Legacy of the Precursors, Chapter 2: Somewhere Someplace
Legacy of the Precursors Chapter 2: Somewhere Someplace Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace... -Oscar Wilde Six blinked his eyes rapidly as he awakened, trying to clear his vision. That light had been so bright that even though his visor polarized, he had still been affected by it, and the affects lingered after he regained consciousness. While his vision returned, so did his other facilities and the augmented human realized, that he was sprawled on the ground. All he could see was darkness, and so he tried to rectify that problem by lifting his head, and it would not budge. Concerned, he gave it a good tug and he managed to pull his head out of whatever it was that was restricting him. His dark blue eyes perceived a discrepancy. The ground he was seeing was green and leafy, where as it should have been barren and steely. In fact, it looked more like a forest floor than anything else. Six lifted his helm and took in the rest of his surroundings, and he frowned. Why was he in a forest? The Spartan-III appeared to be in an expansive forest clearing. The vegetation was alien, like nothing he had ever seen before. The trees that surrounded the clearing were a deep verdant green and vibrant with life. Luckily, his suit was sensing no harmful foreign contaminants in the air and so it was not running on a closed oxygen supply. He had no concept of how long he had been knocked out, and that would have been a shameful way to die for a spartan, running out of air in his suit and dying of asphyxiation. His audio sensors could also pick up the sound of wildlife and that worried the spartan. He had no idea where he was or what lived here. And then there was the other dilemma, he was not alone. There were five bodies and scattered equipment from the lab. Two of the bodies, were that of the marines that had accompanied him. And the others were of the elites that had tried to kill him and succeeded in killing them. But as much as he would have liked to worry about that, there was an even bigger problem. Why was he in a forest? Seriously, what happened? He should have died in that explosion, and yet....here he was, whatever and wherever here was. Six shook his head and climbed to his feet, immediately checking for his weapons. His rifle and pistol had been stripped off of his body, and who knew where his kukri was. That loss hurt the most. That blade had belonged to Emile, and he had promised the spartan that he would take care of it for as long as he was alive. All he had on him was his shotgun, and the combat knife sheathed on his breastplate. That didn't bother the spartan, he had worked with less. Six then began the process of scouring the clearing for weapons and ammo. As he searched his fellow soldiers' bodies he recovered an additional magnum, another shotgun, but no assault rifle. Along with those was a handful of clips for the magnum and a further dozen shells for the shotguns and a single rucksack. He would have to conserve his ammunition if he ran into any trouble. Once he was done with the grim and necessary task of policing ammo from his fellow man, he turned his attention to the elites. He searched the first two, grabbing their plasma swords and liberating a pair of plasma grenades from them. Then he went to the other body, and moved to grab the plasma sword in the elite's death grip. But as soon as he attempted to remove the weapon from the strong grip, the alien groaned and rolled over, exposing a kukri buried in his sternum. Six instantly backed up a foot and leveled a shotgun at the elite. But, for some reason, he stayed his hand, returning the shotgun to its home on his back and staring at the silver armored alien that had been his foe. He had no desire to kill this alien, and it confused him. Why was that? Was it because of their circumstances? Both were stranded on whatever world this was and he had no success in trying to contact any human forces. For all intents and purposes it looked like they were both the only ones here on this world. Still uncertain as to his reasoning, the spartan sighed, gently removing the kukri. The alien's wounds were still bleeding though, and so with great hesitation, he bandaged him up out of his own medical kit. As he was doing so, he fought with himself. Why was he helping this alien? He had killed humans, his marines, and yet... He could not bring himself to let the sangheili die. It was a bothersome thing. Six finished bandaging the elite; he had done an okay job. He was not exactly in an unbiased mood and so it was not the best of wraps, but it would work. With that done, the spartan grabbed a pair of zip-cuffs he had in a compartment and proceeded to tie up the unconscious sangheili. Once he was sure that he could not escape, the spartan dragged him to a tree and propped him up on it, confiscating his weapons. And with that problem momentarily sorted, he returned to scavenging the clearing and scouting the immediate area. He salvaged a few tables and set them up in the center of the clearing. From there he deposited every piece of equipment and weapon he had gathered, placing them in sections on the tables. As he looked over the gear, he frowned. The pickings were slim.
