# Legacy of the Precursors, Chapter 3: Destiny

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

Legacy of the Precursors
Chapter 3: Destiny
Your destiny is to
die but it is what you do in between in life that matters...
-Anonymous
 
Six and Varn crossed
the expansive bridge and stopped inside a strange courtyard. As anticipated, it
was made of the same material that spanned the entirety of the fortress. The
rain gave the fortress a glowing sheen, and as the spartan and sangheili passed
through the courtyard and headed farther into the citadel, Six ran a passing
gauntlet across a rain splashed barrier jutting out of the floor. It felt
smooth and metallic under the spartan's gauntlet. "Curious..." He muttered
quietly to himself. It did not feel like any natural material he knew of. 
Intrigued, the spartan
flipped open the hardcase on his right vambrace and typed on the TACPAD that
lay within. He ran a composition analysis on the partition, scanning it with
the device. It would take some time for the program to gain results so the
spartan closed the case and resumed moving. 
He found the sangheili
standing at a pair of massive doors leading further into the foreign fortress.
Varn placed a four fingered hand on the doors and was slowly feeling it across.
As the spartan made his way over to his companion, the sangheili began to
speak, astonishment filling his voice. "This structure strikes me as
familiar....spartan." He may have dropped the Demon title when addressing Six,
but he could not bring himself to use the spartan's name. "And yet...." He
trailed off, removing his reptilian hand slowly. The sangheili looked directly
at the approaching spartan. "I can discern no method of opening these gates." 
Six stopped next to
Varn and looked at the doors. He could see no visible switch or handle, and
even his great strength could not move them, with or without his cohort's help.
These portals towered above him, twenty feet in height and composed entirely of
the material that pervaded every inch of this place. Nor did the spartan have a
sufficient amount of explosives to even consider blowing the doors open,
indeed, until he knew what it was made of, he wouldn't even know if explosives
would work in the first place. 
At the moment, it
seemed that their journey had come to a sudden and impassible conclusion. An abrupt
torrent of rage bubbled to the forefront of the spartan's awareness. He would
not...no...could not, accept defeat so soon. Six tightened his gauntlet into a fist
and brought it crashing down onto the thick metallic doors, provoking a deep
resonant boom that faded into a dull echo. 
Six's helm lightly
connected with the gates and he sighed softly. 
His journey ended
before it could even begin, but the spartan was not one to give up so easily.
Six would just have to find another entrance into this accursed fortress. To
think that a single set of doors could stop the determination and fortitude of
a spartan was preposterous. 
In the meantime, Varn,
who had been watching the spartan with a curious, began to notice a slow
procedural change in their surroundings. A soft blue light gradually emerged
from the epicenter of where the spartan's helmet was, branching out in
geometrical lines all across the black surface of the large gates. "Looks
spartan, something is occurring." 
Six lifted his head,
seeing the orderly sapphire lines splintering off from where he had laid his
helm. The spartan backed up and observed as the cerulean streaks soon reached
the edge of the gates and then continued to advance, sprawling across the
entirety of the visible citadel, outlining it all in a blue hue. Soon, the dark
and stormy night was given light by the illuminated manifestations. It was one
of the most remarkable things either individual had seen in their lives. 
An unexpected clang
snatched their attention and they looked back to the massive doors. A vertical
azure light split it down the center and a ponderous groaning reverberated
through the air as they sluggishly opened, revealing a large darkened corridor
that slowly began to fill with a lax blue light, the same pattern of lines
crawling along pre-destined paths on the walls. 
It reminded the spartan
of UNSC installations that had been mothballed. It had that same feeling of
abandonment and neglect, as if the owners had up and left in a hurry, shutting
out the lights and locking the doors. But what really interested the spartan
was why they had opened. What had caused such an immediate change? All he had
done was touch the gates and he didn't think that was what had done it. And
yet, where he had placed his head was where the heart of the lights originated
from. 
