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Spirits in the Mist by MadJackal
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Spirits in the Mist (Part 1): Silence of the Air
Date: 28 May 2005, 1:18 AM
Soft moonlight drifted through fissures in the stone walls of the shrine, the soft glow illuminating precious little of the inside. One ray caught on the dead black armor of an Elite. The dark figure was almost impossible to distinguish from his surroundings. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest marked the kneeling shape as living. In the shadows of the shrine, the darkness seemed to come alive. Shadows separated themselves from the enveloping darkness, forming a circle and moving closer and closer to the kneeling figure. Still, the Elite did not move. The shadows drew closer and rays of moonlight revealed that the silent shadows were indeed living creatures and their armor identified them as Elites.
One of the shadows struck. There was no noise. Only the disturbance of the air caused by the shadow's swinging arm alerted the kneeling Elite to its presence. Just as quickly, the kneeling figure shifted to the left, bringing his right arm up to block the blow. There was a clash of armor against armor and for a moment, time seemed to freeze in the shrine. The air was still, hanging heavily. Then, the other shadows leapt into motion. The kneeling Elite rose to his feet, himself becoming a blur of blocks and attacks as he was beset on all sides by the shadows around him.
One of the shadows was sent flying back by a powerful roundhouse kick that caught it in the jaw. It landed in a heap on the stone floor of the shrine. The besieged Elite continued his futile resistance, sending another shadow reeling back into the shadows and sweeping the legs out from underneath another. But there were too many. One kicked him in the side of the head, sending him sprawling. The shadows prepared to pounce on his helpless form, to finish the task, but they froze when a deep, commanding voice echoed throughout the shrine.
"Enough."
The shadows backed away, leaving the Elite on the floor. He slowly regained his feet as the shadows faded away into the darkness that they had emerged from. The deep, resonating voice called out again, clear and forceful in the still air. "This night, we prepare to induct a new warrior into our ranks. He has proved himself worthy both in combat and out. As all assembled here can see, his skill and his powerful will to survive and succeed make him a deadly warrior despite the odds against him. One more obstacle stands in the way of our acceptance of him. Who among the assembled witnesses will sponsor Neka 'Rolinee?"
A shadow separated itself from the darkness, taking a few steps out into the dim moonlight. "I will sponsor Neka 'Rolinee. I believe that he has proved himself both worthy and ready for inclusion in our ranks."
The deep voice answered, "Who among the assembled witnesses will oppose Neka 'Rolinee?"
The shrine was perfectly still. Not a shadow moved and not a sound was heard other than the ragged breathing of the Elite in question. A whole minute passed by. Finally, the voice rang out again, "Before the gods and all assembled here, since none will oppose Neka's acceptance into the Mist Spirits, I declare Neka 'Rolinee the newest member of our organization."
Cheers broke out among the shadows, and several moved forward to congratulate the new Mist Spirit. Weary from the trials of the past few days, Neka sank to his knees in exhaustion mixed with joy. He had been accepted into the Mist Spirits. His life had changed dramatically, and there was no turning back now. He let himself absorb the praise of his new brothers and let himself bask in the glory of his accomplishment, but he knew that his new life would be hard and unforgiving. The trials ahead would be numerous and more difficult than any that he had faced before.
But he accepted them, assured that his new life would help him better serve the gods and the Covenant. Neka smiled in the darkness. None of the assembled Elites saw it, but it was there. And that's what mattered.
One year later, Ninth Age of Reclamation/
Covenant City Purity, Final Justice
Field Master Rema was playing a dangerous game. Across the table from him in the public garden was an important member of the dark caste, the criminal underworld of Covenant society. They were playing a holographic game similar to chess. Field Master Rema was very good at the game, but so was the dark caste Elite in front of him. The game was just disguise to hide the true nature of their meeting. Rema was making a deal with a member of the dark caste; he was playing a dangerous game indeed.
If his plot was discovered, it would result in a demotion back down to the bottom of the ranks at the very least. If judged by a particularly unforgiving Prophet, Rema might have even been kicked out of the military. With no life and no future, he would have been forced to survive by joining the dark caste himself. Rema shuddered at the thought.
