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Beiarusia
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 10646
Founded: Dec 29, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Beiarusia » Fri Aug 24, 2018 5:59 pm

Pvt. Maple Rier
Unknown Landing Site, Installation 04 (Alpha Halo), Threshold, Soell System
September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time


Rier peeked out from cover to risk another burst of suppressive fire. Really, it was all she could do at this range, her SMG proving itself more an annoyance than a genuine threat, but every bit helped, and the Covenant (or what was left) was forced back with lead flying in all directions. No chance of regrouping. No chance of winning this skirmish. The young, wayward Army Trooper pushed away the troublesome thoughts — of the war, of their being stranded on some alien ring-world, of home burned to glass — to focus on the here-and-now, a rare UNSC victory, small and insignificant but meaningful all the same. Rier, having lost so much, was apathetic to the prospect of long-term survival, and was surprised to have made it thus far, and although fearful of oblivion she wasn't at all opposed to being freed of the burden of continued existence, but, in the heat of the moment, she fought all the same, clawing against an unstoppable force if only to be granted another minute, if not for herself then for her brothers-in-arms.

To do otherwise would be selfish.

Then Dubbo screamed. Rier sputtered, her focus sidetracked by the high-pitched shriek, and, turning to look over her shoulder, she, too, yelled out in surprise. A Brute Chieftain was standing just behind them, Gravity Hammer raised high, looking almost uncertain, as if caught off-guard by the screaming. This was quickly followed by a blur of green. The Spartan, Ingrid-045, dispatched the alien mercilessly and efficiently. Messily.

A moment of stunned silence, and then the Spartan spoke. "Echo-419 is inbound," she informed.

The fighting had stopped. All Covenant KIA, as were many UNSC soldiers.

Rier got to her feet, shaking, and speckled in the scarlet blood of the Brute, uncertain on what to do as Sergeant Wilson, Specialist Crawford, and Ingrid-045 moved to assist those inside the downed Pelican. A pair of ODST joined them down in the narrow valley.

"Hey! You backpacks alright?" called the woman hefting the SRS.

"Backpacker?" Rier muttered to herself, standing awkwardly out of the way.

Sergeant Wilson, who'd returned from the Pelican, and Sergeant Lehkonen appeared to have some issue with the ODST snipers. Or maybe it was just friendly banter. Rier's nerves were too frazzled to know one way or the other. Playful joking wasn't at all uncommon, but the long-timers seemed to be more brutal than recruits on Reach.

Ingrid-045 and her A.I. hitchhiker returned with good and bad news. The bad: Echo-419 was caught behind enemy AA. The good: a Warthog had come down with Bravo-141 (now a smoldering wreck) and was more-or-less in drivable condition. Stuck on some rocks, but the Spartan resolved that issue with some brute force. Unlike the standard LRV, this Warthog sported a troop bay with just enough room for everybody if they squeezed in tight. Sardines in a tin can. The Warthog had obviously suffered a few bangs, mostly from being dropped from a height of 100 meters, and the engine, while running, did so with a hiccup that was a tad bit concerning to hear, especially for someone trained in keeping such machines up and running. It would get them to where they needed but not much further.

That wasn't even considering the body damage.

Not that Rier had the time or opportunity to make herself useful. They were racing the clock, and the Warthog was in good enough condition to serve its purpose. The opinions and concerns of a mechanic were of little importance in the grand scheme. So she said nothing and hopped aboard with the others, hoping she wouldn't have to sit in someone's lap.

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Kentucky Fried Land
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Posts: 1638
Founded: May 11, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Kentucky Fried Land » Fri Aug 24, 2018 10:25 pm

Staff Sergeant Julia Everett
Meeting

Everett looked with disappointment and a bitter squint at the scene. She had followed Charlotte down the hill, careful to make sure no Covenant flanked them and Charlotte didn’t fuck anything up. She was… nice. She was probably the closest thing to a friend that Everett could claim to, but she was mouthy. Borderline insubordinate at times. A good soldier at times, but she was in no way a company gal and that was something that Everett could never respect.

Charlotte already seemed in verbal battle with two other soldiers as Julia approached, grimacing under her visor and adjusting her gun. The macho bullshit that was prevalent still to this day. Celebration and friendly banter was one thing, but the dick-measuring contests that the different branches had flung onto each other. Some sort of primal, territorial, idiotic form of flag waving that only served to separate the soldiers. And for what?

“Take the ammo yourself, Sergeant.” Julia deadpanned with command, something she had found herself good at as of late. Her frequent promotions had led to a multitude of courses in public speaking and projecting her voice and dammit if she hadn't improved. “Corporal Mailloux, Warthog.” She shifted past them, avoiding the corpses strewn about the Pelican. They weren't her cross to bear. People died. That was just the way it was.

Julia climbed into the back of the Warthog, turning around and gripping Charlotte’s arm. She pulled and the soldier was on the back. Julia mulled over talking to Charlotte about calling those two soldiers back there backpackers; but a lecture wasn't what anyone needed right now. Instead, she got down in the seat, gripping the side of the Warthog. She glanced over the soldiers in the Warthog already, now sitting next to some private girl that reeked of freshness. Julia could tell from one look over her and her armor that she was out of her element.

But then again, wasn't Julia out of her element too?
Last edited by Kentucky Fried Land on Fri Aug 24, 2018 10:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Hastur
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 143
Founded: Jul 01, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Hastur » Sun Aug 26, 2018 6:03 pm

// Corporal Charlotte Mailloux //
// 105th shock troops division - Force recon battalion - Juliet company //
// September 19, 2552 //

// Soell system - Above Alpha Halo - UNSC Pillar Of Autumn //





"Who you calling a backpacker you Obese Dick Shit Trooper?"

Charlotte cracked a faint smirk as a man clad in ODST armour and bearing a chain-gun stomped forward. Sending out a set of vulgar expletives which appeared to be a not so clever play on words. His crude insult covering each letter within her units name, giving off the indication that he perhaps wasn't the hugest fan of the pair already.  "You want to help, carry these." the Man spat before moving closer, lifting a series of 7.62mm ammo bandoliers from around his neck before offering them outwards to her.

"Fuck sakes guys. If I knew we'd be passing out presents, I would have picked something up at the duty free."Charlotte ribbed in a mocking tone. Picking up the balondiers before slinging them around own collar despite her squad leads orders. Quickly ensuring that the cartridges where free of her chest rig so she could still access her own ammunition.  It presumably wasn't the brightest solution to give the individual who'd have the most distance away from the group the belts for the machine gun. She suspected it'd be purely temporary. At least she until she could hand the fuckers off to some other poor schmuck.

"Glad to see you've found a way to make these wannabe badasses useful, Marc. Besides, this sniper here can't shoot for shit. I've seen blind grandmothers with faster target acquisition."

Her mind was speedily caught by another sniper. This one flipping two birds before chiming in with another taunt directed at her marksmanship and apparent uselessness, assumedly utttered from beyond a large shit eating grin hidden below his mask. It was a lot more hostile than the previous wordplay, but nothing she wasn't used to by now. Charlotte again simply smirked, shifting herself to face the guy, bidding him a swift and casual middle fingered salute. "I'm humble that you took the time out of your day to scrutinize my target acquisition." Charlotte mocked in a sardonic fashion, her tone light as she lifted her rifle up, holding it by closely by her chest. "But maybe instead of doing that, you could, you know, operate that anti-material rifle that the UNSC has spent tax payers money training you to use, and kill some covies, you fuckin' fruit."

Any further banter however was immediately cut short by the arrival of the herculean Spartan II. Who had just raised a transport warthog over their head to out of a rather tight spot. Doing it in their typical melodramatic fashion that they had become known for, or that's at least how she looked at it, not being their biggest fan. Although the walking death machines where becoming a much rarer sight these days. An older looking sergeant major appeared with it, himself looking like he had been through the full span of the war, and quickly began quickly giving out orders. Instructing the various soldiers that they'd be mounting up and keeping some AA platforms busy, so that a pelican could pick the remaining forces. Somewhere in that plan, they had been thoughtfully included.

“Corporal Mailloux, Warthog.”

Charlotte accompanied her squadlead. Picking up the immense rifle and climbing into the vehicle with the assitance from Julia. Getting properly seated in the rear of the closely packed infantry carrier as it got ready to move out, readying the rifle as she kept a close eye around her, watching the ridgelines carefully for movement.
Last edited by Hastur on Sun Aug 26, 2018 6:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the desert. Hurting. Longing. Dancing to disco music.

