(Thel 'Lodamee)

[Date]-[November 4, 2547]

[Time]-[1456 Hours – Standard Military Time]

[Location]-[Base of Forerunner Portal, Unknown Halo Installation]


"Brother, are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Urse 'Vadamee asked, clicking his mandibles in worry for Thel 'Lodamee—his leader, his comrade, his friend.

(Only so long as the Prophet of Pity doesn't discover me. But what are the chances of that?) "I will be safer by myself, brother. Trust my judgment." Thel placed a reassuring hand on Urse's shoulder, adding a nod to his endeavor of comforting his comrades. Their stress held a moderate level of justification. But it was tamper risky.

Urse 'Vadamee, along with Anve 'Lodamee, were Thel's most trusted out of his collection of Minors that survived the assault on the Monarch's facility—guarded by an army of Humans. The duo would accompany Thel anywhere, but not this time. Due to their requests, however, they accompanied him close enough to the Covenant base that they would be able to provide supportive fire for Thel's retreat if he needed to battle his way out. Such a warrant should not have been at risk of unfolding; Vale Nar 'Sarasee would listen to Thel.

Thel hoped reception for his mind's console would receive favor, and violence wouldn't occur. He hoped that he could avoid the Prophet of Pity and that he made it safely to Vale Nar 'Sarasee. At least, Thel hoped it was Vale. It sounded like the Prophet of Pity, and the Monarch said of a golden armored Elite that was taller than an average Sangheili. There was no doubt.

Vale would listen to Thel—he knew it. Since the Ultra served under his command as much as the Prophet of Pity, they were close to each other. And Vale was a strong, wise leader who agreed that Thel was unfairly punished by the High Council for his failure in killing the Demon, the "Master Chief". If Thel wanted to survive and return home to Sanghelios, he was required to cooperate alongside the comrade of the same Demon he almost killed cycles earlier. It was irony at its finest, and Thel didn't like it. (Such a devastating turn of events. Why should it get any worse?)

"Here, take this," Thel said as he passed Anve his Type-51 carbine, "Ultras aren't meant to cart such weapons."

"They will notice you anyway with your armor being so unclean," Urse reminded Thel, gesturing to his Ultra armor that was darkened by the grieving of time inflicted. It was unpreventable, but undesirable, all the same

"Then they will take me to the fleet's ground armorer. He is an old friend, and one, I can place much trust in," Thel, reassured his nervous brothers.

"Or the bastard Prophet," Anve stressed, using an ancient gesture that Sangheili warriors who battled against the San'Shyuum before the Covenant once used. It meant The long-necks will all die.

(That wouldn't be so likely.) "Why?" Thel asked. "He's a Prophet and will have Prophet tasks to tend to. Why would I be sent to him? His suspicions should not be at a peak limit—for our presence remains unknown to him."

"What if he is suspecting of a situation akin or exact to this?" Urse asked, increasing in agitation with his mandibles twitching, not being idle as they should be while awaiting an answer to a question. "He would have heard about our disappearance back on the Human planet as sure as the sunlight. He may yet know that his species' bloodied lies are at risk."

(It's a lesser possibility, but...)

"No, brother," Anve interjected. "The San'Shyuum are obviously stupid if they had an inkling of a belief that they could conceal this big of a secret."

"Or maybe they are smarter than we theorize," Thel mused, rubbing his mandibles through the bottom of his helmet that remained unconcealed by the armor of the crowned helmet. "They may have a plan to counter our wraith if the truth ever came to light."

"Perhaps the Prophets know not of Humanity's Heritage. Perhaps, our hatred for them is unneeded," Urse suggested, trying to bring apart all the possibilities. It was a trait of his to avoid conflict whenever possible.

(It matters not. Death will come to their entire race. Three millennia we have done so to those innocent. It's time we avenged them.) "Whether or not it is true, the San'Shyuum will be burnt to the glass they forced us to create so many times before. Remember my words at the tower?" Thel reminded Urse. "Even if they are oblivious, their sins are so much more far-reaching than simply misconceiving the Forerunners' gifts."

"Conflict or not," Anve concluded, "we'll follow you no matter what path you lead."

"I concur," Urse added.