But the spartan did not
care as much about that, as the result of whatever happened. The doors were now
open, and they could continue on inside. Six jerked his helm, motioning for
Varn to follow and the baffled sangheili complied as the duo marched on into
the alien citadel. 
As they walked along
the barren and pristine hall, Six had an odd thought. This thing they had
entered was leagues ahead of the technology he had seen so far on this planet
from its less than friendly residents. In fact, it appeared to be more advanced
than anything he had seen being actively used in the UNSC. The walls and lights
just screamed future tech. What was this place? What was this world? He had
never seen its like before, and he had been to many plants in his service. The
spartan had many questions, and no answers.
Noble Six looked behind
him to see the elite staring at the walls in wonder. Clearly, he was enthralled
by it, for what reason, Six could not say. 
They followed the now
lit corridor until it branched off into three sections. At this point, the
Spartan-III didn't know what he was doing, at the moment he was running purely
off instinct and hypothesis. He felt the need to head to the center of this
strange place. 
He decided on a logical
conclusion and chose the center tunnel. The deeper he and Varn progressed into
the facility, the more changes he began to notice. The corridor was beginning
to subtly narrow, the process was so slow that he had almost not noticed it. In
addition, there were large protrusions every couple hundred feet or so, one on each
side, facing each other. A blue symbol was splashed on the bottom of the
square-like out-crops and they looked like hatches of some sort. 
He noted that Varn was
taking particular interest to those, as if he knew what they were. And so the
spartan asked him.
The sangheili swiveled
his head away from his survey and acknowledged his inquiry, mandibles clacking
together. "I have seen something like this before, but not in the way it is
here. But if my speculation is accurate then we have stumbled upon something...magnificent."
There was a hint of something in the elite's inflection, but he did not know
what. It reminded him of apprehension, or perhaps reverence.
Six and Varn progressed
through the obviously alien structure and eventually arrived at a colossal
rotundas chamber with a vaunted ceiling that rose up hundreds of feet in the
air. Its interior was a dark silvery color, like an ashen black. And in the
center of it all was a pedestal.
They approached the
pedestal and stopped. It was the first object they had seen since entering the
fortress. The plinth stood up to their chests and the top was slanted with an
interface on the top. It was roughly in the shape of a hand, but had no
discernable traits apparent. It could have taken any hand of any species. But,
it was a large hand, big enough for both Six and Varn.
"What should we do?"
The spartan asked, looking to the elite by his side.
The sangheili took a
long time to answer. "I am uncertain. We have made it this far..." He dropped
off.
Six watched as the elite
stepped forwards towards the pedestal and hesitantly placed a palm on it. Both
individuals sat in silence, waiting for something to happen, but as time
passed, Varn removed his hand. Nothing had happened.
But, a spark of
recognition lit up in the sangheili's eyes and he turned to Six. "Spartan,
place your palm on the device." 
"Why?" He questioned in
puzzlement.
"Because, when you
touched the gates they opened. I do not know why, but it is possible that this
would work as well." Varn backed up, waiting for the spartan to comply.
Six shook his head but
did as the elite had instructed, a strange sense of Déjà vu urge to touch the
device welling up inside him, almost an imposable driving force, and so he
placed his gauntlet upon the surface.
Almost immediately, it
light up brightly, the same blue lines trickling down the stand and spreading
across the floors. In tandem, a holographic interface materialized in front of
him, the screen filled with incomprehensible symbols. 
"It is as I thought;
this is a temple for the gods!" Varn exclaimed in veneration, dropping to his
digitigrade knees and genuflecting, whispering what sounded like prayers to the
spartan. 
Six gazed at the
sangheili in confusion, that is at least until he understood what he had meant.
From briefings, he had gathered that the Covenant worshipped the long dead and
decidedly advanced race, the forerunners. Now the spartan grasped why the
fortress seemed to be familiar. He had seen the forerunner excavations
underneath SWORD base, and they held an uncanny resemblance to this place. The
deciding variance was the colors, these were far more edgy then the bright
silver he was used to. It gave the structure a markedly different feel to it,
more along the lines of a derelict military base then an exotic ruin. 