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New Finnish Republic
Minister
 
Posts: 2588
Founded: Mar 30, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby New Finnish Republic » Sun Aug 26, 2018 9:16 pm

Sergeant Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Unidentified Landing Site
September 19, 2552


"But maybe instead of doing that, you could, you know, operate that anti-material rifle that the UNSC has spent tax payers money training you to use, and kill some covies, you fuckin' fruit."

Matti rolled his eyes at the comment. If only she knew just how much I've operated this fucking thing, he thought to himself as he prepared to make a retort back to the ODST before suddenly he felt his helmet being smashed onto his head. He hadn't even had a chance to utter out an expletive ridden question as to who had done it when a commanding voice spoke out.

"We're not in a green zone, keep your helmets on."

For possibly the first time in his life, Matti kept his mouth shut.

The Spartan had news for the ragtag unit that had been assembled here. They were tasked with eliminating Covenant AA positions that were making life for Echo-419 hell. When news of the distance came by, Matti had already began to mentally prepare for the trek when Ingrid pointed at a Warthog previously dropped by Bravo-141. Matti shared the sentiment that most of the others seemed to have in wondering how the Spartan expected them to possibly operate the thing, but the Spartan did what her kind did best and did the impossible.

Do I ever feel bad for the guy that hops under the sheets with her, Matti thought with a shake of his head as he reluctantly got up from his sitting position, taking care to stretch out his legs a bit in preparation for what was likely going to be a cramped and bumpy ride. Slapping Wilson on the shoulder, he pointed out to a corner of the back portion of the vehicle.

"Better grab a spot quick or else your fat ass is going to be hanging out the back."

Hopping into the back, it was indeed as crowded as expected. Who needs seatbelts when you're dick to ass the whole ride, he thought with a grimace as he tried to secure a position where he easily hop out if shit hit the fan. As the vehicle took off, his eyes scanned the eviornment around them, still utterly clueless on what they had even landed on. Maintaining his watch over the environent for signs of enemy movement, Matti quietly spoke up to Wilson next to him.

"You know, something is really fucking bothering me here. This thing obviously isn't a planet, but it has all the atmospheric levels of one. This shit isn't human, and I'll be damned if I'd say this thing looked like to be Covenant."

Underneath his helmet, Matti's mouth turned into a worried frown.

"So just what in the fuck are we even dealing with here?"
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Vacif
Senator
 
Posts: 4703
Founded: Mar 22, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vacif » Mon Aug 27, 2018 2:57 pm

Specialist Holdin Crawford
Unknown Location, Bravo-141 Crashsight
September 19, 2552


From the inside, he could hear the sounds of new arrivals, in the form of the rest of the squad and what sounded like some hot shot shock troopers. Their introduction was none other than a jab at the army. Holdin gave off a small smirk at the thought of their situation. No matter the danger, or place there was always inter-branch rivalry and name calling. In a way, while Holdin was feeling pretty grim about their standing, yet he couldn't help but smile at the life and personality of some people even in the face of death or dire situations. Kind of like a bold show of defiance against reality that they wouldn't give up living just because their end was immanent. Holdin paused, he wasn't sure where this train of thought came from, knee deep in cooked human. He shook his head vigorously, back to reality. Holdin hastily hurried up what he was doing in the now cooked blood tray.

Holdin gave off a light cough as he exited the burnt out remains of the pelican's blood bay. With how the fuel rod from the banshee tore into it, he was amazed anyone made it out. The smell was god awful, nauseating really. Holdin frustratedly wondered to himself how many times he'd done this. Salvaged from the dead, fought towards a motley group of survivors when their starting number was much greater. He knelt down to the neat pile of ordnance he was able to scavenge, and deposit the last of what he could find. The haul consisted of 2 SRS99s, 15 M7s, 5 M6Ds, 14 M6Gs, and a dozen or two M9 HEDPs. On top of those were the accompanying munitions that went with the weapons. Luckily there were enough intact backpacks to carry the salvaged munitions. Due to their shortage of time, the backpacks and equipment were inoptimally packed but that didn't quite matter right now. They had a new pressing concern.

It was foolish to think that they could finally catch a break. After Reach, the Autumn, their first crash, and now the second. With the luck that they would have to make themselves, hopefully there wouldn't be a third. Covenant Anti-air held the air corridor between us and exfil, and they would have to eliminate it before they could make their get away. Though before they could get there they needed transport, something that was in an almost comedic way provided by the Chief. Holdin had seen the Spartans in action at Alexandria, helping clear the skies for the civilian evacuation but watching the Chief lift an entire 'hog almost over her head was something else still. For a brief moment he thought the Spartan would throw the M831 at them, but after it was unceremoniously dropped onto the ground, seemingly fine, their miserable band of misfits split up and made their way to the warthog. He wasn't a mechanic like Rier, but he was pretty sure the Warthog shouldn't have been okay after everything that happened. Regardless they didn't have many options and maybe the Spartan's luck would shed off on them.

Holdin kept pace with the rest of the team after picking up his gear. Despite not actually resting much, he was feeling much better. Even if his breather was in a burnt out pelican. Holdin removed his hefty ammo bag and hooked it up to the side of the transport's hull. Hoisting himself up, he seated himself near the very back of the transport.

As they rode, Loki said something that wasn't inherently insulting for once. "You know, something is really fucking bothering me here. This thing obviously isn't a planet, but it has all the atmospheric levels of one. This shit isn't human, and I'll be damned if I'd say this thing looked like to be Covenant. So just what in the fuck are we even dealing with here?""

The automatic rifleman clutched the roll cage, and his weapon as he bounced about lightly in his seat. "Alien space bullshit." Holdin said nonchalantly. "But in all seriousness, I'm no planet expert but I doubt the existence of a natural ring planet. We sure as hell didn't build this, the Covenant probably didn't build it or else it would be purple, and we'd be up to our eyes in shit, so... more aliens. Only thing I can think of. It honestly isn't too far fetched to believe that there are other aliens out there actually. Hell the Covenant apparently have an alien non-combat staff so there's probably a bunch more aliens we haven't seen."
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Nation name pronounced Vuh-sea-f, sometimes shortened to Vac, or 'Cif.

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Tayner
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 7776
Founded: Oct 09, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Tayner » Mon Aug 27, 2018 7:37 pm

Sergeant Marc Wilson
Unidentified Landing Site, Halo
September 19, 2552 // 0220 Hours MST


"Ha, very funny Lehkonen." Mar said as he made his own jab at the ODSTs.

"“Take the ammo yourself, Sergeant.” The Staff Sergeant spat. Marc stood there for a second, trying to figure out the best way to call her a fucking boot before the other ODST snatched the belts from his grip.

"Fuck sakes guys. If I knew we'd be passing out presents, I would have picked something up at the duty free." She mocked.

"Careful there Corporal, that's live ammunition you're handling." He retorted in a equally mocking tone.

"I'm humble that you took the time out of your day to scrutinize my target acquisition. But maybe instead of doing that, you could, you know, operate that anti-material rifle that the UNSC has spent tax payers money training you to use, and kill some covies, you fuckin' fruit."

"Oh, shit, she called you out for the apple eatin' motherfucker you are!" Marc said in the background. "That's how you sling shit, by the way, Staff Sergeant." He again spoke, in the background.

It wasn't long, however, until the Spartan encroached upon the group, taking Matti's helmet and nearly braining the Finn while slamming it back over his ugly mug. "We're not in a green zone, keep your helmets on." She ordered, and Marc complied.

"Aye aye, ma'am." He said, using his free hand to place his own helmet back on his head. As the Spartan walked off, Marc and Matti both looked at eachother through their polarized visors, not needing to speak or even see the other to communicate the message. A viral case of stick-in-ass seemes to be going around. The duo also made their way to the transport provided. At least Ingrid handled the warthog, instead of the entire team having to do it.

"Better grab a spot quick or else your fat ass is going to be hanging out the back." Matti said, notioning to the rear quarter of the truck.

"At least my fat ass doesn't belong stung out over the hood." He replied. "Hold this." He said as he handed off his weapon to the sniper who had already sat down. He then proceeded to pull himself into one of the seats before reclaiming his weapon. It wouldn't be comfortable, and if he sat the wrong way he could very easily be tossed over the edge, but he would manage. As the team set out, the group went on to speculate about the locale.

"You know, something is really fucking bothering me here. This thing obviously isn't a planet, but it has all the atmospheric levels of one. This shit isn't human, and I'll be damned if I'd say this thing looked like to be Covenant." Matti started.

