Note: I have decided with the amount of reviews in such a short amount of time, I shall begin writing the origins of the CTF. I hope it appeases to your liking and that it actually makes sense. And interesting. Really interesting. Enjoy and R&R! I like opinions and criticism, so give me what ya got kids.
Folsanee clacked his mandibles in nervousness as he walked down the halls of High Charity. He had been summoned by the high council to have a meeting. And he had much reason to be nervous.
He had seen what had happened to those who had failed the Prophets during their holy missions. He flinched at the thought of his head being on a pike or to be brutally executed in front of his comrades. His fears had almost come true after his last mission.
As a gold field commanding Elite, he and his team had been sent to fight the (drones) on the swamp lands on the planet Yeberek during the Holy crusade. His team had been overwhelmed by the enemy and he had been forced to retreat to one of the Spectors. Using its plasma gun, he had single-handely cut down the (drones) and brought the rest into submission. Upon returning to High Charity, he had been summoned by the Prophets to a meeting. His huge casualty list of KIA and his lone retreat caused him fear that would lead to his execution.
The Prophets however, had thought of his actions as courageous and distinguished. Instead of punishing him, they had given him the greatest honor of all, to become the next Arbiter. Ever since, he had worn the embroidered armor with pride that even made a fleet commander nod to him in respect.
However, as his feet brought him closer to the council chambers, his heart began to race. Had they changed their minds of his former actions and deemed them cowardly? Would he lose his honor and be sentenced to death? These questions skimmed through his mind as he reached the chamber doors and pushed them open.
It was a small chamber. In the center was a round platform embellished by a symbol representing the Gods. Two minor Prophets flanked the High Prophets, who's age was shown through the wrinkles of their skin.
" I am here at your bidding High Prophets of Love, Tranquility and Deceit."
" Ah, Folsanee," chirped the Prophet of Love. " Do not look so nervous. We bring you only news of what is next to come for our great salvation."
A sigh of relief issued from Folsanee's mandibles. As long as the Prophets were not angry with him, this meeting wouldn't be so bad.
" Folsanee," croaked the Prophet of Deceit. " As one of the highest ranking Elites in our service, we have given you the grand honor of defeating the heretics led by Rolandee. They have been nipping at our buds for too long."
Folsanee's heart sank. Of all the missions, why must he be sent to kill one of his former best friends?
" We know this may be hard for you," purred the Prophet of Tranquility. " But not only will you squash the bug that is hindering us from achieving our goals but you shall prove your loyalty to us once again. You will be one of the greatest Sangheili ever!"
" As to business," croaked Deceit. " We have assigned two different teams to ensure your success. Here is the fleet commander who will be in your service."
A silver Elite emerged from the doorway to the left of the Prophets. He was much taller and muscular than the normal Elite, and on his hip dangled a plasma sword. He bowed, and spoke in a deep rumbling voice.
" Mulandoor, at your service. I shall do what I can to help us fulfill this mission."
" And," continued Deceit. " We have a specs ops leader who will help you in quite a few tight spots."
A shorter Elite emerged from the right doorway. His armor shined over a glistening black and he also carried a plasma sword, as well as a plasma rifle and a pouch of grenades.
" I am Turanovee, and I shall do what I can to assist you," the Elite said.
Though he spoke with respect and politeness, Folsanee could not help but notice the contempt that lit his eyes as he glanced over at Mulandoor. As Mulsandoor turned his eyes upon the black Elite, a tension seemed to fill the room in front of Folsanee. This was not going to be easy.
" With the provided help from both teams, your mission is to infiltrate the Heretics headquarters at one of the Forerunner facilities. You will kill every single heretic except for Rolandee. The Prophets would personally like to have him captured alive if possible. If he resists, as most Sangheili would no doubt do, you may dispose of him."
" However," added Tranquility. " It is far from being even considered a hard task. You have been sent because of the dangers of this mission. You know that all Arbiters are sent on suicidal missions to change the outcome or give us your corpse. This is no exception."
" These heretics are no mere soldiers. Their usage of the Forerunner technology and enhancements have made them killing machines. Even an Unngoy may pose as a threat to you. Your mission is not only suicidal, but possibly in vain. However, we have discovered their weakness."
"It is their pride," said Happy. " Their pride is far more dear to them then their lives. And the fruit of their pride, is not their warriors, but their symbol."
" Their flag is one of the faults that can crumble this society and stop Rolandee in his tracks. Stealing their honor is the main objective. Once you do this, the heretics will have nothing to base their pride on, and then they shall fall."
" However, the rules of this game apply to you as well. You must carry your own flag of honor and have it brought to the facility and back. Your flag will have the symbol of the Prophets. It is not only to ensure Rolandee's loss of honor, but to ensure your loyalty to our cause. A true soldier will carry his honor of his masters to the enemy and back without loss. That is a true great warrior. I hope you will succeed for your own sake, and let the Gods be with you."
The Prophets disappeared as the platform brought them up to the higher levels of the city. Folsanee looked at both of the Elites. This was his chance to gain great glory, to be one of the remembered in the story of the Great Journey.
It was also his chance to meet death personally.