If he still had contact
with the UNSC, this would have been an invaluable find. The possibilities in
technological advancement from an intact and operational forerunner ruin were
inconceivable. It could skyrocket military technology and allow humanity a
distinct fighting chance against the Covenant. But considering there was no way
to contact the UNSC, if indeed he was in the same dimension as previous, it was
useless. 
The irony was palpable.
Here was something
vital to humanities expansion, and it would most likely never see use. Yet, it
was possible that it could at least serve him. If there was a starcharts, he
might be able to find out where he was, and possibly if he could find a way
back to human space. 
"Greetings. I am 266 Indeterminate Warrior. I am the Monitor of Instillation
17. Oh, a Reclaimer! I have been waiting eons for you to come!" 
At the sound of the
bizarrely cheerful and light tinny voice, Six whipped his head up to the left
and grabbed one of the shotguns magnetized to his back, leveling the barrel at
a strange spherical object hovering a few feet away.
The metallic orb had a
large red eye taking up most of the center of its ebony chassis; it was concave
on three sides and a little larger than the spartan's head. There was a slight
humming noise as it hovered close to him, looking down with what could only be
curiosity as the orb tilted to the side marginally. 
Six was more surprised
that the floating cyclops could speak English, than that it was there.
"Reclaimer...wait, why you are speaking English." The flabbergasted spartan
demanded.
The orb bobbed and
replied in an airy tone. "It was rather
simple Reclaimer, a quick scan of your cerebral cortex and I was given all of
the data I needed. This...English, as you so call it, reminds me of a far older
dialect. I also detected trace elements of tachyon particles on your persons...most
curious...most curious indeed." The eye orb muttered to itself, some things
about causality and time. Six didn't give the strange things ramblings much
thought.
Six shook his head in
confusion. What in the hell was a tachyon particle? All of this new
information, while welcomed, was overwhelming.
Varn looked up from his
reverential prayers and saw the floating machine. "This is a holy oracle. They
speak the words of the olden gods. But I have never seen one like it before."
He added, studying the oracle's odd coloring. 
The monitor tilted its
red eye to examine the sangheili. "Ah,
species-37, otherwise entitled Sangheili, it is good to see that your race has
advanced as well. That must mean that our directive is proceeding as scheduled,
most wonderful news!" 
Varn shook his head in
confusion. "Directive, what is this that you speak of, oracle?"
Instead of answering,
the oracle flew in a lazy circle and stopped above the holographic displays. "Please follow me, we have much to
prepare!" The monitor giggled oddly and began to zigzag away, humming to
itself.
Six reluctantly turned
to the elite for advice, considering he had some sort of experience with these
things. "What should we do?"
Varn answered with a
semi-hesitant frown. "I believe it would be wise to follow it....for now."
The spartan shrugged
and mag-locked his shotgun, following after the oracle. He was not thrilled
with the strange little machine, it gave off all the hallmarks of an AI
suffering from the long term effects of rampancy, but it also seemed that it
might have the answers they desperately needed. Perhaps it could even tell them
where they were and if they could somehow get back to their respective leaders.
Of course though, that would cancel their alliance of convenience. But that was
a problem to consider afterwards, not that the spartan was not prepared to do
what he had to do.
**********
The cerulean vixen
walked through the extraordinarily wondrous halls of the palace, staff in paw.
She had heard tales from the CloudRunners that spoke of this obscure citadel.
According to ancient legend, it has stood atop the mountain since they first
began to record history. 
It is not known what
race built the obsidian fortress, but most of the tribes of Sauria consider it
to be the abandoned home of the gods. And for that reason, very few are allowed
to enter, and even few have the courage to enter its halls. As Krystal took in
its advanced splendor, she could understand how they reached such an
assumption. 
