"Oh my god my head!" the author moaned.
"Mother of God! Why did you pimp slap me!" Griff moaned likewise clutching his head.
"Shiny bright light go away. I don't want to die. I still have so many babies to hate." Caboose yelled loudly and obnoxiously.
When all the light had faded away they saw a large figure in Mjloiner Mk VI armor armed with an Assault Rifle.
"Oh no it's the.." Griff never got to finish his sentence as we crotch stomped.
"Oh why do you just kill me?" Griff said as curled up in a ball.
"I don't know you think you are…"
The figure turned and glared at him.
"But I do not have the skills of Liam Neason."
"Where is he?"
"Where is who?" the author asked.
"I know this one!" Caboose said gaining everyone's attention except for Griff.
"I know where Waldo is!"
"Where is Omally!" the figure demanded.
"Let me just upload this chapter and then we can talk."
Tears sat as best she could as the ship rocked upon the whims of gargantuan waves. She looked over the maps of the seas that Captain Redwater possessed. Needless to say that they were off the maps.
"Which is good it means we are making progress…as we near the world's edge."
She neatly rolled the maps into their containers and set them in order amongst Redwaters library. One which she was sure that he had barely read and was mostly likely taken from actual explorers. Not that she was complaining with the results.
The ship violently rocked causing her to lose her balance mid-step. She quickly recovered however do to her natural talents and training that had made her an effective spy and assassin as a cultist of the Black Door.
Sensing movement behind her she saw the viscous talon hand of the Legion Commander. The hand slithered back to its owner who sat silently cross legged in front of the door that led into the gallery.
"Are you concerned for my safety or were you trying to exploit a momentary weakness?" she asked slightly surprised.
The Legion Commander opened his eyes from where he sat. Despite his raw bestial appearance she could she the fires of a viscously crafty intellect. She knew how Long Arms viewed weakness, and how if any leader had faltered or wavered in any shape or form the Long Arms would brutally murder them. Thus the higher a Long Arm was the more dangerous they were. The amount of blood the spilled and the number of skulls they cracked was the baptism for a Long Arm's leadership.
"You are the Leader of this expedition. The strength of your capabilities must match your resolve. Both of those traits must surpass my own if you are to command me and my men. Anything less is an affront and must be swiftly executed less we lose favor of the God beyond the Black Door."
"I may appear to be human, but I guarantee you that I can strike you down now your men will see the weakness within you."
The Legion Commander continued to stare in silence. Not a muscle twitched to betray the emotions that played out underneath.
Tears knew instantly that this was not a foe to underestimate. Long Arms were known for their combat excellence as well as their ferocity. For this one to show restraint demonstrated something that elevated him something else above his kind. He had control over himself.
"You are quite composed…wherever did you learn such level control?" She said she approached with intrigue.
"Where all Commander's learn their lessons. The battlefield."
"Must have been quite the fight to knock some sense into one of your kind."
"I nearly died."
"This sounds like quite the story. Please do tell, Commander." she said she sat cross legged not even three feet from that while even sitting still towered two feet above her.
He regarded her silently contemplating. A silence she did not like.
The Legion Commander felt a sharp blade on his throat as the female had closed the distance between them.
"Don't make me make it a command…" she paused tilting her head to one side. "What is your name? Do you even have one?"
"Why do you ask?"
"It doesn't seem to make much sense to say 'Don't make me make it a command Commander.' Doesn't sound quite natural now does it?"
"I suppose not."
Once more Tears was even more on guard with being before her. Not even once since she had laid her blade upon the beasts neck had it acted any different from before. Most would have shown some reaction to having their life threatened. This Long Arm however was a far different stock.
"My name it Kraal Gal Ite. Which loosely translates to your language as the 'Teeth that crushes skulls'."
"Sounds like a dangerous name."
"You should hear the names of our Admirals and Generals. Such names rattle the youngest of our kin."
"There some more powerful than a Commander?"
"The things of nightmares. Ones that report only too Paradox himself."
It slightly unnerved her that there were long arms so dangerous that not even she had found out about them. Internally shaking her head she concentrated on the point that had first started this strange conversation.
"You still didn't tell me where you learned such a valuable skill."
