slapped all over frontier worlds, around the outer edge with more heavily designed buildings inside, These included motor pools, living spaces and a large market place. In the middle was what looked like a huge hall of some kind.
Milling around this conglomerate were all manner of races, from grunts all the way up to brutes. It was a melting pot of pirates.
Jay took a pair of binoculars from his suits combat webbing and begun to scan the base, Shepard and Jess just watched from afar.
"We'll it looks like quite the gathering" he said as he looked over the camp "A lot of bad guys down there"
"Can you get an estimate?" asked Shepard
"Not one that i'd stake a claim on, there are just too many buildings that could house anything"
"What about a way in?"
"That's a different story, there are a lot of them but not many on guard. There are a few areas we could slip in through, but we should do it while the light is down. I wouldn't like our chances of crossing that distance in daylight"
Shepard nodded and turned to Jess "The shuttle has some of those remote drones right? The ones ONI was field testing last month"
"Yes, I programmed a pair while we were in the slipstream. You want a better view of that place?"
Shepard was able to reply when a phantom roared overhead, it came close enough for Shepard to see the dark gleam of it's hull against it's glowing gravity emitters. The phantom, and it's two banshee escorts, flew over the base to land on a landing pad over to the south.
Shepard moved to tell Jay to take a look but the other spartan beat him to it.
"Looks like apes" he said slowly "A few of them, about 5 or 6. Looks like they are unloading something"
"Weapons? Tech?" asked Jess
"Worse, take a look" replied Jay, he linked his visuals to his teams HUD's. On Shepard's a little screen popped up, showing him what Jay was looking at. On screen there was a large brute giving orders to his subordinates. The other aliens were carrying out a large grey object from their dropship. It looked strange, with odd geometric patterns along it's sides.
"It's forunner" whispered Jess "That is a piece of forunner technology"
Shepard's mind was immediately at work. The presence of Forunner technology meant that their mission had likely changed, either ONI would want that device captured or destroyed. Either way it was more than likely the objective. Shepard wondered for a second why the pirates had the technology with them here. That brute had said there was trade going on, perhaps they were trading the device.
"Guys, we need to get in there. Find out what they are doing with forunner tech. Jess get that drone up, I want a birds eye view of that compound. Jay find me the best route in. We have a party to break up"
Tal 'Zerex[]
Post 1[]
Herishkus slammed the cargo bay door shut, the sound of metal smacking into metal echoed around the expansive room with a dull bang. Before the brute was a cavernous room full of loading crates, varying in size and stacking height, all full of cargo. Already the rest of his security crew were moving among the crates, weapons out and heads scanning from side to side.
Their ship, a large human cargo vessel called The Zanzibar Sun, had landed on Fell Justice a few hours ago. They were preparing to unload their cargo when one of his crew discovered proof that someone had stowed away. They had tracked the stow away to the cargo bay. And now they had him cornered.
Herishkus ground his teeth "We know you are in here, coward!" His voice boomed around the room, bouncing around and hopefully disorientating their quarry. "Come out. And we might let you live"
He watched as a group of jackal's lead by one of his brute captains disappeared behind some crates. Herishkus had to hand it to whomever had stowed away, they had done it without anyone noticing and had managed to avoid any detection on the ships camera as well as taking out a chunk of his security detail. But he'd made the mistake of getting cornered in this bay, there was only one way out of here and Herishkus had it sealed off.
As he looked around again, this time scanning the beams that criss-crossed the vaulted ceiling, he saw what he though was a shadow of something drop down from the rafters. A few seconds past and then the terrified squawks of a jackal rolled it's way through the bay only to be swiftly cut off.
"Stay here, no one leaves this bay until this thing is dead" ordered Herishkus to a pair of brutes behind him. He then slung his brute shot off his shoulder and motioned for his team to follow.
As he lead his team down the lanes of crates Herishkus listened to the reports over their shared comm link.
"Three Jackal's have been killed, looks like energy sword burns-" the report was cut short as an explosion ripped through the air. The blue tinged detonation and ionized air told of a plasma explosion. Herishkus increased his speed round the corner to see another of his teams burnt bodies littering the floor. Most of the jackal's had been completely torn apart, their leader. A brute called Kephiks was slumped against a crate next to them, the blast having burnt open his chest.
Herishkus looked at the devastation for a second trying to gather some kind of logic from this situation. Plasma detonations and use of an energy sword meant they were most likely dealing with an sangheili, that could mean active camouflage.