Its hallowed corridors
shown with a soft and beautiful artificial light, which emanated from the blue
outlines scrawling along the smooth alloyed walls and gave the palace a
primordial and yet cutting-edge air. 
The vixen was trying to
find the earthwalkers that had activated the distress beacon, but so far had
not seen them. The signal had originated from somewhere in the citadel, near
the far eastern side. And as time crawled onwards and no sight of the earthwalkers
was uncovered, her unease was only nurtured. The CloudRunners had also warned
her of the vicious and warlike sharpclaws that had been building in power and
dominance across the planet. Something had changed for them and their usually
ineffective assaults had drastically increased in success. Most if not all of
their newfound tactical brilliance could be attributed to their leader a
particularly nasty saurian called General Scales. 
Something had happened
and he seemed to have gained a knack for waging war beyond what was expected of
his species. To compound that startling bit of news, they had recently come
across the knowledge for creating firearms, and while crude in nature, they
were easily sufficient enough to give them an unnatural advantage over their
rivals. 
All in all, it seemed
that something was not right here on Sauria and the vixen intended to find out
what that was exactly. 
Krystal walked towards
a large metallic door and watched as it slid open easily, exposing a small
chamber with a smaller array of machines that baffled even her vast intellect.
It was more than alarming to find technology on this world that she could not
comprehend. Sauria was a class-C planet, meaning that its locals had not yet
discovered the secrets to metallurgy or the secret to harnessing energy. So a
place like this should not be here, and yet it was. 
She walked among the
strange machinery, speculating as to where its origins were derived from.
Perhaps some race had set up this during the early years of this world's
existence. But what race was responsible for that?
With questions
unanswered, she left the odd room and continued in her journey, passing through
another series of doors and emerging once more on the outside of the citadel.
By this time the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared to unveil the two
small moons that orbited the planet. There soft light inundated the courtyard,
revealing a large shadowy mass prostrated near the railing at the edge. It was
one of the earthwalkers.
Seeing the large noble
saurian in their current state, the vixen rushed over to its side. 
She ran a paw across
the dinosaur's flank, trailing across a dozen slashes and lacerations that
leaked dark red arterial blood onto the floor. She raised her paw, seeing the
thick and warm coating of blood staining it, and had to hold down the urge to
vomit. She had never seen so much blood, and it affected her deeply.
Her paws began to shake
and she tried to take her attention away from the wounds and focus on the
injured dino. It had two dangerous looking horns on its armored forehead and a
third on its snout that was broken, split in half down the middle. The weapon
that had done that was still lodged in the dinosaur's horn, an axe of some
sort. The unfortunate creature was too far gone to help, and had been rendered
unconscious by its injuries. 
She could feel the
great beast's labored breathing as it gave its last breaths. She crawled over
to its head and gently placed her paws on it, slowly humming a tune as she
consoled it with long caring strokes across its bloodied snout. She serenaded
the fallen warrior, and its breathing evened out, the melody easing its
passing. 
Eventually, the great
and noble saurian gave its last breathe and was still.
Krystal rose up from
her crouch near its head, tears tracking down her face. Its death had ripped
the barely healed scars of her homeworld's annihilation, reminding her of what
she had lost. Sniffling, she cleared her throat and wiped away her tears.
She had to be strong,
for herself and her lost family. It would be unconscionable to break down now
after all she had been through. Krystal owed it to herself and her family to
see this to the end, and perhaps then she could rest, but not a moment sooner. 
This had been a grisly
message, up ahead, there were sure to be sharpclaw, the perpetrators of this
heinous act. She would have to rely on all of her training and wit if she was
going to survive this planet. 
Krystal whispered a
farewell and prayer to the deceased saurian and took her staff off of her back.
The cold azure metallic grip of the pole in her paws gave her comfort; this
weapon had been passed down through her family for generations. And with it she
would be able to face any challenge that might be pivoted against her. 