(I have no doubt of your loyalty. But we need not dwell on the future.) "One small step at a time along this new path," Thel said as he rose from his knees, stretching his neck as he added, "I shall take the first step."

"Know that we will always be right behind you, brother," Anve replied with Urse nodding in agreement.

(Your loyalty reaches deep into me. I need such at this time of hardship.) "And know that I will always cherish your loyalty—a concept foreign to the Prophets," Thel nodded as prepared himself. He peered out from behind the boulder he and his two comrades behind and readied his body to dash to the rear cliffs which led up behind the Covenant base. The cliffs would serve as his infiltration method.

"Fortune favor you, brother," Urse said as Thel broke out of cover. The Elite skidded from boulder to boulder, the rocky cliff edge he was on providing the perfect cover for him. He hurried to the cliff face that he would have to climb to reach the base without being discovered, keeping low and never straying far from cover.

The portal was the perfect example of Forerunner design. Four appendage like arches protruded from the platform beneath the portal, the arches surrounding the massive blue orb of light with crackling energy radiating around the orb. The platform beneath the portal was an energy turbine being supported by an anti-gravity well that rested on the hill the portal resided above. The hill made the features of the portal visible for Thel as he approached the cliff with Anve and Urse earlier.

A single seam went through the center of the exterior of the arches. A blue pulsing light flowed through the seam and came out of the edges of the arch, emitting rays of light which gave it the portal its power.

Coming away from a platform connected to the energy turbine were various ramps that lead to nearby cliffs and hills, offering the invading Covenant a way to exit the portal safely. By the looks of the Demon's scraped armor, Thel concluded that the Demon didn't take the safest way. He found it amusing—a fault in a creature that seemed so faultless.

Examining the airspace around the portal, Thel saw that the only aerial vehicles leaving the portal were Banshees, Phantoms, and Spirits. The Phantoms and Spirits both respectively carried troops, gravity towers, vehicles, supplies and portal buildings that would soon be set up for the base they intended to manufacture.

The base, so far, had no walls around it—which made infiltration easier. But in lieu of any portable walls, there was instead a startling amount of gravity towers housing Kig-Yar snipers who posed a threat to Thel. Knowing the creatures, Thel figured the chances of him being spotted where low; they were on Halo and weren't expecting any trouble. Most overwatch duties would reside to the sensors that would set off alarms if any creature of a specified size entered the zone. The exceptions were Covenant warriors who all wore armor with transmitters that prevented the sensors from going off if the designated size of a creature the sensors were on the radar for matched the size of a Covenant race.

Thel's armor had such a transmitter, so the sensors posed no problematic situation for him.

Eventually, Thel reached his destination—the cliff face. Without delay, he clutched onto the rocky wall, beginning to climb, knocking stone and dirt down as he clambered up. Sangheili were natural traverses of all terrain; the cliff wouldn't tamper Thel in any way. With his hardened undersuit providing gloves under his gantlet that also served as his armor's arm brace, none of the rocks would slash Thel's hands to shreds.

The climb didn't take long—fifteen moments, at the least. The short time was because the cliff was no more than a hundred units high. In near to no amount of time, Thel was pulling himself over the edge of the cliff. He quickly clambered to his hooves and dusted as much dirt from his armor as he could. The Elite grunted in irritation when he noticed the scrapes and scratches his armor had received from the climb.

Stretching and cracking his neck, Thel quickly fell into an alleyway between two portable buildings that had been set up already, narrowly missing a patrol of three Unggoy being led by a Kig-Yar. Banshees swooped overhead, but they were patrolling the outskirts of the base—not the base itself. Their eyes would not spot Thel.

Peering out of the alleyway, Thel spotted the portable headquarters. He knew what such looked like from the manifest detailing the different portable buildings that all Sangheili commanders of Vale's fleet received. The building before him was what he was looking for—Vale Nar 'Sarasee would be inside that building.

However, outside the building, standing by the massive set of doors was a Sangheili Zealot, observing anyone who passed the building, his eyes sweeping from Sangheili to Unggoy then back again.

There was no mistaking the massive Sangheili anywhere. Thel shuddered at the thought of having to get past Zealot Var 'Lultamee.