"I want everyone back to the cargo bay entrance now, we could be dealing with sangheili. Look out for any distortions, it might be using-"
Herishkus' orders were cut off as an ear splitting screech grated at his ears followed by a dull thump as a cargo container fell from it's position. Herishkus turned and ran toward the direction of the cacophony his pack keeping place behind him. They turned another corner to see a second team had been crushed by the fallen container.
Herishkus backed away from the container and looked around.
"Who could push a container like that?" asked one of his pack mates, staring in dumbfound shock. The container had actually been empty, a ruse to throw off inspectors from finding he real merchandise, but it still weighted a lot. To much of a sangheili to push unaided.
"It doesn't matter" snapped Herishkus, cutting through his pack mates revere, "all that matters is we find and kill him before he takes the rest of us. Now back to the entrance"
All of them turned and moved back the way they came. Not stopping to look at the burnt and mangled bodies of the first team. Herishkus once again ground his teeth, this wasn't right. This was meant to be an easy job. Just protect the human while he did his business, get paid and find another job. Now they were dealing with one or more sangheili that are picking them off like low level thugs.
He was lost so deep in these thoughts that he nearly tripped over the body of another brute on the floor. He signalled for his pack to stop and knelt down next to examine the dead. His neck had been snapped, no doubt the killing blow, and an energy sword wound was also present on his chest. Herishkus got up and activated the comm link "All team's I want to know what is happening now"
He was answered only by silence.
Suddenly a pair of plasma grenades dropped from above, sticking to two of Herishkus' pack. He jumped back in time to avoid being roasted while the rest of his team were blasted apart by the grenades.
Herishkus looked up in time to see a sangheili leap from atop one of the crates and bear down on him, energy sword in hand. Without thinking the brute brought his brute shot up to block the swipe, the glowing energy sword sliced through the grenade launcher and two half's clattered to ground. Herishkus growled and pulled out his knife, the blade was the length of his forearm and had saved him in plenty of situations.
Sangheili wore a very cobbled together set of armour, it was scarred and pitted from battle damage. It said nothing, just held it's sword up and ready. Herishkus growled at him and then roared as he launched a slash at his mysterious attacker. To his surprise the sangheili stopped his strike with his free arm and then sliced his sword upwards across his chest, cutting deep into him.
Herishkus just stared in disbelief and pain, this wasn't right sangheili aren't strong enough to do this. He contemplated this for just one more second before the blade flashed out and cut his head off.
Tal 'Zerex lowered his arm and let the decapitated brute corpse crumple to the floor. His arms, that already ached from pushing that container down onto the second team, now flared harder after this brute had brought his arm down onto it. The only other injury he had sustained in the fight was a few grazing plasma wounds from where the heat had splashed over his armour but that pain was ignorable.
He looked down at the dead jackals and brutes around him. Tal had fought them before. They came from a mercenary group operating out of the Moltroka Frontier. Mostly Jiralhanae lead with a few Kig-Yar from the nearby sector. Fairly medium, never having broken out in popularity. And while more skilled than the average mercenary band they weren't prepared to deal with Tal's more unorthodox tactics nor his brutal technique.
Tal took one last look behind him and then moved forward to the door. It was locked but with the element of stealth lost Tal no longer had to be careful. He dug one hand into a pouch that hung from his neck and produced a plasma charge, perfect for blasting open a door like this. He carefully placed the charge against the door and set the timer before jumping behind a nearby crate.
Tal knew that by now someone would have broken his fairly weak but hard to find security glitch that had kept him safe so far and that meant the chance to get to his quarry, the human trader James DeMount was getting slimmer and slimmer. Tal had heard of DeMount before, he ran a fairly large drug trafficking business out of Hydra Major. Though he had clearly pissed off someone a lot bigger than him because they were willing to pay a high price for him. Alive no less. And with someone here to collect DeMount it made Tal's window of opportunity increasingly small.
The charge ticked down and detonated, tearing the door apart and revealing the passage beyond. Tal vaulted over the crate, taking his Carbine off his back as he did, and ran down the hallway. Over the few day's he'd spent on the ship as it travelled he'd memorized every part of the ship he needed to know. Including every way to the bridge.
As he ran along a pair of jackals walked out of another corridor, carbines in hand. They saw the charging sangheili and they raised their guns. Tal was quicker. His carbine immediately snapped off two shots, hitting one of the avian aliens in chest and the other in the leg. As he closed he fired again, this time hitting the first in the head. He closed the remaining gap in a heart beat and grabbed the back of the jackals head. Using his momentum he spun around and slammed it's head into the wall. His enhanced strength causing it's neck to snap like a twig. Tal let the body fall and continued running.
