I Did It
Posted By: spartan shot<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 9 September 2010, 10:45 pm
I Did It!
He had done it! To think, a lowly Unggoy such as Syrapa could defeat such a mighty warrior. He had delivered the killing blow to one of the human champions. He had killed a Demon!
The Grunt Major stood over his kill. His face and red armor reflected off of the Demon's golden face. He was overcome by the sheer magnitude of this victory.
"I did it" he said. "I DID IT! I KILLED A DEMON!"
He began to laugh and dance around the corpse. The excitement he felt quickly numbed the pain of his wound. This would grant him such a reward and such honor that he would never have to bow before his superiors again. He climbed on the body and jumped around on the Demon's dark gray armor in joy. Several of his subordinates came forward and looked on.
"Syrapa killed a Demon?" one of them whined.
"Big brother Syrapa! He did it!" said another.
They all began to cheer with pride as their leader jumped about on the Demon's body. Syrapa watched how it happened over and over in his mind. How he had cast down one of the fabled soldiers. The Demon was fighting three of the Sangheili warriors that he served under. They watched as he effortlessly killed several Kig-yar. When he was done, they each withdrew their swords and challenged him. He responded by throwing down his crude projectile weapon and pulling a shining metal blade from a sheath on his chest and a much larger one from his back. He then stood in a fighting stance, ready to kill. The three Elites roared and charged him with only the thought of victory and the honor of this human's death on their minds.
Syrapa did not sit this fight out. While the Demon fought the three Sangheili, the brave Unggoy ran up and tried to fight along side them, only to be kicked to the side by the Demon's boot. While he lay there, lifeless in the mud, Syrapa looked up at the pale orange sky and wondered if he was still alive. He followed the thin clouds as they slowly moved in front of the stars. It was then that he felt the incredible pain in his chest and gasped to catch his breathe. He looked at his breastplate and saw the large dent that the Demon had made.
His breathing apparatus still worked which meant he could still fight. He looked at the fight between his commanders and the Demon. Only two of the Sangheili were left. The other lay not far from them with the Demon's short blade in its neck. The accursed human was now wielding that Elite's Energy Sword along with his own metal blade.
Syrapa struggled to get up. The pain was so intense that he could barely move. It was like being rammed by a Wraith tank. He continued to struggle, but to no avail. He then looked back at the fight. The Demon was dodging and parrying the slashes and stabs of the Sangheili. Syrapa noticed the cuts in his armor. Crimson blood crept out and dripped along the gray metal plating.
"They can bleed. They can die!" he said in his mind.
The Demon then dodged another slash from one of the Elite's and followed up by driving his metal blade into its chest. He then kicked it over the edge of the small ridge on which they battled. It was now a one on one fight.
Syrapa watched as one of his leaders died. He then pushed even harder to get up, motivated by the sight. He rolled over on his hands and knees and pushed himself up. He moved slowly. The pain he felt prevented him from going faster than his one step at a time pace. He watched as the Sangheili and Demon continued to fight. Each of them, swift and graceful with their Energy Swords. Each of them, skilled and determined. Each of them, bleeding and weary from their wounds.
The courageous Grunt pulled the Plasma Pistol from his belt. As he continued forward, he watched the ongoing fight. He got closer and closer as the two fought and fought until they all stopped. Syrapa came to a halt upon seeing his superior standing still with his mandibles spread and the cuts bleeding all over his body. The Demon held the Elite's sword arm with one hand and firmly held an Energy Sword in place right in its gut.
Syrapa had failed to save his superior's life. He watched the Demon pull the blade from his body and let him fall down the short ridge where he landed next to his friend's corpse. Syrapa then held the trigger of his pistol. The green ball of plasma began to grow. The Demon fell to his knees and began taking heavy breaths. Looked out at the setting suns on the horizon.
"This is Carlos-152" he said in a heavy voice. "I need
. I need immediate evac from my current position. Does anyone read me? Repeat. I need immediate evac from-"
The Demon stopped his sentence and slightly turned his head. With great speed, he turned around and began to run at Syrapa. The Unggoy tightly shut his eyes and let go of the trigger. He heard the ball of plasma being cast into the air until he heard it splash against a solid surface. Syrapa opened his eyes and looked upon the corpse. There was a hole burned into his gut from the plasma ball. The Grunt then returned his focus to the present. He jumped up and down on the Demon's chest plate, yelling as loud as he could.
"I did it! I did it!"
Several other lances of Unggoy and a few Kig-yar and Yanme'e emerged from hiding and looked on as the proud one basked in glory and shouted.
"I did it! I did it! I-"
Syrapa felt a large, hairy hand lift him off of the Demon and throw him into his cheering subordinates.
"NO!" the Jiralhanae chieftain said. He then lifted the Demon from the dirt. He pulled a ceremonial dagger from his belt and drove it into his faceplate. "I DID IT!"
Syrapa was appalled. His kill had been stolen and there was nothing he could say or do about it. The Brute would tear him apart if he did.
"Come my brothers!" the chieftain said as he cast the Demon back into the dirt. "Feast on him!"
Several Jiralhanae climbed up the ridge and crowded the Demon's corpse. Pieces of its gray armor were tossed out of the feeding pile while blood soaked their faces. The chieftain reached in and pulled out the Demon's head. He removed the helmet with the shattered faceplate and tossed it to the side. The Demon's face had a stab wound on its forehead. Other than this, it looked no different than any other human. The chieftain held his trophy high and roared.
Syrapa was helped to his feet by his Grunts. They walked him over to where the brute had tossed the Demon's helmet. He picked it up and was overcome with sadness. He looked at his reflection in the golden faceplate and watched as the tears formed in his eyes. Whatever reward he would receive, whatever honor he would have brought to his family, whatever name he would have made for himself was gone. Stolen by the Jiralhanae chieftain.
..I did it" he whined.