comic
Previously turnt3chGodh34d
CHAPTER ONE
Fate can often be unpredictable and cruel. To let it dictate the outcome of life, love, and loss. It’s as certain as it is terrifying.
And yet, there happens to be something worse. When a single individual betrays the threads of fate and dictates the future in their image. When one being ignores what was supposed to be inevitable.
Atriox, Warmaster of the Banished, was one such individual.
In 2557, the course of history was altered forever when a Banished craft crashed on the surface of the Ark. It belonged to another timeline, had experienced things it shouldn’t have. The intel collected aboard fell into Atriox’s hands, and it flipped his perspective, as well as his ambitions, completely upside down. He learned of powers far greater than anything the Forerunner could have even dreamed to make.
And so he abandoned his initial quest. He turned his sights upon finding a way to seek out “The Nexus” and attain its power for himself, using data collected from the other universe to improve Banished technology, as well as its tactics.
The banded clans of mercenaries and pirates suddenly became much more disciplined, and far more deadly.
When the rogue AI Cortana dictated her command across the galaxy in a police state enforced by the Guardians in 2558, the Banished suffered a hard blow, much like everyone else.
Yet Atriox knew how to respond. The Banised vessel that he had acquired came not just from a sister timeline, but from one that had experienced several key events that he was able to prepare for.
With this knowledge, Atriox struck back against Cortana in a way she couldn’t predict. He used the Forerunner shield world Genesis as ground zero, glassing the planet, before planting HAVOK nukes in key locations. Cortana’s command became a mere memory, and her control of the Guardians was severed.
Cornered and isolated, Atriox tracked down Cortana . . .
And erased her.
This put the Banished in a precarious position. Not only was it an end to what may have been an age of oppression, but it was a message to the galaxy that the Banished weren't to be trifled with. Time and again, challengers emerged from a dying galaxy.
Covenant remnant factions, religious sects, traitorous clans, insurrectionist navies, the list goes on. But there were two significant battles fought as Atriox got closer and closer to unlocking the Pathway of the Nexus.
The Swords of Sangheilios were a major hurdle. Despite their vastly inferior numbers, they were clever, surgical, and lethal. Led by Thel 'Vadam, the last Arbiter, the Swords proved a worthy challenge. Challenge enough to warrant Atriox's attention, and when he entered the battle, those powerful Sangheili warriors fell the same day. The day the Arbiter lay dead at the feet of the Warmaster is burned into the minds of every Banished member.
The next threat came from one of the most notorious. The Demon. Not just any demon, also known as spartans, it was the one who had killed scores upon scores of Covenant. The Demon. The Master Chief. He was a threat even Atriox showed some restraint in going up against. The spartan had a vast and infallible reputation, after all.
And yet, when the Banished ambushed the UNSC Infinity, what remained of humanity's last defenders fell, and fell quickly. The Master Chief turned from legend . . . into myth. A marathon run from start to finish, a single hour of brutal, incredible combat. Humanity had always fought greater than their stature would imply. But still, they fell, just like all those that came before.
Atriox stood tall above all challengers. He commanded universal fear and respect from all who heard his name. No more challengers remained.
2560 came, and with it, then Pathway of the Nexus was finally opened, and Atriox stepped through it.
Nobody knew how Atriox had found it. How he had contacted beings from across the veil and established alliances. He had one day stepped alone through a golden portal, leaving Escharum in charge of the Banished. After three days, he returned, and the Banished followed him through this time. A golden, blinding light that consumed most of the faction.
And a new world appeared before the Banished and Atriox. Alongside his new allies, territory became conquered, and the factions began to expand. There had been a mistake. Atriox had believed he'd conquered the Nexus, and brought in his armies to back him, only to find he and his faction became trapped in this place, unanimously dubbed the "World of the Nexus".
With no choice but to expand and conquer and explore, the Banished laid claim to a great section of territory and spread out. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months eventually turned into a year. The only thing holding the Banished together is Atriox himself. Without his leadership and guidance, it would have fractured long ago.
The territory has become known as "The First Union". While Atriox primarily deals with the other factions, the Banished themselves know very little of them, confined to their territory. A year without war has left the Banished agitated and restless. They want a fight - they need a fight.
As luck would have it, one was beginning to brew at the sidelines.
That's what Bri 'Filkom believed, at least.
Despite the debilitating and limited space of this Nexus world, the Banished were prospering in some ways. More clans had appeared, and in some of the early, initial scuffles against some powerful foes that had emerged, they only grew stronger because of it. 'Filkom gazed out of the side of the Banished phantom, his reptilian eyes slightly narrowed. The sangheili wore a large robe, swathed around himself, magenta in color. A symbol of his cultural status - something that held absolutely no precedence within the Banished.
His mandibles clicked together in vague anticipation as the ocean passed him by on the exterior. Sunlight glimmered off of its surface, broken by the rippling and washing of waves. His scales, a gray-auburn in color, reflected his aging body. His slender, saurian form didn't stand quite as tall as it used to, nor did it move as quickly as it once had. He was, after all, nearly two hundred years old. He was in a period of thissa, the old sangheili word for a state of age. In comparison to humans, it would have been considered the early years of being elderly. Bri didn't like to think about his age very much - he didn't have many good things to show from his long life. He may wear these kaidon robes, but he truly didn't deserve them.