She turned to face the
door that would lead deeper into the palace and hopefully towards the beacon
that had summoned her. Then she could find out what it was exactly that needed
to be fixed.
**********
Six sighed in
frustration for the thousandth time since the so called monitor arrived. All it
did was lead them farther into the forerunner instillation and ramble on about
things that he didn't give two shits about. 
He was a soldier; all
he wanted to know was if he there was a communications room or starcharts that
he could use to get in contact with the UNSC. He still had a fight to win, and
he would like to know if he was still in it. 
"This instillation was created by the Didact after
the interstellar war with their cre-" The
monitor's rambling was interrupted when Six growled.
"I just want to know
where the communications center is, there is one here correct!?" He barked in
annoyance as his frayed patience finally snapped. 
The monitor seemed
unfazed by his outburst, as it responded. "Why
yes of course, every instillation has a communications chamber."
"Then take us there."
Six ordered quietly, calming himself down. 
Warrior was silent for
a moment. ".....Very well, follow me."
The monitor flipped on its axis and switched corridors, traveling down one that
led east, if the spartan's compass feature on his HUD read true.
"Finally..." He muttered,
turning to follow.
Varn gave the spartan a
serious look as he walked in step with him. 'It would be wise to not seek to
anger the oracle; they have fearsome power at their disposal."  
Six scoffed at that,
the little machine was far from intimidating and he doubted it had that much
power to bear. "Yeah right, next you'll tell me they shoot lasers from their
eyes." 
"Heed my words
carefully spartan; do not play with powers you do not understand." 
At that, the blue
armored human rounded onto the sangheili. All that repressed rage harbored for
his entire life found an outlet. "Look...Varn; I have a duty to my people. And in
order for me to do that, I need to get in contact with them. Now I don't know
where the hell we are, or even if we are still in the same universe, but I WILL
DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET BACK!" He snarled at the elite, gauntlets closed
into fists. "Don't forget, it was you're people that sought to destroy us!" 
"You may have a duty to
your people, but so do I." Varn retorted. "I have given much, lost much, all in
the effort to fulfill that obligation."
Six surprised Varn,
pushing him into a wall and wrapping a gauntlet around his throat. The spartan
used his enhanced strength to lift the alien up, dragging his armor across the
alloyed wall in a shower of sparks. "Loss...." The spartan hissed
menacingly.
Varn tried to make the
spartan release his vice-like grip, desperately trying to pry the unforgiving
gloved fingers off of his throat. But the spartan refused to budge an inch,
instead leaning his helm to hover scant inches from the elite's jaws. 
"Because of you, I lost
my homeworld when you burned it to ash...because of you I lost my family when you
and your precious Covenant killed
them...because of you I was turned into a monster and lost my innocence...because
of you I LOST EVERYTHING!" The spartan bellowed into the sangheili's face. "You
are the one who does not understand. The very reason you live is because I
allowed it....out of some misplaced sense of decency I thought it would be wrong
to kill you. Do not make me reconsider that." 
Six growled as he
released his binding hold on Varn's throat, letting the sangheili fall to the
ground. The spartan scoffed as he turned to walk away. "What would you know of loss?"

Varn's rage boiled and
he almost activated his blade to run the spartan through. But for all that
anger, he could not, because deep down inside, under his faith and conviction,
he knew the spartan spoke truth. 
They burned human
worlds, turning them into ash to cleanse them. They killed human families,
because they were told they deserved to die. They sought to drive humanity to
extinction as it was decreed by the prophets.
But....why? 
Was it because they
were indeed the heretics as the hierarchs decreed, or was it simply because
they had been told to? It was true, very few sangheili demanded to know why it
was that these humans truthfully needed to be silenced. All the prophets had to
say was that they defiled holy relics and needed to be purged. 
And yet the irony in
that was profound. For the hierarchs themselves had tampered with the holy
relics long before the discovery of humanity, indeed they had gone to war with
them over that fact. So what made it right for them to delegate that power?