The dark caste leader in front of him wanted armor and weapons for his comrades. Rema wanted money. The dark caste was not noted for its wealth, but since they were made almost entirely of ex-soldiers, they had certain skills that most criminal organizations could only dream of. They could and would get the money. They were willing to kill many innocents for their chance at new weapons and equipment.
Rema watched as the dark caste soldier moved his last remaining Elite to take Rema's Hunter. "You're finished. Your Prophet can't move anywhere without being killed," the criminal said.
Rema stared in shock at the board. He should have foreseen that move. He was losing his touch. He stood up from the board and bowed in capitulation. "I concede. Your skill in this game is admirable."
The dark caste soldier stood as well. "Your own skill has made my victory quite challenging. But on a more important note, I will produce the money. You only need to get us the equipment. We will meet again once we have completed our tasks. Then, we will arrange a time and place for the exchange."
"Good. The equipment should not be hard to acquire. The Covenant military is not known for failure to equip its troops. The warehouses are overflowing with spare weapons and equipment," Rema said.
With that, they went their separate ways. Field Master Rema walked slowly through the garden, following a winding stone path that he knew eventually lead to one of the exits. He continued his stroll, lost in thought, until something caught his eye. In the center of the path, right in front of him, was a mask. He thought he recognized it and felt a feeling a dread forming in the back of his mind. He cautiously stepped forward and picked up the mask. It was a mask used in modern Covenant drama to represent a demon. A mist spirit.
He suppressed an involuntary shudder as he realized who had placed the mask in the middle of the path. It had to be one of the infamous Mist Spirits. They were probably the most famous of the various secret societies and organizations that populated Covenant society. They were also the most deadly. They were lethal assassins. Trained to infiltrate, they were skilled in the art of not being seen. They never failed. No one knew where or how to contact them, but they seemed to be acutely aware of current events in Covenant society. Whenever someone did things that were damaging to the Covenant, they disposed of him. Sometimes that included killing Prophets. All the security in the world hadn't protected their latest victim, a Prophet who had been a little too much on the self-enriching side instead of on the serving the gods side.
Rema knew that they had found out about his little conspiracies with the dark caste. He turned the mask over and looked into the shadowy depths of the inside. He fought the temptation to put the mask on and turned it so that the light of the sun reached inside the mask to illuminate it. Rema felt a chill run down his spine as he saw two needles jutting out from beneath the eye holes of the mask. Studying them closer, he noticed that they were coated with a dark substance. It was definitely some type of poison. Whoever put that mask on would die a painful death.
It was a warning. Rema knew that they must be angry with him, disgusted that a high ranking Covenant soldier would stoop so low as to make deals with the dark caste. Rema looked around him in fear, studying the lengthening shadows of the garden for some sign of the Mist Spirits. There was none. Nothing moved. The air was still.
Rema dropped the mask and ran. He would get back to the barracks. He would be safe there. He would be surrounded by an entire Combined Arms Strike Team. They wouldn't dare try to kill him there. There was too much danger for them to try and infiltrate a military facility. He would be safe there. He held on to that thought as he ran, but that feeling of dread took root in his mind, telling him that there was nowhere to run.
Neka 'Rolinee crouched in the deep shadows, his black stealth armor blending in with the darkness, making him practically invisible. The armor was slightly modified from the normal Elite armor. It did not have shields but instead had an active camouflage generator in place of the shield generator. When the camouflage was not on, the armor was a dull black, meant to allow the wearer to blend in with the shadows even if the camouflage generator had failed. The armor had special padding that aimed to reduce the clank of the armor plates when the wearer was motion.
Neka looked at the array of weapons on the ground in front of him and picked up a small throwing dagger. He held the blade between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He passed his left hand over the weapon and it disappeared into one of the special slots meant just for throwing daggers. He repeated the procedure, storing two of the daggers in each arm. He then picked up his deactivated energy sword and secured it to the side of his armor in a padded slot made for it. The slot prevented the weapon from making noise as it clanked against his side while at the same time allowing for easy retrieval of the weapon.
He did not have any conventional weapons like plasma rifles or needlers. His training for the past year made sure that he would not need the help of those weapons. Since he was operating alone, if he arrived in a situation where he needed a rifle, he was doomed anyway and the mission was likely to be a failure. And Neka did not intend to fail. Not on his very first mission as a Mist Spirit.