He pasted through the ships hallways in a blur, stopping only to change his route where a door was locked or to skirt around groups blocking off area's. Luckily in his researching of paths to the bridge he had located on maintenance passageway that lead right under the bridge. Perfect ambush point.
He reached the access door to the passageway. It was small but Tal could just about fit through it. He tore the small door open and entered. Keeping a hold of his carbine he squeezed through the narrow passageway. It was slow work but eventually he struggled his way under a vent that opened up to the bridge.
Awkwardly Tal dug his hand into another pouch to grab a pair of human flashbang's. For a human weapon they were surprisingly effective and easier to get a hold of than plasma blinders most other elites used. Tal readied the grenades and look up. Time to earn my keep, thought Tal.
He punched up, tearing the vent cover from the floor and the tossed to two flashbang's out onto the bridge. There was a blinding flash and a loud bang as they went off. Not wasting a second Tal clambered his way into the bridge.
Once up he quickly surveyed his surroundings. Three brutes, all blinded, were standing before the door. On the other side of the bridge were two jackals and a human. Who was in the process of screaming. Not wanting to waste his carbines ammo he activated his energy sword and hacked the three brutes apart. He turned on the jackals, who were being over come the blinding grenades effects.
Acting fast Tal pulled out his pistol, a human magnum, and shot them both in the head.
As their bodies crashed to the ground Tal advanced on DeMount. He was finally able to see again and as he saw Tal stalking toward him he shrivelled up in terror.
"W-w-who sent you? Hu...who was it. How much are they paying you, i'll pay double. I-i-i'll pay triple just please. Don't, don't kill me"
Tal walked up to him and stared him in the eye "I'm not going to kill you"
"You...your not?" he asked, hope for his continued existence gleaming in his eyes.
"My employer's want you alive" Tal didn't let him reply and knocked him out cold.
It was night on Fell Justice as Tal walked along the back alleys, carrying the unconscious DeMount on his back. Escaping the ship had been easy. DeMount was a paranoid man and had installed a quick escape method into his cabin. Tal had left there and non of the mercenaries on board were any the wise. All he had to do now was to drop off the target and the contract was complete.
As Tal moved further up and darkened streets he noted the lack of movement. People were still around but most hurried past quickly and didn't give Tal a second glace. Eventually he made it to the drop off point. Outside a bar on the edge of the city.
As Tal got closer another Sangheili indicated for him to follow. Tal complied and followed him behind the bar. There he saw another sangheili and a human.
"Tal 'Zerex" the human asked. He was dressed in Insurrectionist gear, cobbled together armour and what looked like a stolen flight cap. It was the same story for the elites.
Tal nodded in reply "And James DeMount. Alive as requested"
The human nodded forward and one of sangheili to take DeMount from Tal.
"My payment?" asked Tal, crossing his arms
"Of course" The human produced a credit chit. Tal took it and examined it, satisfied that he had been paid correctly he nodded.
"A pleasure doing business"
"Likewise, you have done us a great service." The human and his sangheili bodyguards then turned and walked away.
As the left Tal turned around. Right, he thought, Time for a drink.
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Get a drink | A job well done. Surely some alcoholic beverages are in order! |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
| Don't start a bar fight | Whatever you do, don't start a bar fight. That could go badly. |
|
Not Accepted | ||||||||
Post 2[]
Tal pushed open the door to the bar. Inside was what he had come to expect on a frontier world. A mixture of substance and style, though this being Fell Justice and therefore a shit hole the substance overcome the style more in this regard. The floor was metal and the walls still had the original quick drying cement interior which was slowly being chipped away. Along the walls were various seating arrangements, mostly benches with a few stools. The bar was on the other side and was the only style to speak off as it was made, mostly, out of wood. The entire room was lit by a few dim light strips on the ceiling.
The room was fairly well populated, a group of three sangheili sat at a table in the corner, chatting and laughing with one another. Closer by a group of jackal's tittered with one another in hushed tones. Two brutes were over to Tal's left and a menagerie of species were sparsely spread all over the place.
Tal moved toward the bar. He'd expected this place to be more than packed, this was Fell Justice after all and everywhere was packed. He sat down at the bar and the Unggoy waddled its way over.