Var was a brute of a Sangheili—one of Thel's least favorable among his race. He was aggressive towards every Covenant species other than Sangheili themselves. He showed extreme violence towards Unggoy, doing things that disturbed even Thel. He was also a giant of a Sangheili, reaching just above Vale's height. He was large, and he used that fact to spread intimidation among his subordinates.

Somehow, Thel always felt that a rotation would arise where Var would become a problem. But at such a vital time? No. Thel couldn't accept it. He would approach Var and hope that the Zealot would let Thel speak with the Fleetmaster after having been missing for nearly two segments. If not, Thel would have to become "loud" to garner Vale's attention.

Just when he was about to leave the shadows and make his move, a furry hand grabbed Thel's shoulder and spun him. He was glad a helmet concealed his eyes; the shock of seeing two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras before him made his eyes widen to their limit. (How? How did I not hear them?!) Thel's armor's sensor had failed a mere of a segment ago, so anything could have sneaked up on him. But Jiralhanae? Their steps had too much of a weight to them.

"Your armor is too dirty," The first Ultra Captain growled in his strong, loud voice, sending trembles down Thel's back. He didn't fear the creatures—he feared the circumstances.

(These are of the same rank as me. I must be careful with my words or suffer the consequences.) "I've been missing a while, brothers. I need to speak with the Fleetmaster—for he'll no doubt wish to hear of my survival," Thel explained with as much respect as he could muster. He didn't hate the Jiralhanae personally—he frowned upon the conflict—but the Captain Ultras among Vale's fleet mainly served the Ministry of Reliquary Dominion—Thel had to be careful.

The Jiralhanae turned their heads to look at each other, the second one barking something that Thel's translator didn't pick up before they both turned back around to face him. "What's your name?" The first one asked.

(I will not lie. This is a test; they already know who I am.) "Thel 'Lodamee," Thel truthfully replied. "I was in command of the Twelfth Legion of Reliquary Dominion. We went missing one and a half segments ago. I must speak with Fleetmaster Vale Nar 'Sarasee immediately."

"Why did you go missing?" The first one questioned Thel.

(This is something lying can be avoided at.) "I must explain the details to the Fleetmaster only," Thel deviated from the question as best he could. To further emphasize his words, he clattered his mandibles loud enough for the two Captain Ultras to hear.

"Tell us!" The second Captain Ultra barked, snarling afterward as he regained his composure. There was no mistake: this one was the defect of the litter.

(I am well within my rights to refuse to comply. We are of the same rank.) "Show some respect!" Thel coldly snapped his mandibles, the tips of the mandibles brushing along the enclosed space of his helmet.

"Or what?" The second Captain Ultra asked, chuckling at Thel's defiance. Despite Thel's lack of racism, these ones didn't seem to be sharing the gesture. The second one was mocking Thel's sense of honor—something Jiralhanae commonly did to stir up trouble.

"We're agents of the Holy Prophet of Pity, Minister of Reliquary Dominion," The first one interrupted, breaking off his comrade before the situation got more out of hand than it already was. "And if we make demands, we have expectations for compliance.

(You would strangle Pity if you knew the truth.) Giving up, Thel wouldn't persist in denying them an answer. "An Oracle teleported me and my surviving warriors to this holy ring."

The Jiralhanae looked at each other, again, before turning back and looking Thel over. "Why did you believe that you should submit this matter to the Fleetmaster?" The first Captain Ultra asked, making Thel's hearts stop. "If you have contacted a holy Oracle, then you should immediately seek out a Prophet above all else."

(Damn It—no!) "I wasn't aware that the Prophet of Pity had come through the Holy portal," Thel tried to deceive the two—there was no alternative; he was in a dire present.

The first one shook his head. "Meaningless now. But, you will come with us to see the Prophet of Pity immediately."

(I shan't indulge you—no, I won't be going with you.) "I'm not worthy of being before the Holy Prophet of Pity," Thel put on a facade. Lying had no meaning to him now. It was more dishonorable to not do everything in your power to ensure your race's continuous survival.

The first one chuckled lightly, gesturing for me to relax. "Do not have fear in your heart. It's profoundly probable that your encounter with the Oracle opened the portal. You may of just led us to the first holy ring. If this is true, then all will bow in respect before you—no one will feel you below them."