He had spent his first year in the Mist Spirits training constantly with the wide variety of weapons and methods of killing that his teachers knew. Now that a year had gone by, he had been considered ready for a strike. They had given him what they considered a small, easy job on a nobody Field Master. If he failed, he would likely be dead, but he would also be disgraced in the eyes of his comrades for failing such an easy mission.
Neka had stalked the Field Master, watching his meeting with the dark caste scum and then planting the mask in the middle of his path as a psychological weapon. It had worked. The Field Master had panicked and ran. Neka had followed him and now stood outside the barracks complex of the Field Master's unit. The corrupt field commander was a disgrace to the Covenant and deserved to die. If Neka succeeded, the Field Master would not be able to disgrace himself, his family, or the Covenant much longer.
Rema stumbled past the two guards that he had assigned to guard his office. He told them to stop anyone who tried to enter and not to let anyone in without his prior consent. Rema rushed into his office and hit the holopanel to close and lock the door. The doors hissed shut. He heard the reassuring sound of the doors locking. He adjusted the weapons he was carrying in his arms so that he could hit the controls for the lights. The lights snapped on, filling the dark room with pale light. Rema turned around and stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping.
The weapons clattered to the floor. Standing by his desk was a black-clad figure, silent and imposing. Rema knew that he was a Mist Spirit. The assassin was tall, taller than Rema's own eight foot six inch height. Rema started to sputter a plea of mercy, but the Mist Spirit leapt into action. Rema saw a flash of light catching on metal before the throwing dagger found the gap between his chest armor and his helmet, the blade slicing his throat. There was a spray of blood as the dagger cut through his neck.
Rema collapsed to his knees, pawing at his throat with suddenly bloody hands. He tried to speak, but the dagger prevented the words from coming out. Instead, all that came out was a wet, ragged gasp of air. The poison that coated the blade began to act in his system. Rema fell backwards, his vision tunneling, the world fading to darkness. The last thing he saw was the faceless Mist Spirit standing over him, calmly observing his kill. A horrible death rattle filled the air and suddenly, the air was still once more.
Neka knelt next to the corpse of Field Master Rema and removed the throwing dagger, depositing the weapon back in its storage slot. Neka turned off the light and walked back to the desk. He leapt on top of the dead officer's desk and pushed open the grate in the ceiling that he had used to gain access to the office and avoid the guards. The grate lead to a ventilation shaft. He pulled himself up, replaced the grate and disappeared into the darkness.
Two days later, Ninth Age of Reclamation/
Covenant City Purity, Final Justice
Three dark caste members sat across from each other at a round table in the garden. From the outside, they looked like any other group of friends who had just happened to meet each other in the garden. They spoke in hushed whispers. One of them was the dark caste soldier that had negotiated the deal with Field Master Rema. He looked at his comrades and said, "It is very unfortunate that Rema was killed. We lost too many good Elites to get that money and now we are denied what we wanted to use it for."
Another dark caste Elite spoke up, "We can use the money elsewhere. We can use it to step up our trade in the black market or to try and bribe another Elite commander to get us the equipment we need. Either way, we will be ready."
The first nodded and said, "I'm not too worried about the weapons. What I am worried about is the assassin that killed Rema. Rumor says that the wounds matched weapons used only among the Mist Spirits. The investigators said that it looked like a small knife wound, not an energy blade. Nobody uses weapons of ancient styles except for the legendary assassins themselves. What I'm afraid of is that the Mist Spirits are aware of our plans. They obviously killed Rema because of his dealings with the dark caste. We can't be sure how much more they know."
"Rema did not know about the plans, did he?" another Elite asked.
"No. He only knew that we needed weapons and equipment, and lots of it. Of course, that doesn't sound too suspicious for the dark caste. Everyone knows that we have always been in dire need of new equipment. If they know about Operation Redemption, they did not get it from Rema."
At the mention of Operation Redemption, smiles broke out on all of their faces. "Jukka would be proud if he was still alive. Too bad he died on Eden during the Iron Hand rebellion. He would have been proud to see the dark caste rise up and strike back at those who torment us."