"I'm no planet expert but I doubt the existence of a natural ring planet. We sure as hell didn't build this, the Covenant probably didn't build it or else it would be purple, and we'd be up to our eyes in shit, so... more aliens. Only thing I can think of. It honestly isn't too far fetched to believe that there are other aliens out there actually. Hell the Covenant apparently have an alien non-combat staff so there's probably a bunch more aliens we haven't seen." One of the soldiers, Crawford, spoke up.

"Doesn't matter." Marc stated bluntly. "We're off our reservation, but I'm sure when the time comes, whoever built this place bleeds like the rest of us." He said, one hand gripping his weapon like a vice with another gripping the roll cage. "Fuckin' hell, the extra 30 credits for seatbelts would've been too much, huh?" He muttered to himself after they traveled over an extra treacherous piece of terrain.
Last edited by Tayner on Wed Aug 29, 2018 6:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Turmenista
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5765
Founded: Apr 09, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Turmenista » Tue Aug 28, 2018 7:18 pm

    Ensign Thomas Bradley
    Halo / 2552

    Tough Luck, Catch, IWHBYD, and Black Eye: ON

Stepping off the Revenant during their brief moment of respite, Bradley inspected the damage to the alien vehicle, whilst also making sure to pluck a few Covenant souvenirs from the battlefield, namely, an Elite's plasma pistol, which might've seemed like a rather unintelligent choice to anyone who knew the gun was effectively a Covenant's version of a pea shooter (one that shot superheated plasma, though), but could easily de-shield or down a Banshee with its charged shot. Followed up with a headshot with a M6, an Elite or Brute could be taken down rather easily and quickly.

Taking no mind into the conversation and banter that took place in the background — save for the predicament Echo-419 was in involving the Covie anti-air — Ensign Bradley overlooked the vehicle before him, somewhat zoning out as he toned back into the real world for a moment, turning to the left. He dryly let out an inaudible "fuck" in his head when he saw Blue team's resident super soldier jog over to him. Normally, he would be pleased to be in the presence of an ironclad half-a-ton killing machine considering one saved his life years ago, but this move undoubtedly meant that he was—Egads!—Actually needed for something for once! What could Ensign Thomas Bradley's presence be needed for this time?

Then... it dawned upon him: he was needed for something, which likely meant that he was about to be thrust face first either into a tech-based problem with Covenant ready to slam him, or, worse, to be a point man. Bradley crossed his fingers as the Spartan walked up to him like a fluid machine, looking at the ONI COMTECH that had taken a liking to the Revenant he commandeered. Bradley uneasily looked back at the Spartan's visor, unpolarizing his own. "Chief?"

"Bradley, I'm assuming you've got a good enough handle on things on your end," The Master Chief said, her voice as monotonous as usual. "So you're gonna be a psuedo-bait."

Oh fuck me raw "Sure thing, Chief. I figured the Plasma Mortar's operational and I blasted a Brute with it earlier. Just make sure... you have my back. Please."

Yeah, sure thing. I get to go toe to toe with AA Wraiths that shoot goddamn automatic fuel rods while all I have is... this thing. Stepping back onto the Revenant and starting it up, Bradley now realized how pathetic his Revenant was in comparison to the AA Wraiths he was about to face. One was a colossal, armored beast with a rapid fire fuel rod cannon that could take down a Pelican in seconds, and the other was some small thing that happened to have a plasma mortar in its back. In the Covenant's ignorance, though, the Wraith had been left with several glaring weaknesses, including poor mobility, a slower "boost", and a highly-visible weak spot on the rear that was some sort of valuable part. Taking that out or damaging it would quickly lead to a Wraith's destruction, but it wouldn't be easy to make it far when everything around any given Wraith was trying to shoot at a Revenant that wasn't theirs.

Then he got an idea...

Thinking, Bradley brought up his TACPAD and activated his translation software, leaning down to the side slightly and taking his blowtorch from his side. He cut a hole into part of the Revenant's midsection separating the left seat from the right, while also accessing the vehicle's schematics straight from the alien's console itself. According to the console, one of the wires "hand-constructed by the best artisans" controlled a Covenant version of IFF, which automatically identified friendly Covenant land and aerial vehicles and distinguished them from glaring human vehicles, such as the large Warthog that followed close behind him, marked as a large red dot on the motion tracker and heads up display of the vehicle.

One of these should control that function... or.. Bradley looked through the schematics then reached down and took hold of one of the wires in question, yanking it out of whatever plug it had been plugged into, while also tapping something along the lines of a "RESET" on the console. The Covenant IFF device then glitched, now frozen in its "ACTIVE" state (as opposed to its activated failsafe form from earlier). If his suspicions were correct, this meant that the Revenant would now be marked as friendly to the Covenant until... hell, until it blew up?

Bradley giggled gleefully like a mad scientist, taking the "steering wheel" of the alien vehicle. "Hey, I did something," he said over COMMS to the rest of the attacking party, managing to hold in his excitement. "The Revenant had a failsafe on it that marked it as hostile if it was hijacked. I eliminated that failsafe. Now, it's broadcasting that this Revenant is still friendly to the Covies, meaning I've made this into a Trojan horse. They'll have a harder time tracking something that's on their side, that's for sure. That can give you enough time to do some damage with the Warthog while I disable the shades and distract the Wraiths."
Last edited by Turmenista on Tue Aug 28, 2018 7:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Ubaria
Minister
 
Posts: 2712
Founded: Sep 14, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Ubaria » Wed Aug 29, 2018 7:48 pm

Corporal Viktor Isias
Bravo-141 Crash Site - Unknown Location // September 2552
Once more unto the breach


Taking a seat nearer to the tailgate of the Warthog's passenger compartment, Viktor dusted off the film of charred dirt stuck to the MA5C he had obtained not too far from the crash site, the weapon was still in an operational condition and a quick check of the chamber showed that no abnormalities would prevent the rifle from jamming or worse upon firing. The last thing Viktor wanted was to die at the hands of his own weapon, he had come too far to let that be the end of his career.

It didn't take a moment for the battered Warthog to shudder into life, the twelve liter beast active under the hood growled gratifyingly despite the obvious defacement to her exterior panels, it further served the legendary reputation that the vehicle had for it's indestructible nature and if reports were to be believed, they could survive a drop from low orbit and survive unscathed. If only the same could be said for ODST's, of which several shared the passenger bay of the 'Hog.

"So just what in the fuck are we even dealing with here?"

Viktor looked over and responded with a simple 'fuck if i know' shrug and turned back to sight of the crashed Pelican slowly vanishing behind the alien terrain, only to be drawn back into the conversation by the familiar Finnish twang of one of the soldiers.

"M - Matti? Marc. That you two?" Viktor leaned over in astonishment. If these were the same Marc Wilson and Matti Lehkonen he was thinking of, the pair had served alongside Viktor during their time in the same 12th Force Recon unit, a unit of which now was now presumably entirely decimated following the destruction of Reach, it was possible that the trio were the last surviving members.

"It's Viktor!" The soldier brushed the soot off his face and gave a tired yet ingenuous grin.

"Matti. Everybody thought your red headed ass had been killed on Llanelli! And Marc. You vanished after Meridian. Where the fuck did you both go? "
Last edited by Ubaria on Wed Aug 29, 2018 8:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Anowa
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 16852
Founded: Jul 29, 2014
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Anowa » Thu Aug 30, 2018 6:01 pm

MCPO Ingrid-045
En Route to AAA Canyon

September 19, 2552 // 0224 Military Standard Time
Posse Up.


As the vehicle finally started moving, Ingrid couldn't help but agree to the scuttlebutt going on behind her. Whatever they were on wasn't Covenant, they weren't capable of this, hell given reports they were hardly capable of eliminating major weak points on their vehicles despite nearly 30 years of war.

Ingrid remained silent, Rier below her sitting somewhat silently and contemplative. Ingrid couldn't help but be remined of Gillian, and how meek she was when Mobuto first made them run drills together. A phantom pain washed over her left arm, a wound from long past and something that nearly killed her. The one and only time a wild animal came close to doing so, shredding her skin and leaving her bloodied and freeezing high in Reach's mountains, were it not for her team, her family then, she wouldn't be here now. Casting a slight glance behind her into the rear at those crammed in, she felt a sense of, something. She couldn't pin what, but it was gone as swiftly as it came.

Kleo decided that was the time to speak up, through Ingrid's helmet speakers, the AI gave some rather insightful news, "So, found something you all might find a bit enlightening on the Covenant Battle Net, two shipmasters have been executed following suggestions to use their ship grade weapons to fire on the surface of the ring. Apparently this ring is to them what the Garden of Eden is to us."

Dubbo hummed, "Well, at least we got Matti for any Covie rabbis we find."