There was no getting out of his predicament. Thel had no idea on why his persistence luck had suddenly abandoned him. The present circumstances were the absolute worse that could have happened. "Okay, brother," Thel gave in, knowing he couldn't yell out for Var—the Jiralhanae saw past his facade and would kill him where he stood if he didn't play along.

The Jiralhanae positioned themselves so that one was leading the way while the other was behind Thel, ensuring that he kept moving and wouldn't run off. There was no doubt in Thel's mind that the Captain Ultras knew. Urse was right.

They led him from alley to alley, making sure that there was no patrol when they moved through the streets of the buildings. Thel mused on whether to draw his plasma rifle and shoot his way from the Jiralhanae, but it wouldn't work. Being agent in the service directly to a Prophet, the Captain Ultras had energy shields that would be a problem. That, and so many nearby patrols oblivious to their skulking would attack Thel before they thought about who he was, and why he attacked the two Captain Ultras.

"Why were you hiding in the alley?" The front one questioned.

Are there really Gods? And are they playing a cruel jape on me for abandoning them? No. Thoughts for the weak. The Forerunners aren't Gods.) "At the time, I needed to speak with the Fleetmaster. If I walked into the open with damaged armor, one of my rank or exceeding it may have pulled me aside to questioned why that was. This is why I kept to the alleys."

"There is no lack of sense there," The Jiralhanae behind Thel remarked. Since it was speaking the Sangheili's tongue—the universal language of most races of the Covenant—Thel heard sarcasm in the Jiralhanae's tone.

"Where's your team?" The frontal one questioned.

"They were killed by the Demon that came through the portal," Thel lied. Each lie he spun sent shudders through him, but he would attach no limits to his lies. Getting to Vale was all that mattered.

The frontal Captain Ultra rubbed the back of his head—not wearing a helmet as was regulated by attire protocols. "Didn't that Kig-Yar sniper not say that he saw a Demon and that dead Zealot fall off the edge, near the portal, and get sucked into it?" (I was hoping this excuse would actually prove more usual than my others. Maybe... it isn't too late.)

"Yes!" The rear Captain Ultra confirmed. "That stupid bird should have killed the damn Demon with its rifle when it had the clear chance! How foolish to try and leave it to the Zealot—even if it did want to take the kill for itself! Damn Sangheili honor"

"I will see to his execution later," The frontal one said, waving Thel and the other Jiralhanae onward. Moments later, they exited the alley and entered the courtyard in front of the portable building that served as the Prophet's quarters.

"How did you survive the Demon?" The rear Captain Ultra asked as they began approaching the large domed building that the Prophet of Pity resided in.

(There's no absent of an excuse for this question, either.) "I barely did," Thel lied, adding, "I managed to kill the Demon at the last moment. They aren't as strong as they would have us believe; I almost killed another Demon a couple of cycles pass. And the one I almost killed having been the leader of their branch, killing a minor was easy, suffice to say."

"The Prophets will reward you greatly for your elimination of the bastard beast," The front Jiralhanae assured.

(What reward could the Prophets hand me that will make up for my broken devotion? None.) "I seek no reward; for the greatest reward will soon begin," Thel played himself off as a humble idiot to the Jiralhanae as the trio walked down the path through the courtyard. Their destination, the Prophet's quarters, was directly ahead.

The quarters were large—for a Prophet, it was nothing surreal. But this was overdoing the expression of their power. The quarter's architecture was curved and smooth with the usual Covenant tinge of purple and pink covering the exterior. The quarter's roof curved into a slope, forming a dome with a gravity tower positioned each side of the domed building, each tower having two Sangheili snipers in them. Additionally, ten Sangheili Honor Guards flanked each side of the path leading up to the massive main doors of the quarter. Each Honor Guard were weighed down in their traditional crimson and gold armor and were all standing dead still with a tall stave in hand.

"Prepare to behold the holy Prophet of Pity," The Captain Ultra up front told Thel as the trio stopped at the entrance to the Prophet's quarters. The Honor Guards at the exterior door to the quarters couldn't resist the urge to glance at Thel as he passed. There was little profession in their actions. Thel frown in astonishment and confusion.