He had two shotguns with fifty shells for the both of them, a magnum with ten clips to its name, three plasma swords, three plasma grenades, two plasma repeaters, two plasma pistols, a needle rifle with five canisters, a camo armor mod, an armor lock mod, and his recovered kukri. This could either be not enough weapons or too many, depending on what he had to deal with. Everything was in the unknowns at the moment. There was no telling what laid ahead for him. "What is the meaning of this?" A voice bellowed angrily, and with a hint of indignation. Six sighed....the sangheili was awake. The spartan looked over his bulky plated shoulder at the now conscious alien that sat tied up next to a tree. His legs and his arms were secured and so he just sat there, taking in the surroundings and his state of being, occasionally struggling. When his black reptilian eyes spotted Six, they narrowed. "You Demon, what is this sorcery? Where am I?" The spartan turned from the table and stared at the sangheili. Now that he was awake, he would have to find out what he was going to do with him. The spartan grabbed a shotgun off the table and walked to within a few paces of the elite, still silently observing him. The elite showed not a single hint of fear as he sat there unflinching in the face of his possible death. Instead he glared at the spartan defiantly, waiting for him to speak. Six decided that he was not going to play any games and he simply explained his situation, that he and by default the elite, were stranded on this strange world by even stranger means. It did not take any deep understanding of sangheili facial expressions to see the skepticism planted on it. "You speak lies Demon!" He snarled, straining against his restraints. Six watched his infantile rage dispassionately. He cared little if the elite believed him or not. It would be no skin of his back either way. "Have it your way." The Spartan-III shrugged and walked back to his table to tend at his supplies. The elite glared at him before finally caving in. "Blasted Demon, fine...I believe you." He grumbled the last part sullenly. "But, why have you captured me, if our roles were reversed. I would have killed you in an instant." It was brutal honesty, and Six could appreciate that....not that he liked the answer. Six looked back and took a moment to answer. "I don't know." He replied, equally honest, before returning to his business. The elite stared at him in confusion. This Demon confused him. If he had found himself on a strange world with the Demon in his grasp, he would have killed him without a hint of hesitation or regret, their extinction was a mandate of the gods, and it was his holy duty to fulfill it. But...this Demon gave him pause, he was strange. And to compact it, it would seem that he had fixed him up. He could see that his wounds had been bandaged. Now curious, he watched the Demon as he worked, taking care of the things he had gathered. And when his eyes spotted the sword of his ancestors in that Demon's grip he snarled. "Don't touch that!" The Demon paused and looked back, dropping the hilt of the blade back onto the table. "What...don't touch this?" The Demon asked, deliberately poking the blade with his grubby heretical gauntlet. "Yes that!" He snarled, trying to break his bonds. "That belongs to me and my ancestors; you defile it with your touch!" As he raved, the spartan stared at him. He would not have admitted it, but the alien's anger amused him. "And why should I?" The elite paused his raving. It was true; he was a prisoner and had no power over anything, not even his fate. The only reason he was alive was because the Demon had dained not to kill him. "Because.....it belongs to me, and my family," The sangheili sighed. "Family....." The Demon muttered softly. The elite picked up on that. "Yes, family, that weapon has been in my family line for untold generations, it is a symbol of our keep's heritage." He watched as the Demon seemed to ponder that, it seemed that family struck a chord with the Demon, and that was strange. After a minute of silence, he sighed loud enough to be heard and walked back over to the elite, shotgun prepped once more. "Look, we are both stranded here. We have nothing tying us to our superiors. It's just me...and you. So I have a proposition. I will free you, but in return I demand a truce. I don't know what's out there on this planet, but we have a better chance of surviving if we cooperate." The elite mulled it over. It was true, there was no hierarchs here to order him around, but there were the gods, and they were all seeing and knowing. "I cannot go against the will of the gods." The demon nodded. "Very well, then I can't let you go." He turned and walked away. "But we do have to get to a better position We need a place we can fortify and hold." "We...?" The elite asked in confusion. "Why we...why would you take me with you?" As the Demon started to pack the rucksack he responded. "I don't plan on killing you at the moment, nor do I intend to leave you here." Once the bag was packed, he slung it onto his armored shoulders and walked back to the elite. He was holding his shotgun in his arms, grenades on his waist, and the kukri that had recently made its home in his abdomen was sheathed on the Demon's shoulder. He reached down and grabbed the elite's shoulder, pulling him up besides his protests. "You can pick the way we go." The elite growled, but pointed in a random direction. "There..." The Demon patted him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."