Grim continued, "More importantly, it means we won't get slapped by a plasma torpedo."

Kleo continued, "Precisely. Furthermore, apparently a number of ship based specialists and vehicle crews are trying to figure out why... Oh."

Ingrid mimicked the AI, apparently in concern, though given how unexcited her voice was, it could've been anything, "Oh?"

The radio chimed on, the AI needing to speak to someone else, "Bradley whatever you did is now informing every Covenant soldier in front of a signals reader within 4 AU that's you're on the ring."

Ingrid was about to ask why Bradley had fucked with the IFF, when he was supposed to be bait, but Dubbo summed up what everyone was likely thinking at that point, "Thom, you fucking drongo."

The gruff voice of the resident geriatric echoed above the engine, "Shut up children, we're here!"

Lo and behold the canyon where the AA was set up was now in full view, at the far end an AA cannon, and throughout the canyon a number of AA Wraiths. Two in immediate view, though both now looking at the mouth of the canyon, specifically the unarmed Hog now running into it. A good 700 meters were between them and the far side, occupied by a number of squads and in immediate view, snipers.

And the wraiths were now aimed downwards.

"Grim." came a monotone declaration.

"Yeah I got it! If you have seatbelts, put them on. Or just hold on to something!" as they pulled into a fuller area of the canyon, Grim started to veer right, towards the Wraith on that side. Fuel rods screaming just past them as Grim drove like an old man without his license. Which was probably how he drove normally. Some passed within feet, some brazenly peeled the paint off the hog by the heat. Eventually the barrage stopped, the guns needing to be cooled.

As Bradley joined them, his intended effect of tricking the Covies worked, perhaps a bit too well, as exactly nothing began to fire on him, instead focusing their fire on the already battered warthog. Plasma splashing into it, and if not missing those in the bay, miraculously only splashing off their armored plating without any fatal effects. Though in short order Ingrid could feel the vehicle start to fail after such a haphazard barrage from the nearby squad of covenant soldiers. Her eyes caught something coming from them.

A very bright and very big ball of green, that unlike it's explosive brothers that had just stopped, was homing. It smacked with what could be described as a meaty whack upon the driver's side.

In a second, Grim's charge towards the wraith stopped dead. The warthog sliding to a pitiful stop some 12 meters from the wraith, which would begin it's barrage in mere seconds. The Old man's voice reaching a volume that, by comparison drowned out the fire all but washing them in high temperature death. "Dismount! DISMOUNT!"

Ingrid, grabbed Rier's collar in one hand, and Dubbo's -who was sitting right behind her- in the other, all but throwing them free of the vehicle as things slowed down. Emerald green blobs of plasma the size of the Spartan's head were slowly burning towards them at a pace that was startlingly fast for the normal humans among them, hell, it was startling for Ingrid, but unlike her unaugmented companions, she had time to think.

As her feet slammed into the grass and dirt, She grabbed the frame of the Hog, even as people were jumping free. The sound of metal wrenching as her hand crumpled the titanium plate, and she pulled hard. The Warthog lurched, more than a foot and a half. But it was enough for a few on board, those who were slow on the draw would have the massive rods pass within inches of them, if not peeling paint off their gear, than causing blisters. Among them Matti, the paint on his armor peeling off and the softer polymers anf fabrics setting alight and boiling as the massive fuel rod caught his back in it's aura of radioactive fire. Even underneath his armor and ruck, it'd likely cause severe second degree burns, cracked skin and blisters.

As the first rod struck the Hog, it exploded into a brilliant green, washing pretty much everyone in the heat of a second sun, including Ingrid, her skin heating even underneath the shielding and titanium shell she wore. The vehicle gave a secondary detonation, the sole person caught in it directly, Crawford, took shrapnel to both of his legs, back and judging from the helmet now flying off his head, nearly got a nasty headache.

Novak didn't make it clear, something on her keeping her rooted to her seat as she was being engulfed in flames, her hoarse, blood curdling screams echoing above the flames and gunfire, until they faded out.

Only when the people in the Hog were out of it-or no longer a concern- and either trying their best to become the ground they stood on or fading into the rocks around them, did Ingrid plan her next action. Feet tore into the dirt, one stride, the wraith started turning it's main weapon towards her, two strides, the exposed gunner started firing on her.

Three strides and she was on the wraith. Foot driving it's way into the skull of the gunner as her shielding failed. In the same motion, her grey matter strewn foot dropped down onto the hatch before she took a bracing stance to it's side, and started bringing her hand down. Within a few strikes her hand was through, and she grabbed something, anything really, and yanked. The hatch came free, and a bewildered Elite stared back at her.

Ingrid reached down, grabbed a frag and tossed it in, before jumping free.

As she touched down again, she grabbed the rifle from her back and moved towards where everyone else had hunkered down, the burning husk of their Warthog now being a bright indicator to anyone in this valley that humans had arrived. Dubbo tending to Crawford the best he could, having dragged both the injured man and Rier back into a small collection of rocks.

Novak was dead, her charred and blackened corpse still boiling within their now destroyed chariot. Crawford was seriously injured, and unless someone who had medical experience could aid the man, he would add to the number of deaths.

The radio quipped on as the super-soldier joined up with Marc and the burnt Matti, "Bradley, what is it you thought bait entails? Because typically you're suppose to draw fire, not have it concentrated on the people you're running bait for." It was long winded, for the super-soldier at least, meaning one of two things, namely that one should pay very close attention to what was being said, or that she was about to lose her temper. This time it was both.
Last edited by Anowa on Thu Aug 30, 2018 6:55 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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An Intro to Anowa

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Tayner
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Founded: Oct 09, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Tayner » Thu Aug 30, 2018 8:41 pm

Lance Corporal Marc Wilson
October 19, 2547
Battle of Skopje


It was a nighttime search and destroy operation, a near death sentence for the marines sent on the daunting task. They were to gather intelligence and assault multiple AA positions around their FOB so aircraft could get some reinforcements in to relieve them, or pull out the wounded, or even bring ammo. Their options were limited, and their objective was clear. They had a few transport 'hogs, and a MG 'hog, they were to use their mobility to outmaneuver and disable the AA threat. Marc was sure he'd be killed, sitting in the back of the open-top transport, shotgun clutched in hand and helmet strapped on tight.

The platoon had already been fighting for three days straight, with little rest in between engagements. The battle for this planet was harsh and grueling, but for every fellow serviceman he watched die, the UNSC claimed two or three covenant troops, however it was clear by now they would loose out on this punching match.

The mission went sideways about as soon as could be expected, one of the transport 'hogs that held a squad was immediately stuck by a flurry of blasts from the AA wraith, which had been turned towards their approach in anticipation of an attack. The survivors screamed and screamed throughout the ensuing fight, anyone who went to help them would be picked off by snipers, or be preoccupied with engaging the enemy armor.

After thirty minutes of fighting, the platoon managed to disable the AA wraiths with the HMG and some explosives, but out of the 40 or so that went out, only 18 returned.


Sergeant Marc Wilson
September 19, 2552
Unknown Canyon


Marc found himself snapping about to hear the screams and subsequent gunfire around him.

His questions were quickly answered when his memory assaulted him, he managed to evade being melted alive or hurt like some of the others on the Warthog, bailing out soon enough to avoid any critical damage. He quickly made for cover, throwing himself behind a rock outcropping that seemed safer than the open feild. He went to pull up his heavy weapon before he realized what was happening.

Novak was trapped in the warthog, burning alive, and Matti and Crawford were laying out in the open ground, tossed far enough away to be safe from the cooking warthog. Dubbo wasn't far off, and he managed to grab Crawford on his way to cover. "Fuck." Marc said to himself as he set his HMG on the ground, and prepared to make a sprint to grab Matti. He crossed the distance quickly, as the rest of the squad started to engage the enemy. Even the Chief got into the thick of it, moving to assault the Wraith that was looming over the squad.

"I've got to Matti!" Marc said as he reached Matti, who could only groan and curse in response. Marc, however, paused and looked at Novak, stuck in the warthog and screaming. He made a split second decision, and grabbed his sidearm off of his belt and took aim at Novak's head.

He depressed the trigger, and the screaming stopped.

He put his sidearm back in it's holster before grabbing Matti, and dragging him to cover as plasma, crystals, and lead flew over his head. He pulled Matti back behind the rocky outcropping, and tried to put him in the most protected position before pulling off his ruck and tossing it aside. Marc then pulled off his own ruck, and grabbed the only first aid equipment he kept on-hand on most missions, a canister of Bio-foam.