Ignoring it, Thel turned his head frontward, subduing the urge to run in once the doors hissed open and kill the lying Prophet bastard. His muscles tensed as the doors hissed opened, dinging an almost iconic sound.

The Jiralhanae escorted Thel into the single, round, large room which served as the Prophet of Pity's quarters. On-board Fleetmaster Vale's capital ship, the Everlasting Retribution, the Prophet would occupy Vales quarters. Vale never showed disposition over it, but it was incredibly unorthodox.

A dim, purple light filled the room; rugs made of the finest hide from animals native to Covenant planets covering the metal floor with no signs of the metal being visible under the makeshift carpet; furniture heavily engraved with ancient San'Shuum hieroglyphs were set up in a living quarters style and curving shelves with scrolls stockpiled on each shelf leaning against the single, three hundred and sixty degree circling wall.

The Prophet himself sat near his personal terminal, his anti-gravity chair stationed in the port by the terminal as the Prophet read from a holographic scroll.

"Holy Prophet of Pity," The first Captain Ultra said as he and his comrade bowed without beckoning Thel to do so, expecting him to know his courtesies. "We bring you a Sangheili, who claims to be the leader of a team of service to your Ministry. The team went missing a segment and a half ago, during our assault on the Human planet named Atmosus."

Following the Jiralhanae's example, Thel fell to his knees, bowing his head down in respect, but secretly harboring a disgust in his kneeling. (My self-promise, to never kneel again, has already been broken. At least there's a merit. But betraying my own vows...? How pitiful.)

"Leave us," The Prophet gestured as he put his scroll down on a table next to his terminal. Thel was baffled when craned his head around and saw that the Prophet wasn't addressing the two Jiralhanae but was instead ordering the two Honor Guards guarding the interior entrance to the quarters to leave.

Now in deeper hot water, Thel was wary of the Prophet, who de-ported his anti-gravity chair and hovered over to where Thel was kneeling. "Now, Thel 'Lodamee," The Prophet began, halting in front of Thel. "How are you here—on this holy ring, Halo?"

(You know, do you not? You are wary of us.) "I met a holy Oracle within the Forerunner structure you assigned us to secure, Holy Prophet. Upon encountering the Oracle, it teleported me and my surviving team here." Thel explained, keeping any signs of hatred or disgust from his voice. Being among politics shaped Thel's voice to adjust automatically to any situation that required him to use a false set of emotions.

"Why did a holy Oracle—voice of our Gods—teleport you to this sacred ring—the key to our salvation?" The Prophet asked, massaging his wattles in a rhythm that Thel had seen him massage them in before when he used to have the rare meetings concerning the Ministry's future with the Prophet. They knew each other, but both hated each other.

(I need to sway the topic.) "It was not meant to be this Halo," Thel explained, keeping as much truth in his words and trying to avoid lying as best he could.

The Prophet tilted his head, ceasing his massaging and grabbing onto the arms of his anti-gravity chair. "You didn't answer my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—question. And I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—advise that you redirect your attitude of one full of compliance."

(His speech patterns haven't changed. They consist of puzzling redirections and a grand amount of arrogance. This is only his calm attire; the one of anger is both amusing and dangerous.) "The Oracle teleported us here at my command." Thel answered truthfully, seeing if he could manipulate the Prophet into expressing his alarm in some way.

"Why is that so? The Prophet asked, tilting his head to emphasize the confusion further in his tone.

Thel was going to take a leap of faith, and be blunt. "Because it told me the truth of the Great Journey." Immediately, Thel rose his head and spotted the Prophet of Pity's shocked expression. He knew the truth, but he somehow didn't believe Thel to have known the truth. So why were the Jiralhanae so persistent?

"SO IT IS TRUE!" Thel roared, the revelation coming at no shock, but the anger of his theories all being correct breaking any self-control he harbored up to that point. "The Humans ARE the Reclaimers—your entire race deceived us!"

The Prophet looked as if he was about to explode into rage, but calmed himself down enough to glance at one of the two Jiralhanae behind Thel. "Remove his helmet," He commanded with a sharp gesture.

The Jiralhanae followed through with their order and removed Thel's helmet, the Prophet smacking Thel across the face afterward with all his force, but failing to make Thel even twitch with pain. (So weak.) "I—the Holy Prophet of Pity—will have you executed for your high heresy, HERETIC!"