"Blademaster," a low growl spoke to him. 'Filkom's mandibles spread, all four expanding slightly outward in an involuntary display of annoyance, before they clicked back together and he turned his head, glaring through his piercing orange eyes toward the jiralhanae that had spoken.
Rubik, whose mottled black fur and over-sized fangs were desirable for his species. He appeared as powerful as he was, without even donning any power armor. He wasn't as young as one might assume, given that his name lacked its honorable suffix, ranging from anywhere between "us" to "al". Each suffix posed a different meaning. Rubik seemed to still be finding his purpose.
“I am listening,” the sangheili replied, his voice a stark contrast to the heavy and dull of Rubik. Bri’s was light and airy, but with a vibration to it, something that came with age.
“Chieftain Bassus is hailing us.”
“Hm,” ‘Filkom replied, before he extended a clawed arm. Rubik removed a small pad that had been sitting on his neck of matted fur, handing it to Bri, who applied it just below his mandibles.
“Bassus,” ‘Filkom spoke.
“Why do you sneak into my territory, Elite?” The guttural voice of Bassus came from the pad, sending small vibrations through the sangheili’s throat. His usage of the word “Elite” was an insult. The human word for the sangheili was seen as distasteful as it was disgusting. Most Blademasters would rise to the clear challenge Bassus had just issued, but Bri ‘Filkom wasn’t easy to goad.
“We tread here on the orders of Atriox,” Bri said simply. “Impede me further and I will give him your head.”
A dark chuckle came from the pad. “I don’t think you’re doing anything under his orders,” the jiralhanae said. “Perhaps it is your head that will be delivered.”
‘Filkom maintained his composure, even as his patience waned. He understood why Bassus was being so hostile; the Banished had very little to take their aggression out on. Only allies surrounded them, leaving no wars to wage, or battles to win. Bassus had already challenged another clan a month ago. He had murdered its chieftain and assimilated his followers. The likelihood he’d attempt something similar here was very high.
“One way or another, you will answer to the Warmaster,” Bri said calmly before he stripped off the comm pad and handed it back to Rubik. “Stay our course - we are nearly there.”
The comm pad was a basic technology, but reliably effective. It would connect between the vocal cords and whatever constitutes for a jaw bone. Speaking into it was obvious enough, but receiving communication through it was where the intrigue lay, as the small radio would send sound vibrations up along the jaw bone, and toward whatever constituted for an ear canal. Effectively, it allowed for near-silent communication.
Rubik didn’t seem very enthused about the sangheili’s choice to disregard Bassus. Unsurprising, given the structure of jiralhanae culture. Bri assumed Rubik may have desired a hostile takeover from Bassus, at least to some capacity. It must have been embarrassing to answer to an “Elite”.
The phantom continued to soar over the vast ocean. They were at the western edge of Banished territory, coming up upon a phenomenon utterly unique to the World of the Nexus. At some point, the ocean would simply stop, reaching some kind of edge. Tests had proven that things could pass through to the void on the other side of this edge, filled with cosmic wonder, but the truth of what lay out there was uncertain. Atriox had issued a fair few patrols to venture into the unknown, but considering none ever came back, the Warmaster had decreed it as an off-limits region. It was forbidden to travel out there.
As the atmosphere thinned the closer they got to the edge, Bri could begin to see the sky darkening. The rays of the native star (if it even was such a thing) struggled to penetrate out here. A darkness began to swallow the phantom up, the void beyond rapidly opening wide. It was saddening to see the kel disperse.
“Stop here,” ‘Filkom commanded, shifting upon his claws as he gazed over the side of the phantom, which quickly slowed to a halt. The murky waters below held many secrets, some far beyond mortal comprehension, but only one down there was what the sangheili was interested in.
He turned his gaze toward Rubik. “Are your cheennsay prepared?”
Perhaps the deceptively mature jiralhanae was still thinking of Bassus, as he simply offered a wordless nod, eyes glaring almost challengingly to the elder sangheili. Bri held his gaze for several long moments. He was calling the jiralhanae’s bluff by maintaining eye contact. Once Rubik recognized his lack of intimidation, he finally looked away. It had been a silent and quick transaction, but there had been a lot that had just transacted between them.
In a word; Bri ‘Filkom had asserted his dominance, though he felt confident Rubik may have actually tried something, had he not been ordered to obey the sangheili by Atriox himself.
“Then by all means,” Bri gestured toward the open end of the phantom.
Rubik snorted in slight agitation, before he turned toward the three other jiralhanae beside him. All three wore makeshift actuation gear for amphibious situations like these, complete with large oxygen packs hooked to their backs, and breather masks applied around their skulls. Bri didn’t think highly of their craftsmanship on a good day, but he had to admit, aesthetics aside the jiralhanae were brilliant engineers, some even second only to huragok.
“Thunder your hearts, my brothers!” Rubik’s voice had suddenly become a bellow. “We venture into the depths! Our Warmaster is counting on us - and we will not fail. We will return victorious, and our bellies will be filled with the finest of meats!”
