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The Executor's Task
Posted By: Zanzibaked<some_dope@hotmail.com>
Date: 23 November 2004, 5:55 AM

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Author's Note: This is an introductory to a storyline I may continue should I receive any feedback encouraging enough to continue it. Tell me of any grammatical errors, as I tend to miss them. I've clean this up as best I can so sorry if I missed one or two (or hundreds).


Armor-clad, an Elite bypassed three honor guards who looked at him anxiously as a small patrol of Brutes followed after him. He gave no acknowledgement to them, and entered the the private chamber of his master.

Inside was completely dark, save for a number of dimly lit strobes that formed a path to the hovering throne of the Prophet of Truth.

The Executor mounted the dais that beheld him to one of the three primes of the Covenant construct, fell to one knee and lowered his head in respect and obedience.

Before him, the Prophet of Truth hovered on his throne of majesty; somber, yet noble in his ceremonial dress. The Executor held his lowered pose and spoke to his master, "Noble hierarch, I await your bidding."

The Prophet said nothing but studied his instrument with care. This Executor was a strong and prominent Elite. Vast in his skills of combat and wise in his duties. He had led many victories in battle and has wrought his own place among the heros of the Covenant.

"Rise, Executor."

And so he rose, but did not meet Truth's gaze. He held his head low to show his loyalty to the Prophet's word.

His armor, a signal of his faith and his honor to be owed, reflected the dim purple shades of light off it's chrome-colored surfaces. Even in his subdued pose, he struck a since of dignity, of nobleness almost to the extent of his master's.

"You are an instrument truly worthy of my graces," spoke the Prophet of Truth. "An asset of much value. You have led our armies to countless victories and you've seen our Covenant bound through many abruptions."

The Executor lowered his head even more, "All in duty to your will, noble hierarch."

"Indeed," replied Truth. "Your endeavors have instilled our Covenant and shortened the path of the Great Journey. And for that, you shall be awarded."
Truth paused for a second to observe his Executor. Then moved on.

"However, the Elites have shown that their ability to protect the Prophets and the Great Journey is failing, and we must look to the aid of the Brutes to see our path is no longer endangered."

The Executor tensed uneasily, a gestured the Prophet of Truth noticed and took into account for. "I know how you feel, Executor, and I've heard what you would argue many times. But I have made this decision in the best interest of the Great Journey."

The Executor shifted slightly, an obvious show of anger in his master's decision. Truth continued.

"However, I do not wish to toss our once faithful devout aside without a second thought."

The Executor raised his head slightly, but still withheld his gaze from the Prophets.

"I lay the fate of the Elites in your hands, Executor. Most of your race lies scattered and divided: and some even threaten to resign. Bring order to our Covenant. Revive your race and prove once again the worth of our once most treasured instruments."

"What must I do to prove our worth, noble hierarch?" asked the Executor.

The Prophet of Truth looked at him gravely. "Kill the demon that has caused so much abruption to our campaign. The human they call the Master Chief must be destroyed. Collect is head and bring it before me. It shall be a token of your loyalty and forgiveness for your failures."

The Executor lowered his head once more and pressed a fist to his chest. "Noble hierarch," he said, "I shall see it done. I shall see the faith of the Elites restored."

And with that, the Executor turned and exited the secluded chamber, eager to amend the fall of his esteemed race. His once omnious uncertainty was now replace by a determinate duty. His path was clear.

The Prophet of Truth watched the Executor until he left, and then motioned to a shadowed portion of the chamber. From it emerged the distinctable silhouette of a Brute warrior, his fur black and insidious with matching red eyes. The Brute grunted and lowered it's head.

"Follow him," said Truth. "Let him find the demon, and rid us of both their incompetence."

The Brute grunted once more, an eery smile splitting his twisted set of facial features. "With pleasure," he replied.