Before they left the clearing, the spartan-III did what he could for his fallen marine brethren; he grabbed their tags and dug graves for them with the only tools he had...his hands. He had also decided to bury the elite's, it was a decision he came to as he worked. They had fought like warriors and in doing so, earned his respect. Six may have forgotten much of his childhood, but he did not forget his heritage. He had been born on a mainly Scandinavian colony in the outer arm of humanity's influence. And in so, his youth had been saturated with tales of their proud warrior traditions. It was something that stuck worth him despite the atrocities that befell his colony. Yet, he would have gladly forgotten that, just to be able to recall his mother's, or his father's face. All he saw when he tried were blank faces; he couldn't even remember the sound of their voices, just a hum his mother used to use to help him fall asleep. Those thoughts were not conductive to a healthy mindset and so he crushed them swiftly. He had no need of his family now; they were far gone anyways, turned into glass. His thoughts would be better used to try and figure out what it was that he was going to do now. He had an alien prisoner; he was stranded on a foreign world and had no contact with any UNSC forces. In fact, by rights he should be dead, that explosion should have completely evaporated him. And yet instead it seemed like something happened that he had not anticipated. But then again, he shouldn't really be that surprised, Slipspace technology was still uncharted terrain. Humanity understood little of its true properties. He knew that it was composed of seven dimensions and the laws of physics changed drastically when involved with it. The concept of dimensions and physics worried the spartan to no end. It was an unexplainable and controllable variable with an almost infinite amount of unknown variations. Basically, to dumb it down, no Intel was solid when concerning slipspace, and he hated fluid Intel. It was always changing and warping in ways one could never be prepared for. His thoughts occupied his mind for several hours as he and his unwilling companion plodded through the thick jungle, and it didn't help that night had fallen and it was raining harshly. Six was protected by his suit from the muggy oppressive air and intense sleeting rain while the elite, with his open helm, suffered through it.
The spartan led the way as they marched through the vegetation and pouring rain. He hoped that they would soon find something to orientate on, something to get their bearing and take shelter in. As he walked, he could hear the elite grumbling to himself, as he had been since they started moving. And the Spartan-III wondered for the hundredth time why he was letting this sangheili travel with him, let alone letting him live. And he was still fuzzy on the reasoning. And yet before he could properly consider it, he spotted something through the thick canopy of the jungle amidst the darkened sky, something large and looked to be of sentient construct. "Looks like a structure." Six announced, pointing at the gape in the tree line. A crack of lightning briefly illuminated the odd structure. The spartan's keen eyes and enhanced targeting software allowed him a defined look at the massive building. It was made entirely of some sort of black alloy, and familiarity rung inside of his head at the sight of it. He couldn't place it, but the structure was familiar in some way, as if he had seen its like before. The elite did not respond which sent alarm bells clanging inside his head, the alien had always responded to his inquires, despite whether or not it was what he wanted to hear. The spartan quickly ripped his head around, expecting to either see the alien gone or about to attack him. But instead he saw the elite crouched by a tree. The spartan was baffled as to why the alien was doing that, if lighting was going to strike, it was better to be away from trees, which naturally drew it. But, a faint sound soon whispered its way into his audio sensors and the spartan understood. They were about to have company. A strange guttural tongue...far removed from sangheili dialect or any known Covenant vernacular, found its way slipping through the trees to the west of their current position. And judging by the alien's response, they were either unfriendly or he did not know who they were either. The spartan was not going to take any chances; he cocked the pump of his shotgun and moved to crouch beside the elite. It was at this moment he would have berated himself for choosing the armor colors he did. It was hard to conceal a cerulean giant, covered in white Nordic runes. But it was the only thing he could remember of his heritage and so he would not have it any other way. It was the only thing that had singled him out from his fellow spartan-IIIs' It was his identity, his distinguishing mark. It was his identity. "Demon, release me!" He heard the elite whisper loudly beside him. The alien was crouched down awkwardly, legs and arms restrained by the zip-cuffs. "I will not suffer an ignoble death!" "Quiet!" Six hissed, pushing the protesting elite into the tree for cover. It was possible that whoever was approaching was not hostile, (the spartan checked to makes sure that his shotgun was ready to fire), not that he would willingly bid on that. They waited in silence, until the owners of the guttural voices made themselves know. And when they did, Six sighed. Why did