Varn found himself in a
spiritual crisis, and there was no solution in sight.
With a sigh, the
sangheili rose back up to his cloven feet and moved to follow after the
spartan, no longer intent on seeing him dead.
He would allow him this
one small victory. 
**********
Six turned away from
the elite in disgust. That creature had the gall to tell him what loss was. He
had done more, and given more than most of mankind would ever have to. He had
sacrificed his future, his innocence; he had given all that he could besides
his life, which was only a matter of time anyways.
Varn, he could go home
once it was all over, whether the war ended in a truce, ceasefire, defeat or
victory. The alien had a home to go back to. Six had nothing. All he had to go
on was his heritage. He could not see himself settling down, having a family,
although at times he wished that was possible. He had heard marines telling
stories to their fellows about the family they had waiting back home, their
wives and husbands, daughters and sons, mothers and fathers. 
Six's mother and father
were dead, he had no brothers or sisters, and no women would ever love him. He
was...fundamentally, a broken man. War would always haunt him, the night terrors
would never go away, nor would the memories. He had seen so many die, marines,
ODSTs, civilians, even fellow spartans. Death would plague him; he would never
escape its icy grasp. 
"I am detecting high levels of aggression and
depression. Are you alright Reclaimer?" 
Six looked up to see
the monitor hovering a few feet away to his right, chassis tilted to the side
like a curious dog. "I'm fine." He responded.
"That is a lie." Warrior
refuted simply. "My scans indicate that
you are suffering from a severe psychological syndrome in relation to rage, you
should seek assistance as soon as possible." 
Six grunted. "Just get
me to the communications chamber."
"Will that cure your
ailment?" Warrior inquired curiously. 
"It'll be a start." The
spartan grumbled, rolling his shoulders.
The monitor bobbed its alloy
frame and increased its speed, and the spartan followed, giving a quick look to
the sangheili. 
Varn was following at a
farther distance than before, but it looked like he was still sticking around.
He had a grim twist to his mandibles and walked in a hunch. Six disregarded him
and turned away, it would take a while before he calmed down. The elite had
snapped something inside him, something he had been holding back for a long
time. Only time will tell if that was a good or bad thing.
"Oh dear, Reclaimer, I am detecting indigenous
lifeforms inside the communications center!" The
monitor declared in alarm before zooming down the corridor at a higher speed. 
Six and Varn picked up
the pace, keeping with the flying orb. 
The spartan did not
like the sound of that. So far the locals seemed to be the bad sort. And if
they trashed the comms center, that would leave them most likely stuck on this
world. And that was something he did not want. "How did they get in?" Six
demanded.
"After the instillation was shut down, I left a
small portion of the facility open, in case the species that the forerunners elevated
developed far enough to access it. But they were not supposed to gain entry to
the communications room. That is strictly off limits" it explained with a hint of irritation in its metallic
voice.
Six shook his helm in
confusion. What did the monitor mean by elevated? And more importantly, why would
they do that in the first place? To the spartan, it sounded like a poorly
though out plan.
As his boots thundered
down the corridor, the spartan grabbed the pistol from his thigh and his kukri,
placing them in the left and right gauntlet respectively. He was unwilling to
take any sort of chance. If these were the same creatures as before, there
would be no mercy.
**********
Krystal yipped in fear
as she threw herself to the floor, a sword hammering down to the ground where
she had been standing seconds before. She rolled over quickly, sticking her
staff up to let it catch an axe that had been destined for her throat. The
impact numbed her paws and forced her farther into the unforgiving ground.
The vixen knew that staying
on the floor would spell her death and so she pounced back up to her feet and
launched a fully powered swing to slam into the snout of one of the saurians.
She felt the cartilage in the creature's nose give way under her staff and the
sickening crunch almost caused her to heave up her breakfast. 
The saurian screeched
in pain and stumbled backwards, clutching its ruined snout as blood trickled
through its clawed hands. But before she could celebrate her meager victory,
another beast announced its attack as it charged at her, club raised high in
the air.