The other three simply banged their fists against their chests in anticipation. They were disciplined, and loyal. Rubik also happened to be a good orator, at least for a Brute.
At his command, the three leaped out of the phantom, before splashing heavily into the sea below, disappearing beneath its churning waves.
“Blademaster,” Rubik had turned to ‘Filkom, who gave a simple nod of acknowledgment. He then turned to the other side of the phantom to the nymph, a small aquatic vessel, designed more for scouting than anything else. While typically designed for extraterrestrial travel, this one had been customized for deep sea diving. Theoretically, it could withstand pressures that would normally spell certain doom for anything else. It was a sleek craft, fish-like in its design, with two streaks of red running down either side, and no viewport. Visual confirmation would be done through nanolite geographic energy reading and micronanite cameras fixated all around the craft. This reduced the likelihood of a breach, as there were no weaker transparent materials like glass.
There were two pods to slide into in the craft. It would be a tight fit, designed with mostly sangheili in mind, so Rubik would be practically stuffed, but it was the best they had in such short notice. This mission had been commanded by Atriox himself, and he wasn’t interested in broadcasting it until the mission was over - if it was a success.
Bri ‘Filkom slid with grace greater than his age would imply, planting himself in the back pod of the nymph. It was the master pod, which could take control of the nymph, while the forward pod was for a lower-ranking pilot, which was Rubik in this situation.
The large brute grumbled as he bumbled his way into his pod, and once settled, Bri activated the sealant doors, which shut with a hiss, concealing the two in darkness within either pod, before the nymph fully activated, and they could see a semi-simulated environment around them, projected to real-time proportions.
‘Filkom did nothing for now, simply flicking his gaze over the systems console, seeing that the nymph was fully functional, before Rubik piloted them out of the hovering phantom, the nymph’s anti-gravity belly allowing them to smoothly slide out of the transport vehicle, and descend to the ocean’s face.
They came to a stop just above the waves, hovering there for a moment, before Rubik deactivated the antigrav, and they slipped almost naturally beneath the water. The sonar sensors activated upon contact, and the tail engines ignited to life with energy propulsion, like that found on a ghost or a banshee, with identical speed boosting features.
Bri glanced about, taking in the dark expanse of azure, before his eyes landed on the dark forms sinking lower into the depths; the dive team.
Rubik piloted the nymph to follow them, having to use the boost to catch up. The suits of cheksa armor worn by the dive team were equipped with energy propulsors, though theirs were more akin to a modified jump pack, redesigned to allow for use under water.
The following descent wasn’t particularly eventful. The deeper they went, the darker it got. The already faint sunlight only penetrated so far, and eventually, they were cloaked in blackness. The helmets of the cheksa jiralhanae activated their cutting beams, named for the intense light they gave off, capable of cutting far into the murky waters, as the nymph similarly activated its forward beams.
Down and down the team went, Bri keeping his wary eyes everywhere the light beams weren’t. Unlike the jiralhanae, sangheili possessed a degree of natural night vision. In this situation it wasn’t all too useful, as his sight still relied on light, like any other creature of visual sense, but he could see just a little bit more than the others.
He expected some terrifying ocean dwelling monster to emerge, it’s mouth agape to swallow them all whole. Fortunately, this never came to pass.
Deeper they fell, falling well beneath lethal levels for any surface dwelling organism without protective gear. Bri could hear the soft groaning of the nymph as it slowly began to compress. The jiralhanae outside didn’t appear impeded, but he would be surprised if they weren’t beginning to feel the pressure put on them. Without their dive packs, it was likely the crushing weight of water would be too great, and prevent them from ever returning to the surface.
The sangheili’s eyes wandered to the depth measurement, noting the impressive number. The brutes outside were withstanding a lot.
Yet as they fell further and further, there came a threshold. Rubik came to a sudden stop. ‘Filkom’s mandibles twitched in anticipation as he leaned slightly forward. “Why have we stopped?”
“Blademaster,” came the gruff reply of Rubik. “The warriors have reached their limit. They cannot descend further.”
They were no good to him absent, but then again, they were no good to him dead. The ocean descended a bit further than originally anticipated, at least this part of it. Had their seismic scans been faulty? They should be near the seabed by now.
“Very well,” Bri hummed. “Tell them to hold their place for as long as they can. We will finish the descent and assess their continued usefulness.”
A few seconds passed in silence, Rubik passing on the command, no doubt in a way that was insulting to the sangheili, but ‘Filkom cared little. Another moment, and they were dropping again, leaving behind the compressed jiralhanae.
Deeper still they moved, baffling Bri as they still failed to reach anything of note. This was growing absurd. Faulty equipment or not, it shouldn’t be this wildly inaccurate. The nymph creaked again as the pressure only mounted. It was beginning to reach a more critical level if they descended too much further.
Yet alas, the forward beams found more than continued emptiness. A structure seemed to materialize before them, illuminated by the lights, covered in dirt and slime, too deep and dark to have any form of sea life such as weeds or moss, but it was undeniably metal.
Undeniably Fohranah.
