Thick volleys of plasma and green primed carbine rounds had been speckled themselves against the purple wall, mixing in with the brown filthy blood that scraped a Jiralhanae honour guard down to the ground. As the five Sangheili warriors deactivated their own active camouflage, they noticed that everything that was once living inside these once holy sanctums had been slaughtered without a twinge of mercy.
"If the demon has taken another prophet from us…" Ra'zark started rumbling slowly deep within his own throat, noticing without much care that numerous brutes had been slaughtered in the attempts to protect the Hierarchs. In the golden Zealot's opinion, he would have been more worried if he saw the corpses of mere Unggoy upon the purple lit but dim floor.
As the three minors nodded once and spanned out in order to find a corpse that would indeed confirm their own greatest fears; the two high ranking elites looked to each other and listened intently to the sound of projectiles and death that echoed around the corridor to their right.
"We are here for the Councillors, the demon has no place amongst us" Aethos drawled out slowly, making sure to remind the hot tempered golden clad warrior of their initial and fundamental purpose to be upon the great city of High Charity.
"His presence befouls us; we must rid the human filth and prove our worth to the Hierarchs" Ra'zark replied indifferently, intent with the notion of hunting down and slaughtering the green clad Spartan II himself as he noticed the sound of violence was getting further away.
"One demon? Or the entire armada of the Jiralhanae?" Aethos spoke deadpan, resorting the argument to the simple fundamental truth that they had bigger issues to deal with then the actions of a singular rampant Spartan.
Finally a soft twang cut them all of, causing all five members of the Sangheili force to look upwards at the sight of three golden clad Brute honour guards appearing above them in the high councilling balcony overlooking the holy sanctum. As the Elites prepared their own weaponry for combat, the source of the noise suddenly became clear to them all. One of the Honour Guard Jiralhanae had literally thrown his energy pike almost like a javelin straight through the augmented air of High Charity's chambers until it cut downwards and skewered one Sangheili straight through the chest, out the back and into the soft purple metal beneath.
"Slaughter them all" The commanding brute Honour Guard Major roared out in success, watching gleefully as the victimised elite minor attempted to rip the pike out of its own chest whilst only pushing it in deeper. Without mercy, the plasma turret wielding Jiralhanae quickly stepped down and opened fire upon the golden clad warrior; intent on killing the leader Elite first and without much in the way of a fuss.
Meanwhile
The low hung blue cackling energy blade could almost be perceived as a reflection, causing the Sangheili to grimace uncontrollably as he looked upon the weapon that would eventually be used to end his own life. His grip started to slacken as he continued to look upon his own face, fear trembling into his entire system until he finally tightened his hands around the energy blade and prepared to skewer himself straight through the middle with it. He could almost imagine the quick downpour of purple blood that would slowly drain him of life, would he die of blood loss or shock first? And did it even matter?
Oo'rang growled as he stared intently at the two white tips of the blade, imagining them slicing through his armour and into his soft ebony flesh without even a hope for resistance. Thoughts quickly ran across his mind as he remembered the history behind his blade; he had been lucky enough to serve under one of the greatest swordsmanship Sangheili of the era; Ark'an of the amethyst lance.
As the once shipmaster rolled Sangheili continued to brood upon his own history and past, he started to remember his brother in arms and long lasting friend; Ya'kai with passion and sorrow upon his own mandibles. He remembered what the Field Marshal had said about the retrieval of his own honour amongst a life that deemed no sacrifice necessary with regret etched upon his own mind.
Finally Oo'rang nodded swiftly, bringing the blade around himself in preparation to unleash it upon his own flesh with his left arm; surprisingly the control over the weapon seemed almost natural, a fact that caused the purple clad withered Sangheili shipmaster to frown almost in realisation that maybe this was not all he had to be. Maybe he could become something better; maybe he could overpass the sins of his forefathers and even rise about them.
Maybe he didn't need to kill himself.