"How about a trade? I will tell you of the battle and you can tell me of what you know about the Reclaimer." he said after some serious consideration.
"Fair enough."
"It began 20 years and 267 days ago."
"You count the days?"
"Ever since death stared me in the face."
20 years and 267 days ago
Blood drenched his hand as blood squirted from the throat of the fifth dragon he had killed. With a roar of primal victory he screamed to the heavens. Letting all know that he was worthy to live.
Climbing down from his kill his eyes scoured the land for more foes to kill. Further off he could see a large armies clashing against one another. His force had been sent to cut off a Haven Guard force from flanking them. The Legion Commander had died early on and he had arisen to lead their forces. He was the sole survivor of the legion sent to halt the aggression of Haven Guard.
"They were to weak for my leadership." he said spitting dragon blood on the ground.
"The God of the Black Door shall deny you entry and piss upon your souls from the ramparts of his castle!" he shouted furiously on his dead allies.
The bristling of weapons found him a new focus for his ire. Spreading out his arms and mandibles he made himself as big as possible while staring down the few remaining men of Haven Guard."
"Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps this is a test…YES! A test to see if I am worthy!"
A mix of human and Sangheili scouts stared him down furiously at the death of theirs comrades. Though none of them moved as none of them dared to approach alone.
"No blighted creature you are worthy of nothing! Spawn of dark alchemy there is no righteous death and justifiable life for something as evil as yourself."
"Approach me slanderer! So that I may rip your tongue and give you an honorable death."
From behind the scouts came their companies banner man. He carried his companies flag with his left arm as his right was dislocated and sported several cuts that still oozed blood.
"How is it that man of the most lowly of positions has the most courage? Has death have no meaning to you now that you are seconds away from it you frail thing?" Kraal taunted. He sized up the boy with little regard.
"You and the rest of your kin will pay for the blood that you have split here today." the young man said as he plunged the pole into the bloody earth.
The flag flared out and Kraal gave it a passing glance. It was a red gauntlet holding a blue hammer on a field of gold.
"The Sons of Thunder." he recognized upon seeing the standard.
With his left hand the carrier of the banner clumsily drew his sword with his left hand. Kraal recognized it immediately what his adversaries problem was. It was right-handed.
Kraal gave a booming laugh that was in sync with the crowing of scavenger birds that circled above. Victory was assured.
"Any last words?"
"The last words you will hear will be the name of the man that killed you." the man said as it took a fighting stance.
Kraal didn't even give the slanderer the satisfaction that his words had touched him. Death would be the verdict of whom was better.
Kraal sprinted forward, his inverted legs gave allowed him to cross the distance faster than most would expect. He thrusted his arms forward to kill in the first strike. The man, given luck or skill, leaned away from the strike and let it pass him by. The counter strike was poor as it didn't even scratch his armor. Again he struck hard and fast. Kraal's struck forward snapping like eagle beaks. Each strike demanded flesh in which only the barest of scratches were landed on his opponent. Kraal couldn't believe how lucky his opponent was.
He jumped into the unleashing a double salvo of his extended arms. The man jumped back as Kraal thrusted his body forward in full body drop kick. One more his crafty nemesis continued to dodge and Kraal flew past him. However, he wasn't fast enough in turning to face Kraal and was struck across the chest. The chest plate that also bore the insignia fell from him as the straps could take no more abuse. With a bone jarring impact he landed against a body of one of the felled dragons. Kraal lunged forward preparing to end it. Dazed and but still conscious the banner man rolled forward predicting his opponents next strike. Kraal's fingers bit into the flesh of the dragon.
The banner man rose once more to continue the fight. Kraal tore out chuck of dragon flesh and feasted on the raw meat as he turned to face his opponent once more. With his hinged jaw he swallowed the piece whole.
"You will pay for you sacrilege of the honored dead!" the banner man's eyes narrowed in controlled fury.
"Then come! Come and seek your retribution!" Kraal boomed as blood sprayed from his mouth.
This time the charged at one another. Kraal sent a fury of blows all which his opponent dodged with just a second to spare. With each missed strike his opponent closed. Kraal made one more desperate strike. Extending both of his arms he brought them together to cut his opponent in half. The banner man being as young as he was shorter than most creatures which he used to great advantage as he made his own calculated lunge.