Rubik redirected the craft and its beams, following what seemed to be a metal spire down toward a base, which turned out to be a much larger structure that had birthed the spire. It almost fooled Bri for a moment, as he’d thought it was the sea bed for a fleeting moment, only to recognize the intricate grooves native to Forerunner architecture. Carcasses littered the surface, most half-eaten. Natural elements to breakdown and decompose didn’t exist so deep. Nothing was left to rot, because it could not. It would simply exist until the pressure ground it into something else.
It was unclear if these aquatic corpses had been leftovers that had fallen here, or if there were any deep sea scavengers he had yet to see. Whatever the case, Bri saw nothing living just yet.
The nymph began to follow the surface, beams drifting about to find anything of note, like a doorway, for example.
It was astounding how such a place like this could exist. It seemed so old and ancient, and yet it was likely a creation from the Nexus, merged into the environment, and if the data was correct, this entire realm was only about a year old. Bri’s gaze was fixated on every groove of the architecture, ignoring the slime and carrion, he wondered about what story the Nexus had dreamed up for this structure. What secrets it contained. This was, after all, the purpose of this secret mission. Atriox believed this pseudo-ancient Forerunner structure contained something extremely valuable. Something the Warmaster greatly wanted.
“There,” Bri urged Rubik, taking control of one beam and fixating it upon a space where the grooves seemed to stop, leaving only a flat surface.
Rubik carried the nymph toward this square-shaped space, hovering the craft above it for several moments, before activating the ship’s onboard FSS, also known as a Forerunner Sequence Signal. It was a bit newer in terms of technology, and a valuable quality of life function. Emitting the pulse would send a message to Forerunner technology, which would normally respond only to a human. Now other species could maneuver around the simpler Forerunner technology without the extra steps that had to be taken before.
When the ancient machinery received, then registered the FSS, the flat surface cracked with a split down its middle. Bubbles rushed up from the broken seal, and water poured into the newly-revealed hole, nearly pulling the nymph into its current, before it ceased, whatever hole within now filled.
With the water settling, the forward beams cut in, finding only an empty room within. Bare walls, containing the same designs as the outer surfaces. Bri's mandibles ground their fangs together, before he noticed a dim light inside. Taking full control of the nymph, the sangheili spun the craft around, moving opposite of the hole's end to see a Forerunner door, a red light flashing from its center. He felt a tingle of excitement trace its way along his spine. Clicking his mandibles in anticipation, 'Filkom began to lower the craft, entering the hole they'd opened up. It was likely that this small room would empty once its ceiling closed again, and there was only one way to prove that theory.
When the nymph came to a stop within, a second FSS was pinged to the door, and as expected, it closed.
The theory was proven accurate when water began to quickly drain from the room, vents along the floor opening up, before sliding shut once the room had been drained. A blast shield covering the Forerunner door slid open once flickering with a green light, revealing a more familiar and traditional Forerunner door on the other side.
Lights flickered on within the room, bathing it in the ambient glow it provided. Powering down the nymph, Bri opened the pods to allow himself and Rubik to leave its confines, the sangheili making sure to remove the FSS transponder from the interior, knowing he'd need it.
The most notable difference about the interior of the structure was how clean and new it seemed, when compared to its dilapidated exterior.
"Warriors," Rubik spoke into his comm pad, glancing about the room. Like Bri, he found nothing notable outside the door. For now, they only had one way to go. "Return to the surface. Wait for further orders."
"Atriox will be pleased," 'Filkom hummed to himself, feeling the cold steel beneath his feet, before he approached the door.
"What is the Warmaster searching for here, anyway?" Rubik grunted, absently scratching at his fur. His putrid stench was particularly strong at the moment, and 'Filkom knew it wasn't because of their closed environment. Jiralhanae released different odors based on their emotion, and having been around the species for so long, Bri had begun to understand what the different smells meant. The current stench, if the Blademaster was accurate, was one that betrayed nervousness. He knew not why Rubik would be so nervous. For the short time Bri had known him, the brute had seemed quite unshakable in his bull-headedness. Perhaps there was more to the reason Atriox had assigned him to this detail as the Blademaster's second in command.
"Something kuhtahshee," Bri said, intentionally vague. Rubik didn't appreciate it, merely snorting back in annoyance, but he said nothing. The Forerunner door hummed a gentle, mechanical sound, before it slid open. A gust of stale, dry air washed into the room. Rubik snorted again, this time out of surprise.
"It smells like it hasn't been opened for millennia."
Bri gave a simple nod, gazing into the vast room beyond, before he began to pace forward. "Yes. If the Nexus has dictated it to be so."
There was no telling how large this facility was, or how long they'd be down here. If they were lucky, they could find the prize Atriox sought, and be on their way back home. 'Filkom had a feeling it wouldn't be so easy, however, and he had a suspicion that at some point, Bassus would force himself to be relevant to the situation. He would not make the return trip as easy as when they'd entered.
And yet, there happens to be something worse. When a single individual betrays the threads of fate and dictates the future in their image. When one being ignores what was supposed to be inevitable.
Atriox, Warmaster of the Banished, was one such individual.
In 2557, the course of history was altered forever when a Banished craft crashed on the surface of the Ark. It belonged to another timeline, had experienced things it shouldn’t have. The intel collected aboard fell into Atriox’s hands, and it flipped his perspective, as well as his ambitions, completely upside down. He learned of powers far greater than anything the Forerunner could have even dreamed to make.