The other two Elites nodded solemnly in agreement. They continued to talk for a few more minutes and then they got up and left. The air was silent once more.
To Be Continued...
Spirits in the Mist (Part 2): Into the Dark
Date: 3 June 2005, 5:40 PM
Ninth Age of Reclamation/
Northern Continent of Lament, Mist Spirit homeworld
Neka 'Rolinee grunted in pain as his opponent's kick lifted him off of the ground and threw him roughly back down again. Neka found himself staring at the sky. He didn't have time to think, only to react. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the armored foot that slammed into the ground where he had just been lying. Neka used the momentum of the roll to spring up, his feet finding purchase beneath him. He assumed a fighting stance and fought to control his rapid breathing.
He knew that his opponent was more skilled than he was. In order to defeat him, Neka had to focus; he had to calm his soul. He and his opponent circled each other slowly, searching for the right moment to strike. Neka decided to try and use one of the techniques taught to him by his Mist Spirit teachers. He turned inward and expanded his soul, his awareness, pressing outward until he could almost feel what his opponent was thinking. Neka felt the attack coming before it happened.
His opponent was fast, impossibly fast, but Neka was prepared. The other Elite leapt at him, his arms spread wide in an effort to catch Neka and take him off of his feet again. Neka dodged to the right, dropping into a crouch and rolling past his hurtling enemy. His opponent's arm did hit his shoulder, throwing his roll off balance, but Neka compensated and was on his feet in an instant. His opponent caught himself and started to turn, but his momentum made his reaction too slow.
Neka leapt from the ground. Leading with his left foot and then snapping his right foot forward, Neka aimed a kick at the back of his opponent's head. The blow struck with incredible force, actually lifting his opponent off the ground, spinning him around, and then finally allowing him to tumble back to the ground in a heap.
"Good, Neka. You have proven yourself capable of adapting to situations that did not favor you."
These words came from his hand-to-hand combat instructor, who stood watching calmly nearby. Neka's opponent, another Mist Spirit, struggled back to his feet and removed his helmet. The armor had saved him from a potentially damaging blow to the head, but he would still have quite a headache afterwards. Neka removed his own helmet and bowed deeply to his opponent, who mimicked his gesture. They then turned and faced their instructor, awaiting his critiques.
He smiled and said, "We are late for the evening meal. My critiques can wait until after we are all properly nourished. Meet me back here after you've eaten."
Neka suppressed the grin that was forming on his face and bowed deeply to his instructor before turning to walk back to the barracks. His friend walked next to him, rubbing the back of his head. Neka chuckled, saying, "Perhaps my own skill at hand-to-hand fighting has finally matched yours?"
His friend laughed. "Not in your life, Neka," he retorted.
His friend was a tall Elite who went by the name Korew 'Saromee. Korew had become part of the Mist Spirits before Neka had, and therefore had the benefit of the extra training. He was slightly better than Neka in every area of combat. Not to say that Neka was not skilled in fighting. The Mist Spirits were a secret organization that was independent of the Prophets or the military. They went out among the people to search for candidates that looked promising. They looked for tenacity, bravery, audacity, and skill. They looked for patience. And when they had found suitable candidates, they worked to take them in.
The Mist Spirits then trained their inductees in all methods of killing. They specialized in weapons of relatively ancient design, such as throwing daggers, which they usually coated with various toxins and poisons before missions. But of course, the ancient weapons were no match for modern military technology. Throwing daggers could not penetrate the shields that standard Elite armor generated. As a result, the Mist Spirits also worked with the latest weapons, armor, and equipment that the Covenant military used.
Trained by expert Mist Spirits who had been part of the organization for a long time, the regular Mist Spirits far surpassed the level of skill that they had previously known, even the ones that came from elite military units like the Special Ops Strike Teams or the best of the Prophets' bodyguards. Only Elites were recruited into the Mist Spirits as the other races of Covenant were not suitable for the kind of work that the Mist Spirits did. The only species of Covenant other than the Elites who were good assassins were the Jackals, but they were not physically strong enough to handle the training that the Mist Spirits endured.
"I learn fast, Korew. If you don't watch out, I might surpass you in accuracy with the throwing daggers."
