Rus'Hum Death
Posted By: Little Gruntie<crazymofrorevan@hotmail.com>
Date: 21 January 2007, 8:19 pm
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The Brute slowly marched down the rocky hillside on his tiresome patrol. He had only been posted here for two days and he had got the most boring assignment for any Covenant.
He could be up there on High Charity fighting for the Prophets, killing the Once Noble Elites. He could be fighting side by side with his father, with his tribe, becoming famous and adored by all for his kills. He could have had the blessings of the Gods with him as he slaughterd a Elite Councillor. That would have given him at least the rank of Captain, maybe even Honor Guard. Then he would be defending the Most Noble Prophets and wear the respectable Honor Guard armour. Now that would have made his father jealous.
He knew the stupid Elites were still on the Holy Ring but what could do? Apart from rip them in two thought the Brute, grinning to himself. He sighed and carried on walking looking out to the marvellous structure. The stopped and turned staring idly at the structure, it had a large sphere in the middle with small towers coming from it. He climbed a small rock formation and sat on top. From where Rus'hum sat he could look at the entire Forerunner structure.
Just a few units ago he had seen a phantom glide over to the door and deliver something. He didn't know what it was but that was because he was only a minor brute. His father would be ashamed of him. His father had managed to become a Captain among his species, he had carried a Brute Shot as he's weapon of honour. I'm still carrying around this pathetic Plasma Rifle, he thought as he stared down at it. He looked up and stared at the structure in the distance, the forerunner structure.
A jackal squawked as it walked past, bringing Rus'hum from his train of thought. He stared angrily at the jackal; it was hard for him for Rus'hum to think. A split second later Rus'hum noticed the big chunk of meat the jackal was holding up for him. His eyes gleamed in happiness as he growled his thanks to the smaller alien as he grabbed it without hesitation. He turned back to the forerunner structure and gazed at the sea, he snorted as he knew the meat wouldn't eat itself. His belly ached, this was the first piece of food he had since dawn. He looked down at the chunk of meat. It had been thawed, earlier as it still was cold. Or it might be a piece of Grunt but it didn't matter he was hungry.
He was about to sink his teeth into the meat but he comm. rang in his ear. He growled in disgust and answered in a near-calm voice, "Yes?"
No-one replied. All that was heard was a whine of a plasma rifle and the chortle of an…Elite!
He jumped off the rock onto the ground below and called for reinforcements. A minor brute accompanied by two jackals ran up to join him. They waited; the door in front of them was the only route the Elites could go before they reached the brute barracks. The reinforcements were coming but all they would find would be burnt Elite copses, a powerful brute called Rus'hum and tales of how he quelled a attack with a simple Plasma rifle. Visions like these filled Rus'hum's mind. His father will be proud of him after he crushed the Elites pathetic rebellion single-handed. He growled loudly, wanting to crush the Elites skulls.
The door suddenly opened but Rus'hum as ready. He grabbed a plasma grenade off his belt and threw it at the door with all he's might. It flew straight and true and hit an Elite right in the middle of he's chest. The Elite tried to dislodge the grenade but it was still was vaporised. He growled in his success but froze when he saw what ran though the door.
The Arbiter! His sliver-grey amour, his ignited sword made Rus'hum think he's life was at an end. He snapped out of this trance like state as he saw who the Arbiter was running at. Rus'hum.
He began to fire his Plasma Rifle at the Elite but his hand was shaking in fear sending his shots in all directions. The gap between them both closed in a matter of seconds and Rus'hum felt the blade enter his chest. He looked down and saw a trickle of his thick black blood navigate though his fur and drip to the muddy floor. His slowly looked back up as the blade as pulled out of his gut and noticed the faint smile on the Arbiters face. Time seemed to slow as his legs gave way and he fell to his knees. As the rest of his body shut down from the fatal attack, he regretted one thing.
He never ate that chunk of meat.
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