Lore and Behold by Arbiter
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One step to lore...
Date: 21 October 2005, 2:49 pm
-Commander, before your criticize me, I have justified my style in writing my fan fiction. This main character is the Fleet Commander of a fleet encircling High Charity, if it is a different rank tell me, but know that I cannot change it for the simple rank. I changed my first story because I just wanted to be appreciated though I learned people have diverse styles of stories. Like mine is Heretics and Elites that is my style and I intend to stick with it…Thank You and Enjoy Greek Elite-
One step to Lore…
I
SkyL
The Elite Fleet Commander briskly walked through the despondent corridors of his home of residences, High Charity. The deep yellow sheathing covering his sturdy build reflected the silvery mauve on the walls and the colors licked in a discordant color.
Just like the color of his armored musculature and the Covenant metal, he felt he did not indwell the society as fit as his kin. The Fleet Commander notorious as, Elese 'Felhommee was as famous as his lineage himself.
The pennants on his sheathing he sensed were a denotation of pride, he swelled with that feeling for a long time but now he felt as mismatched as gold and mauve. He looked on the honor band on the crest surrounding the praised. His name was etched into the base of the crest: "Elese 'Felhommee, Fleet Commander of Virtues and Generosities, hailed for destruction of destination and foregoing spy for Council of Masters."
'Felhommee brushed it aside for some unascertained intelligence, he discerned the honor with disdain. If he spoke his mind he would surely be burnt by the malice of his kind, he ignored the crude thought and focused as he stepped toward the shadows. He traced the silhouettes dancing with the holographic pictures and bespectacled Halo and loomed at the inscriptions of the Prophet's psalms.
The Elite walked to the proscenium folding in front of him, many submissive Prophets whispered fables of the Divine Beyond while flicking their jowls toward the desolate Elite. The Prophets incredulously sneered at the Elite. He didn't denunciate their incredulous sneers, this was the Prophet's private temple, in which Elites were prohibited to enter, but 'Felhommee didn't care, no one made a move to usher him out so he continued to a terminal in the stage.
The Elite looked at the terminal it was purple and pink and glinted in attuning of the metal. He pressed his fingers into the shimmer and felt an invisible plate of energy smooth his palm out. As his fingers glittered the image, several holograms of reflections misted into capsules and up into the terminal holder.
Diminutive Prophets and Elites clashed on a effulgent field of ice and beat each other with bare palms open with blood and viciousness. 'Felhommee spurned the mauling ebullience of his brothers fighting their cofounders, he despised the Age of Conflict with every vain and compliant feeling inside himself.
Another image showed a dawn sky and the lords of the Covenant were bonded in affiliation, and the Elites and Prophets escorted the Grunts and Jackals forward with the seven Halos' in the sky. He squinted inside the middle of the seven and saw a solitary planet lush with oceans and life in the core of the holy rings.
According to the prophesy this planet was home to an enemy, whether it was the desecrating Human's or the vicious Flood's domicile neither the Prophet of Truth or 'Felhommee knew.
The Elite scanned the transparent pages and read that this planet was the start of the Great Journey. The planet was bland with no holy relics but just a single moon. Bewildered by this he pushed another glassy button with his finger and another pink page glistened down onto the terminal like blinds.
The page held more numbers and litanies designating Forerunner's columns and passages pertaining to the Great Journey. 'Felhommee moded the terminal with his finger and the pages evaporated into the capsule and the same holographic monitor appeared into the receptacle. He stepped away and looked around. The Prophet's continued to look at him; he strode out down the ramp ignoring the glares.
'Felhommee approached the foyer, a dozen pillars and tubes shot up into the annex, containing blue energy hanging thick in the conduits. Around them were weightless benches where other Prophets were sitting. One Prophet adjusted his hood and smoothed the wrinkles on his violet robes. He looked up at 'Felhommee and spoke with a dubious tone.
"What are you looking for, 'Felhommee?"
The Elite paused his hastened steps out the foyer; he looked at the Prophet and sensed a sudden rush of perturbation coming from the room, and a sense of feeling he had not yet encountered in their Covenant.
"I need regenerated faith, Councilor" The Elite growled, his mandibles split in a click and he revealed his cusps.
The Prophets looked relieved at some and the Councilor sat and engaged in conversation. The Elite locked his ankles into another haste and quickly made his way out of the chamber. He was absorbed in tenet; he asked himself simple questions. The same corrupting questions that would get him executed.
Why were the Prophets on their brim?
What was that planet in the middle of the rings right in the focus of the Prophecy?
How can he sense war through betrayal and deception?
The Elite shrugged these questions away; his mind was tortuous with purity he could not explain. He walked into the square of the quarter. There were patches of grass and verdant with trees shading an eerie shred of light emitting shadows into the armor of his color.
'Felhommee watched the Prophets deep in contemplation, the Prophets were the religious leaders and the Elites were the conquest leaders. Though they were very devoted and were able to implore faith to vanquish fear.
The Elite bent down in a crouching position and sat into the soft grass. He brushed the lawn against his coarse skin and issued a frustrating sigh.
Let me feel again…
Give me the devotion…
Bestow me with allegiance…
Suppress these thoughts I am having…
No more corrupting thoughts of the rupturing of our Covenant…
'Felhommee bared a glance at the concentrating Prophets, they stood in complete silence as if they were communicating through absolunce. He looked at their robes, violet as the walls encircling him and the color of the glorious city. The Elite looked down at his armor, his plates had little embossing in the yellow and he compared it to the Prophet's…
He did not belong here, the malice and grace that intertwined and sustained their Covenant made no illumination anymore. The Elites, the Prophets, every species united under the Covenant and reverence of the Forerunners were not meant.
I am not here…
Not objectively…
No inspiration...No emotion…
No ambition…
But there was…
Faith...
Continued in II…
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