HALO WARS: CHRONICLES
Ripa 'Moramee
Prologue.
He laid there in his cell. Beaten, and scarred. Suddenly, A Prophet on a Gravity Throne hovered towards him and spoke to him.
"A Question…" The Prophet of Regret said.
"You have but to ask…. Holy One." The Wounded Sangheili spoke.
"Do you enjoy the Slaughter?" Regret spoke.
The Wounded Elite opened his eye, and looked directly at the Prophet and spoke.
"I feel the Joy of doing what I was born to." He continued "I have no 'Regrets'… Save, Which I will not die, fighting." He finished with a cough of blood. He continued to look at the Prophet as he responded.
"Oh you will… Though not today." The Prophet disabled the cell, and the Sangheili closed his eye.
"I need you for a certain task, one which you 'may' not return from. Now from this day though you are no longer called Ripa 'Moramee. Of the State of Moram. You are now the seventeenth 'Arbiter' in the line of the Immaculate Succession. Now, come. You have much to do." The Prophet finished.
Ripa 'Moramee rose to his feet and followed the Prophet. He turned to his left and found a suit of armor, worn by many before him; He slowly walked over to it. And grabbed the Helmet and placed it on his head. He turned to the Prophet. And spoke with a extremely chilling voice.
"What will you have your 'Arbiter' do?"
End of Prologue.