"I've got you. Hold still." He added, applying the medicine to the man's back, trying to at least make it better. "Stay with me." He spoke again, swearing to himself under his breath.

The grey armored Spartan soon joined Marc and Matti, along with the rest of the squad who were forming a perimeter in the rock formation around them.

"Bradley, what is it you thought bait entails? Because typically you're suppose to draw fire, not have it concentrated on the people you're running bait for."

"Fucking hell." Marc said under his breath. That was the longest sentence he'd heard her ever say. "Chief." He said, turning to grab his HMG. "You don't happen to have any medical supplies, do you?" He asked before reaching into his ruck and grabbing some belts of ammunition. He plopped the weapon down in between them and held out the ammo. "You can make better use of it than me, I'm going to see about patching up Matti." He said.
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Vacif
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Founded: Mar 22, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vacif » Thu Aug 30, 2018 11:43 pm

Specialist Holdin Crawford
En Route to AAA Canyon

September 19, 2552


The other guys, they made points that he both expected and agreed with. In the end it didn't matter who built this, just that it was here, they were here and that this was where the fight was. It didn't matter right now who built it or why. This was their now, a time that was growing increasingly short. Despite their rather terse introductions things were pretty calm in the roll cage. Not that he was complaining, it made it easier to watch the tree line.

The Chief's AI spoke up, the new voice almost jolting Holdin out of his seat. "So, found something you all might find a bit enlightening on the Covenant Battle Net, two shipmasters have been executed following suggestions to use their ship grade weapons to fire on the surface of the ring. Apparently this ring is to them what the Garden of Eden is to us."

It was probably the fi- no the third - fourth, piece of good news they'd had since landing, and this one wasn't going away so easily.

Kleo continued, "Precisely. Furthermore, apparently a number of ship based specialists and vehicle crews are trying to figure out why... Oh."

The Chief mimicked the AI, clearly unexcited, "Oh?"

Holdin grunted, expecting the worst, and he got it.

"Shut up children, we're here!"

Holdin craned his head to look at where 'here' was.

He wished he hadn't, but it gave him a bit of extra forewarning to hang onto something. Holdin clenched his jaw almost as tight as he gripped the roll cage and planted his feat. The hog twister and turned and at times felt like it would in fact roll. A few close calls here and there, with more neon than should be seen outside of a rave. Then something hit them. The hog stopped abruptly, and he knew what'd happened.

"Dismount! DISMOUNT!"

But he was too slow. The hog lurched, metal crunched and twisted, and the world went white. Then the world exploded back to reality. Pain tore through his legs, and shot up through his legs and back. Holdin limply smashed into the ground. His ears ringing, head spinning, and body on fire. He could hear screaming, yelling, talking, fighting. One sound was incredibly close, another distant, but then there was a sharp bang and it went silent, which left the screaming to someone who he couldn't recognize. The world was a blur. He was moving, but not on his own volition, Holdin rapidly turned his head around to look at the world around him, Dubbo had dragged him to some rocks. Holdin dazedly looked down at his own body, covered in burns, bruises, and shrapnel. He took a breath, and realized the screaming he didn't recognize came from himself. He wheezed, and sputtered and tried to speak, but the shrieking had torn apart his throat. He rolled around to try and move and his veins were still intact and sent waves of pain off his body, almost enough to knock him out, but not quite.

"Me-m-medic!" he wheezed out silently. He looked at the corner of his left eye and realized his helmet was gone. Holdin gave off an groan as he propped himself against a rock as the others fought off the Covenant who were right in front of them. He had a distinct sense of deja vu, back to when Grim had been hit, and they needed Novak. Now he needed Novak. He looked around for her, probably the only one that could save him right now. He turned his head, up, down, left, right and finally center searching for his fellow army trooper. He found Novak. He didn't need what was left of her currently burning corpse to know who she was. He felt his heart drop. Something like sadness, disappointment, regret maybe? He didn't know, the pain made it hard to think.

Holdin shakily reached for his torn up leg. The trauma kit attached to his left thigh was still there. It wouldn't save him, probably not from these injuries anyways but it was the only thing he could think of that would help him right now. He undid the pack and grabbed what he needed, namely the medigel and the hemostatic bandages. Holdin stifled his groans as he dragged his legs towards him and attempted to treat himself, clearing the burn areas and apply the gel. Optican sure as hell wasn't making the shrapnel or third degree burns go away in five minutes or less, but it would help clean, and sooth the affected areas. He was grateful for all the pain relief he could get but the medigel was just a drop in the ocean. The cool nature of the gel on his boiled skin couldn't combat the aches he felt down to the bone. The bandages went on next. Holdin had to really will himself to do this next part, almost hyperventilating in order to control the pain as he applied the bandages to his wounds. It was a messy job, and who knows how much of it was clean. He probably wasn't going to make it, he knew it deep down.

The battle still raged on around him, but all he could do was sit down, lean on the rock and stare at the bright blue sky above, and look at how the world curved above him.
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Hastur
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Founded: Jul 01, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Hastur » Fri Aug 31, 2018 9:57 am

// Corporal Charlotte Mailloux //
// 105th shock troops division - Force recon battalion - Juliet company //
// September 19, 2552 //

// Soell system - Alpha Halo //En Route To Hostile AA positions


The Warthog started moving. The oversized transport carrying the packed group of soldiers forward on their mission to eliminate the AA sites. Charlotte listened in on the discussions between the other troopers. A reunion of old acquaintances, contemplation what this ring world was. Affirming that she wasn't the alone in her peculiar concern on the matter. Charlotte remained silent however, unusually so for the boisterous ODST. Instead concentrating on her surroundings as they proceeded to the objective. Harboring a feeling of nervousness underneath her cool demeanor. She never liked traveling in bullet magnets, and it seemed like they were riding right towards trouble.

An unfamiliar voice piped up, the speech emerging from the helmet speakers on the imposing spartan's helmet. Notify them that the Covenant had a particular interest in the ring. Enough to court marshal two ship masters on the spot for even expressing the suggestion of blasting them from orbit. Charlotte softly smiled. Out of all the places they could crash land, lady luck had placed them somewhere that was considered sacred to the religious fanatics. They'd be fighting harder than before then. Charlotte was sure that they wouldn't be keen on letting humans run amuck on their divine ring planet. But at least they wouldn't have to fear heavy ordnance from above, one thing they'd be able to use to their advantage in whatever the tactical plan was here.

The voice continued, trailing off, before advising them of the bad news.

The covenant knew they were coming all thanks to some ONI POG fucking with shit he shouldn't be. Apparently warning the enemy he was showing up due to IFF tag fuckery. Charlotte cursed under her breath, steeling herself for what was no doubt about to take place, assuming that her luck was now running on empty. Something reinforced when hostile armour came into view as the warthog entered the cannon. From her seated position in the rear, she watched as the Wraith's turrets moved downwards. the death machine pointing right at them.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me.."
She spat to herself, her grasp on the transports rails tightening as she readied herself for what was about to take place. The vehicle opening out with a barrage of rapid fire fuel rods, the truck taking evasive maneuvers as the projectiles screamed past mere feet aside, the almost boiling heat being felt uncomfortably close as the driver did what he could do escape them. the heat almost singeing her skin as the warthog continued to assault them in a last ditch attempt. The AA gun ceased firing. The guns no doubt overheated, but it was simply supplanted by small arms fire from the enemy patrols. Charlotte forced herself into a smaller target, scrounging herself up as she held on for dear life. Watching in dread as she saw a tell tale green blob emerge from a hostile position. The homing plasma speeding after them before colliding into the front of the vehicle. The plasma shot nuking the vehicles electronics. Resulting in the vehicles abrupt halt a mere twelve meters away from the target. A hostile wraith. It's cannon aimed right towards them.

"Dismount! DISMOUNT!" the old sergeant major shouted, and Charlotte didn't think twice. "OUT! OUT! OUT!" She bellowed in a frenzy. tossing herself, weapon in hand, from the vehicle into the muck below. Her body slamming hard into the ground as she struggled to get clear from the cluster fuck that was about to occur. Then it fired and hell broke loose. The rods striking their transportation in. Charlotte hit the deck as something struck her vision with an immediate burst of green. Her heart racing as the extreme heat from the explosion slammed into her. She wanted to naturally get up and run. To do anything to get away from the burning heat. But her training and experience forced her to stay down in the dirt, expecting a secondary explosion.

