Post by contention on Dec 21, 2005 15:23:28 GMT -5
This is the first chapter to the story I wrote so long ago. This Christmas I wanted to write some more; this version here is old and only a bit re-edited. Many parts seem repitive to me and reused and to descriptive, all remarks are welcome. This link below is to the prologue:
The story follows along the character I created known as Contention. A Jackal from the speices in Halo, and the story follows from birth to where we are now. I hope to continue on it, for some reason new ideas have flooded me.
timyoshi.proboards23.com/index.cgi?board=othersfics&action=display&thread=1119034712
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Chapter One:
Dedication to the Dead
Creon’s legs walked with sturdiness, each step he took was equally apart and spaced. Around him sat a small council of no less than twenty members, and all of them seemed to hush at the sight of the stern Jackal. The room was robed in thick black shadows, only a small glimmer of light came in from the cracked roof. In front of Creon there lied a small marble table; it glimmered even with the absence of light. The table was empty, besides the small imprint of a small circular shape in the middle. Eggs of special children could only lie in that spot, each of them were to be blessed by the mighty prophets. Fortunately for Creon, his child had been hand picked by the lawful council. It was something he wasn’t to proud of though, his arrogance despised the fact he was never blessed as a child. As he approached the table he began to feel heavy and tired, and the closer he got the hotter the room became. Finally, from the corner of the room a small Prophet appeared.
He was the renowned Prophet of Nativity, by his hands more than three thousand children had been blessed and grown up to be warriors of the third degree. Everyone knew his name, and everyone also knew how ignorant he was to his surroundings. It was he who sent a group of high commanding Elites to their forsaken deaths. Bad decisions plagued the Prophet, but the council dared not to bother his position. Prophets were not known for their power but only for their faith in the Forerunners. The origins of the Prophets were still unknown, but it was highly believed that many of them had seen images of the gods. Some had said that the higher Prophets had even been given guides from the Forerunners. Without their guidance, the Covenant would have fallen many years ago under stress and destruction. Even though they make mistakes, they were able to keep control of their children with the greatest ease. In the future, they had promised to lead their loved ones to the grand beyond, wherever that may be.
Slowly the Prophet approached the sweating Jackal. Nativity’s eyes scanned the small figure and a tiny smile grew across his wrinkled lips. Beneath his smile, Creon could see many white teeth lined up in straight rows, each of them lined with red. The Prophet then reached out his large curved hands. His fingers were slender and thin, at first the Jackal was taken aback but he soon regained his posture.
“My child, please bestow upon me your egg; for you see my child, you do not bear the responsibility to place it on the pedestal,” The Prophets words sounded smooth like silk, besides the croaking noise which erupted from deep in his throat. Slowly Creon lifted up his egg and placed it carefully in the palm of Nativity. Nativity’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as he held the egg up in the darkness, “My, my, this egg feels quite light. Your child most only be a newborn.”
Creon looked up at the Prophet somewhat dazed and confused. He knew the child was to be blessed, but he never thought it mattered when. As he began to speak the Prophet quickly interrupted him.
“Dear me, the sooner the better. Forgive me, I was only admiring such a beautiful new baby,” The Prophet gave Creon another weak smile before turning around. He began to approach the large marble table with ease, as if it bore no burden on him. Finally he placed the small green oval egg on the pedestal and stepped back, “May the god’s look down upon us now. For the time has come for another baby to be brought into this world. With your guidance my lords, this task can be completed.”
Creon stood still and watched the ceremony with ease. His snout parted into a smile, and his heart began to flutter with happiness. Finally, a Jackal had the opportunity to grow up to be something more than a mere warrior. This son of his would not be any normal Jackal. Being blessed by a Prophet was more than any creature could want, and for some strange reason his son had been chosen. It was somewhat strange to the Jackal though. Why would the council choose a Jackal over an Elite, it wasn’t something that was done everyday. Elites were strong and graceful; they were great leaders and warriors. They were known for slaughtering countless enemies and never taking survivors. Ground Forces would easily fall if they were not run by an Elite. So why was the council willing to leave one Elite out of the battle and replace it with a Jackal? This question would never be answered unfortunately, for Creon never spoke his mind.
