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Guardians of the Sanctum: (Part 01) -A New Foe-
Posted By: BansheeBoy
Date: 20 June 2004, 7:21 AM


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Guardians of the Sanctum: (Part 01) -A New Foe-




Note-This is Part 01 of BansheeBoy's Guardians of the Sanctum series.

Ninth age of Reclamation, Step of Silence Covenant Holy City
"High Charity," Sanctum of the Hierarchs.





      The High Prophet of Truth sat, legs crossed, humming in deep meditation. He sat atop a ten-foot tall throne, towering above even the mighty hunters. This showed that the prophet was above everyone else in the Covenant caste system. Of course only ceremonial guardians (or brutes) and the greatest elite warriors could even think about stepping foot in the Sanctum of the Hierarchs. Hunters were just the muscle of the operation and in no way sacred. The Prophet's hum echoed throughout his sacred quarters, the tune painting his thoughts. Some said that the Prophet's hum could aid the greatest warriors, but could be just as deadly to it's enemies. It hypnotised them. No one could witness the Prophet's meditation, not even the ceremonial guardians. Anyone that entered would be executed or worse, given to the jackals.
      A gold-armored elite stood outside the Prophet's quarters, closely eyed by two lumbering brutes. He was simply known as the High Guard. He waited patiently, but even a great warrior like himself would soon begin to lose his temperament. And time was of the essence. But then he heard the Prophet's hum become higher in pitch. This sound was rather creepy but it pleased the High Guard. It meant the lengthy ceremony was nearing it's end. That was very good as sometimes the hum could last over eight-hundred cycles. They simply did not have that amount of time. The Prophet's wailing finally came to an abrupt halt and silence once again filled the halls of the inner Sanctum.
      "You may enter!" growled one of the ceremonial guards.

      The High Guard marched into the Prophet's quarters, nervousness rearing it's ugly head. Questions started flooding his mind. When should I bow? How low do I bow? What do I say? All to be expected when confronting the Covenant leadership, especially when they could have you destroyed with a click of their fingers. He decided he'd rather have a plasma torpedo speeding towards him than be in the position he was in now. Ironic really, you could be the bravest warrior on the battlefield but when you met with your superiors you froze up. The High Guard would be dead now though if he was on the battlefield. He was almost vibrating with fear before he realised he had to bow. The High Guard's polished gold chest plate scathed the floor in his low bow. Sweat trickled down his face as he closed his eyes. The High Guard tried to keep his mind empty. The tiniest negative thought about the Prophet and he would be eliminated. He awaited the Prophet's greeting.

      The High Guard began to wonder if the High Prophet of Truth was finding this amusing. Not only was he sweating from the pressure the High Guard had begun to suffer from the strain of bowing this low. Suddenly the Prophet's voice filled the air.
      "Arise High Guardian of the Sanctum" commanded the Prophet. "Now, what is it you came to discuss?". The High Guard stood to attention. He looked calm, but he was still as nervous as when he had arrived.
      "Your holiness" exclaimed the High Guard nervously. "Infidels have infiltrated our outer defences. They are assaulting First Fort as we speak, but the Guardians of the Sanctum are holding their ground. We shall not fail!". The Prophet stared up into the grand halls of which he resided in, mulling it over.
      "I hope, for your sake, they don't fail. No infidels shall tint the Sanctum of Hierarchs with their evil" shrieked the Prophet. The High Guard gulped.
      "Yes your holiness. With that I shall take my leave" he announced. The gold-armored elite bowed low once again, before arising, turning on his heel and speeding away. He let out the breath he had been holding for what seemed like an age. The High Guard never wanted to return to the Prophet's chamber again, at least with bad news.