The warthog detonated. The blast sending fragments of lethal metal spiraling through the air as what was left behind caught ablaze. The upholstery changing into fuel for the roaring fire, cooking away. Enemy fire poured in from multiple postions. Charlotte spotting numerous flashes from her prone position. Seeing singular, slower paced flashes from elevated positions and numerous, rapid fire ones from ground level as hot plasma singeing the surrounding grass and mud around them. Her nose filed with the appalling smell of melting rubber, leather, metal, cordite and worst of all, flesh. She heard unfamiliar screams echoing over the rapid gunfire that was being turned right back at the enemy. Charlotte turned her head to locate the source, peering into the warthog as she found somebody still inside. A woman now caught afire, shrieking in sheer anguish she struggled to free herself before being put down by the veteran from before.

 Charlotte's lingering feeling of nervousness shifted to pure fear as it took the limelight in her mind as sheer chaos unfolding. Feeling a cold sweat as an overwhelming mix of stimulus almost crushed her. But the discipline and conditioning from ODST training kicked in.

"Move! Move!" She exclaimed to whoever was still face down in the dirt. Forcing herself to her feet as she charged towards the sole section of cover they had. A small collection of rocks in front of them that offered them necessary shelter from small arms fire, the wraith however would be a different story. Sprinting towards it, massive anti-material rifle in hand, charlotte made it into cover. Keeping her figure down as she started laying down cover fire. Firing at the bright muzzle flashes and any enemy that was stupid enough to expose itself for long as anybody who had yet to make it to cover poured in. The group forming a perimeter. Dragging the injured in with them. The sniper from before, and a more severely injured backpacker.

"Where's the fucking corpsman!" She hissed, slapping a new magazine into the rifle, releasing the bolt forward, reading to fire it again. "We've got a lot of uglies here! Snipers in elevated positions too!" Charlotte informed over the comms. Knowing fine well that their postion they occupied wouldn't protect for long. Charlotte's eyes darted around, spotting the two from before. She lowered her rifle, shifting closer to the injured sniper and heavy weapons operator, looking at what she could do to aid them as she stalked the cover. "How bad?" She inquired, a worried look hidden behind her helmet. Charlotte checked her kit for any spare medical supplies, merely discovering her own IFAK, instead dropping her rifle to help out in whatever way she could.

She realized she'd need another shooter if they planned on elimnating the sharpshooters in the area. Him being down hurt the situation, she just hoped he was still in a stable enough condition to fight.
The limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering is firing up again. It wants to walk the desert. Hurting. Longing. Dancing to disco music.

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New Finnish Republic
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Founded: Mar 30, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby New Finnish Republic » Sun Sep 02, 2018 9:15 pm

Sergeant Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Unknown Canyon
September 19, 2552





Matti had been content to gaze about the surrounding landscape for a few more moments, his eyebrows furrowed underneath his helmet. The answers given to him by Marc and the others did little to settle his concerns. Not human, not Covenant, but something...else. Whatever that "else" is, it doesn't fucking sit well with me, he thought with a rather ominous sensation in the back of his mind. Ever so slightly, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up. What exactly did we fucking stumble into here?

"M - Matti? Marc. That you two?"

Matti's head snapped up from where he had been staring emptily at, his attention brought by the calling of his name by a familiar voice.

"Matti. Everybody thought your red headed ass had been killed on Llanelli! And Marc. You vanished after Meridian. Where the fuck did you both go? "

Matti glanced over to Marc, no eye contact needed between them to know that what had happened to them since Llanelli was better left unsaid. With a somber voice, he replied.

"They weren't wrong. All you're looking at now is just two pissed off ghosts with too much shit to get done before moving onto hell. Don't get too attached, or you'll get dragged down with us."

With that said, Matti remained silent as the Warthog sped towards their objective. That was, however, until Grimm gave the signal that they had arrived. And by the Gods, had they arrived to the worst possible situation.

Apparently due to Bradley messing around with the Covenant vehicle, the entire enemy force had been alerted to their presence. In a split second, the all-too familiar sound of crackling superheated air filled Matti's ears as plasma rounds burned through the air towards them. Grimm did his best to avoid the oncoming fire, barely maneuvering around the oncoming rounds that came so close Matti could feel the temperature within his armor begin to heat up from the close exposure.

But there was simply too much to avoid, and eventually the sight of an oncoming green orb of plasma rocked the side of the Warthog, causing the vehicle to forcefully skid to a stop only meters away from a Wraith. The occupants of the Warthog began to dismount as quickly as possible, most of them being able to get clear of the next barrage of plasma fire. Some, however, were not able to get out unscathed.

Matti being one of them.

Due to his positioning within the Warthog, it had taken him a split second longer to get his rifle clear of the railing to jump out. And in that time, a massive wave of green radiation washed over his head, the light nearly blinding him as he dove towards the ground to get clear of the vehicle. However, this wasn't even close to the worst of it. As the green orb passed overhead, the sensation that he could only compare to laying down in a blazing inferno traveled up the entirety of his back. He let out a horse scream of pain, large black dots filling his vision as the pain washed over him and threatened to overwhelm him.

His screams were not the only ones filling the air, nor were they the loudest. A familiar voice rang in his ears amidst the chaos, followed by the quick retort of a handgun. Out of the corner of his eye, Matti could see the burning wreckage of what remained of their Warthog, a limp burnt body hanging out from the side. A pair of arms dragged Matti backwards, the movement causing the black dots to fill his vision as he let out weak groans and curses, the most he could manage to utter in his current state. The removal of his ruck caused an immense amount of pain to roll over him, the sensation of fabric sticking and pulling at his skin underneath his armor causing him to scream out the last bit of air left in his lungs.

"Stay with me."

These words rang dimly in Matti's ears as a new burning sensation crawled up and down his back as the biofoam was sprayed against the damaged skin. His throat dry and horse, Matti could only grip onto the rocky ground below him, his fingers digging deep into the earth as he waited for the anesthetic to kick in. As he lay down on the ground on his stomach, a memory of a time not long ago managed to slip through the painful haze of his mind.




Corporal Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Meridian, Hestia system
April 3rd, 2551





Rain poured heavily from the night sky, as the dark clouds above rumbled with ominous growls as lightning pierced down from the heavens and struck down at the ground below, the flashes showing the moving silhouettes that were scattered across the streets below. In the distance, the sight of tracers rounds mixed in with large blobs of colored plasma indicated the fighting had not stopped in its intensity, even as the human defenders had been continuously retreating back towards the last remaining defensive positions. They had fought tooth and nail for every square inch of this planet, a scene reminiscent of the defenders of a frozen and desolate city hundreds of years prior back on Earth. Even still, the Covenant had been relentless in their offensive, sending in ten new soldiers to replace every one killed by the humans. Meridian would soon be lost, and all of the sacrifices made here would be for nothing. The Covenant were well aware of this fact, and they seemed to become more and more relaxed as they were eager to rid this planet of what they saw as nothing more than filth.

It was this sense of safety that was easily exploitable, which was why amongst the debris and rubble of a partially collapsed skyscraper, Matti had stayed behind as the UNSC forces had retreated. ONI had given him a simple command: Observe the Covenant high command and report back anything of interest. While it was extremely vague, the sniper had gotten used to such order for some time now. Was it a suicide mission in practically all regards? Yes, to the highest degree. Yet still, he had done as instructed, and now after several days of not moving a single inch from his position save for an occasional sip of the liquid meal that was meant to sustain him, he had finally found something that drew his attention.

Matti had observed various Covenant detachments move through this area, given the fact that it was more or less a crossroads for a large portion of the roadways that lead to where the Humans had used to escape on the ground. The UNSC forces had been unsuccessful in their attempts to blow up one of the major bridges in their escape, the evidence of this failure still present below him. The fires of some of the vehicles still burned hot with fire and the smell of blood, both human and alien, still filled the air with a strong a repugnant odor.

Yet this detachment was different. A massive force had amassed below him, although they were not speeding through the area like the others had done before. Instead, they actually stopped and began forming a massive perimeter around the area. In the distance, the low hum of an approaching Phantom caught Matti's attention, and soon the air vehicle began its dissent, landing on the ground in a such a way that made it evident that its passengers were not the standard infantry they usually carried.

Within split seconds of the Phantom's landing, several red figures began to dismount from the vehicle, Matti's eyes widening as he recognized just what he was dealing with. Sangheili Honor Guardsman. This means...Holy fucking shit. Matti had to bite his tongue to keep himself from muttering his thoughts out loud, as through the night vision scope of his rifle, he observed a target that he never would have dreamed would have entered into his crosshairs.

The Prophet of Regret.