Finally the Prophet finished and looked down upon the quiet Jackal, his fronds were lying down the side of his face and he seemed to be sweating. Nativity picked up the egg and placed it in the shaking hands of Creon, the weight of the egg caught Creon off guard and he began to trip forward. Then, the soft hands of the prophet propped the small creature up once again. Creon stood in shock, no Prophet was to touch any of their children. It was highly forbidden in their religion, and was punishable to a great extent. The Prophet did not seem to mind though; his face was emotionless and somewhat strict looking. Then from behind, Creon felt a hand touch his soft shoulder, and at first it felt cold and wet. It belonged to the hand of an Honor Guard, they were known for being harsh and destructive. Most Honor Guard’s wore large head pieces made out of the same material that was used to build plasma turrets. They were also cloaked in three small pieces of armor that covered their arms, torso, and low waist.
Honor Guards were never well thought of; their duty was to protect their high and mighty leaders. They followed their callings with vigor and unforgivable intent. It was nearly impossible to disagree with a hierarch when they were around, but most of them kept to themselves. All Honor Guards were raised to be warriors from the day they were born, and as they got older their training got unbearable. Most Honor Guards failed to even live through their boot camp, and those who did were well known around the Covenant cities. Nearly all of the Honor Guards were Elites and a smaller few were Hunters. Since the beginning of the Covenant Armada, Honor Guards had watched over the prophets, and so it would stay until the end of time.
Creon slowly looked up into the cold blank stare of the creature. He seemed to have no emotions, only his knife like eyes bared any resemblance to his thoughts. His dark blue scaled skin seemed to blend in with the rooms surroundings, and his armor shined densely in the fragile pupils of Creon’s eyes.
Then, the Honor Guard looked down at Creon. His mandibles formed a healthy smile, and his eye brows perked up in response, “Dear Jackal, your son has been blessed by the mighty Nativity. Today your name was taken a step farther, but now it is time for you to leave. Nativity needs his rest; just remember to take care Creon.”
Honor Guards were never supposed to break their silent oath, but for some reason this very strange Elite had opened his mouth to the unworthy Jackal. Something wasn’t right within the walls of this hall, indeed the day was getting odder and odder as time passed. Then, with speed and precision the Honor Guard ushered the small Kig-Yar out of the darkened corridors. Quickly Creon was pushed back into the sunlight of the dry barren land, and his body began to sweat as if he had been poured in water. Around him he could hear the bustle of townsfolk walking to and fro to their daily routines, and in the air Creon could smell the scent of cooked bread and some other pastries. In front of Creon stood many wide streets and buildings and beyond those all one could see was the faint running blue that lined the evening sky. The streets were lined with small venders and shops, and the large brown buildings only served as shade to the civilians.
The name bestowed upon this desert town was “Pauperism”, and it wore that name with dignity and pride. Unfortunately, the small town had never been noted as a Covenant hot spot. Years ago it had been taken from the filthy hands of the heretic humans, and since its creation only few have laid their feet on its land. It lied on the outskirts of the Edrani System, and only military personal have the patience and skill to fly that far out into the mysterious outskirts of space. In the early 2500’s the Covenant had controlled the planet of “Tyrenna” with one small army unit. It was as if the humans did not wish to fight for such a land, and this puzzled many of the Prophets who organized the army attack. Why would the humans take over a world and then willingly give it up? That question was unfortunately answered soon enough, for it turned out that the planet had the strangest
gravitational pull known to any creature. For some odd reason the planet would start farthest away from the sun, and eventually in a few short months wind up being against it. This was something the humans had not planned for, and it probably explained why most of their forces were dwindled when the Covenant arrived.
Luckily for the Covenant forces, the heat of the sun was no problem on their reptilian skin. So it wasn’t hard to understand why the planet was so low in population, but it wasn’t something to worry about either. No one would ever try to control such a risky planet, well besides the Covenant. This was another reason why Creon loved his position with all his heart. Being commander of his troops was like being a forerunner. He knew his men were all physically fit and willing to face anything, and he had yet to see any Covenant force back down in his life. Leading such a group was more than one Jackal could handle, but Creon was not your normal Jackal nor was his son.
