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    Goodbye Moonmen.

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    Bad John
    Freelancer Operative

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    Goodbye Moonmen.

    Post  Bad John on January 14th 2016, 1:58 pm

    Finger tense and ready to squeeze, a Hunter stared down the barrel of a sniper rifle. He was in a position far beyond awkward; his back was pressed against a wall, the soles of his boots ground into another. He kept himself far above ground like that, hiding in the shadows. It was the only non-visible sniping position he could locate. His pistols hung from magnetic strips on his upper thighs as he waited for his shot.

    "Eris. I'm in position." The Hunter whispered very softly. Jojo knew that being caught so far from home could mean a true death; this mission was only ever meant to be recon for the strange, brooding woman. He was one of the few to take regular assignments from her.

    She was a former Hunter; one with a very interesting career. Even in her reduced state, Jordan had a large measure of respect for her. Without her input, the Hive may have taken Earth five times over by now. While most Guardians saw her as an unfortunate freak with a weird, glowing, crystal cantaloupe, Jordan saw someone who ought to be listened to more often.

    "Ah. Good work, Fool." Eris' voice was stern, but pleased. It had that unusual, deep, malignant purr. So, pretty much the norm. "Your ghost is streaming your visual."

    Through Jordan's eyes, all he could see was hive. Acolytes and Knights tromped about on the dusty fields of the European Deadzone. The Hunter had schlepped all the way out here on Eris' hunch, and it turned out to be right. Hive, bereft of a leader, were moving in solemn rows as they exited their ancient, black tombships.

    There weren't enough to panic over, but FAR too many for Jordan to consider fighting on his own. His rifle was loaded, but he kept his finger off the trigger, using it as a tool to observe. "What do you suppose they're doin' out here?" Jordan tensed his left leg, keeping himself firmly wedged between the buildings. He wished this particular building had a fire escape he could sit on, but the wrought iron stairs had long ago fallen, and lay twisted and wrecked in the alley below. He was at least on the thirtieth floor, so his ghost was on standby.

    For all the idiotic stunts he pulled, he had comparatively few deaths to show for it. Most of his falls were actually administered by fairly valiant means. His risks usually paid off.

    "Keep your voice low and scan the crowd. I cannot know their meaning here without more information on their ranks. Do you see a wizard darkening their numbers?" On the order of Crota's Bane, Jordan began scanning the squads. The Hive had burrowed deep into the ground, erecting pylons. Tombstones, punctuating the grief of their master's fall aboard the Dreadnought. The unstoppable Oryx was reduced to shadows, and his remaining lieutenants.

    Yaaaaaaaaay.

    Ghost, remaining on comms duty, suddenly appeared over Jordan's shoulder, hovering above the butt of his gun and focusing. "...Turn your gun a few centimeters east." Her voice was a startlingly loud tweet, almost making Jordan shake with horror. The Hunter turned and shooshed the ghost.

    "STAY. QUIET." Jordan hissed. His ghost's white and powder blue shell rotated around the single eye, then lowered. "Sorry," he quickly regretted snapping at the poor thing, and did as she bid. Turning his rifle only a hair, he spotted a Wizard standing beside a robust, pale armored knight. In one arm, the powerful knight sported a boomer with ornate carvings in the side that Jordan's sharp eyes couldn't quite make out. In the other arm, there was a cleaver.

    "Guardian. Do not aim your weapon at the wizard." Eris' breathed a low warning, voice lined with hostility. "That is Paelon. Bonechewer, and Lieutenant of Crota. He was sealed for his insubordination when he led an early assault on the Moon to impress his consort, who hovers over his shoulder. She is Olipok, the Seer. If you cast eyes on her, she will sense you."

    "Neat," Jojo said. "Any idea what they'd be here to do?"

    "Likely staging an assault. Paelon, for all his power, is spineless and desperate to please his lover. He will seek out the grandest prize he can achieve, and attempt to use it to appease her."

    "Aw. So romantic." Jordan's Ghost performed a quick somersault over his waist, looking down at the aspiring couple. "Well, it seems like a pretty toxic dynamic, but that's the closest to a love story I've ever seen the Hive come to."