it have to be lizards? Out of the darkness, twelve large bipedal reptiles of various sizes and colors in what appeared to be in some sort of primitive armor, marched into sight. Half of them also had what looked like blunderbusses in their tri digited claws, while the remaining ones wielded an assemblage of medieval weapons, axes, swords, maces and the like. These creatures very loosely reminded him of elite's. Yet they were far too small and unintimidating to truly resemble sangheili. Six watched them carefully as they made their way down the animal trail they had been following, heading towards the structure like he had been. The lead saurian was blue and stood at an excessive height, taller than Six. And the spartan was nothing to scoff at, being seven feet tall when in armor. It was a massive beast to be sure, and all the more reason for him to let them go. He had no idea if these strange aliens were hostile or friendly, but by judging their attire and attitude as they growled and stomped through the foliage, it was safe to assume that they were in fact, not the friendliest bunch of aliens one would like to meet. The problem was that the aliens were heading in the same direction as they were. And he did not like that at all. There were only two ways of getting past them, sneaking, which he did not think would work with a bound sangheili in tow, or following at a distance. Neither options were popular in the spartan's opinion. Yet even as he was thinking on what to do, the wind suddenly shifted, sending a gust towards the marching group of saurians. Almost instantly, the massive blue scaled beast at the front of the party halted, raising his scaled snout and meaty fist as he sniffed the air. He turned to his companions and barked a quick command in his language, turning them back around. "Shit...." Six muttered. It would seem that they had incredibly sensitive noses, and had probably picked up on the foreign scents clinging to Six's and the elite's armor. After all, he was still splattered with dried blood of both humans and aliens, not to mention that they must have smelled of things they had never smelt before, if he assumed their technological level correctly. Unfortunately the rain had not been pouring long enough to wash their scents away. As the party of aliens approached, the elite beside him increased in his demands to be let go. "Hear me Demon, release me from these confines. I will not abide a foolish and helpless death. If these...creatures, desire a fight, then let me fight!" "Not a chance squid-head. I can't trust you." The spartan retorted quietly, once more shoving the elite back down roughly from his raised position. "If things go south, I'll take care of it." The elite snarled at his remark. "You think me an honorless beast!?" "No, you're an enemy that's why." The spartan hissed in retort as he watched the reptilians close in. Once they were within range, he had to come to a decision. He could try and reveal himself, or he could fire on them without the benefit of the doubt. And yet, these aliens were completely different than the Covenant, and just because they looked evil, did not necessarily mean that they were. And so with that in mind, Six made a very, very, very hard choice, he shrugged of his rucksack and his deep seated hatred for aliens, the decades long rage that had consumed him, and stepped out of hiding. Whereas, he promptly received a slug to the breastplate, sparking off of his shields in a dazzling display of light and dropping his shields four percent, eliciting a sigh from the spartan. It would seem that his luck with aliens would remain unchanged. That only ignited the spartan's deep seated hatred for aliens and he growled as he charged at the closest creature. They had the advantage in numbers, and so he would take that away from them, one death at a time. His first target was a short and stocky yellow saurian with a mace and round shield. It snarled as it raised its guard and charged him. Six punctually pulled the trigger and emptied a full shell of buckshot into his opponent. The pellets shredded right past the flimsy shield at such a close range and then proceeded to burrow into the reptiles hide and flesh. The force of the shot also tossed it backwards and he saw bright red blood spew into the air as it tumbled to the ground in a nerveless heap. It would seem that his weapons could easily breach the alien's armor, and so he placed his shotgun away. It would be a waste of ammo to use on them. There might be things on this world that would be more suitable candidates. And he had only a finite supply to use. Four slugs ricocheted off of his shields as he grabbed the kukri sheathed on his shoulderplate. He turned to his left to see the culprits, a group of large green reptiles. Six charged them, weaving through an additional two slug fired from his left, and smashing into the first dark green scaled beast. His half-a-ton of weight decimated the alien, and he could hear the sharp snapping of bones as the unfortunate saurian flew into a tree with a sickening crunch. Six soon after darted to his left, evading the stock of a gun and spun to face his attacker. The saurian glared at him with a fang filled maw and bellowed into the spartan's helmet. In return, he jammed his kukri into its sternum and used his immense strength to tear the blade in a horizontal line. The monomolecular diamond carbide blade easily carved through, flesh, steel, and bone, and the spartan ripped it outwards, followed