Korew laughed again, his deep voice echoing among the trees of the large forest where the Mist Spirit camp was hidden. "We shall see after the evening meal. Thrown weapons are next for us."
They made their way to the main path and from there through the camp perimeter. There were no guards in sight, but Neka knew that they were there. The Mist Spirits were watching. Just because you could not see something did not mean it wasn't there.
Neka knelt on the floor in the waiting room, waiting to be summoned by his commander. He was trying to meditate, to calm his inner self, to still the troubled waters of his mind. He suspected that the commander had something important for him. He suspected another mission. The last time he had been summoned like this to the commander's office was before he had been sent to kill Field Master Rema.
Sitting in one of the chairs in the room was his friend Korew. Korew looked completely relaxed, his head hanging to one side and his eyes closed. Anyone other than the Mist Spirits who knew Korew well would have thought the Elite was sleeping. But Neka knew better. Korew was always alert, always listening. And when he looked peaceful on the outside, his mind was always hard at work.
The door to commander 'Ralemee's office opened. To Neka's surprise, 'Ralemee called both of them into his office. Neka had suspected that they were going to be given assignments, but Mist Spirits almost always operated alone. Korew's inclusion meant that whatever 'Ralemee had in mind was either a very complex mission or they had done something wrong. Neka sincerely hoped that it was a mission. He did not want to think about punishment duty.
After they had both entered the office, 'Ralemee gestured towards two chairs, saying, "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
Neka felt like standing, but Korew sat down. Neka, confronted with sitting or looking stupid, chose to sit. 'Ralemee looked at each of them, studying their eyes, looking for hints of what lay inside their minds. Neka felt a deeply unsettling feeling, as if 'Ralemee was piercing the fabric of his conscience and reading it like an open book. Neka shook off the feeling and concentrated on calming his soul.
'Ralemee finally spoke, "I have summoned you here with a new mission."
He watched for some sort of reaction, but they managed to keep whatever emotions they were feeling from showing on their faces. 'Ralemee turned to Neka and said, "You recently were sent on a mission to kill a treacherous Field Master. You performed this task admirably. The reason I have chosen you for this mission is because you spent time in the city preparing for your mission. You know the city well. You also know where and how the dark caste scum meet. You watched them as they met with the Field Master."
"Yes, I know what they look like and know their favorite meeting spots in the public garden," Neka confirmed.
'Ralemee nodded and turned to Korew. "I have chosen you to go along with Neka because you two work well together. Your bond of understanding seems to allow you to operate much smoother together than most."
Korew nodded. 'Ralemee then addressed them both. "From your reports, Neka, the dark caste leaders wanted a rather large amount of weapons and equipment in exchange for the money. We have recently learned that they raided many storehouses and banks and lost many of their soldiers in order to get that money. Also, the amount of weapons and equipment they wanted seems to be enough to equip a small army. Alone, the equipment they were to get from Rema was not much or unusual, considering the dire supply situation that the dark caste faces. But it turns out that they have been getting a lot more from many different sources, most of whom are dead now."
Korew's face twisted into a bloodthirsty grin. They all knew that Mist Spirits had killed those contacts. 'Ralemee continued, "They are planning something big; something unusual. We need to find out what it is. You may use any means necessary. Kill whoever you must, do whatever you must, but don't alert them to our interest in them until you can confirm what they are planning. After that time, you will inform me of their plans. If they pose a serious threat to anything important, the Mist Spirits as a whole will decide how we will react. Do you understand?"
Neka and Korew nodded solemnly.
"Then go. Be careful. You can't afford to fail."
Several Months Later, Ninth Age of Reclamation/
Covenant City Purity, Final Justice
Neka walked into the crowded and noisy bar, followed by Korew. They wore no armor, just long flowing cloaks. They weren't foolish enough not to arm themselves, and each had several throwing daggers hidden in the folds of their cloaks. They both also had plasma pistols. Neka weaved his way through the crowd, ignoring the strobing light and the harsh pounding of the music. Bars had never been his kind of place, and he viewed the atmosphere as being disturbing to his inner peace.
They found two empty spots at the bar and ordered up some drinks. They paid for the drinks and turned to observe the crowd. They had arranged a meeting with a dark caste leader. They were disguised as two down and out Elites who had no future in society and had no where to go. Perfect candidates to join the dark caste. They intended to join up with them. From inside their own organization, they would be in a better position to find out what the dark caste were planning.