(This is laughable.) "Your race is so weak that even the strength, to provoke pain, is not in your grasp," Thel chuckled, gritting his mandibles into a smirk. "I despise myself for ever believing your race, along with ours, to ever be the inheritors of the Forerunners' legacy. 'Gods must be strong'? You betray your own motto."

"Does your heresy have no limits?!" The Prophet asked in a shocked tone, scoffing in disbelief whilst pointing an accusing finger at Thel. "You say things that are so unholy that even your death would not be a justified punishment."

(You're lying through your pathetic, golden braced teeth!) "What heresy?" Thel asked. "I saw your expression of shock—as did the two Jiralhanae behind me. I know the truth, and so do you."

"We didn't see anything, heretic," One of the Jiralhanae behind Thel said, growling lightly in the Jiralhanae's equivalent to a laugh.

(NO! They're in on it!) Thel rose to his hooves, spinning around to face the two Jiralhanae that had risen as well, ready to strike Thel down if he tried anything. "What did the Prophet's promise you? You lick their wattles so much that you put them before the Covenant? Despicable—and to think I mourned for those of your kind that died aboard the Resplendent Fervor. Your race are barbarians—you are worse than the damn Humans!"

"Seize him!" The Prophet ordered with a wave of his hand. "Take him to an isolated section and execute him quietly. Do not fail me. This heretic's lies damage my—the Holy Prophet of Pity's—mind."

(This is not my end. I will kill you—slowly.) "You mean the truth?!" Thel snapped as a muffle was worked around his mandibles while the second Jiralhanae latched on a pair of holographic bounds on his wrist.

His two hearts went up when the door behind him hissed open—was it Vale? Or was it another?

"Ah," The Prophet's face went from one of anger and aggression to one of joy as he gestured to whoever just came through the door. "A holy Sentinel—warrior of our holy Gods—has blessed us—those worthy to walk the blessed path—with its divine presence!"

(As I said: this is not the rotation I die.) "Cover his eyes," The Prophet ordered the two Jiralhanae Captain Ultras, "he is not worthy to lay eyes on the holy warrior of our Gods—the divine Forerunners."

Thel heard the Sentinel hover around, the distant buzzing of its movement giving Thel's hearing membranes the indication he needed to know that the Sentinel was the Monarchs. It was investigating what was happening. The Sentinels had been observing Thel from a distance, and one went after him when he entered the zone he designated to the Monarch as "the damnation zone."

Thel couldn't see where the Jiralhanae were taking him; he just heard another door hissing open a moment later—the secret escape route for the Prophet's quarters. One's establishment was crucial for when a Prophet was stationed planet-side. Thel didn't suspect one would be set up so soon after the quarter's own erection.

Moments more later, the trio arrived at the Prophet's emergency escape Guider. The Type-24 light mobile infantry transport's primarily function was not in combat, but more as a short-range transport for units in non-combat zones. It was popular among the civilians of High Charity and other Covenant controlled worlds.

All Thel heard was the doors being opened before they were stuffing him into the back seats of the Guider. The metal seats bumped Thel's head when he went thumping in, and his head began to ring. The two Captain Ultras laughed at the bonus of their rough handling before moving around to the front of the Guider and getting in. The vehicle's engines whirled to life before zooming off, the momentum sending Thel bumping around the back.

About a unit later, the Guide came to a sudden stop, the force of the breaking sending Thel flying forward and hitting himself on the back of the frontal seats. (I always hated these damn transports—even on Sanghelios. They are not fitted for the all-terrain performances they are tasked to.)

One of the Jiralhanae barked something in their native tongue—which Thel couldn't understand since they stole his helmet. Thel heard the two dismount the Guider and hurry around to the back, the door hissing open before they grabbed Thel's ankles and dragged him out onto the cold grass.

(The Monarch better not fail my faith—I refuse to die this rotation. Not now, not ever!) "Right, first thing's first: how do we lower his shields?" One of the hairy beasts asked.

"With this, of course," The second Captain Ultra replied as he charged a plasma pistol.

"And of his body?" The first Captain Ultra asked its second question eagerly.

"What do you mean?" The second Captain Ultra asked, confused.