    "Oh. Have you never heard of Alak-Hul, the Darkblade?" Jojo, feeling chatty, engaged his Ghost, lowering his rifle and looking up at her as she floated above his head. "He apparently went against the Taken King to imp-"

    "GUARDIAN. She sees you. BEWARE."

    "WHAT?" Jordan looked up, and could see Paelon lifting his blade and pointing it. His attending knights lined up their boomers as Olipok moved behind a small group of Acolytes, her hands raised and glowing with darkness as she prepared a spell. "We didn't look at her! How'd she spot us all the way over here?!"

    Eris made no words, simply growling into the microphone for a moment. Jojo got the message; he and Ghost had been talking too loudly.

    Throwing his rifle down, Jordan summoned all the strength in his legs he could muster, and pushed himself upwards. He grabbed hold of a gap in the bricks, his gloved hands clawing at decaying brick until he found purchase in a window sill on the other side. The wall beside him burst as a boomer's cannon struck it. The Hunter began clawing his way up the wall, teeth grit under his mask.

    Ghost grabbed his rifle in midair, transferring it into storage and hovering up beside Jordan. She disliked riding during exciting moments, choosing to figuratively "stand by" her master until he ordered her to move aside.

    Clamboring up the wall, Jordan felt the building shudder as boomer shots struck near him. Knights weren't known for long ranged precision, but they could shell a location into nothingness in a jiffy. "MOVE LEFT!" Ghost, spotting an on target blob of baleful darkness, shouted the warning just in time. Jojo planted his feet on a windowsill, and leaped as far as he could, grabbing hold of the next building over. The shot demolished the spot where Jojo had just been.

    "Thanks Ghost!"

    "No problem! Get inside!" Jordan brought back his fist, and smashed through the glass in front of him, climbing into the building.

    It was an ancient place; dust and cobwebs beset abandoned cubicles where workers of the old world once toiled over their computers. Jordan, with no time to observe the scenery, ran out of the room, grabbing the doorway and veering into the hall. He moved well, his short cloak rustling behind him.

    "Through that window! There's a smaller building outside you can jump to!" Ghost hovered beside his head, and vanished inside of him. She disliked watching Jojo leap and fall. He jumped and extended his heel, kicking through the window. As she said, he landed and rolled over his shoulder on the gravel of a small building.

    Before he could find his feet and stand, he felt a dull, powerful thump on the side of his helmet. The blow sprawled him, but he quickly recovered to see an Acolyte. The beast had stricken him with its weapon, and was leveling the shredder at him. The Hunter stepped to the side, avoiding a hail of shots and drawing one of his pistols. He pulled back the trigger, lining up his shot easily and firing. The bullet struck home on the Acolyte's face.

    "Behind you!" Ghost's warning was unnecessary this time. The Hunter could hear the crunch of footsteps. He turned, braced himself, and thrust his elbow back. The Acolyte behind him was CRUSHED by the blow, knocked heels over head by his rebuff. As it hit the ground, Jordan stepped on its chitinous chest and fired his pistol, striking it in the head.

    The two Acolytes slain, Jordan turned and heard thrall. They clambered up the walls like monkeys, gaining purchase by virtue of their gnarled claws. The Hunter brought up his pistol and emptied the clip. Every shot was on target, each resulting in a successful kill. When his clip emptied, he brought up the pistol in his left hand and repeated the process, dumping Thrall to the ground with precise pulls of the trigger.

    As his left hand worked, firing shot after shot, his right hand was not idle; he lowered his arm, fastening his pistol to his thigh and reloading bullet by bullet. His hand moved quickly, cycling the cylinder and sliding each round in with his thumb. For a man with such terrible handwriting, he could reload a pistol in the blink of an eye.

    "Impressive, but futile. Flee, before Olipok approaches!" Eris watched the skirmish. Her glowing eyes intensified as she willed the Hunter to follow her command. Jordan obliged, turning and fleeing as he fired over his shoulder.

    THUD.

    Jordan ran right into a sword carrying knight; literally. He thumped off of its armor and hit the ground hard. "BUH." He gasped, and scrambled to his feet as the Knight brought down its howling sword. The blow knocked a hole in the floor that slowly expanded at the Hunter's feet as he backed up.