And so he abandoned his initial quest. He turned his sights upon finding a way to seek out “The Nexus” and attain its power for himself, using data collected from the other universe to improve Banished technology, as well as its tactics.
The banded clans of mercenaries and pirates suddenly became much more disciplined, and far more deadly.
When the rogue AI Cortana dictated her command across the galaxy in a police state enforced by the Guardians in 2558, the Banished suffered a hard blow, much like everyone else.
Yet Atriox knew how to respond. The Banised vessel that he had acquired came not just from a sister timeline, but from one that had experienced several key events that he was able to prepare for.
With this knowledge, Atriox struck back against Cortana in a way she couldn’t predict. He used the Forerunner shield world Genesis as ground zero, glassing the planet, before planting HAVOK nukes in key locations. Cortana’s command became a mere memory, and her control of the Guardians was severed.
Cornered and isolated, Atriox tracked down Cortana . . .
And erased her.
This put the Banished in a precarious position. Not only was it an end to what may have been an age of oppression, but it was a message to the galaxy that the Banished weren't to be trifled with. Time and again, challengers emerged from a dying galaxy.
Covenant remnant factions, religious sects, traitorous clans, insurrectionist navies, the list goes on. But there were two significant battles fought as Atriox got closer and closer to unlocking the Pathway of the Nexus.
The Swords of Sangheilios were a major hurdle. Despite their vastly inferior numbers, they were clever, surgical, and lethal. Led by Thel 'Vadam, the last Arbiter, the Swords proved a worthy challenge. Challenge enough to warrant Atriox's attention, and when he entered the battle, those powerful Sangheili warriors fell the same day. The day the Arbiter lay dead at the feet of the Warmaster is burned into the minds of every Banished member.
The next threat came from one of the most notorious. The Demon. Not just any demon, also known as spartans, it was the one who had killed scores upon scores of Covenant. The Demon. The Master Chief. He was a threat even Atriox showed some restraint in going up against. The spartan had a vast and infallible reputation, after all.
And yet, when the Banished ambushed the UNSC Infinity, what remained of humanity's last defenders fell, and fell quickly. The Master Chief turned from legend . . . into myth. A marathon run from start to finish, a single hour of brutal, incredible combat. Humanity had always fought greater than their stature would imply. But still, they fell, just like all those that came before.
Atriox stood tall above all challengers. He commanded universal fear and respect from all who heard his name. No more challengers remained.
2560 came, and with it, then Pathway of the Nexus was finally opened, and Atriox stepped through it.
Nobody knew how Atriox had found it. How he had contacted beings from across the veil and established alliances. He had one day stepped alone through a golden portal, leaving Escharum in charge of the Banished. After three days, he returned, and the Banished followed him through this time. A golden, blinding light that consumed most of the faction.
And a new world appeared before the Banished and Atriox. Alongside his new allies, territory became conquered, and the factions began to expand. There had been a mistake. Atriox had believed he'd conquered the Nexus, and brought in his armies to back him, only to find he and his faction became trapped in this place, unanimously dubbed the "World of the Nexus".
With no choice but to expand and conquer and explore, the Banished laid claim to a great section of territory and spread out. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months eventually turned into a year. The only thing holding the Banished together is Atriox himself. Without his leadership and guidance, it would have fractured long ago.
The territory has become known as "The First Union". While Atriox primarily deals with the other factions, the Banished themselves know very little of them, confined to their territory. A year without war has left the Banished agitated and restless. They want a fight - they need a fight.
As luck would have it, one was beginning to brew at the sidelines.
That's what Bri 'Filkom believed, at least.
Despite the debilitating and limited space of this Nexus world, the Banished were prospering in some ways. More clans had appeared, and in some of the early, initial scuffles against some powerful foes that had emerged, they only grew stronger because of it. 'Filkom gazed out of the side of the Banished phantom, his reptilian eyes slightly narrowed. The sangheili wore a large robe, swathed around himself, magenta in color. A symbol of his cultural status - something that held absolutely no precedence within the Banished.
His mandibles clicked together in vague anticipation as the ocean passed him by on the exterior. Sunlight glimmered off of its surface, broken by the rippling and washing of waves. His scales, a gray-auburn in color, reflected his aging body. His slender, saurian form didn't stand quite as tall as it used to, nor did it move as quickly as it once had. He was, after all, nearly two hundred years old. He was in a period of thissa, the old sangheili word for a state of age. In comparison to humans, it would have been considered the early years of being elderly. Bri didn't like to think about his age very much - he didn't have many good things to show from his long life. He may wear these kaidon robes, but he truly didn't deserve them.
"Blademaster," a low growl spoke to him. 'Filkom's mandibles spread, all four expanding slightly outward in an involuntary display of annoyance, before they clicked back together and he turned his head, glaring through his piercing orange eyes toward the jiralhanae that had spoken.
Rubik, whose mottled black fur and over-sized fangs were desirable for his species. He appeared as powerful as he was, without even donning any power armor. He wasn't as young as one might assume, given that his name lacked its honorable suffix, ranging from anywhere between "us" to "al". Each suffix posed a different meaning. Rubik seemed to still be finding his purpose.