As Creon walked away from the tattered hall his heart bore some type of thick remorse. Deep inside Creon felt as if he had left his true sons in the hands of a killer, and he could not help but feel he had made the wrong decision. The egg in his hand was so cold and slimy, and it only added to the Kig-Yar’s uncontrollable discomfort. Creon knew that the Prophets were their leaders, but deep in his mind he had a feeling they were backstabbers. It was a known fact that if a group of men can lead a group in any direction they are bound to choose sides. If anything about the Covenant gave Creon a bitter feeling, it had to be the “Loyal and God worthy” Prophets. Of course, Creon never spoke such heresy, for his head would surely roll for those words. To think, that such a great mind be wasted in the civilization of lies and deceit.
Azure was back at her small home which lied on the outskirts of town. It was a normal home like the others. Its walls were bathed in a plaster like brown to hold the bricks together, and the windows were non existent. Only three large holes allowed the warmth of the sun to
enter the house. Such homes caused the high ranking Covenant to shudder; living in such a hole to them would leave them subject to mockery and hate. Poverty did not crowd Azure or her husband Creon; actually they were far from it. Money filled their wide pockets, and they could hardly contain all the income they received. Unlike others, they were not willing to show off what they had. Both of them wished to live in an environment that they knew as children. Royalty was a great thing, but when one lets it get to their head destruction is not far away.
As the day passed, Azure stared out into the wavy rays of the heat that crowded the streets around the city. Her eyes darted to and fro as she searched for her noble husband, and eventually she could see his figure in the distance. He looked tired and somewhat ragged, and his fronds looked as if they were glued to the side of his face. His eyes were a glow, and his feet still moved as if they were in an army like stance. In his hand he groped the egg of their child, and Azure swore she could see it moving as he walked. When he was close enough Azure ran to him and embraced his small figure in her arms. They both smiled brightly as their snouts touched and looked deeply into one another’s glazed eyes. The world around them seemed to disappear as they held each other, and if it was not for the heat of the sun they may have stayed that way forever.
The story follows along the character I created known as Contention. A Jackal from the speices in Halo, and the story follows from birth to where we are now. I hope to continue on it, for some reason new ideas have flooded me.
timyoshi.proboards23.com/index.cgi?board=othersfics&action=display&thread=1119034712
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter One:
Dedication to the Dead
Creon’s legs walked with sturdiness, each step he took was equally apart and spaced. Around him sat a small council of no less than twenty members, and all of them seemed to hush at the sight of the stern Jackal. The room was robed in thick black shadows, only a small glimmer of light came in from the cracked roof. In front of Creon there lied a small marble table; it glimmered even with the absence of light. The table was empty, besides the small imprint of a small circular shape in the middle. Eggs of special children could only lie in that spot, each of them were to be blessed by the mighty prophets. Fortunately for Creon, his child had been hand picked by the lawful council. It was something he wasn’t to proud of though, his arrogance despised the fact he was never blessed as a child. As he approached the table he began to feel heavy and tired, and the closer he got the hotter the room became. Finally, from the corner of the room a small Prophet appeared.
He was the renowned Prophet of Nativity, by his hands more than three thousand children had been blessed and grown up to be warriors of the third degree. Everyone knew his name, and everyone also knew how ignorant he was to his surroundings. It was he who sent a group of high commanding Elites to their forsaken deaths. Bad decisions plagued the Prophet, but the council dared not to bother his position. Prophets were not known for their power but only for their faith in the Forerunners. The origins of the Prophets were still unknown, but it was highly believed that many of them had seen images of the gods. Some had said that the higher Prophets had even been given guides from the Forerunners. Without their guidance, the Covenant would have fallen many years ago under stress and destruction. Even though they make mistakes, they were able to keep control of their children with the greatest ease. In the future, they had promised to lead their loved ones to the grand beyond, wherever that may be.