"What happens if the damn Sangheili come across his body by chance?" The first Captain Ultra clarified. "Would they not be asking questions as to why a dead Sangheili, they found, has a spiker projectile in his head?"

"Well... we could just not use a spiker," The second Captain Ultra suggested, the first grunting in annoyance as the second added, "Or we could eat him. Take your pick."

(Barbarians!)

"What's that noise?" The second Captain Ultra asked, diverting from the main topic.

"DEMON!" The first one roared in defiance, firing his plasma pistol.

Surprise hit Thel. The Monarch had sent the Demon to save him. (The blood irony!)

Despite not seeing the battle, he heard it. He heard gunfire from the Demon's weapon along with the impact of projectile rounds on one of the Jiralhanae's shields. Subsequently, the zapping of the Jiralhanae's shields was replaced with the contact of the projectiles on flesh. Successively, there was the sound of a dead Jiralhanae's body thumping onto the ground.

Thel's hearts dropped when he heard what sounded like something heavy hitting something of a metal nature before hearing the Demon grunt. (Did the bastard wound him? Or did he just harm the Demon's already existent wound? An energy blade cut, was it not? From the Zealot that fell through the portal with him.)

The sound of the Demon's grunting was subtle and quick before the sound of struggling replaced it. Thel frowned under his eye binds when he heard the final Jiralhanae roar in pain—and not just ordinary pain, but tortured pain. Accompanying this was a flesh ripping sound. Thel dreaded to think of the source of such sounds.

The sound of the final Jiralhanae's body thudding on the ground reassured Thel that he would live to see the next rotation. He was saved from death at the last moment—a typical feat that was present in many stories that annoyed Thel. A character shouldn't have survived a trial by being rescued from death at the last moment. But, perhaps, such a thing could have happened every now and again. Thel wasn't complaining.

Thel heard the loud footsteps of the Demon as he approached him, kneeling down next to him as he removed Thel's bindings.

As soon as he was free, Thel got to his hooves and hurried over to the Guider where he assumed the Jiralhanae kept his weapons as trophies—as was standard for them. They took Human weapons as trophies—something that Thel hated. It was a tradition of theirs.

Thel found his helmet, energy sword, and his plasma rifle. Holstering his two weapons and placing his helmet back over his head, Thel turned around, hissing in disgust when he saw that one of the dead Jiralhanae was missing the top part of his head. The missing top part of the head laid a unit away, laying in a pool of Jiralhanae red blood. Thel had no doubt that the sounds of pain and flesh ripping originated from this.

Thel thought about cursing the Demon for such an action. Turning to address the Demon, he saw that the Demon's wound was bleeding again—having been tended to at the tower before Thel left, earlier. (He will die if that is not tended to.) "You'll most likely die of infection without treating that wound," Thel warned the Demon.

The Demon shook his head in reply.

Thel frowned. (No?) "What do you mean?" Thel asked before remembering that he couldn't understand the Demon's tongue. "Never mind?" Thel waved dismissively, silently scolding himself for the minor display of ignorance on his part.

The Demon nodded to confirm that he wasn't planning on following it up as he approached the Guider.

"We'll use this to get back to the tower," Thel told the Demon as he opened the front upward hinging doors of the Guider and hopped into the driver's seat. Annoyingly, the Demon got in the passenger's seat rather than a back seat.

(It's close to me. I don't like it being so close to me. Why did it have to sit next to me?) Thel rid himself of the thought and harshly reminded himself that cooperation with the Demon was a key factor in defeating the Prophet of Pity.

A rehash of Thel's previous plan wouldn't be acceptable. They were closer to the tower than they were the Covenant base. It was more conventional to retreat and re-plan the possible options.

(Any option viable enough to be acceptable will be enacted on. Pity. Is. Mine!)


AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The Guider: I was searching the Halo wiki for a Covenant vehicle that would be similar to a Humvee where the Jiralhanae (Brutes) could just place Thel in a seat and not have to worry about him escaping. However, I didn't find any Covenant vehicles that allowed this. So I made up my own. The Type-24 Light Mobile Infantry Transport (A.K.A: The Guider) Is what I made up. Sometimes, you just have to add your own stuff. It's fine as long as the said stuff doesn't conflict with the sourced lore.