“I am listening,” the sangheili replied, his voice a stark contrast to the heavy and dull of Rubik. Bri’s was light and airy, but with a vibration to it, something that came with age.
“Chieftain Bassus is hailing us.”
“Hm,” ‘Filkom replied, before he extended a clawed arm. Rubik removed a small pad that had been sitting on his neck of matted fur, handing it to Bri, who applied it just below his mandibles.
“Bassus,” ‘Filkom spoke.
“Why do you sneak into my territory, Elite?” The guttural voice of Bassus came from the pad, sending small vibrations through the sangheili’s throat. His usage of the word “Elite” was an insult. The human word for the sangheili was seen as distasteful as it was disgusting. Most Blademasters would rise to the clear challenge Bassus had just issued, but Bri ‘Filkom wasn’t easy to goad.
“We tread here on the orders of Atriox,” Bri said simply. “Impede me further and I will give him your head.”
A dark chuckle came from the pad. “I don’t think you’re doing anything under his orders,” the jiralhanae said. “Perhaps it is your head that will be delivered.”
‘Filkom maintained his composure, even as his patience waned. He understood why Bassus was being so hostile; the Banished had very little to take their aggression out on. Only allies surrounded them, leaving no wars to wage, or battles to win. Bassus had already challenged another clan a month ago. He had murdered its chieftain and assimilated his followers. The likelihood he’d attempt something similar here was very high.
“One way or another, you will answer to the Warmaster,” Bri said calmly before he stripped off the comm pad and handed it back to Rubik. “Stay our course - we are nearly there.”
The comm pad was a basic technology, but reliably effective. It would connect between the vocal cords and whatever constitutes for a jaw bone. Speaking into it was obvious enough, but receiving communication through it was where the intrigue lay, as the small radio would send sound vibrations up along the jaw bone, and toward whatever constituted for an ear canal. Effectively, it allowed for near-silent communication.
Rubik didn’t seem very enthused about the sangheili’s choice to disregard Bassus. Unsurprising, given the structure of jiralhanae culture. Bri assumed Rubik may have desired a hostile takeover from Bassus, at least to some capacity. It must have been embarrassing to answer to an “Elite”.
The phantom continued to soar over the vast ocean. They were at the western edge of Banished territory, coming up upon a phenomenon utterly unique to the World of the Nexus. At some point, the ocean would simply stop, reaching some kind of edge. Tests had proven that things could pass through to the void on the other side of this edge, filled with cosmic wonder, but the truth of what lay out there was uncertain. Atriox had issued a fair few patrols to venture into the unknown, but considering none ever came back, the Warmaster had decreed it as an off-limits region. It was forbidden to travel out there.
As the atmosphere thinned the closer they got to the edge, Bri could begin to see the sky darkening. The rays of the native star (if it even was such a thing) struggled to penetrate out here. A darkness began to swallow the phantom up, the void beyond rapidly opening wide. It was saddening to see the kel disperse.
“Stop here,” ‘Filkom commanded, shifting upon his claws as he gazed over the side of the phantom, which quickly slowed to a halt. The murky waters below held many secrets, some far beyond mortal comprehension, but only one down there was what the sangheili was interested in.
He turned his gaze toward Rubik. “Are your cheennsay prepared?”
Perhaps the deceptively mature jiralhanae was still thinking of Bassus, as he simply offered a wordless nod, eyes glaring almost challengingly to the elder sangheili. Bri held his gaze for several long moments. He was calling the jiralhanae’s bluff by maintaining eye contact. Once Rubik recognized his lack of intimidation, he finally looked away. It had been a silent and quick transaction, but there had been a lot that had just transacted between them.
In a word; Bri ‘Filkom had asserted his dominance, though he felt confident Rubik may have actually tried something, had he not been ordered to obey the sangheili by Atriox himself.
“Then by all means,” Bri gestured toward the open end of the phantom.
Rubik snorted in slight agitation, before he turned toward the three other jiralhanae beside him. All three wore makeshift actuation gear for amphibious situations like these, complete with large oxygen packs hooked to their backs, and breather masks applied around their skulls. Bri didn’t think highly of their craftsmanship on a good day, but he had to admit, aesthetics aside the jiralhanae were brilliant engineers, some even second only to huragok.
“Thunder your hearts, my brothers!” Rubik’s voice had suddenly become a bellow. “We venture into the depths! Our Warmaster is counting on us - and we will not fail. We will return victorious, and our bellies will be filled with the finest of meats!”
The other three simply banged their fists against their chests in anticipation. They were disciplined, and loyal. Rubik also happened to be a good orator, at least for a Brute.
At his command, the three leaped out of the phantom, before splashing heavily into the sea below, disappearing beneath its churning waves.
“Blademaster,” Rubik had turned to ‘Filkom, who gave a simple nod of acknowledgment. He then turned to the other side of the phantom to the nymph, a small aquatic vessel, designed more for scouting than anything else. While typically designed for extraterrestrial travel, this one had been customized for deep sea diving. Theoretically, it could withstand pressures that would normally spell certain doom for anything else. It was a sleek craft, fish-like in its design, with two streaks of red running down either side, and no viewport. Visual confirmation would be done through nanolite geographic energy reading and micronanite cameras fixated all around the craft. This reduced the likelihood of a breach, as there were no weaker transparent materials like glass.