Kraal felt something cold spear his insides and erupt in pain he had never known before. Staring down he saw the banner man with his blade piercing his sternum.
"How?" Kraal questioned as his own blood began to leak out his mouth.
"You have no honor and no patience to play the long game. My name is Strauss Stewart and I am the one that killed you."
With a flick of his wrist Strauss twisted the blade and dragged it out. Kraal stared at his opponent in disbelief as he fell back to land on the muddy earth. Kraal's eyes closed as darkness over took him.
Strauss staggered back utterly drained by the fight. Several of the men who had been watching came to his aid.
"No," he said waving them off "attend to the injured and the dead. My wounds are not life threatening and I will be damned first before I see the carrion feast on our dead." Strauss commanded.
The men looked at him in disbelief, awe, and reverence as he took charge. He walked back to the banner of the Thunder Sons. Tears wept from his eyes as he knew of the honorable heroes who had lived and died representing the flag. It was truly a great honor to survive and bear witness to it flapping in the breeze.
Cleaning the blood from the sword he readied himself to carry the flag. To have such a creature's blood anywhere near the flag was a desecration. Sheathing his sword he used his strong arm and lifted the flag with a squelch from the earth. On that day not a single bird of carrion feasted on The Son of Thunder.
Kraal however didn't die. His body lay there for several days as his wounds slowly healed. By fate or by luck not a single bird pecked at him. It wasn't until several human cultists came across his unpicked body did they haul him to a cart of half dead half wounded combatants.
When Kraal finally did gain consciousness he lay among the dead where disease hung in the air. With effort he had lifted himself up. Strauss Stewart's words playing over and over again in his mind.
Days passed and as his strength slowly grew did he begin to understand the benefit of patience. Then when he was strong enough did he challenge his Legion Commander and take the position himself.
Present
Tears was almost stunned by his tale and if it hadn't come from a Legion Commander she may have not believe it.
"Strauss Stewart? The…" Tears began.
"I know who he and what he is. He is my teacher and father. He gave me the knowledge and will to be what I have become and what I can be." Kraal said cutting her off.
"Your father?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes my father and will honor him, by killing him. From there I will know that I am ready to ascend to the rank of Generals or Admirals. I will honor his passing by becoming a leader of men." Kraal actually grinned at the thought.
Tears was struck into silence.
"Now tell me, what is this Reclaimer? What is it that we hunt?" the Kraal's grin fading as quickly as it had come.
Tears got up from where she lay and approached the small device that pointed them in the direction of the Reclaimer.
"In the founding of our Empire a great sign was shown before the one whom we now call Paradox."
"Paradox? But that would make him centuries old."
"If not older. No one knows what his true form was when he first entered the Hall of the Black Door. It was said that he was a breath away from death. The being that resided on the other side of the door sensed his approach and bestowed several gifts onto him. Life, the form he has now, immortality, knowledge, and this device. The only device capable of finding this Reclaimer."
She paused to take another breath.
"For years we searched for a Reclaimer, but never did we find one. It was impossible to find as not even Paradox was given the information on what it was. Only that this device," she said holding their compass. " would lead us to it. Some began to lose hope as other clung and died by their faith. Now however after years of waiting our prayers have been answered and it is here."
"But we still have no clue as to what it is."
Tears nodded in agreement.
"Then this shall be fun." Kraal closed his eyes and went back to his meditation.
Tal sat upon a hammock that had been stuffed with cushions so that she could sit properly. Also, it's gentle swaying was the only thing that comforted her while Captain Picard and his sailors aboard the Enterprise did their duty in navigating the storm.
Plea sat before a hearth controlling the flames with his magic so as the boat didn't start on fire from within and as it was the only source of light from within the room. None of them had spoken as they listened to Piccard shout his orders above the mad gale.
The cabin in which Tal sat was the second largest aboard the Enterprise. It was the second largest for the very purpose of storing dragons below decks and out of the way of the crew. It also served as the main hub for the aerial forces armament.
The eight other occupants within the room were Plea, Tom, Anton, Rosetta, and their dragons respectively. A brief introduction had introduced Tal to each riders respective dragons.