"What can I get for you?" it asked
"A bottle of sangheilian Kash'kar, or something like it"
The grunt scratched at his mask for a second in thought
"Yes, I think I have some. One moment, I will go look"
He waddled off again. Tal watched him go and then reached to his collar to disengage his helmet. The seal's clicked off and Tal removed it, placing it down next to him. The helmet, like the rest of his armour had seen better days. It was an ultra's helmet. Not the same one he'd stolen from the covenant, that had been irreparable damaged some time ago. He had bought this one some years ago. It had had the two prongs at the back cut short but other than that was in good condition. Now it was pitted, scared and burned from a few years of wear and tear but still fully functional. The same could be said about the rest of his armour, all of which were miss matched parts of different combat harnesses.
Just opposite Tal there was a mirror. Tal had always found it odd, looking at himself. Not in an existential way, it had always seemed odd to him. His cybernetics didn't help. The most notable being his two left cybernetic mandibles. Luckily the Huragok that had implanted the various enhancements onto him to him were kind enough to make is implants out of a dull black metal as opposed to the purple metal that the covenant had favoured. It still hadn't stopped Tal from trying to throttle the little alien with his own tentacles for the disgrace it had caused him, but it made them less noticeable which was a small blessing after his entire society turned it's back on him.
The Unggoy returned carrying a bottle of dark orange liquid. He stopped in front of Tal for a second, his eyes searching along Tal's face, lingering on his two mandibles. Tal growled.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No, no not at all" he replied hurriedly. He placed the bottle down before Tal along with a glass.
"That will be 50 credits please"
Tal reached into one of his pouches and handed over a credit chit.
"Thank you"
The grunt bowed and waddled away to the other side of the bar. Leaving Tal in peace.
He pulled the stopper off of the bottle and poured some of the liquid into the glass. Tal picked it up and looked at it for a second before downing the contents in one gulp. He gritted his mandibles as the liquid lightly burned down his throat. Tal had once heard a connection between Kash'kar and human beverages like whiskey, and was dubbed Sangheilian Whiskey by human's who were brave enough to try it. And while it wasn't strictly true it was as close as you could get.
He poured another glass and drank that down as well. As he did the light pain from some of the burns on his side begun to subside.
As he sat there and drank Tal begun to muse. He needed more, this life of going from paycheck to paycheck was fine as a way to earn money. But small time jobs for insurrectionists and drug lords wasn't as fulfilling. A while back Tal had been a gladiator, the roar of the crowd was his life has he crushed some poor idiot into the ground. It was empowering, that sense success as well as the bonds he'd shared with his fellow fighters. If i'm going to make it out here, thought Tal, I'll need people to rely on.
As Tal's mind begun to wander his ears were drawn toward the conversation happening between the sangheili behind him.
"Do you think the Katar keep will go against Mosag? From what I have heard there is growing tensions in that area?"
"Perhaps, Katar is strong in skill but Mosag has more control. And is larger over all. If the two met in battle i'm not sure how it would turn out"
"Gerk, you are from Mosag aren't you?"
"Of course I am, how else do you think I became the warrior I am today? The training that Kiadon Mosag provides for his young is beyond that of many other keeps"
Tal knocked back another shot and chuckled to himself. He knew the Mosag keep, and had even worked for them in the past. In sangheili society they are known as a bunch of self interested sobs who's positions of power were grabbed with rather questionable assurance following the Schism. During which a lot of their warriors were absent. Now they controlled one of the largest sangheili defence forces as well as a sizeable chunk of sangheili territory that bordered the frontier.
Behind Tal the Mosag warrior, Gerk, looked over to him.
"Did I say something funny?"
Tal turned to look at him "O no, I just always find that the sound of lies always cheers me up"
Gerk's eyes narrowed "You dare to insult my keep, my Kiadon?"
"I dare to when you clearly have no idea what your keep really is"
This clearly got to Gerk. He pushed himself up and strode over to Tal. Tal just turned to him, one hand still on his drink. Behind Gerk the other sangheili just watched and the room went quiet.
Gerk came to a stop before Tal, looking down on him with angry eyes. “And just what keep are you from? Or are you can outcast?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me” said another sangheili from behind them “I can see the fake parts of your body. No doubt his keep disowned him when he lost half of his face”
All three of them roared with laughter and Tal felt his ire rising.
“So out with it half-face” demanded Gerk as he finished his laughter “What keep do you come from?”