Intel on these members of the Covenant was thin, even among some of the higher ups of the UNSC. Had it not been for the nature of his role with ONI, Matti would've likely been among these clueless individuals. But he knew just how important of a finding he had came across. One of the leaders of the Covenant, personally responsible for the death of billions over some delusion of religion the Covenant possessed. In relative terms, this was the equivalent of having the Pope walk out in front of a crusading army of hundreds of years prior. This meant that whatever reason he was here was big.

Matti felt his fingers slowly begin to twitch as he zoomed in towards the body of the Covenant leader. Every single fiber within him told him to pull the trigger, but for some reason he couldn't find the strength to press down on the trigger of his rifle. Instead, he merely observed.

Matti observed a shadow appear in front of the Prophet, quickly revealing the large figure of an Elite Zealot standing tall above the seated alien. Based on his armor and coloring, it appeared to be none other than a Field Marshal, who quickly went down onto one knee. They were far too distant for Matti to hear what was being said, and even if he could he wouldn't have been able to understand. But based on the body language, whatever the Elite had said had apparently displeased the Prophet, as the creature's face began to display a look of disgust.

As he continued to observe, the urge to pull the trigger had finally began to overwhelm the sniper still sitting still several hundreds of meters away. He knew that such an opportunity would likely never come again to him, and any more waiting around could potentially mean the Prophet's escape. Letting out a deep breath, he slowly inched his crosshairs towards the center of the Prophet's torso, his scope providing a blur of measurements that guided him on how to aim. Eventually, his sights were set into place, and his finger's slowly began to squeeze on the trigger as he waited for the moment of pause that would come between his heart beat.

Before he could pull the trigger, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of the Prophet.

A smug look had appeared on its face.

Staring directly at him.

Matti's eyes widened, twisting around from where he was sitting just in time to hear the sound of an energy sword crackling to life behind him. Before he could even let out a startled cry, a swash of blue light passed by his face, and in one searing moment of pain the vision from his left eye was replaced with utter blackness as the skin around it burned with searing heat. Letting out a scream, Matti forced himself to roll away from his position, barely avoiding the finishing downwards thrust aimed at his torso. Clinging on to his rifle, he frantically turned his head to where his remaining eye could see.

It was then when Matti finally got a look at his assailant. Clad in maroon armor, an Elite Zealot looked down at the wounded human with a look that Matti couldn't tell was disgust or frustration at his failure to secure the kill in the initial attack. Whatever it was feeling at the moment mattered little to him, as with an adrenaline filled scream Matti fired his rifle point-blank at its chest as he tried to scooch himself backwards. The shield's of the Elite flared, the kinetic energy from the impact of the rounds causing it to stumble briefly before it too let out a scream, slicing its energy sword down at the barrel of the rifle. The weapon had little trouble slicing the rifle is half, causing Matti to let out a torrent of curses as he tossed the weapon towards the alien as a last ditch effort to buy him time.

The distraction did little to impede the charge of the Zealot, who quickly closed the distance between the two. The Zealot once again tried to embed his energy sword into the prone human, but either through sheer luck or divine will, Matti had managed to squirm his torso only a few inches from the blade, the heat from the close contact searing at his skin beside him. With no other options left, Matti reached for his sidearm and began firing at the Elite's hand wielding the sword, emptying the entire magazine in a desperate attempt to force the weapon out the Zealot's hands. His last round managed to break its shields, but unfortunately was not enough to disarm the Elite.

Frustrated, the Elite reached out with its other hand, grasping onto Matti's right shoulder with an iron grip and lifted the human upwards, the pistol falling out of his hands and an audible and sickening pop heard as his shoulder was dislocated from the socket. Another scream briefly erupted from Matti's mouth, before suddenly his head went limp. The Elite cocked its head in confusion before a look of contempt appeared on its face. The human had apparently passed out from all of the pain and had thus stolen the satisfaction from the Elite of watching its prey look on horrified in its last seconds. Letting out a frustrated growl, the Elite began to thrust its energy sword forward to finally end the fight.

Too late, however, it realized the human's head had suddenly popped upwards, as did its other arm, a metallic glint visible in its hand. Matti's knife stabbed deep into its exposed neck, causing the aim of the Elite's strike to veer upwards, the edge of the blade only finding the top of his shoulder before embedding into the opposite wall. As colored blood spurted out from the gaping wound, Matti felt the Elite's grip falter. Kicking down at its chest, he freed himself from it, falling down onto the ground with a pained yelp, nearly passing out for real from the impact. Still, his adrenaline kept him upright as he charged towards the Zealot, driving his shoulder into the alien as it stumbled around in a daze caused by the severe loss of blood. The Zealot weakly tried to hold its ground, but its soon toppled over onto the ground below. Reaching forward with his uninjured arm, Matti found the hilt of his knife that was still embedded within the Zealot's neck, and with every last ounce of strength remaining within him slid the knife further across the tough muscular neck of the creature. The Elite weakly tried to stop him, its hand gripping around the human's in an attempt to stop the progress of the knife, but soon its hand went limp, as did the rest of its body as it breathed its last breath.

For a few moments, silence fell upon the scene as the two figures remained still. Soon, however, a large gasp from Matti erupted from him as he realized that he was still alive. Taking a few more deep pained breaths, he forced himself to get onto his feet, albeit wobblily. Reaching over to his injured shoulder, he took in a shaky breath before pushing and twisting upwards, a bolt of pain shooting through the arm as it found its way back into the socket. He had little feeling besides pain in it, but with much effort he managed to find the strength to wiggle his fingers. Placing his hand up to his helmet, he felt a large gash cut across where his left eye had been. Due to the high temperature of the energy sword the Elite had wielded, there was little blood seeping from the wound, most of the fluid being either evaporated or cauterized by the weapon. The same could be said about his shoulder, albeit the wound not as deep as he had originally feared it to be.

He knew he didn't have time to wait around, as even if the Zealot had been alone, there was no telling how long he'd have until the Covenant sent additional forces once they realized the Zealot had been killed. Breathing heavily, he stumbled across the remains of the room he was at, keeping one hand on nearby walls as made his way to the emergency exit he had prepared days ago.

A large rope hung loosely out of a shattered window, the line secured a few floors above his. Glancing down with his remaining eye, he knew that he would be lucky to survive this rappelling in his current state. However, he also knew that taking the stairwell wasn't an option. So with a silent prayer, he secured the rappelling control device to his belt. Since he could barely move his injured arm above his belly button, he was forced to use it as his brake line while the other would be used as his guide line.

With everything secured, he dared one final glimpse at the ground below. Twenty stories worth of rappelling awaited him, a rappel that even in a healthy state would have been risky. One the ground level awaited a Mongoose that had been tucked away in a discrete hidden location a block away from the building. Once he reached it, he could only rely on the speed of the vehicle to get him away from any Covenant reinforcements until he reached a designated LZ where he would have a certain time window to call for an evac if needed. His HUD barely flickered on his damaged helmet, but he was able to discern the time. 0248 Hours. He only had barely over an hour to make it there, which meant he would have to push the Mongoose to its limits.

His odds of getting out of here alive were slim to none. There was no telling how long his adrenaline would keep him going, if he ran into any Covenant along the way to the LZ he would have no way of either evading them or fighting them, and there wasn't even a guarantee there would be any friendly aircraft left that would respond to his call. Hell, for all he knew, the Covenant could decide to glass the planet at any given moment.

Taking a deep breath in, Matti let all of these doubts leave his body through his lungs, and stepped out of the window into the darkness that awaited him outside.




Sergeant Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Unknown Canyon
September 19, 2552





"How bad?"

Matti blinked, his thoughts returning from the past to the hell that was the future. He noticed that while his back still ached with pain, it had diminished significantly as the anesthetics had apparently kicked in. With a grunt, he propped himself up with his armed and turned his gaze upwards from the ground and stared at the scene around them. Plasma and gunfire lit the air up around them as the survivors hid behind what cover remained of the surrounding area.

Matti let out a grunt, his throat still sore from his earlier cries of pain.

"I've been worse. Now someone grab me my fucking rifle."

Marc looked down in a what must've been a look of bewilderment as Matti pointed to his rifle that lay strewn across the ground a few yards away. Matti stared back at him, seeing the reflection of his own helmet in Marc's visor. Finally, Marc gave him a small nod before retrieving the rifle. A few moments later, Marc returned under a trail of plasma fire and tossed the rifle over to the injured sniper. Matti glanced over the rifle, letting out a small sigh of relief at seeing that the damage done to the rifle seemed to be only cosmetic.

Glancing back over to the ODST sniper, Matti let out a grunt of pain before wobbily returning to his feet, albeit in a crouch.

"Let's go return the favor, helljumper."
Last edited by New Finnish Republic on Sun Sep 02, 2018 9:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Known mostly as Finn, but also known as a few other things I can't put in a signature by those who know me.

