# Legacy of the Precursors, Chapter 2: Somewhere Someplace

Author: Drake_The_Traveller
Tags: Action, Anthro, Drama, Halo, Human, Starfox, Story Progression, Story Series, Violence (not In Yiff)

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.

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/860005

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