There were two pods to slide into in the craft. It would be a tight fit, designed with mostly sangheili in mind, so Rubik would be practically stuffed, but it was the best they had in such short notice. This mission had been commanded by Atriox himself, and he wasn’t interested in broadcasting it until the mission was over - if it was a success.
Bri ‘Filkom slid with grace greater than his age would imply, planting himself in the back pod of the nymph. It was the master pod, which could take control of the nymph, while the forward pod was for a lower-ranking pilot, which was Rubik in this situation.
The large brute grumbled as he bumbled his way into his pod, and once settled, Bri activated the sealant doors, which shut with a hiss, concealing the two in darkness within either pod, before the nymph fully activated, and they could see a semi-simulated environment around them, projected to real-time proportions.
‘Filkom did nothing for now, simply flicking his gaze over the systems console, seeing that the nymph was fully functional, before Rubik piloted them out of the hovering phantom, the nymph’s anti-gravity belly allowing them to smoothly slide out of the transport vehicle, and descend to the ocean’s face.
They came to a stop just above the waves, hovering there for a moment, before Rubik deactivated the antigrav, and they slipped almost naturally beneath the water. The sonar sensors activated upon contact, and the tail engines ignited to life with energy propulsion, like that found on a ghost or a banshee, with identical speed boosting features.
Bri glanced about, taking in the dark expanse of azure, before his eyes landed on the dark forms sinking lower into the depths; the dive team.
Rubik piloted the nymph to follow them, having to use the boost to catch up. The suits of cheksa armor worn by the dive team were equipped with energy propulsors, though theirs were more akin to a modified jump pack, redesigned to allow for use under water.
The following descent wasn’t particularly eventful. The deeper they went, the darker it got. The already faint sunlight only penetrated so far, and eventually, they were cloaked in blackness. The helmets of the cheksa jiralhanae activated their cutting beams, named for the intense light they gave off, capable of cutting far into the murky waters, as the nymph similarly activated its forward beams.
Down and down the team went, Bri keeping his wary eyes everywhere the light beams weren’t. Unlike the jiralhanae, sangheili possessed a degree of natural night vision. In this situation it wasn’t all too useful, as his sight still relied on light, like any other creature of visual sense, but he could see just a little bit more than the others.
He expected some terrifying ocean dwelling monster to emerge, it’s mouth agape to swallow them all whole. Fortunately, this never came to pass.
Deeper they fell, falling well beneath lethal levels for any surface dwelling organism without protective gear. Bri could hear the soft groaning of the nymph as it slowly began to compress. The jiralhanae outside didn’t appear impeded, but he would be surprised if they weren’t beginning to feel the pressure put on them. Without their dive packs, it was likely the crushing weight of water would be too great, and prevent them from ever returning to the surface.
The sangheili’s eyes wandered to the depth measurement, noting the impressive number. The brutes outside were withstanding a lot.
Yet as they fell further and further, there came a threshold. Rubik came to a sudden stop. ‘Filkom’s mandibles twitched in anticipation as he leaned slightly forward. “Why have we stopped?”
“Blademaster,” came the gruff reply of Rubik. “The warriors have reached their limit. They cannot descend further.”
They were no good to him absent, but then again, they were no good to him dead. The ocean descended a bit further than originally anticipated, at least this part of it. Had their seismic scans been faulty? They should be near the seabed by now.
“Very well,” Bri hummed. “Tell them to hold their place for as long as they can. We will finish the descent and assess their continued usefulness.”
A few seconds passed in silence, Rubik passing on the command, no doubt in a way that was insulting to the sangheili, but ‘Filkom cared little. Another moment, and they were dropping again, leaving behind the compressed jiralhanae.
Deeper still they moved, baffling Bri as they still failed to reach anything of note. This was growing absurd. Faulty equipment or not, it shouldn’t be this wildly inaccurate. The nymph creaked again as the pressure only mounted. It was beginning to reach a more critical level if they descended too much further.
Yet alas, the forward beams found more than continued emptiness. A structure seemed to materialize before them, illuminated by the lights, covered in dirt and slime, too deep and dark to have any form of sea life such as weeds or moss, but it was undeniably metal.
Undeniably Fohranah.
Rubik redirected the craft and its beams, following what seemed to be a metal spire down toward a base, which turned out to be a much larger structure that had birthed the spire. It almost fooled Bri for a moment, as he’d thought it was the sea bed for a fleeting moment, only to recognize the intricate grooves native to Forerunner architecture. Carcasses littered the surface, most half-eaten. Natural elements to breakdown and decompose didn’t exist so deep. Nothing was left to rot, because it could not. It would simply exist until the pressure ground it into something else.
It was unclear if these aquatic corpses had been leftovers that had fallen here, or if there were any deep sea scavengers he had yet to see. Whatever the case, Bri saw nothing living just yet.
The nymph began to follow the surface, beams drifting about to find anything of note, like a doorway, for example.