Tal felt his fist clench and he grabbed his drink to take a swig. He looked Gerk in the eye and said “I was from Zerex”
“Never heard of it” said the other sangheili
“You wouldn’t, it got destroyed” replied the other “Decimated in a an inter keep war”
Gerk grinned back at Tal “So you have the gall to call my keep weak to my face, and yet you have come from a keep that failed to defend itself. Perhaps it is better you keep is gone, wouldn’t want any more sangheili like you making our species look worse” Gerk turned to walk back to his table, swaggering like he had just won a great moral victory.
Tal’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gerk walk away “At least my keep had the honour of dying in battle rather than cowering away when fighting began”
Gerk stopped halfway in the middle of the room. Tal knew that the comment would get to him, insults to honour always did to those types. Tal didn’t actually care whether his keep was particularly honourable or not, they were just as much a foot note in Tal’s own mind as they were surely in sangheili history, but the chance to take someone like Gerk down a notch didn’t come often and it was bait that Tal couldn’t ignore.
Gerk suddenly roared and turned around, throwing a punch at Tal’s head. Tal’s years of fighting skill and experience took over and his arm shot up to push the wild punch away and then brought up a fist of his own into Gerk’s mid riff. The punch struck and pushed Gerk back a step.
Tal reached over and grabbed his helmet, quickly putting it on his head again. He stood up has he did so “You don’t want to fight me”
“You insulted my keeps honour, it would be a disservice to them if I don't at least smash your teeth out”
"You can try, though good luck trying with two broken arms"
Gerk didn't reply, he just stared at Tal with an angry stare. Suddenly he reached behind him and grabbed a stool which he launched at Tal who ducked under the hastily thrown item, the wood snapped as it hit the wall and broke apart as Gerk charged forward to punch Tal in the head. Tal ducked under the swing and brought his own punch up in an upper cut, catching him on his chin. Gerk staggered back, avoiding another punch from Tal.
Gerk shook his head and came back at Tal again, this time trying to feint an attack to the right before coming back around on the left. But Tal was ready as he just stepped out of the way and let Gerk crash into the bar. The various patrons at the bar scattered out of the way as he smacked into the table. Before he could catch his breath Tal grabbed the back of his head and smashed it back down into the bar again. He felt the rush, the roar of an invisible crowd in his ears. They wanted blood, Tal would give it to them.
Before Tal could strike another blow a pair of arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him away. Tal growled and brought his elbow into his unseen assailants stomach, the arms weakened and Tal was able to break out his grasp. He turned to see one of the other sangheili had come to stop him and the other was advancing on him as well. Tal grabbed the nearest one and headbutted him, throwing static all over his HUD for a second. Before he could right himself Tal threw him at Gerk and then turned on the third.
This one made the mistake of coming dead on, fist raised ready for a mighty blow. Tal just grabbed his wrist and punched up, straight into his jaw. The roar of the crowd returned again, loud as a hurricane. Tal the landed a succession of punches against his opponent before casting him to the side. The dazed sangheili flew across the room and right into the two brutes. The brute that he smacked into turned on him and in that second all help broke loss.
As the brutes weighed in on the single sangheili another sangheili form the bar moved to stand next to him. All then charged one another and a full on bar brawl erupted as innocent bystanders either got caught in the fight or happily jumped in. Tal found himself assailed by a pair of jackals that leapt from the fray. The sound of the brawl was like a family welcoming him home and Tal charged forward without a care.
Tal couldn't tell how long the fighting lasted, whether it was a minute or half an hour. All he heard and all he saw were a room of bodies going back and forth, roaring and screaming as they took and received damage in equal measure. Tal beat back the two jackal's before leaping into a fight with one of the brutes he'd seen before. He dispatched him with a punch to the head after a vicious tussle for control. After the other brute was able to land a few good hits against Tal, knocking him back against a wall with only a timely intervention by another sangheili saving him from a painful punch to the face. Follow that one of Gerk's brothers charged Tal, armed with a stool leg and swinging for the face. Tal pushed his head forward and deflected the piece of wood with a head butt before beating the attacker back again.
Suddenly Tal came face to face with Gerk again. The other sangheili finished beating his way through two humans and turned on Tal with a savage fury. The two collided together and smashed into the wooden bar. The grunt bartender that had been taking cover behind the bar leapt to the side as the two sangheili crashed through it. The wood buckled under their momentum and they fell through, still grappling with one another. They landed on the ground and Tal was able to throw a punch at Gerk's head, jarring him and allowing Tal to get up slightly. Before he could deliver a solid punch Gerk kicked him backwards and forced Tal back.
