Tartarus, expressing his dog-like nature, attempted to run in front of the rest of the group, which included Sergeant Johnson, Master Chief, the Arbiter, and Truth. Flinging pungent saliva across the walls, the sasquatch ran down yet another hallway, with the spartan in tow. The spartan was amused and frustrated by the fact that digging his heels three inches into the ground was not enough to stop the hairy mongrel.
The Arbiter then raised his voice, "Don't you think that a leather leash might not be strong enou-" the Arbiter did not finish his phrase due to the large snapping noise that penetrated the air.
Tartar sauce tripped over himself from the speed at which he was freed. He ran around the nearest corner to escape from the group that had restrained him in the first place.
"I am overjoyed at the thought that we no longer must associate ourselves with that animal," spoke Truth.
Much to the prophet's dismay, the brute quickly ran back around the corner, a glowing blue orb attached to his skull.
"GRENADE!" screamed multiple voices as everyone except the non-able bodied prophet hit the floor.
The resulting explosion shook the entire mansion.
The first to drag himself off of the ground was Johnson. He shook himself, as he was covered in water. The plasma grenade, instead of exploding in a burst of heated plasma, had activated itself in a manner much more similar to a large water balloon.
The Chief and Arbiter were unharmed, the prophet had, once again, fallen out of his chair, and Tartarus, unsurprisingly, smelled like wet dog.
Immediately following this strange occurrence, a small, chimpanzee-like creature ran around the corner. It was missing an arm, but the methane-breathing grunt made up for it with its' store of grenades, one of which it was currently holding in its' good hand. The small monster was screaming "COME BACK HORSEY!" as it proceeded to chase after, jump upon, and insert the live grenade into the ear of Tartarus.
This particular grenade expelled apple sauce, which brutes happen to be highly allergic to.
Tartarus screamed like a six-year-old schoolgirl falling off the monkey bars. He then collapsed into a hairy lump.
The prophet, who had climbed back onto his chair, floated over to the brute and placed his wiry, wrinkly fingers on the mongrel's kneecap. "The beast lacks a pulse!" he exclaimed. "The great journey has taken him along its' divine path!"
"Not if I can help it!" shrieked Johnson. Suddenly wearing horn-rimmed glasses, he pulled an epi-pen from the pocket protector on his military uniform and repeatedly stabbed his new furry friend with it in the kneecap.
After a few moments the brute began to breathe again. Afterwards, the grunt introduced himself as Yaynap.
John looked at the brute after he had recovered, "The kneecap?"
There was night.
There was rest.
There was morning.
End of Chapter 3.