Slowly the Prophet approached the sweating Jackal. Nativity’s eyes scanned the small figure and a tiny smile grew across his wrinkled lips. Beneath his smile, Creon could see many white teeth lined up in straight rows, each of them lined with red. The Prophet then reached out his large curved hands. His fingers were slender and thin, at first the Jackal was taken aback but he soon regained his posture.
“My child, please bestow upon me your egg; for you see my child, you do not bear the responsibility to place it on the pedestal,” The Prophets words sounded smooth like silk, besides the croaking noise which erupted from deep in his throat. Slowly Creon lifted up his egg and placed it carefully in the palm of Nativity. Nativity’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as he held the egg up in the darkness, “My, my, this egg feels quite light. Your child most only be a newborn.”
Creon looked up at the Prophet somewhat dazed and confused. He knew the child was to be blessed, but he never thought it mattered when. As he began to speak the Prophet quickly interrupted him.
“Dear me, the sooner the better. Forgive me, I was only admiring such a beautiful new baby,” The Prophet gave Creon another weak smile before turning around. He began to approach the large marble table with ease, as if it bore no burden on him. Finally he placed the small green oval egg on the pedestal and stepped back, “May the god’s look down upon us now. For the time has come for another baby to be brought into this world. With your guidance my lords, this task can be completed.”
Creon stood still and watched the ceremony with ease. His snout parted into a smile, and his heart began to flutter with happiness. Finally, a Jackal had the opportunity to grow up to be something more than a mere warrior. This son of his would not be any normal Jackal. Being blessed by a Prophet was more than any creature could want, and for some strange reason his son had been chosen. It was somewhat strange to the Jackal though. Why would the council choose a Jackal over an Elite, it wasn’t something that was done everyday. Elites were strong and graceful; they were great leaders and warriors. They were known for slaughtering countless enemies and never taking survivors. Ground Forces would easily fall if they were not run by an Elite. So why was the council willing to leave one Elite out of the battle and replace it with a Jackal? This question would never be answered unfortunately, for Creon never spoke his mind.
Finally the Prophet finished and looked down upon the quiet Jackal, his fronds were lying down the side of his face and he seemed to be sweating. Nativity picked up the egg and placed it in the shaking hands of Creon, the weight of the egg caught Creon off guard and he began to trip forward. Then, the soft hands of the prophet propped the small creature up once again. Creon stood in shock, no Prophet was to touch any of their children. It was highly forbidden in their religion, and was punishable to a great extent. The Prophet did not seem to mind though; his face was emotionless and somewhat strict looking. Then from behind, Creon felt a hand touch his soft shoulder, and at first it felt cold and wet. It belonged to the hand of an Honor Guard, they were known for being harsh and destructive. Most Honor Guard’s wore large head pieces made out of the same material that was used to build plasma turrets. They were also cloaked in three small pieces of armor that covered their arms, torso, and low waist.
Honor Guards were never well thought of; their duty was to protect their high and mighty leaders. They followed their callings with vigor and unforgivable intent. It was nearly impossible to disagree with a hierarch when they were around, but most of them kept to themselves. All Honor Guards were raised to be warriors from the day they were born, and as they got older their training got unbearable. Most Honor Guards failed to even live through their boot camp, and those who did were well known around the Covenant cities. Nearly all of the Honor Guards were Elites and a smaller few were Hunters. Since the beginning of the Covenant Armada, Honor Guards had watched over the prophets, and so it would stay until the end of time.
Creon slowly looked up into the cold blank stare of the creature. He seemed to have no emotions, only his knife like eyes bared any resemblance to his thoughts. His dark blue scaled skin seemed to blend in with the rooms surroundings, and his armor shined densely in the fragile pupils of Creon’s eyes.
Then, the Honor Guard looked down at Creon. His mandibles formed a healthy smile, and his eye brows perked up in response, “Dear Jackal, your son has been blessed by the mighty Nativity. Today your name was taken a step farther, but now it is time for you to leave. Nativity needs his rest; just remember to take care Creon.”