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Tayner
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 7776
Founded: Oct 09, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby Tayner » Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:34 pm

Sergeant Marc Wilson
September 19, 2552
Unknown Canyon


"Where's the fucking corpsman!" A voice asked over comms.

"Dead!" Marc responded, looking as the bio-foam painfully compacted Matti's burns, the man gripping the ground beneath him in pain. "Alright pal, the anesthetic should kick in any time now."

"How bad?" A familiar voice asked, the one over the radio that belonged to the ODST.

"Plasma burns all over his backside, he'll survive it." Marc said.

"I've been worse. Now someone grab me my fucking rifle." Matti said. Marc took the rifle, which he managed to swipe in the frenzy earlier, and slipped it into Matti's hands. "Let's go return the favor, helljumper." He said, grunting in pain as he pulled himself up.

"Watch him and make sure he doesn't throw out his back." Marc said to Charlotte. "I'll go check on Crawford." He said, moving over to the other wounded member of the squad, staying low as plasma flew over his head.

Marc took a look at the bandaged wounds, sloppily done by Crawford himself. "Dubbo, hold his leg still while I re-dress these wounds." Marc said, undoing Crawford's bandaging job. He observed the wound, and it appeared to be cleaned and cooled by the medi-gel from Crawford's IFAK. Marc grabbed some more sterile bandages from the wounded man's IFAK and carefully went about dressing the wound, loosely wrapping the blisters that had formed.

"Alright Specialist, we're going to lay you on your back, alright. You still with us?" He asked, checking for shock as he and Dubbo moved the casualty onto his back. Marc looked around for something to prop the man's feet up with, and his eyes caught Matti's former rucksack. "Corporal, kick over that ruck." He said, motioning towards it. The ODST stopped firing for a second to kick over the half melted piece of equipment, and Marc reached out and grabbed it as it skittered towards them on the rocky ground. He promptly lifted Crawford's legs, and settled them gently onto the ruck.

He awaited any response from the wounded specialist as he started checking for secondary wounds in his abdominal region and arms, finding nothing more than scrapes and minor reddening from plasma exposure.
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Ubaria
Minister
 
Posts: 2712
Founded: Sep 14, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Ubaria » Sat Sep 08, 2018 5:37 pm

Corporal Viktor Isias
Unknown Ringworld - Deep Space // September 2552
Rain Fire


"They weren't wrong. All you're looking at now is just two pissed off ghosts with too much shit to get done before moving onto hell. Don't get too attached, or you'll get dragged down with us."

The bluntly nihilistic and melancholic response was uncharacteristic of Matti and caught Viktor slightly off guard, perhaps it wasn't the same Matti that he knew all those years before - either that or the burden of constant fighting with the Covenant over countless worlds had changed him invariably. Either way, before Viktor could muster a sarcastic quip, Marc would be the next one to speak up.

"We were ... reassigned. To make a long story short." He explained, constantly shifting his eyes from Matti to Viktor, and then back again as if trying to pry some agreement from his Finnish compatriot. "Fact of the matter is, we've used up all our nine lives. We're on borrowed time, faster we end this the better."

Both soldiers seemed more distant and vacant than the last time they had seen one another, just perhaps another inevitable side effect from the stress of unyielding war. With his typical bucky attitude, Viktor spoke up again. "I think we're all on borrowed time. And you've got no qualms from me about ending this war today. Wherever the hell we are ... " Viktor gazed around again at the scenery and up to the pastel blue skies which blended perfectly with the stark blackness of pure space beyond, and then was violently wrenched from side to side as the driver began throwing the hog into some violent hooks and curves, evasive maneuvers to avoid the newly emerged Covenant threat that came in the form of Fuel Rod armed infantry and the heavy hitters that often came with them. Wraiths. More akin to self propelled artillery than a main battle tank, the large ungainly purple hulled beasts glided extraordinarily effortlessly across the undulating terrain and their large mortar could send hurling spheres of dangerous plasma over hundreds of meters. The Warthog ground to a halt just inside the Wrait's effective firing range yet it didn't save them from the encroaching infantry who let loose with a barrage of green fury.

"Dismount! DISMOUNT!"

Luckily, being seated right at the rear gate meant that Viktor merely had to fall sideways to vacate the doomed vehicle but rather opted to throw himself a little further if he could and with his legs bunched up like a coiled spring, propelled himself just a few feet further off the tailgate and met the ground with a ungraceful yet effective momentum dampening roll. Then came the impact. A vehement wall of super-heated air erupted from the doomed 'Hog s like a tidal wave, incinerating any caught in the immediate vicinity and indeed those even within meters of the splash, not to mention the pressure which was as powerful as any traditional compound explosive, if not more so. Viktor could feel the searing wind-blast crash into his curled up form, like a million needles pressed into every crevice of his skin, the heat managed to permeate his Battle Dress and Armor plating yet they held enough to prevent critical injury.

Still keeping his form pressed as low into the dirt as possible, Viktor rolled to one side and looked back at the now practically vaporized Warthog that had now gone up in flames as a result of the burning hydrogen residing in it's fuel reservoir. Several occupants had not made it out and were now immolated still inside the vehicle, some dead and a couple wishing they were so. A single shot silenced the harrowing screams of one soul still trapped within but the others had probably lost any oxygen with which they could cry out for mercy with. Viktor managed to scoot away from the burning wreck and picked himself out of the dirt, still clutching his rifle that had made it with him out of the wreck.

Matti, Marc and several others had barely made it by the skin of their teeth and were now pinned down by incoming fire whilst tending to the wounded. Viktor, scrambling on all fours like a demented chimp to avoid the Plasma fire coming their way, managed to throw himself into the same cover that Marc and Dubbo were utilizing to stabilize Crawford, the latter of which had taken a peppering of metal shrapnel to the legs and some burn scarring to boot, the Army trooper was next to unconscious from the pain. With next to no ammunition, Viktor could only provide the bare minimum in responsive fire, only loosing two or three round bursts every few seconds, the weapon he had picked up didn't exactly have much in the way of spare ammunition and without a sidearm, he would soon be charging the Covenant positions with his knife if no alternative could be found fast.

"One mag and i'm dry! Wilson. You got any rounds spare?"

Wilson peeled his eyes away from the crippled trooper for just a moment to scan down his rig, finding no compatible ammunition for Viktor's MA5C Assault Rifle, he shook his head.

"Negative. But here, take my Magnum. It's in my thigh rig".

"Copy".

Viktor knelt down and carefully whisked the M6 from Marc's holster, ensuring not to accidentally discharge it whilst doing so. Sure the pistol was no Assault Rifle, but the Magnum could put out more than it's fair share in raw damage thanks to her high-penetration rounds, they could mince through an shielded Jackal or a Grunt's thick carapace with little discourse and at a generous range. Still, the weapon would be used as a hold-out for when his rifle ran dry, which would be soon.
Last edited by Ubaria on Sun Sep 09, 2018 1:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Vacif
Senator
 
Posts: 4703
Founded: Mar 22, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Vacif » Wed Sep 12, 2018 1:26 am

Specialist Holdin Crawford
AAA Canyon

September 19, 2552


Tayner wrote:"Alright Specialist, we're going to lay you on your back, alright. You still with us?" He asked, checking for shock as he and Dubbo moved the casualty onto his back. Marc looked around for something to prop the man's feet up with, and his eyes caught Matti's former rucksack. "Corporal, kick over that ruck." He said, motioning towards it. The ODST stopped firing for a second to kick over the half melted piece of equipment, and Marc reached out and grabbed it as it skittered towards them on the rocky ground. He promptly lifted Crawford's legs, and settled them gently onto the ruck.

He awaited any response from the wounded specialist as he started checking for secondary wounds in his abdominal region and arms, finding nothing more than scrapes and minor reddening from plasma exposure.


Holdin winced as the bandages were redone, but nonetheless grateful they were being re-administered properly. He took shaky breaths in from his nose, and exhaled through his mouth to at least keep a handle on things. He desperately was not prepared to die right now. There were countless times in the field where he was ready to lay down his life to commit to something suicidal, but now was not one of those times. His hands were balled into tight fists as if it were a sign to the higher powers at work that he resisted death, like it would keep him grounded to life.

He looked at the Sergeant and nodded as he propped Holdin's legs up on the half slag pack. "I'm not gone yet!" He reaffirmed in a few hastily said words. He could feel the sweat pouring from himself, sweat pooled around his bits, back, and basically everywhere. If he could formulate a thought through the pain, he'd remark on how he was surprisingly still hydrated.
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