    A weight landed on his back. A thrall had caught up to him, and was hoping to take a slice into the Hunter's neck. Jordan grabbed the Thrall's arm, twisted, and threw the beast over his shoulder and off his back. The Knight, walking around the fresh hole in the floor, took another swing at Jordan. The horizontal cut nearly caught him on the head, but he ducked under it, drawing another gun; the Watchtower IV. A shotgun of his own design, the weapon shined in the light as Jordan lined up his shot and fired from the hip. The blow tore into the Knight's leg, dropping the beast to a knee. Jordan fired again, blowing his head off.

    He turned and backed up, firing slug after slug into the loose crowd of Thrall who hissed and charged him. One got in close, and he swung the butt of his gun, cracking it on the mouth. Another moved in, swinging down its claws. Jordan lifted his gun and blocked its arms, then he shoved the gun up hard, feeling the creature's elbows break. He fired his last shell into the Thrall's face as he slowly lost room on the roof.

    Before he could draw his knife, a sudden jerk tore him off his feet. Olipok gripped his hood and cloak, pulling him off the ground with little effort.

    OH YOU DID NOT JUST GRAB MY FUCKING CLOAK. Jojo yanked his knife free, furious and choking. Olipok intended to HANG him. Her grip yanked his hood in one direction and his hanging cloak in the other, tightening the indestructible cloth around his neck. The ascendant Wizard released a long, giddy laugh.

    Until Jordan angled his gun up and fired.

    The shot from his pistol raked across Olipok's headdress, and she released him, blue eyes shutting as she wailed with pain. He landed on the guard-rail of the building, keeping his balance by a hair, but rotating his arms desperately as he tried not to fall backwards.

    Falling instantly became a moot point, as the Wizard floated backwards, her hands glowing. She pointed them forward; not at Jordan but the broad side of the building. She fired a pulse of black and white magic, and Jordan felt the air around him grow cold.

    Other than that, nothing happened.

    Then, the building suddenly lowered a foot, jerking Jordan downwards. He balanced on the guard rail, until it bent as the building's support structures turned as weak as chalk. Floor by floor, the building collapsed, as Jojo fell forward, clawing the air desperately.

    "I've got you!!!" Ghost, thinking very quickly, summoned Jojo's third most prized possession; his modified Nomad. The vehicle boosted underneath him, and he mounted it quickly, diving straight down and landing on the street. A piece of rubble pinged off his head as he swerved, driving down the road.

    Olipok watched him go, burning blue eyes trained on him. She brought back her hand and flung a volley of spread energy. The shots missed as Jordan lifted his hand, and extended his middle finger.
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    It's Kruger
    Freelancer Operative

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    Age : 21
    Location : 'murica.

    Re: Goodbye Moonmen.

    Post  It's Kruger on January 14th 2016, 2:40 pm

    Bad John wrote:Clamboring up the wall, Jordan felt the building shudder as boomer shots struck near him. Knights weren't known for long ranged precision, but they could shell a location into nothingness in a jiffy.

    Fuck you. Bullshit. You've obviously never done an Arc Burn Hive Nightfall you fucking Luddite. Knights, especially Majors, can singe the arm-hair off an armored Guardian from a fucking star system away.

    Goddamn casual.
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    Bad John
    Freelancer Operative

    Posts : 1217
    Join date : 2013-01-17
    Location : A box in the United States.

    Re: Goodbye Moonmen.

    Post  Bad John on January 14th 2016, 2:44 pm

    You know damn well that Nightfall Knights mainline steroids into their cloacas to help them hatefully focus.

    Don't look up what a "cloaca" is.

    Or do.

    Just know that Sangheili have 'em.
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    Manny
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    Age : 22
    Location : The Great White North (Canada)

    Re: Goodbye Moonmen.

    Post  Manny on January 29th 2016, 11:50 am

    Bad John wrote:You know damn well that Nightfall Knights mainline steroids into their cloacas to help them hatefully focus.

    Don't look up what a "cloaca" is.

    Or do.

    Just know that Sangheili have 'em.
    Bow chicka bow wow?

    I mean if you want to get sexual about aliens... I could dig some stuff up. Stuff from the "dark times", as you put it John.

    Anyways looking forward to more. Destiny is just so bland that I can't bring myself to even fathom a story for it, but seeing other people write about it certainly makes that universe seem less bland.
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    Bad John
    Freelancer Operative

    Posts : 1217
    Join date : 2013-01-17
    Location : A box in the United States.