by a crimson arterial rain. The reptile had no voice to use as it collapsed to the frigid rain soaked ground in a pool of its own blood as Six sheathed his blade. Six felt a weight slam into his shoulder and turned to see an axe wielding creature stumble backwards, arm jarred by the deflected blow. The strength of the hit had dropped his shields by thirty-five percent. Six whipped around, faster than a snake, and grabbed the saurian's clawed hand and squeezed. It howled in pain and sunk to its knees as the bones in its arm turned to powder. Then, the spartan tore the axe out of its grip and brought it scything down into its neck. The reptile's head flew from its shoulders in a wash of gore and it went rigid, hitting the ground like a rock. Six turned to his left in the same motion, and hurled the weapon at a rifle-bearing creature. The large heavy axe smashed into its chest and crumpled its armor, sending the beast to the floor. A slug impacted his spine, swapping his attention to the short blue creature holding the gun. Six growled at it and fluidly tossed his combat knife after taking it out from its sheath. The blade split the air as it hurtled towards its target, slamming into the saurian's cranium between the eyes. Without pausing, the spartan rushed the last two rifle saurians, crashing into both of them. He grabbed both by their throats and lifted them off their feet. His gauntlets constricted and their necks twisted at an odd angle. He tossed the limp bodies and turned to see his last few targets. The last four enemies consisted of three yellow reptiles and the hulking blue monstrosity. The large azure beast watched him with a spark of intelligence in his eyes and ordered his underlings to go first with a roar. The three smaller reptilians charged, weapons brandished high in the air. They were poorly coordinated and would be easy targets. Six tore them apart. He caught the first saurian's sword by the blade and brought it hammering down into its skull, cleaving it in twain. A mace flew by his head and he swerved under it, socking the alien in the chest with his full force. Its steel armor did not save it. Instead, his gauntlet folded the armor and broke past it, as he pierced through the beast's chest and out the other side. Blood flowed out of its jaws as it plummeted to the jungle floor. The last yellow armored reptile attempted to run, and the spartan snatched its fleeing tail. He pulled hard and ripped the tail off, roping it around the saurian's throat and choking the life out of it. He was so blinded by rage that he almost didn't feel the massive mace as it careened into his helm, shattering his taxed shields and sending him tumbling into a tree, shattering the large oaken giant. The tree then ponderously crashed down, pinning the spartan to the ground and allowing his attacker to saunter over at his leisure. The giant azure saurian strolled over and placed a clawed foot onto the fallen tree pinning him to the ground. "Fhofuho ke tao!" It barked in a short grating chuckle and raised its broad headed mace and prepared to send it crashing down onto the spartan's helmet. "Fuck you!" Six snarled at the creature. If his helmet was off, he would have spit on its snout in defiant contempt. Before it could land the final blow, a flash of silver collided with the behemoth and knocked it off balance. That gave the spartan the time he needed to free himself from the fallen tree and confront his foe. The spartan was shocked to see that the elite had tackled the saurian and now sat helpless at its feet, arms and legs constricted, by the spartan's hands. The mace wielding monster was set on spending his rage on his new victim, only for his head to explode in a cascade of gore. He fell to the ground, revealing the spartan behind him, shotgun barrel smoking. Six grabbed the elite's shoulder and lifted him up to his hooves, gently. "You...saved my life." The spartan muttered in confusion. He had full expected the elite to let him die, and even rejoice in his death. The elite snorted simply. "I was merely repaying a debt I did not wish to owe, Demon. You healed my injuries, and so I saved your life. It was nothing more than that." The spartan nodded silently, unsheathing his kukri and advancing on the elite. The alien eyed him warily. There were two quick slashes and the cuffs fell to the ground. "What is the meaning of this, Demon?" He demanded, rubbing his wrists and watching the spartan carefully. "I think...that I can trust you." The spartan replied as he turned his back on the sangheili and strode over to his rucksack, picking it up. "And what makes you think that?" The elite asked curiously. "I could try and kill you at any time." The spartan made a grating nose that the elite eventually figured out, was laughter. "I have a feeling that you won't." He responded in an annoyingly confident tone. He pulled two things out from the bag and approached the elite. "Here, you can have these back." It was the hilt of an energy sword, a single plasma repeater, and a lone plasma grenade. The elite warily took the weapons, staring at the spartan in wonder. It baffled him as to why the Demon was placing so much trust in him, his mortal enemy. "Why?" He asked. "There's a saying amongst my people." The Demon replied, turning to resume their interrupted journey. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and it looks like we both just inherited a lot of enemies." The sangheili watched the retreating armored figure of the Demon. He could have shot him, or killed him with his sword. But instead the elite shook his mandibled head in bewilderment and followed after him. As the spartan walked in the direction of the strangely and enticingly familiar black structure, he looked up to the sky deep in thought. He had expected the elite to betray him, killing him while his back was turned. And it wouldn't have bothered the spartan that much. Six had nothing to give him purpose any more, nothing to motivate him to want to live. Before all of this oddness, it had been his duty to humanity that gave his life purpose, but now that he was here, he didn't know what to do. All he had pushing him onwards was his desire to see what that fortress like building was, he felt compelled to go and uncover it, as if something was drawing him towards it. That feeling was what was holding him together. If nothing arose from his discovery..... The spartan did not want to consider what he would do then; it would mostly entail staring down the barrel of his shotgun. Suicide was not common amongst spartans, but that was mostly because they tended to not live long enough to contemplate it. Spartans...were guided by a stringent code of beliefs, their duty to humanity and her colonies. Take that away from them, and they had nothing. There was nothing waiting for them once the war ended, if it ever did. Six could never see himself living the life as a civilian. His rigorous training and indoctrination had stolen that away from him...stolen his future away from him. All he was now was a warrior without a cause, a man without a purpose. Purpose..... What had been his purpose anyways? To fight and die for something he could never experience, freedom, happiness, a family...love. It was all denied to him. The spartan frowned as he crested over a rise and looked back down to see that the elite, was following him. Then there was him. He could have blamed his sudden compassion towards the alien for when he had saved the spartan's life. But the truth was he just didn't want another enemy at the moment. He didn't think he could stand having to constantly watch over him and his back. So he had decided to roll the dice. And the dice landed in his favor. Six's brooding lasted long enough that he reached the outskirts of the strange structure. And it was immediately replaced by a sense of awe. The obsidian fortress was larger than he gave it credit. There was a massive bridge that spanned from the end of the hill he stood on and all the way to the center of the nest of spires. Rain fell in sheets as far as the eye could see and he could feel the wind tugging him forwards, as if it was urging him onwards. For some reason, he felt as if his destiny awaited him in that forest of black steel. He heard the weighty trod of hooves as his companion stopped besides him. "That is a most wondrous sight." The spartan looked to the elite, who had been taking in the staggering vista with wide eyes and slack mandibles. "I think for once, elite, we can agree on something." The elite shifted his attention to the spartan and sneered. "My name is not elite, it is Varn'Natan." "My name is not Demon, it's Six." The spartan retorted. Varn stared at him hard before chucking softly. "So it is, so it is." Six shook his head and ushered the elite forwards. "Come on, let's check this place out. Maybe we can find something useful and plan our next step." With that said, both spartan and elite began to traverse the expanse of bridge and into the heart of the strange fortress. And as the spartan was walking, he spotted a flash of movement on his peripherals. He looked up and zoomed in on a flying object with his HUD. It appeared to be some sort of reptilian creature, with a blue object on its back. It was too far out to tell what, but it was obvious that the creature had a rider. "It looks like we are not the only ones here." Six informed Varn, motioning for him to look up. The elite complied and spotted what the spartan had seen. "It matters not." Varn replied simply. "If they wish to fight, they will die." The spartan agreed and they picked up their pace.
Far above them, amid the rain swept skies and high winds, the figure sitting atop the winged saurian, stared at the majesty of the black citadel, and home to the distress beacon she had picked up. It would seem that the earthwalkers were in dire need of help. And though she was trying to find who was responsible for the destruction of her homeworld. She was willing to postpone that in order to help. She signaled for her companion to set her down somewhere inside of the citadel and he complied, swinging down to a lower altitude in order to drop her off near one of the spires, on a balcony. As he descended, the women spied out two figures crossing the large bridge leading into the center if the fortress. Her sharp eyes picked up that one was dressed in silver and the other blue and white, much like her fur color. The girl was intrigued by these two strangers as they did not appear to be sharpclaw, even from this distance. But her curiosity could be satisfied later, for now she had a job to do. Her winged guide set her down near the center and bowed. "Thank you for your assistance." She said in the saurian tongue, bowing in return. The cloud runner nodded his beaked head. "Of course Lady Krystal, when you need me, I'll come." He then took off, disappearing into the night sky. She watched him depart before turning and walking into the massive doors leading into the citadel.