It was astounding how such a place like this could exist. It seemed so old and ancient, and yet it was likely a creation from the Nexus, merged into the environment, and if the data was correct, this entire realm was only about a year old. Bri’s gaze was fixated on every groove of the architecture, ignoring the slime and carrion, he wondered about what story the Nexus had dreamed up for this structure. What secrets it contained. This was, after all, the purpose of this secret mission. Atriox believed this pseudo-ancient Forerunner structure contained something extremely valuable. Something the Warmaster greatly wanted.
“There,” Bri urged Rubik, taking control of one beam and fixating it upon a space where the grooves seemed to stop, leaving only a flat surface.
Rubik carried the nymph toward this square-shaped space, hovering the craft above it for several moments, before activating the ship’s onboard FSS, also known as a Forerunner Sequence Signal. It was a bit newer in terms of technology, and a valuable quality of life function. Emitting the pulse would send a message to Forerunner technology, which would normally respond only to a human. Now other species could maneuver around the simpler Forerunner technology without the extra steps that had to be taken before.
When the ancient machinery received, then registered the FSS, the flat surface cracked with a split down its middle. Bubbles rushed up from the broken seal, and water poured into the newly-revealed hole, nearly pulling the nymph into its current, before it ceased, whatever hole within now filled.
With the water settling, the forward beams cut in, finding only an empty room within. Bare walls, containing the same designs as the outer surfaces. Bri's mandibles ground their fangs together, before he noticed a dim light inside. Taking full control of the nymph, the sangheili spun the craft around, moving opposite of the hole's end to see a Forerunner door, a red light flashing from its center. He felt a tingle of excitement trace its way along his spine. Clicking his mandibles in anticipation, 'Filkom began to lower the craft, entering the hole they'd opened up. It was likely that this small room would empty once its ceiling closed again, and there was only one way to prove that theory.
When the nymph came to a stop within, a second FSS was pinged to the door, and as expected, it closed.
The theory was proven accurate when water began to quickly drain from the room, vents along the floor opening up, before sliding shut once the room had been drained. A blast shield covering the Forerunner door slid open once flickering with a green light, revealing a more familiar and traditional Forerunner door on the other side.
Lights flickered on within the room, bathing it in the ambient glow it provided. Powering down the nymph, Bri opened the pods to allow himself and Rubik to leave its confines, the sangheili making sure to remove the FSS transponder from the interior, knowing he'd need it.
The most notable difference about the interior of the structure was how clean and new it seemed, when compared to its dilapidated exterior.
"Warriors," Rubik spoke into his comm pad, glancing about the room. Like Bri, he found nothing notable outside the door. For now, they only had one way to go. "Return to the surface. Wait for further orders."
"Atriox will be pleased," 'Filkom hummed to himself, feeling the cold steel beneath his feet, before he approached the door.
"What is the Warmaster searching for here, anyway?" Rubik grunted, absently scratching at his fur. His putrid stench was particularly strong at the moment, and 'Filkom knew it wasn't because of their closed environment. Jiralhanae released different odors based on their emotion, and having been around the species for so long, Bri had begun to understand what the different smells meant. The current stench, if the Blademaster was accurate, was one that betrayed nervousness. He knew not why Rubik would be so nervous. For the short time Bri had known him, the brute had seemed quite unshakable in his bull-headedness. Perhaps there was more to the reason Atriox had assigned him to this detail as the Blademaster's second in command.
"Something kuhtahshee," Bri said, intentionally vague. Rubik didn't appreciate it, merely snorting back in annoyance, but he said nothing. The Forerunner door hummed a gentle, mechanical sound, before it slid open. A gust of stale, dry air washed into the room. Rubik snorted again, this time out of surprise.
"It smells like it hasn't been opened for millennia."
Bri gave a simple nod, gazing into the vast room beyond, before he began to pace forward. "Yes. If the Nexus has dictated it to be so."
There was no telling how large this facility was, or how long they'd be down here. If they were lucky, they could find the prize Atriox sought, and be on their way back home. 'Filkom had a feeling it wouldn't be so easy, however, and he had a suspicion that at some point, Bassus would force himself to be relevant to the situation. He would not make the return trip as easy as when they'd entered.
Sangheili is a complex language, and the primary language spoken in the Halo universe. Old Sangheili was the language used by the Covenant, but in recent years has lost favor, being replaced by Modern Sangheili, and in many cases, Human English. Old Sangheili is frowned upon, as it reflects a time during the Covenant Empire, which still leaves a bad taste in most mouths (and mandibles).
Thissa - A state of maturity, when one begins to enter the final stage of life. (Modern Sangheili)
Kel - Light dancing on the waves. (Old Sangheili)
Cheennsay - A warrior / warriors. (Modern Sangheili)
Cheksa - Of an aquatic or amphibious nature. (Old Sangheili)
Fohranah - Forerunner (Modern Sangheili)
Kuhtahshee - Something different, foreign, or alien. (Modern Sangheili)
Thissa - A state of maturity, when one begins to enter the final stage of life. (Modern Sangheili)
Kel - Light dancing on the waves. (Old Sangheili)
Cheennsay - A warrior / warriors. (Modern Sangheili)
Cheksa - Of an aquatic or amphibious nature. (Old Sangheili)
Fohranah - Forerunner (Modern Sangheili)
Kuhtahshee - Something different, foreign, or alien. (Modern Sangheili)
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