 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Running: Chapter two
Posted By: Ordinary kronos
Date: 7 May 2007, 11:37 pm
Read/Post Comments
|
This chapter sucks especially worse that the first. Hurray!
And the titles are even worse.
CHAPTER TWO: CAMP
Before he could Even Blink, the think was on top of him. It slammed the rock into the side of 'Zurree's head and sent his helmet flying off into the foliage and made him see stars, nearly knocking himself off balance. He staggered back, looking for anything to stabilize him when the thing bulled forward, flailing its arms in an attempt to kill the dazed field master.
'Zurree could barely see when the Combat form slammed into him, bulling him straight into a gnarled, moss covered tree.
'Zurree's mind was concluded, and he found himself staring straight into the thing's throbbing torso were four small tentacles were writhing and reaching for him. It was wrapping its tentacles around his neck and tightening ever so slowly around his neck when the tell-tale report of a carbine echoed throughout the area.
'Zurree felt the monster grow limp and fall back into a mass of putrid liquefied flesh and decrepit excrement.
'Zurree's legs had turned to jelly and he stood their, quivering like a newborn grunt.
The minor domo was waist deep in a filthy lake, the carbine smoking….and a nervous grin on the minors face.
'Zurree couldn't help but to grin too….It was strange. He bent over and picked up his dented helmet, frowning.
"So much for 'dent proof '. Those Engineers….."
He replaced in on his head, and gave a curt nod to the minor.
"Thank you brother; let us continue."
The minor turned and waded through the lake, and motioned for 'Zurree to follow.
'Zurree was going to refuse, but the fact that he could hear more of them coming made him think twice.
'Zurree and the minor were nearly neck deep in warm, murky water with thick clouds of the insects floating above the surface. The Minor was actually almost entirely under, but just barely above.
After about a minute of wading through the slop they finally made it to the other side of the lake, and to what was thought to be salvation.
They were oh so wrong.
The sound of combat neared, it was close; human weapons fire. The pair of elites cautiously approached the scene, waiting for the fire to die down.
'Zurree slowly approached the place of combat, and after a quick observation realized it was already over.
Five dead humans lie were they stood, their weapons lying beside them.
"Strange…"
The minor muttered, kicking one of the bodies, in the process disturbing the puddle of blood under the human to ripple.
Suddenly out of the trees poured hundreds of the infection forms, leaping and dancing about on their little tentacles.
A grenade flew out of the opposing bushes and landed into the middle of the hundreds of obscene creatures, exploding taking out a majority of them with after explosions taking out the rest.
The minor pivoted and brought his rifle to bear.
"show yourself; friend or foe?"
After a quick rustling and some silence, elite in white armor materialized out of thin air.
"Speco ops Commander Rtas 'Vadumee. Greetings Field Master, Minor."
'Zurree visibly frowned. He despised that elite so much! Coming in stealth, addressing him improperly when he ranked the fool by over two levels! He should have him demoted when they return to the Truth And Reconciliation.
"Greetings, 'Vandumee. How is the platoon holding up?"
The Minor asked, raising his right hand as a sign of respect.
"Come see for yourself, you too Field Master."
The elite replied with a throaty chuckle, disappearing into the landscape again.
" Cursed active camouflage!"
'Zurree followed the minor for another five minutes, running into more and more flood forms, combat and otherwise and having to scavenge weapons from the decrepit corpses,
The two finally arrived at the phantom.
The phantom had become a sort of minor HQ while they attempt to find any survivors from the squadron of elites they had sent deep into that cursed forerunner structure.
They had set up a wall made of energy shields, stationary turrets and the smaller plasma cannons. He entered the camp easily enough, once they recognized that he was the ranking officer in the entire swamp.
The previous ranking officer fell prey to the flood, and due to his foolishness the camp fell into disarray, command going to the person who called it.
The commander since the accident was a derelict zealot named Kanx 'onsomee.
The Zealot was in the phantom, which was floating a few hundred feet above the camp, and he gladly allowed the entrance of 'Zurree and the other officer, 'Vandumee.
"Welcome Field master, Commander,"
'Onsomee sighed, raising his left hand and with his right rubbed his eyes.
"The Parasite has been released, and we are nearly successfully driving them off."
'Zurree did not like the word 'nearly', but he listened the lower ranking officer's spiel.
"Our forces have driven them back to the hatch and have sealed them off again, and to make sure they stay there we are reinforcing the area with more troops. The Spirit carrying them should have been at the location hours ago……"
"And how many soldiers do we have left here, brother?"
'Zurree inquired. The Zealot beat around the bush by replying.
"With the reinforcements we have from the spirit about forty."
"But how many soldiers do we have here?"
'Zurree asked again, aggravation clear in his voice.
"Not enough."
'Vandumee interjected. The Zealot didn't say a word to disvalue this statement.
A battle against the flood had started groundside, hundreds of combat forms rushed for the shades, which the grunts quickly replied with heavy fire from both plasma cannon and shade turrets. Flood blood drenched the shields, dripping off and being soaked into the mud.
Too many of them. They leapt over the makeshift barricades, sending grunts flying off their turrets to be swarmed and devoured by the ravenous infection forms. The few jackal majors formed a rough shield wall to protect the gravity lift leading to the Phantom. A few spec ops drew their swords for one last stand, throwing a quick salvo of grenades they charged into the tide of gibbering, hooting, and honking monsters.
An explosion that could be compared to a lotus anti-tank mine detonation caused the jackals to be temporarily blinded when the blue light of plasma became as intense as the sun's light.
The sound finally died down, and chunks of meat rained down upon the now silent camp. The surviving seven jackals and the one minor elite were now drenched with blood and totally confused.
What had just happened? Had they won? Two of the jackals went to the outskirts of the camp, avoiding weapons containers and blackened, sizzling bodies of unknown race. They looked about, and one was about to tell the others it was fine with out a nearby bush shot over ten thousand infection forms, they overwhelmed the jackals before they could even fire or make a sound.
The remaining jackals opened fire but it wasn't enough to stop them. They leapt upon the small formation, killing every single jackal and regardless of that one minor's best efforts, he too succumbed to the floods horrors …
|