The doors of the bar opened and a file of Elites started streaming in. There were four of them. The first two were tall and muscular. They were the bodyguards. The third was the dark caste leader. Neka recognized him from his observation of their meetings in the garden. The fourth was another dark cast soldier. They spotted Neka and Korew and made their way through the crowd to where they sat.
The dark caste leader stayed by the door with the last Elite while the first two continued on. Neka was suspicious. His hand disappeared inside the folds of his cloak, ready for a fight if it came to that. The two soldiers came and sat down on either side of Neka and Korew. The one sitting next to Neka spoke in a rough voice, "You are the two interested in joining us?"
Neka nodded. The muscular Elite looked him up and down and scoffed. "You guys look so weak that I think I could break you in half."
Neka's eyes narrowed. He and Korew were in perfect physical condition. While they were not body builders, they had the perfect combination of stamina and skill. They could kill this thug with their bare hands without much effort at all. Neka stayed silent.
"If you want to join us, you're going to have to show us that you're worthy of being part of our organization," the thug continued.
Neka's mind reeled with disgust. Here was a criminal talking as if his organization was some honorable group that he should want to kill to be in. Neka viewed them as nothing but outcasts and scum. He felt an anger rising inside of him, but suppressed it, knowing that it could endanger his mission.
"We want to see if you can fight." The thug said.
He stood up, flexing his arms. Muscles rippled up and down his arms and chest. He then drew his fist back and punched. Neka and Korew sprung into action. Used to the skill and lightning speed of the other Mist Spirits, the attacks of the two thugs seemed slow and uncoordinated. Neka dodged the thug's attacks with ease, blocking when necessary and jumping out of the way when he could. It was laughable how horrible these thugs were at hand-to-hand combat.
Neka decided to end this. The thug was a little taller than Neka, who himself was eight feet and eight inches tall. He would have to try a little harder to get blows in to the thug's head. In an incredibly fast attack that was not telegraphed at all, Neka delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of the thug's head. The blow snapped the thug's head around and sent him reeling. Neka leapt up on top of the bar, ignoring the glasses that spilled their contents over the counter or the screaming people around him.
Using his right arm as a pivot, Neka brought his legs sweeping over the bar. His top leg shot out, striking the thug's head again. The thug hadn't even recovered from the last attack and this new one was too much. He fell to the floor. Neka landed back on the floor, flexing his knees to absorb the impact. Glancing up, he saw that Korew had already finished with his thug, who was already on the ground moaning in pain.
Neka grinned in satisfaction. They turned and walked toward the dark caste leader, who eyed them warily. Once they reached where he was, Neka said, "Have we passed your test?"
The dark caste leader's eyes narrowed. "Almost," he answered.
Suddenly, Neka sensed danger. He spun around and ducked as he saw the glowing end of a plasma pistol pointed at him. The two thugs had regained their feet and were now brandishing weapons. The thugs fired. Bright green bolts of plasma struck the wall behind Neka as he pulled his own pistol from his cloak. Years of experience with the weapon kicked in. In a split second, Neka aligned the pistol with the thug's head and pulled the trigger. The plasma bolt tore through the face of the thug. Two more followed and the Elite went down. Without armor to protect him, nothing had been able to stop the plasma from blasting away the thug's face. Nothing but a smoking crater remained.
Korew had also similarly dealt with his own thug. They stood up and turned to face the dark caste leader. Their pistols disappeared back into the folds of their cloaks. They stood there waiting as if nothing had happened. The dark caste leader was impressed with their calm, indifferent manner toward killing those who threatened them. He nodded his approval and said, "Good. There were no more open spaces in my personal bodyguards. Until now. Welcome to the dark caste. You have skill that's rare. You will take the place of those incompetents that used to be my bodyguards."
With that, he turned and walked out of the door and into the dark street, followed by the other dark caste soldier. Neka and Korew glanced at each other as they followed them out, exchanging hidden smiles. The astonished crowd stared after them as they left, their stare shifting from the smoking corpses to the figures disappearing into the darkness.
To Be Continued...
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