Plea's dragon Proethero, laid curled up behind his rider one wing draped over his head sleeping contently. Tal hadn't seen much of the old dragon other than the numerous scars he bore. She could tell though that the scars did not come from careless mistakes.
The highborn Anton whose swords, black and red, matched the scales of his dragon Vulcan. Of the dragons present Vulcan's coloring made him seem the fiercest of them all. His black scales absorbed all the light making him nothing more than a large shadow in a corner. If it wasn't for the royal red of his underbelly and leathery wings he would have been all but invisible. A single red eye had analyzed her and passed her over. Anton leaned next so a support beam next to his dragon reading The Founding of Haven Guard.
Rosetta Stone was from a line middle class merchants from the Isles of Jewels, which were islands just off the southern coasts of Haven Guard. Her dragon was named after the main island Mona Baya. Mona Baya was indeed female covered in sky blue scales with a tan underbelly. Rosetta was sharpening a hunting knife with a whetstone. Her dragon was watching the dancing flames with a hand close to her rider.
Aragon had one arm draped over Tom and had drawn him in close. Tom's exotic green hair was cut short to only an inch and half. Both him and his dragon were blissfully asleep amidst the storm. Until a rather heavy crash of wave had sent a bucket crashing down onto Tom's head which bounced off onto Aragon's head. No one laughed though as they were all to wrapped in their own thoughts to pay much attention to the other.
Tal subconsciously chewed on the insides of her lips. She had come so far but never did it cross her mind that she may even reach the land were her journey would begin. Now she knew why they called it the Wild Sea. To see such power, to see such raw brutality of nature was frightening.
"You should have more faith in the Captain." Plea spoke from where he sat.
Tal was stunned into a moment of indecision as Plea had broken the silence within the cabin.
"I didn't sense you reading my mind." it was the only thing Tal could say.
"I didn't read your mind at all. It was easy enough to see upon your face." Plea said stoking the coals with an iron rod.
"How can you be so calm like this?"
"Faith. I have faith in Captain Piccard's and his men's ability to see us safely through anything."
"I mean how can you not take action at a time like this?"
"Nor my students or I have the abilities or the knowledge to operate a ship of this class nor do we know storm procedures. If we assisted them now we would only be in the way and putting lives at risk if chose to take such a benevolent action. Thus the best thing we can do right now is stay out of the way."
Tal continued to rock on the hammock not at all satisfied with Plea's answer but saw the wisdom within it.
"However, you are right in one regard. We should take an action that may save the life of the crew."
Tal leaned forward eager to hear what they could do.
"This thing that we hunt for…this creature that calls itself War."
Tal's heart sank at the mention of that thing. Even though she knew her quest was to find it, she secretly hoped they didn't. She didn't know how but she just knew they if they ever faced off against it that they would die.
"Tell me Tal how much combat training have you had?" Plea said as he stared with his cat like eyes.
Tal turned away from the accusing stare unable to meet it.
"My lectures said I had a greater affinity for healing so I never put forth much effort into the real of combat."
"Do you know the basics?"
She shook her head side to side.
"Well another crash course battle training lesson."
All of Plea's current students stared at Plea and paled in horror. Even Rosetta whose skin was darker than her own looked a few shades lighter.
"Anyways we are getting off topic. Tells us what do you know of the creature that we seek."
Tal nodded in understanding as she moved from the comforting safety of the hammock to the center stage where Plea sat. She could feel eyes lay upon her as rider and dragon alike centered their attention upon her by an unspoken command.
When she had reached the center she extracted a silver dish and began to poor water into it. By the time it was full all of the riders had risen from there original positions to gather around.
Reciting words of magical power in a chant she dipped her finger to the pool of water. The outer edges began to vibrate as color exploded from her middle finger. The image began as it had in her dream.
The clear night sky above foreign mountains with creatures of the area going about their nightly rituals. One of the stars began to grow brighter and brighter until a new sun hung above the earth. The new sun's tendrils of energy lashed out where ever they could find purchase and burned the earth to a crisp. Nothing in its passing was spared. Eventually the new sun struck the ground with a mighty force. Tal in the vision still stood within the inferno completely locked by a pressure of unknowable magnitude. Then rising from the ashes it came. It was the same as before with each step that brought it closer its image became clearer and with each step the vision shifted to Haven Guard's capital ever approaching demise.