    Re: Goodbye Moonmen.

    Post  Bad John on August 12th 2016, 10:37 am

    The dark room was populated by robed men and women, speaking behind helmets as they convened. A small council of Warlocks, headed by the practical minded Artitha. Wearing an ensemble blacker than ink and spotted by patches of white that glittered like diamonds, she sat at the head of the table, fingers interlocked.

    "Though a shard of the Traveler has been recovered from the Hive, it remains inert. This means one of two things; that either there are more shards to be recovered, or we cannot expect aid from the Traveler." Artitha popped the knuckles of her right hand as she stood. "Either way, I posit that our best chance is to attack the Hive now, while their pantheon is weakened."

    Another Warlock nodded in agreement. Orpheus wanted to be anywhere else; postulating and theorizing with other Guardians was not his forte, but he endured. Artitha had summoned him personally for his insight; or rather to have someone in the room interested in something other than naval gazing. "I agree. Anything is better than spinning our wheels and hoping to have some epiphany. Knowledge is gained through action; while acting with mindless audacity gets us nowhere, we have to start somewhere."

    "And what if attacking the Hive only provokes them to summon a stronger member of their fold? Oryx was upon us before we'd even finished celebrating the fall of his son." The other Warlock folded his arms. "I propose we train more thanatonauts. We must seek answers non-violently. That is surely the only way to gain insight without inviting more bloodshed."

    Orpheus shifted uncomfortably. He didn't particularly disagree, but the tact seemed rather cowardly. Artitha rejected the proposal wholesale, raising her voice as she stood against it. "The Hive attack without any provocation. If we fight them actively, we'll at very least cull their number and keep their strongest off of that accursed throne." At that, Orpheus nodded.

    "Agreed. The Osmium Throne must remain empty, at least in this solar system. With direction and purpose, they'll attack in force and crush us." Orpheus removed his helm, revealing bright blue skin. He leaned back in his seat; as much as he hated to admit it, he'd spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get comfortable in the wooden chair.

    He immediately burst from the uncomfortable seat when the door swung open, light spilling into the room and heads wheeling around to get a look at the intruder. It was Eres Morn, Crota's Bane. For a moment, the woman said nothing, simply glowering at the audience with those burning, lime green lights behind her bandage, black "tears" flowing down her cheeks and vanishing in her collar. Orpheus, nerves calmed, took a broad, respectful bow to the woman. Artitha did the same, while the other Warlocks remained stoic and motionless as they observed the former Hunter.

    From around her shoulder, another character appeared. A current Hunter. Jordan Jones, The Fool. Noticing Orpheus and Artitha, he returned the bow, before carefully stepping around Eres. "'Scuse me." He wedged himself past Eres, his chest-plate brushing her shoulder. Helmet off, he observed the Warlocks. "Huh. Secret club? Don't worry, I won't be long. Just came with Eres to drop something off."

    "Disrespectful outrider." One of the Warlocks took high offense to Jordan barging in. "This is a private council. Eres Morn may have a place here, but you do not. Your place is out there, quarreling with Eliksni over sapphire wire, ether seeds, and spinmetal."

    Jordan stared at the man for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. My time is pretty valuable. So, let me just drop something off so I can get out of your hair." He seemed convivial to the angry Warlock, but Orpheus could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Jordan turned towards Orpheus. "Ghost. If you wouldn't mind."

    The Hunter's Ghost appeared over his shoulder. Bright eyed and enthusiastic, the ghost whirled around his head for a moment, before materializing an object on the table; a scout rifle. Orpheus's shoulders squared as he looked at the weapon. Jordan's Ghost spoke up. "Jordan had the weapon refurbished to your specifications, Master Orpheus."

    "It'll pack a little extra punch, with no added recoil to show for it. You can take the binkey out of a Dregg's mouth from the comfort of a couple hundred meters." Jordan slid Orpheus the gun, and he picked it up, examining it. "I call it 'Bites the Dust.'"

    Saying nothing, Orpheus aimed the weapon out the open window. Jordan seemed to stiffen. "Hold on," the Hunter said. "Ain't you ever heard of trigger-"

    Orpheus, heedless of Jordan's words, fired the rifle three times, before lowering it.

