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Destiny's Instrument by Big Bad Kitty
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Destiny's Instrument - Chapter 1: Reconnaissance and Repose
Date: 19 May 2007, 3:15 am
Ninth Age of Reclamation (Year 2549 in human measurements)
The steady whine of the Covenant banshee gliders filled the heavy, humid jungle air as the pair of flyers swept low over the treetops. Their wingtips glowed an intense purple-white, and left a trail of white-hot energy in their wake as they skimmed the top of the dense, swampy jungle.
The Elite named Ranu'Naramee scanned the dark, green-tinted forest as his glider passed over it, searching the quagmire for any signs of the human filth. His blue-gray skinned hands grasped the two steering mechanisms tightly, all four fingers locked in a death grip so the flyer would not sway from its intended path.
"Naramee, the sweep of sector 11 is complete, let us return to Destiny's Instrument at once," said the low, garbled voice of Naramee's wingman: Arza'Farumee.
"I agree, Farumee, our search was disappointing at best," Naramee held his ferocious anger at failing at detecting the interlopers for the fourth time in eight units.
Naramee pressed a floating, holographic symbol on the control panel in front of him, redirecting the energy that fueled the glider's twin plasma cannons to the thrusters. His Banshee doubled in speed, shrieking with renewed vigor.
Soon, the looming shadow of Destiny's Instrument was visible in the thick cloud cover that blanketed the morning sky on the planet Troth, like a giant whale hanging lazily in the air.
Naramee slowed his Banshee considerably as he heard the familiar voice of Hanger A-29C's overseer: Braukus.
"Incoming flyers identified, class R-312 LRG, you are cleared for entry onto the blessed halls of Destiny's Instrument.
Naramee guided his purple flyer into the side of the huge, silver flagship, landing on a floating platform hovering 18 units above the bottom deck of hanger A-29C.
"Your search was unsuccessful, I presume?" The Jiralhanae named Braukus strode up to Naramee and Farumee, both hands gripping a powerful EPLD (Explosive Pod Launching Device).
"Affirmative," said Farumee shortly, barely masking the loathing that he felt towards the Jiralhanae, Braukus especially.
"Well done, Sangheili, well done," Braukus chuckled, lowering his EPLD, and turning to walk back to the hanger control panel.
"I would rather be made the next Arbiter than be forced to fight alongside these... mongrels," said Farumee, clicking his mandibles loudly.
"I agree, brother, they are barbaric beasts," Naramee clasped his four-fingered hand on Farumee's white-plated shoulder. "The Prophets' trust is mislead in accepting these... brutes into the holy ranks of the Covenant."
Naramee and Farumee returned to the living chambers, disgruntled after another failed day of recon.
The Brute named Arahnas scanned the horizon. Jungle as far as the eye could see. He shook his head, sending water droplets in all directions. He, like most Jiralhanae, hated water with a vengeance. This jungle was full of it. It floated in the air, ran along the ground, and even soaked every single thing, living or not, on this filthy planet.
He could remember his homeworld vividly. A relatively small world, covered almost completely with fields and mountains. It had only one source of water. The Varagohg Sea. It was here Arahnas remembered he and his clan making a final stand against the invading forces known as the Covenant. He had hated them then, and grown to love and revere them now. All except for the Sangheili. He still hated those slimy, split-jawed cretins. They had burnt his clan's growing fields, destroyed his village, and crushed nearly a season's worth of planting. Now he was expected to fight alongside them as brothers? Bah.
A large explosion somewhat nearby shook Arahnas out of his memories, and back to the present.
"Form the phalanx!" He shouted to the four Jiralhanae surrounding him, each holding a large hammer called the Fist of Rukt, named after the high chieftan of the clans on his homeworld, who had fallen valiantly in battle defending his village against the Covenant.
"Humans, ahead and behind!" shouted the Jiralhanae to Arahnas' left, growling menacingly.
"Move as one, fight as one, paint the ground with their entrails!"
Arahnas raised his hammer, rushing towards the nearest human. He swung hard, the hammer connecting with the human's frail torso. The sound of breaking bones, tearing flesh, and splattering blood filled the air. This was what the Jiralhanae lived for.
"Oh, god, it's berserking!" Arahnas heard the human scream, as he grasped his Fist of Rukt in his right hand, sinking into a low yet speedy hobble at the pink-skinned alien.
Crimson blood splattered Arahnas' face and armor. He licked it from his lips. Human blood was his favorite, so sweet and intoxicating.
"Riders, to the left!" Bellowed the Jiralhanae behind Arahnas in the phalanx. They turned as one, facing the incoming humans riding their four-wheeled vehicles through the murk, sending mud and water in all directions.
"Make them suffer!" Yelled Arahnas, rushing the nearest vehicle. He swung the hammer around, hitting the vehicle's frontside. A deafening bang sounded from the vehicle's gas tank exploding, making his ears ring, but he kept going, unscathed, as fire licked his fur and flesh.
Human after human fell in the thick murk. Arahnas roared in fury, shattering spine after spine, crushing foe after foe. The memory of his clan dying around him filled his mind, filling him with the rage he needed to destroy the filth. This is what he lived for, this is what his clan died for.
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