As Tal recovered Gerk reached down to his thigh and grabbed the plasma pistol he had holstered there. Time slowed as Gerk began to take aim at Tal. Tal's mind immediately concluded that the shot would be deadly, if not fatal, as he still hadn't gotten his shielding systems working at full capacity yet. Acting without though Tal reached for his energy sword and activated it even as he leapt at Gerk. The blade flared into life and Tal swung it forward, as he did he saw the energy build in the weapons barrel. Seconds before the weapon could fire Tal's blade fell and neatly sliced off Gerk's arm at the elbow. The pistol firing harmlessly to the side.
Gerk clutched his decapitated arm growling in pain. He begun to get up and Tal brought his boot down onto his dead, knocking him out cold. He lifted his boot off of Gerk's head and looked around. The fitting seemed to have died down, to his surprised both the brutes lay dead along with a few others. One of the sangheili was struggling to pull on of the brutes off of him. Tal walked over and hefted the mighty cadaver off of him.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked, accepting Tal's out stretched hand with a confused look "You punched in the face not a minute ago"
Tal shook off the last of his blood rage with a shake and sigh. The roar of the fake crowd faded behind him. "Common curtsy. I learned it in the Pits. A warrior that fights well deservers respect. And you did"
The sangheili looked like he didn't fully understand but never the less allowed himself to be helped up. Tal then nodded at him and walked off.
Hopefully I will be able to find somewhere to rest and find work without getting attacked again he thought to himself with a smile
He stepped outside and into one of Fell Justices crowded streets. The regular hustle and bustle of a world made up, mostly, of the galaxies undesirables swallowed him up.
Suddenly, over the din of people shouting and talking and generally existing, was sporadically broken by weapons fire. A mix of plasma and ballistics that echoed over from the warehouse district.
Weapons fire wasn't wholly uncommon in Fell Justice nor the rest of the frontier. What piqued Tal's attention was the quantity, it sounded like an all out gang war out there.
Tal grunted to himself "Well, there goes the chance of a rest"
| Game Master: Ajax 013 | |||||||||||
| Wealth Revenue | Raw Materials Revenue | Slaves | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Objective Name | Objective Description | Objective Rewards | Status | ||||||||
| Get a drink | A job well done. Surely some alcoholic beverages are in order! |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Don't start a bar fight | Whatever you do, don't start a bar fight. That could go badly. |
|
Completed | ||||||||
| Investigate the Gang War | Sounds like somebody is starting a gang war ut there, sounds like fun! |
Potentially a job, and a way off this world |
|||||||||
Post 3[]
Tal was now close enough to the district that he could faintly here the sounds of voices over the bursts of gunfire and explosions that had enveloped the area. He still hadn't the faintest idea why the gang's had decided to start a war, not that those details mattered on Fell Justice. There were always small skirmishes and a minor war every month. All Tal did now was that there was defiantly going to be a chance for work and failing that the chance to repurpose some of their discarded gear.
"And here I was think I was above looting" grumbled Tal to himself "But then again you can very pass up free stuff"
On the edge of the warehouse district there was a, very shoddy, fence. It's purpose was to make sure that people didn't run off with to much of the inbound cargo. Or it had been at one point. The parts of the fence that weren't torn down were checkpoints for the gang's in their respective sectors. It wasn't a massive stroke of tactical genius on the parts of the gang's and often those in charge were a bunch of low paid jackoff's trying to look tough and hoping that another rival didn't shaft then while he was standing around.
The checkpoint that Tal now found himself at fit the description fairly well, though the number of jackoff's had increased sharply. As he approached the gate one of the guards walked to the edge of his look out post to stare down at Tal. He was human, wearing a mix matched suit of ballistic armour and holding a weathered assault rifle. He seemed to be a bit bemused as to why Tal was here.
"Can we help you splitlip?" he shouted down from his tower
Tal brushed off the insult, it was hardly the first nor that last time he'd have to endure it.
"I'm looking to get into the warehouse district, what's it to you meat sack"
The human's brow furrowed "Why do you wanna go in there? It's getting torn apart if you haven't noticed"
Tal sighed to himself "Yes I know it's in a bad state, but my kind of work is often found in places like that"
"So, your a merc?"
"Yes" replied Tal, exasperatedly. The stupidity of this race was a constant bother to Tal.
"Ok then, we'll I guess we can let you in. Good luck in there you crazy bastard" The guards across the checkpoint laughed to one another as Tal walked through.