Then it stopped before her.
"What are you?" her voice echoed from the pool in perfect pitch as the moment she had asked.
"WAR." was all the being had said.
When she withdrew her hand and the vision faded. Tal came out of her vision to see the slightly frightened eyes that equaled her own. Only Plea's eyes remained locked upon the pool locked in thought. The others turned their heads as best they could to stare at their dragons and communicate nonverbally.
For a moment Tal was slightly furious and desperately lonely that she was left out of the conversation and had no one to confide in.
"Plea, what are we to do?" Tom asked weakly.
"Go to bed. All of you. It has been a long day already and this storm already has us on edge. We will discuss things further in the morning." Plea said gently.
There was no rebuttal had their had often times been when the team had been young and recently formed. Each rider went back to their dragon who quickly enfolded them with their wings. Only Plea remained stoking the last of the coals.
"What was is this?" Proethero's mental voice projected into Plea's head.
"I do not know." Plea responded truthfully but with sudden sense of unease.
"Not that creature! This! This situation we are in! This not something you send a group of hatchlings on with only one senior member. A mission such as this would require at least ten veterans." Proethero's voice hissed with anger.
"I am quite aware as to the nature of the situation. As to how many veterans we would need is a mystery. We know nothing of its capabilities or motives. Only that it's name is War."
"That should tell you plenty of what it's motivations are."
"Still we must give the benefit of the doubt to this creature before we engage in hostilities."
"You want to give something named War the benefit of the doubt? You gave Odin the benefit of the doubt when you took this mission. By the Old Ones you took this mission without even asking, putting these very hatchlings at risk." Proethero's voice emphasized looking over each individual in turn with parental care.
"Once more I am quite aware. However we both know of the debts we owe to Odin. This is a small order for the sake of both of our lives."
"Yes and what of theirs? To have their innocence end prematurely and have them become child soldiers? Could you send them to their deaths? Could you watch them die? Would you do this all for the sake of honor?"
Plea turned to face Proethero with both anger and defeat written across his face.
"How long have we known one another? How long have we fought and bleed beside each other? How many times have we raised our students much like our own sons and daughters? You should know me better than to question me with such things. My friend, my partner, my brother. Please have faith in me."
"Little one…I have always had faith in you. I just hope that you can have faith in yourself and Odin after this trial." Proehero said offering a wing in open invitation.
Plea shook his head side to side in response. He tuned back to the coals crushing them with the iron rod until not even embers remained. When darkness filled the cabin did he go to Proethero.
"What Odin are you after?" Plea asked himself knowing quite well that a second plan may be playing behind the scenes.
"I didn't…" Shakii began sputtering as she stared into the Spartan's blue eyes.
"We didn't…" Jordan stared directly back into hers.
They scrambled madly away from one another. Both discovered, much to their dismay, that they lacked any form of clothing. Slightly panicking both looked around for their clothes. Sadly they found their clothes ripped and shredded as if animals had attacked them.
"No, no, no. This can't be happening." Shakii said holding her head with both hands. Which incidentally caused the ripped fabric of the tent that she was wearing as a gown fell around her ankles.
The Spartan had only a second to stare before she had covered herself once more.
"This is all your fault." she said angrily as she jabbed one finger into his chest.
"Me? How is this my fault? You agreed to the drinking game just like I did!"
"Then how did we end up like this!"
"Do I look like I have all the answers?" the Spartan hissed.
Shakii was about to retort when both heard a shout from beyond the secure comfort of the tent's destruction.
"Is anyone in there? This is Captain Mattock! We are coming in in there."
The Spartan was about to shout when Shakii put her fingers to his lips.
"No one must ever find out about this!" she whispered harshly.
"Then what do you suggest we do then?" he whispered back.
She looked around with panicked eyes thinking of a way out of this. Shakii looked at her dragon only to see him still passed out from the night's events.
"Run."
He gaped at her as she ran. It took mere moments before he realized the implications if their night's activities were discovered. Even though none of them had truly remembered what had happened people of the Varden would spread rumors whether or not it was true. Jordan made one glance at the still sleeping Saphira before taking off in the direction that Shakii had gone.