She rotated the tip of
her staff to face the attacker and a ball of flame roared out and exploded as
it made contact with the sharpclaws chest. The fireball set the saurian aflame
and it howled and fell to the floor, rolling in a futile effort to extinguish the
flames. 
Krystal panted as she
tried to recover, but did not get the chance as her sense picked up on imminent
danger. She threw herself forwards roughly and whined in pain as she felt a hot
lines crisscross her furred back. The vixen fell to the floor and turned herself
around to see a large red saurian standing over her, holding a wicked curved
sword in either hand. Around the large reptile, six other of its smaller kin
were spread, all with dark grins.
As it looked down at her
with yellow eyes, it brought the bloodied sword up to its reptilian snout and
dragged its forked tongue across the blade, a sinister grin painted across its
features. The monster obviously planned on making her suffer.
Krystal whimpered
fearfully as she gazed up at her soon to be killer. 
The attack had come as
a surprise to her and only her quick thinking and powers had saved her from a
sudden death. 
The vixen had walked
into a large room filled with strange devices and bright lights. Inside, three
other earthwalkers were sprawled on the black ground, hacked apart in a gruesome
display of knifework. 
As she began to
register this, her sense kicked in and she ducked, avoiding a slug aimed for
her head. After that, several sharpclaw had swarmed out from their hiding places,
behind the butchered corpses of the earthwalkers and the machines that littered
the room. 
She had fought as hard
as she could, but it became obvious pretty soon that she was not experienced enough
to take on so many. There brutality and ruthlessness had shocked and horrified the
vixen, who could didn't understand that there was such a thing as true evil in
the universe. 
She had been raised on a
peace loving and noble world. That made her ill-suited to face the harsh realities
found abroad. 
Her back burned hot
like a furnace and brought tears to her eyes. And with those tears, fear
followed. 
She didn't want to die,
especially at the hands of beasts like these. She wanted to live a full life,
find love, and start a family. This was not what she had envisioned when she
set out on her journey. 
The massive red reptile
raised its blades; a menacing guttural chuckle erupted out of its throat. As
the weapons of her demise began their seemingly unstoppable rise, she whimpered
and closed her eyes, unwilling to see her end. She instead filled her thoughts
with her family and past.
But the blades never
fell, at least not in the way expected. 
Four thundering booms
deafened the chamber and triggered her to shoot her emerald eyes open in
surprise. 
Four of the smaller
sharpclaws fell to the ground, blood seeping out of neat circular holes in
their heads. Seconds later, she heard the a howl of pain and saw that a small
sword had impaled the seven foot beast, the hilt sticking out of the center of
its torso.
Following that, an
equally tall blue and white blur collided with the saurian, slamming into it with
enough force to send it hurtling to the floor. The figure caught both of the
curved swords from the air and brought them down hard, impaling both of them
into the saurian's abdomen and ripping them out savagely.  
Blood sprayed from the
gory kill and splattered across the chamber. The tall blue and white entity
stood up from the dead reptile and looked to its left, where a silvery armored
creature emerged, bellowing a war cry. 
At first, the disoriented
vixen, also suffering from blood loss, though it was going to attack it, but
instead it rushed over to the two surviving saurians, a blue-white blade of
light igniting from its fist. Faster than she could see the reptilian cut down
the two sharpclaw contemptuously; afterwards it turned off its blade and walked
away. 
The hollow thump of footfalls
grabbed her attention and the wounded vixen turned her head to see the first
figure that had emerged. Her vision was a little fuzzy but she could still make
out that it was encased in deep blue armor, with white runes etched across it. Where
she could have seen a face, a stark black visor concealed it from view. 
The armored figure
crouched down beside her, blank visor studying her, almost curiously.
Eventually, her wounds and the series of shocks to her system did her a favor,
easing her into the worriless ease of unconsciousness. 

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/863123

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