The warehouse district had really seen better days, even the outskirts showed signs of battle, with scorch marks up the walls and splatters of blood painted everywhere. All of which grew worse as Tal ventured further. The staccato of human ballistics and the whizzing of plasma weapons created a constant background noise.
As Tal came up to a corner he suddenly heard the sound of hushed voices, from the sound of it more human's, around the corner. Tal slung his carbine off of his back and crept forward. He reached the edge and peeked around.
On the other side were three humans, one was lying on the floor clutching his chest with a second kneeling next to him trying to help. The third was on guard duty, panning around with his assault carbine.
Not to much of a threat, thought Tal, Hopefully they'll have some information I can use
Even with his shields at under half Tal was confident that, if push came to shove, he could take them out without sustaining any serious damage. Tal stepped out from behind his cover and walked forward. The wounded human on the ground looked up and saw him coming, he yelled out
"Anjey, gator coming. Smoke em!"
The gang member armed with the carbine spun around to see Tal. He begun to raise his gun when Tal fired three shots into it, rendering it useless.
"Well now, that wasn't very friendly was it?" said Tal as he walked toward them "Please don't go for your guns, i'm not here to kill you"
"Well you'll excuse us if we don't believe you there splitjaw" grunted the wounded gang member, "Seeing as I was roasted by a squad of your kind a few minutes ago"
From what he was wearing, a very scorched and battered set of ballistic armour, and how much talking he was doing Tal gathered that the wounded human was this team's leader.
"Well then you are lucky that I've not come back to finish the job. My name is Tal 'Zerex, I am a mercenary and i'm looking for work"
"A merc hu? And a sangheili one at that. Looks like our luck is changing ey boss?"
Said the one called Anjey excitedly, but his leader looked at him with a scowl
"Get back to guarding you slack jawed idiot, or i'll crawl up there and shove that useless piece of junk up your arse" he said pointing to Anjey's destroyed gun. He was about to reply when a tight burst of plasma shot out and took his head off.
As the headless body toppled to the ground a plasma grenade flew from one of the side alley's and landed between the two gang members. They had time to scream before they were both incinerated.
Tal leapt back as the grenade went off and dove for cover. He peeked over the edge, searching for the hidden attackers. There, a flash of something blue off to the left. Tal brought his carbine up and kept an eye on that area.
Behind Tal there was a quiet crunch and his motion tracker momentarily read movement behind him. Tal didn't turn, or let on that he knew someone was behind him. He did shift in his cover, placing his foot against the wall and bracing.
The crunching grew steadily loader and again the motion tracker found a contact for a few seconds behind Tal.
Eventually Tal felt the target was close enough. He pushed off with his foot and rolled backward away from the wall and past his mysterious combatant. As he shot back he places his carbine onto his back and drew his sword energy sword.
Where Tal had been standing before was another sangheili, younger than Tal and bedecked in a very shoddy looking suit of minor armour from the Storm Covenant. In one hand he clutched an energy sword and on his back was a standard issue plasma repeater.
For a second he seemed confused by Tal's move but then he leapt forward, swinging his sword faster and with a lot more accuracy than Tal would have thought a minor could. Tal brought his own blade up and countered the blow but was immediately assailed by another and Tal was forced into a defensive stance as the minor hammered blow after blow onto him.
Whoever this was he had certainly been trained by someone, this kind of blade mastery only came from years of training. Something this youth, despite his age, no doubt possessed. He knew how to keep Tal from attacking him and how to make the most of every move. He was very good. However he was still making errors. His headstrong attitude, while effective at keeping Tal penned in, was leaving him open to unexpected attacks. His focus on his own blade was making him miss crucial points, something Tal could use to his advantage.
As he brought his blade down again Tal blocked it and then grabbed his wrist, locking their two swords together and stopping him form keeping Tal on the back foot. He felt him try to wiggle his arm out from Tal's had but Tal kept his grip iron tight. He then lifted the younger sangheili up and smacked him against a wall. Despite being pinned to the wall the young swordsman used Tal's trick against him and used the wall to lever Tal off of him. Tal jumped back and the pair charged each other again, blades clashing and sparks flying as their swords collided with one another.
Suddenly the other sangheili leapt back, blade still held ready. He seemed to be examining Tal.
"You wield your blade well for someone of your profession, mercenary"
Tal kept his blade ready as well and responded
"I could say the same for you new blood"
"I overheard your conversation with those gang soliders. Why have you come here?"
"I make my living from war's, this is the closest one so far. The more interesting question is what are you doing here? I didn't think the Storm Covenant interfered with events like this"
"I'm no longer part of the Storm Covenant, I'm here on personal matters"
Well that explains the armour, thought Tal.