    "...Trigger discipline. Ghost. Can you track where those bullets are going?" Jordan folded his arms, partially amused and partially unnerved.

    "Well, the bullets have an unobstructed flight path, and are approaching an unpopulated area. That's the good news." The Ghost seemed to hesitate before continuing. "The bad news is that there is a 90% chance that they will strike the side of yourr vehicle workshop in the nearby district."

    Jordan's amusement seemed to wear off. "...Great. Bullets in my wall. Thanks Orpheus."

    "My apologies. Allow me to pay you for the repairs, to both the rifle and your wall."

    "I don't keep debts. Just use it to shoot something I don't like." Jordan turned and pointed to the Warlock who had chided him earlier. "Like that guy." The Hunter bowed, and turned to leave. "Well, I hate to further obstruct your study hall, so I'll be going. Not that it hasn't been fun...but it really hasn't. My dopamine levels are tanking downwards." He bowed to Orpheus, then Artitha.

    "Thank you for tolerating us!" Jordan's Ghost chirped the farewell that she was most accustomed to, before vanishing into Jordan as he turned to leave the room.

    "Hunter. Stop." Eres stepped in his way. "Your business is not through here."

    "...You told me where to find Orpheus. I found Orpheus. Business seems pretty through to me." Jordan turned to walk past Eres, when suddenly a green orb jetted from her sleeve. The sphere of glass bumped Jordan's chest hard enough to back him up a few steps. "Goddammit, not this thing." Jordan attempted to walk around it, but the orb barred his path. "Move your stupid rock, Eres. I'm leaving."

    Eres walked past Jordan as the floating crystal ball continued to obstruct him. "Paelon, the Bonecrusher has arrived on earth with his consort, Olipok the Seer. He aims to lead an assault on the city, and take the throne of the Osmium King."

    Artitha put her hands on the table. "Did you get a direct visual of them?" She seemed unnerved by the revelation.

    "ERES, move the green ball, or I'll shoot it!" Jordan, still trying to navigate his way around the obstacle, tried ducking under it. The orb bumped against his forehead. "Ouch." He took a few steps back, before drawing his gun. "Alright. You've got to the count of three."

    The Hunter leveled his pistol, when the orb snaked around and batted him on the back of the hand, knocking his aim off course. The orb repeatedly slapped against his hand and the barrel of his gun, preventing him from lining up a shot on the infernal green rock.

    "Our Hunter friend here did battle with Olipok personally." Eres said calmly. "I intend to send him to finish what he started and defeat them, but I cannot do so without help. Paelon has likely gouged out the earth, and formed a hive for his forces on our soil. We will need support."

    Artitha stood. "Then you have my aid."

    Orpheus nodded. "And mine."

    By the door, Jordan was fighting a losing battle against Eres's crystal ball. It flew under his foot, tripping him and planting itself on his chest, keeping him stapled to the ground. He quickly summoned his helmet in his hand, and managed to scoop the orb up. He placed his helmet on the floor, and put his weight on it, trapping the crystal ball beneath it. "Tables have turned, Eres." Jordan placed his boot on the top of his helmet as the ball rattled around inside. When his helmet went still, Jordan yanked his helmet off and tried to grab the orb, which had vanished. It was now in Eres's hand. "How...how the hell?" Jordan looked at Eres, confused and annoyed.

    Artitha, ignoring Jordan's antics, put her elbows on the table. "We will need support. I can have a strike team assembled in twenty-four hours."

    The other Warlocks grumbled, unapproving. It was only Artitha and Orpheus who were willing to make the journey and fight among them. The rest were against any sort of strike on the Hive.

    Orpheus looked at them with disdain. "Cowards. The enemy is on our doorstep, and none of you intend to practice what you preach and enter the fray. Do not call upon me for council again; I see now that everyone but Eres, Artitha, and Jordan are wastes of time and light." The Awoken Warlock turned and paced out of the room. "Contact me when the strike team is ready. I intend to put this rifle to good use."

    Author's Note wrote:It appears Jordan has been roped into an anti-Hive strike! Who will this intrepid strike team consist of? Will they be able to eliminate Paelon and Olipok, or are they outgunned?

    Stay tooned for more soon, after a chapter of Metallic Knights this weekend!

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    Re: Goodbye Moonmen.

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      Current date/time is November 18th 2017, 8:10 pm