It was an easy matter to catch up with her as she had paused just behind a flap of canvas that was at the perimeter. He settled in behind her staring at the guards that stopped them from getting through.
"As far as I can tell they surround the entire perimeter."
"Any chance of getting past them?"
"Not without drawing attention to ourselves…unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Give me a moment." she hissed.
The Spartan would have backed off, but the protection offered by the canvas was small.
"When I move you move."
The Spartan just gave an ambiguous grunt in response. Shakii uttered several words in the ancient language followed by a loud crash heard. The men that stood around the perimeter turned their heads to the commotion. In a flash Shakii was up and running with the Spartan behind her. Silently they leapt up into the air clearing the line of guards. By the time the guards had turned back to keep watch the two had already landed silently behind them before blending into the shadows of the twilight.
They stuck to the shadows as they moved through the camp. The only sound that they made if they were careless was a rustle of a tent's fabric as they past by. The Spartan followed Shakii's lead as she seemed to have an instinctive understanding as to where the guards were and what their patrols were. Jordan reflected upon the layout of the Varden camp trying to determine where they were as they were moving. If he had to guess they were close to the edge of the Varden camp.
Shakii jumped up to a tent pole landing like cat upon it. The Spartan pressed as close as he dared to the tent. Everything had been fine thus far, though he wondered why she stopped.
"What is it?" he hissed.
"Trouble." she grumbled back.
"What type of trouble exactly?"
Just as quickly as she had gone up the pole she jumped down and huddled near him.
"This route take us directly to the edge of camp. However, we have a small detachment of guards blocking us."
"Can't you create another distraction?"
"Nothing loud enough to draw all of them off."
The Spartan patiently watched the guards as they made their rounds.
"There is a 2.4 second window where the guards will not be able to see us." he stated flatly.
"That's not a lot of time."
"Or we could fake being drunk lovers and hope that they decide to let us pass." Jordan said smirking.
"We can make it." she said as she turned back to watch the guards movement.
Jordan smiled as he knew that was all the incentive he needed to give her. They waited for the moment when they would be able to slip past the guards. Each one had their muscles tense, ready to spring loose when the moment came. When it did, they acted.
They separated each moving parallel with the other. Running through the mud was a dirty affair but the guards never noticed the fresh prints. Jordan had his head on a swivel looking for the possibility that one guard had been missed. Shakii on the other hand shared no such concern.
"Guards on the other side of this tent." she hissed back to him.
"Move left and I'll move right." he whispered back.
Without responding Shakii moved to the right. Rather than run for all she was worth she did a double knee slide in the mud, just going under the guards field of vision. The Spartan on the other side slunk around the tent making not a sound as he kicked himself into the air and used one hand to grab the pole of the tent and change his momentum. As the guards turned their heads to see what had made the sliding sound Jordan did a baseball slide on the other side. The guards were left wondering what exactly had happened.
They were finally home free, all that was left was a bare naked sprint. Due to their own physical traits, they weren't even sweating by the time the time that they reached Shakii's tent.
Jordan cast one glance behind them to see that no one was watching before following Shakii into her tent.
The clang of metal on face could be heard from a mile around.
"Get out!" Shakii shrilly screamed.
Jordan stumbled out of the tent slightly dazed with half his face red from being struck. Shakii followed out her face red with embarrassment wielding a frying pan in one hand.
"You expect me to run around like this?"
She through him a bright purple bathrobe that wouldn't even cover half of his body. Jordan was now faced with the dilemma of either running around with nothing or the bright purple woman's garment.
"Sogen?" Mirra asked as she stared off into the distance.
"Yes, Mirra?" Sogen grunted as he carried a heavy load of fresh bandages.
"Is that young man running naked?"
Following Mirra's gaze he saw a lone figure running for all he was worth on the outskirts of the camp.
"Ah, I remember the days when I was young and could get away with such shenanigans. If I remember correctly you and I shared such nights."
"I still have the frying pan to prove it."