"Personal matters? Do you have a vendetta against all the gang's on Fell Justice?"
"In a manner of speaking. I'm trying to bring some kind of peace to this world"
"And you felt the best way to do that would be to piss off every gang figure this side of the planet?"
The young sangheili seemed to shrug as he put his sword away and placed it on his thigh. Tal obligingly did the same and the other sangheili seemed taken aback by it.
"Well, I thought if I could remove them from power then it would give the people here a chance"
Tal shook his head, this boy was naive that was for sure. But his naivety might turn out to be the death of him. Somewhere deep inside himself Tal felt sorry for him, he was just trying to help after all. Wasn't that worthy of some praise at least?
"I don't need your blessing to do this, and I doubt you will try and stop me. So, if you will excuse me. I've some gang's to slay"
The young swordsman walked past Tal. For a second Tal thought about killing him, his head would probably be wanted by the gang's and might even fetch a high price. But that feeling of pity suddenly overrode that reaction. He was just trying to help, and you don't see many like that on the fronter. Right there Tal made a decision he knew he'd probably regret later.
He walked after the sangheili
"Hey, do you want a second blade in your crusade?"
He turned around and looked at him quizzically "You'd help me? Why?"
"Were I came from our measure of one another comes through our fighting skills. You've impressed me, so i'll help you."
The young sangheili seemed unconvinced for a few seconds, then nodded his head slowly
"I see, what's your name?"
"Tal 'Zerex and you are?"
"Tuka 'Refum"
Chakravartn[]
VIOLET-III[]
Post One[]
| User | Chakravartin | ||||||
| Name | VIOLET-III | ||||||
| Allegiance | Mercenary Band/ONI Unit | ||||||
| Leader(s) | First Lieutenant Joshua-G024; Codename: Zealot | ||||||
| Specialty |
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| Attributes | 
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| Resources | |||||||
Minuteman 2492[]
United Rebel Front[]
Post One[]
| User | Minuteman 2492 | ||||||
| Name | United Rebel Front (AAO) | ||||||
| Leader(s) | Nathaniel Wright | ||||||
| Specialty | Guerrilla Warfare | ||||||
| Attributes | 
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| Resources | |||||||
"Still can't believe you're in charge of my ship."
Nathaniel Wright looked up from his dinner at Jonathan Watts' quip, and smiled as he swallowed another mouthful of food, before responding, "Well, if you hadn't nearly destroyed it, then come to me for repairs and a new base of operations, I wouldn't have asked for command. Besides, you're still in charge, I'm just ultimately in charge of the URF out here."
Watts snorted derisively, "Fine, sir", as he sat down with his own tray of food at Wright's table. "Now then, let's get down to business. What's your plan for our ragtag group of troops, Colonel?"
"Suffice it to say, Major, that for now, the Iliad, by my orders, will remain in here in Gamma Sequani. It's fairly out of the way, and we can start making allies with the corrupt corporations around these parts."
"By the pen or by the sword?", Watts responded.
"Either one that fits our needs. Right now the URF's in no fighting shape, so the most we'll be doing for now are diplomatic tactics, but, if a corporation or other possible ally needs a bit of...coercing, I'm sure Major Ulan will be happy to oblige."
"So right now our plan is to just build up our strength?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Ah, therein lies the question."
"Pardon?"
"Right now we're stuck in a bad position. We expand too much, for example, to pre-War levels, the UNSC'll bring down the hammer on us, and, if we expand too little, then we're stuck playing with ourselves."
Watts smiled at Wright's last few words as he took a sip from his water, before continuing, "Alright then. And what of the other rebel group in the frontier?"
"What, the Libertatem Populi?"
"Yeah, them."
"First, we'll try to make an alliance with them. If they refuse it, then we'll get rid of their leader, and install one more loyal to us."
"My God sir, have you no soul?"
"Pardon me Major?"
"Those rebels are fighting for the same cause we are, and you're ready to kill their leader just because they won't work with us?"
Wright shook his head, "My dear Major, this isn't your father's war anymore. It used to be, oh yes it did, we were all one big dysfunctional family killing the UNSC, but nowadays, it's not so simple. If you want the URF back, it's gonna cost you a piece of yourself, but it will be nothing, compared to who you will save."
Watts sighed, and did not respond with a single word. Was it going to come to this, he thought. Was it going to come to killing fellow rebels to bring back an organization?