      Aeas Mustamee charged down the corridors of First Fort, plasma rifle in hand. A pair of special ops grunts swerved round the bend in front of Mustamee, plasma pistols charged. The elite commando-rolled out of the first beams path but was hit square in the chest by the second charged blast. His shields flashed and then failed. Mustamee felt a small pang of pain but he managed to fight through it. He was the Covenant's best after all. He raised his plasma rifle and fired two blue pulses at the traitors. There was a small yelp of pain before two stout bodies clattered to the floor, purple blood oozing out of their arteries.
      A small group of jackals followed Mustamee, probably seeing it as their best chance to live. They squawked in fear as four rebel elites barged their way through falling debris. Mustamee turned and launched a series of blasts towards the group. The elites ducked and dodged the burning hot plasma, giving the jackals their chance. The vicious beasts formed an energy wall with their shields and marched down the corridor, shooting charged beams of plasma. The four rebel elites backed away, while being scorched by searing, concentrated plasma. Four, heavily fried corpses rattled against the deck. Mustamee looked at the three brave jackals.
      "You shall be commended for your heroic actions. Follow me to the gravity lift" commanded Mustamee. The jackals squawked happily at first before Mustamee mentioned the grav lift. They stared at each other nervously. They dare not upset an elite.

      About a quarter of the Guardians of the Sanctum stood guard at the gravity lift. This was where the main assault on First Fort would begin. A few rebels had blasted their way in, but this was the full-scale assault. Mustamee crouched down behind a crate of supplies and aimed his plasma rifle at the holographic grav lift. Mustamee wasn't afraid of death but he didn't want to die either. That's why he had taken up a position next to a pair of medical grunts. Hopefully they would be able to save him if it was necessary. The gravity lift began to hum. A gold-armored elite stood up. Mustamee recognised him as the High Guard.
      "Be ready to fight and kill your brothers! Protect your leadership!"
he yelled. A cheer resounded the grav lift. They were ready.

      The grav lift shimmered and the first wave of rebels flashed into existence. The three grunts and two rookie elites were instantly incinerated by a barrage of heavy plasma fire. Their mangled bodies fell to the floor, swimming in a pool of their own blood.
      "That is just a beginning of what is to come guardians. Fight strong for the Covenant!" bellowed the High Guard, trying to lift the already dragging morale. The grav lift flashed again and this time six rebel jackals appeared and formed a circle of defence with their plasma shields. Whoever was commanding the rebel's strike was smart. The jackal's would delay the guardians, waiting for heavy reinforcements, hunters or brutes. Deadly, unless Mustamee could stop it. He removed a small red and blue ball from his belt. A deactivated plasma grenade. He activated it and hurled it at the bunch of jackals. It latched itself to one of their shields. The jackal ran off screaming, not clever enough to discard the shield.
'Damn' thought Mustamee as the grenade detonated. He had hoped to get the entire squad but it was not to be as four brutes appeared out of the air.
      The brutes broke formation and charged at the small groups of elites. Unfortunately one of the brutes charged at Mustamee. The giant ape lifted it's rusty blade into the air and brought it down on the elite. Mustamee tried to block it with his plasma rifle, but the blade cut straight through and stabbed his thigh. Mustamee let out a shriek of pain as blood oozed out of the wound. The brute was about to finish him off but Mustamee activated a plasma grenade, threw it at the beast and kicked him back with his left leg. It blew and the brute flew five-feet into the air.
      The medical grunts sprinted across the battlefield towards the injured elite. They majestically dodged flying plasma and dived behind cover, whenever it was available. They ran the home stretch and knelt down next to the groaning warrior. They conversed with each other with high-pitched chirps. The pair finally concurred and they began to operate. They removed the wrecked plate of armor, one of them turning away in disgust at the wound. The other injected a pink serum into the damaged flesh.
      Mustamee felt his thigh go numb as one of the medic grunts injected him with something. He relaxed as he felt the pain wash away. Strange how he could relax on a battlefield. The grunt patted him. Mustamee looked up and saw that his wound was stitched up and the other medic grunt added a new plate of battle armor. He finished and gave Mustamee a thumbs-up. Mustamee didn't return the gesture as he returned to his feet. The battle wasn't going well. At least half the guardians had fallen and more rebels were appearing by the second. They had to fall back.
      "Fall Back!" he shouted. Mustamee looked at the High Guard.
      "Fall Back!" agreed the High Guard. "Fall Back to the Steps of Silence!". There was sudden pandemonium as his kinsman retreated. Mustamee picked up a dropped needler and followed the guardians away from the battlefield.





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