The Spartan ran as if he was trying to out race the Chief who was on a Warthog who was trying to out race an explosion of apocalyptic proportions. When he saw the Field Hospital waiting with doors wide open he thought he had made it. However unlike the Chief, Lady Luck only smiled upon him when he was only in the deepest most improbable situation and it didn't help that he had an AI that favored its amusement over his dignity.
When the doors slammed shut several strides before the Spartan could enter, only one thought entered his mind.
"Son of bi…" he never got to finish his sentence as the half of his face that wasn't red from being struck by a frying pan hit the door.
The Spartan groaned somewhat pitifully as he rolled on his back clutching at his face. Then and there he promised himself to never drink again. When he was finally able to get back to his feet he saw the bright gold lettering of the AI in LOL. Jordan went in clutching one half of his face.
When the Spartan was in he applied ample amounts of drugs to reduce swelling, the pain due to his Spartan training was easy to push aside. Walking into the nearest room he collapsed face first on one of the cots.
"I would rather go face thirty-four hunters with a crappy M6C Magnum Sidearm than ever have to relive that again."
The brightly glaring light of the AI's messaging forced him to open his just to see what the AI wanted his attention.
GOOD THING I RECORDED EVERY SECOND OF IT.
Jordan could only glare at the screen.
WHEN I RETURN TO UNSC SPACE I WILL BE SURE TO UPDATE ONI ON THE EFFECTIVENESS OF A FRYING PAN ON A SPARTAN
The AI showed a video of the Spartan stumbling out with a furious Shakii wielding a frying pan like a war axe.
IT IS ALSO SAD THOUGH AS I CANNOT UPLOAD YOUR VIDEO AND ALL THE ITERATIONS THAT I HAVE MADE TO THE OMNITUBE
Silently the Spartan watched as an aerial view showed him on his mad sprint. He nearly winced when he saw himself come to a dead stop at the door.
Then came a series of the same video with small alterations. There was one where he was an American football player running into the end zone with a horde of pixilated football players chasing after him. He was stopped when he was blindsided by one of the pixilated players. The next had him running through a bombed out field with a horde of Covenant on his tail. This time he was stopped when a Banshee dropped a green fuel rod shot on him.
When the Spartan had had enough he turned his face into the pillow and fell asleep.
When the AI sensed it could no longer get a rise out of the Spartan it turned off all the lights aside from a few near the door so that the Spartan could get an uninterrupted sleep. When the Spartan awoke he would need all the strength necessary to face the task ahead.
The Spartan knew that he was dreaming, but there was something wrong with it. It felt to real. He stood on a raised dais next to thirteen figures whose form swirled, giving no real form to focus on except for ornate white head piece not much different than what an Elite councilor would wear. Below them however, bound in chains was oblique blob of a form with face of yellow glowing eyes and a maw of cracked teeth.
"Your treachery can no longer be tolerated." the farthest to his left spoke. It was male, that much he was sure of.
"What treachery is this you speak of?" the prisoner asked…almost rhetorically?
"Not only have you gone against your own race but you have threaten the Mantle! The very foundations of our societal existence!" this voice came from the fourth from his right.
The blob let a low laugh escape from his throat which made the very room that they were in seem to tremble.
"You wise council of the Thirteen are more sincere with the belief in the Mantle that you can't see that we've gone against it's every teaching."
"Heresy!" was the common hiss.
Jeers came from all around down upon the chained form. Only the center one, the one whom Jordan stood next to refrained from saying anything. By simply raising a hand the head councilor silenced all.
"I was wondering when you were going to speak Librarian." the form almost spat out Librarian as a curse.
The Spartan's mind recognized the name immediately. He tried to call out, but no voice was heard. The trial, if that was what this was, continued on without interruption.
"What do you mean that we have gone against the Mantle?"
The form gave that low dark chuckle once more.
"You need not ask me to get a simple answer. You could ask Born Stellar Makes Eternal or the Diadict reborn as he is now referred too."
Jordan said nothing as he absorbed the conversation. He remembered hearing about the Diadict but nothing about the other Forerunner. Who was this prisoner and how did he know so much?
"Answer the question."
The prisoner jutted his lower teeth forward as if bearing them before he answered.
"The motto of our so righteously upheld mantle is to protect the weak and guide them when what we do is the exact opposite. When we encounter another race we engage them with all our force and pound them into subjugation. The strong rule and the weak live as long as we allow them too. That is the way of the Forerunners. The Mantle is nothing more than something we use to delude our children and give ourselves an outlet from the guilt."