Honor Guards were never supposed to break their silent oath, but for some reason this very strange Elite had opened his mouth to the unworthy Jackal. Something wasn’t right within the walls of this hall, indeed the day was getting odder and odder as time passed. Then, with speed and precision the Honor Guard ushered the small Kig-Yar out of the darkened corridors. Quickly Creon was pushed back into the sunlight of the dry barren land, and his body began to sweat as if he had been poured in water. Around him he could hear the bustle of townsfolk walking to and fro to their daily routines, and in the air Creon could smell the scent of cooked bread and some other pastries. In front of Creon stood many wide streets and buildings and beyond those all one could see was the faint running blue that lined the evening sky. The streets were lined with small venders and shops, and the large brown buildings only served as shade to the civilians.
The name bestowed upon this desert town was “Pauperism”, and it wore that name with dignity and pride. Unfortunately, the small town had never been noted as a Covenant hot spot. Years ago it had been taken from the filthy hands of the heretic humans, and since its creation only few have laid their feet on its land. It lied on the outskirts of the Edrani System, and only military personal have the patience and skill to fly that far out into the mysterious outskirts of space. In the early 2500’s the Covenant had controlled the planet of “Tyrenna” with one small army unit. It was as if the humans did not wish to fight for such a land, and this puzzled many of the Prophets who organized the army attack. Why would the humans take over a world and then willingly give it up? That question was unfortunately answered soon enough, for it turned out that the planet had the strangest
gravitational pull known to any creature. For some odd reason the planet would start farthest away from the sun, and eventually in a few short months wind up being against it. This was something the humans had not planned for, and it probably explained why most of their forces were dwindled when the Covenant arrived.
Luckily for the Covenant forces, the heat of the sun was no problem on their reptilian skin. So it wasn’t hard to understand why the planet was so low in population, but it wasn’t something to worry about either. No one would ever try to control such a risky planet, well besides the Covenant. This was another reason why Creon loved his position with all his heart. Being commander of his troops was like being a forerunner. He knew his men were all physically fit and willing to face anything, and he had yet to see any Covenant force back down in his life. Leading such a group was more than one Jackal could handle, but Creon was not your normal Jackal nor was his son.
As Creon walked away from the tattered hall his heart bore some type of thick remorse. Deep inside Creon felt as if he had left his true sons in the hands of a killer, and he could not help but feel he had made the wrong decision. The egg in his hand was so cold and slimy, and it only added to the Kig-Yar’s uncontrollable discomfort. Creon knew that the Prophets were their leaders, but deep in his mind he had a feeling they were backstabbers. It was a known fact that if a group of men can lead a group in any direction they are bound to choose sides. If anything about the Covenant gave Creon a bitter feeling, it had to be the “Loyal and God worthy” Prophets. Of course, Creon never spoke such heresy, for his head would surely roll for those words. To think, that such a great mind be wasted in the civilization of lies and deceit.
Azure was back at her small home which lied on the outskirts of town. It was a normal home like the others. Its walls were bathed in a plaster like brown to hold the bricks together, and the windows were non existent. Only three large holes allowed the warmth of the sun to
enter the house. Such homes caused the high ranking Covenant to shudder; living in such a hole to them would leave them subject to mockery and hate. Poverty did not crowd Azure or her husband Creon; actually they were far from it. Money filled their wide pockets, and they could hardly contain all the income they received. Unlike others, they were not willing to show off what they had. Both of them wished to live in an environment that they knew as children. Royalty was a great thing, but when one lets it get to their head destruction is not far away.
As the day passed, Azure stared out into the wavy rays of the heat that crowded the streets around the city. Her eyes darted to and fro as she searched for her noble husband, and eventually she could see his figure in the distance. He looked tired and somewhat ragged, and his fronds looked as if they were glued to the side of his face. His eyes were a glow, and his feet still moved as if they were in an army like stance. In his hand he groped the egg of their child, and Azure swore she could see it moving as he walked. When he was close enough Azure ran to him and embraced his small figure in her arms. They both smiled brightly as their snouts touched and looked deeply into one another’s glazed eyes. The world around them seemed to disappear as they held each other, and if it was not for the heat of the sun they may have stayed that way forever.