"While I will not disagree with your claims we must remember that even with our long lives that we are still mortal and susceptible to the same failings. What the Mantle offers is a goal to strive for and allows for diversity in all forms to flourish."
"What a pretty self deluded picture you paint. I wondered about you Librarian. I wondered how much guilt you had within yourself that you tied all your beliefs into the Mantle. The diversity you speak of has made us weak. When need to be of one mind of one purpose if we wish to attain the goal you speak of. We need to be like the Flood."
Jordan was said nothing but he could feel his own anger grow at the insanity of the Forerunner.
"The Flood is an abomination in the pursuit of its goals. For you to believe the same! The way the Diadict spoke of you…that Forerunner no longer exists."
The Librarian paused as she looked down upon the captive almost picking him apart.
"Without the power of diversity we have no choice, without choice we would be no better than simple machines. Merely made to fulfill a single function. Peace by choice will be far more loved than a peace by force. The war with the humans should have taught you this. To have patience and love in the face of adversity is much harder, but greater in reward than to take up arms and force others to believe your way."
"Your belief in the mantle has made us weak!"
"My belief in the Mantle will be what keeps life going long after we, the Flood and I, have passed. Our children that we leave behind shall stumble and they will fall, but they will grow and our knowledge will be there when they are ready."
"Children…" the blob garbled the world in disgust.
"All those who we leave behind and those we have deemed to be our successors."
"Our greatest enemy? You give them the keys to our technologies?" the words escaped over jagged teeth of a beast.
"They are not humans, not as they were, not as we had known them. They are the offspring of us both. Our children."
The other councilors were silent. If this information was new to them or if it was known the Spartan could not tell.
"You have created vermin. An abomination of both species! Do you not see that you have created something as dangerous or more so than the Flood?"
"A mastery of destruction is easy. A mastery of growing and shaping takes a lifetime. A lesson I want our children to learn. When they understand this they shall know what it means to uphold the Mantle."
Now where had the Spartan heard that?
"Your perversions will never achieve such a goal. They will destroy themselves and whatever race they come into contact with if they ever get a hold of our technology. I will not allow this to pass."
"The decision is out of your hands. Many of us would rather have had been laid to rest upon the Final Throne, but your stance with the Diadict has caused for some serious consideration. You will be forcibly incarcerated in a Crytpum."
"No prison will hold me forever and when I do get out I will exterminate your precious children."
"You will have many years to plot your revenge." the Librarian spoke not with anger but with pity.
The dream faded till only the Librarian remained. She turned to face him.
"Please," she begged "defend the Mantle."
The Spartan jolted from his bed with a start. He had rolled onto his back while he slept and was now in a sitting position.
A faint yellow light had him turn to see the monitor that he AI used to communicate.
GOOD MORNING SPARTAN.
I HAVE FOUND A FORERUNNER FACILITY.
WE HAVE A BUSY DAY AHEAD OF US.
"Isn't that interesting."
"So you mean to tell me that you are simply an Author writing a fan fiction cross over about the Inheritance Cycle and Halo."
"Correct."
"And Sarge thought you were a threat right?"
"Yes Mrs. Tex."
Tex sighed with irritation.
"You have no idea who Omally is?"
"I downloaded software from someone named Omally."
"What software did you download?" Tex asked seriously.
"Sky Net."
Elsewhere.
"Sarge do you ever believe that a computer system may take over advance killer robots to wipe out humanity to rule the world?"
"No of course not! If modern 21st Century movies have taught us anything the world will end in a Zombie apocalypse spawned by Roid Monkies, a virus developed by the government, or aliens."
"You know there are other ways the world can end."
"Runaway! Shelia has gone crazy!" Church screamed as he ran over the hill to red base.
"All," KABOOM a tank shell exploded over head "are crazy."
"Enact Echo Phi Delta 44!" Sarge yelled.
"Griff isn't here to throw his radioactive infested corpse at the tank to clog its main cannon."
"Then retreat!" Sarge screamed as everyone left in the canyon took shelter red base from a psychotic tank.