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 Halo: Relics

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Tremere Philosopher [Prince]

Number of posts : 265
Lenght of Unlife : 26
Location : Parliament, Ottawa
Job/hobbies : Ruling the Camarilla in Ottawa
Humor : Take a guess
Registration date : 2008-10-14

PostSubject: Halo: Relics   Wed Dec 10, 2008 4:37 pm

After a long time on the shelve, it's finally here. Enjoy Very Happy

Chapter 1

October 20th, 2552

In the desert plains on the outskirts of New Mombassa, everything was quiet. No movement. Not a sound, not the wind, nor the wildlife. It was deserted. A large rock hill cast a long shadow above the sand. There was suddenly a humming sound. It came from above the large ridge. Soon, a large, round, bluish silver object, smooth on most it’s edges, emerged from above. Its engines hummed, disturbing the silence of the desert. A Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser flew above the desert at an extremely low altitude. She kept moving in the general direction of New Mombassa. Its mission: secure a foothold in New Mombassa. The invasion of Earth was beginning.

“Ten minutes until landing.” The pilot of the Pelican headed to New Mombassa yelled to the squadron of ODST troopers in the back. Lance-Corporal Nathan Hayes was among them. This was his first mission as part of the ODST corps. His helmet visor shinned as a result of the sunlight shining down on them. He was seated next to the edge of the dropship. Two Pelicans, both full; twenty ODST were headed to the landing zone outside New Mombassa. The troops were battle ready, brandishing their weapons in their hands. The first Pelican, the one in front of Hayes’, was already at the drop off point. It was landing, until they were hit by glowing blobs of energy. The Pelican had taken too much damage and was unable to stay in the air. It fell vertically to the sandy ground and hit with a loud thud, bending and breaking it beyond repair. The attacker, a flying purple blob on stilt wings, turned to face the other Pelican. They fired, when the pilot pulled up to stop the plasma bolts from hitting the passengers. He made a quick turn, hopping to take out the machine but it was too late. It was firing at the cockpit, breaking the glass and killing the pilot. The co-pilot tried to stabilize, with little luck, but was able to turn the vehicle around. The enemy fired what appeared to be a rocket of some sort, which hit the cockpit, destroying it and killing the co-pilot. Hayes fell out, after taking off his seatbelt a few minutes before the attack started. He hit the ground, but only from four metres high. He was knocked unconscious, weapon beside him, when the Pelican hit seven metres away from his location, not to far from the first. The entire area was littered with Pelican debris for nearly thirteen metres. His unconscious body was lying face up in the sand, head tilted to the right. The sand on the ground was blown away by the speed of the Banshee, causing some to fall on Hayes. The wreckage of the two pelicans was ablaze. One man was still awake. It was First Lieutenant Dustin Morris. He quickly checked each of the men in the Pelican for vital signs. He looked to the sky above while checking the captain. He heard nothing and saw nothing. The captain had a pulse and was pulled away from the wreckage. He did the same with seven others, but the rest were dead. He rushed over to the other Pelican, checked the first soldier’s vitals. The Pelicans came down hard, hard enough to kill so many. Only three were still alive. He pulled two out at a time, when the third woke up. It was Private First Class Tristan Grant. He saw Morris pulling men out. He proceeded slowly to the closest one to him, but Morris was soon behind him, hand on his shoulder, and as Grant turned his head, he saw Morris shaking his. Grant saw the shine of the blue ODST visor in the distance. He looked for a while, and then counted the casualties in his Pelican. He counted six dead, two unconscious and himself. He turned, and pointed with his index and major together of his right hand to the visor’s glow in the sunlight. Morris saw what Grant did. They both rushed over and Morris got there first. He took Hayes’ MA5C and took one of his shoulders, while Grant took the other, and pulled him back to the Pelicans for any medical treatment. Once there, they put him near one of them. The sun was starting to set. Morris placed Hayes’ rifle beside him, and entered the furthest Pelican to retrieve all the supplies. Grant did the same with the closer Pelican. They got all weapons and supplies out; food, water, medical kits, weapons, ammo, everything that was salvageable. As they started to pile everything in separate piles, others started to wake up, one by one. Eventually, they were all conscious except Hayes.

“They were both shot down. No reports or distress signals, sir. Either their comm. system is down, or none of them are still alive.” A man wearing a grey uniform and a Captain’s rank insignia was standing in a room full of other officers. He stood and stared at the one who was talking to him. He spoke about the incident outside New Mombassa. The Captain stood for a while, as if sorting his thoughts. He looked down at his shoes, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked up again. He stared at the Lieutenant for a few seconds once again.
“Sir…” the Lieutenant said. He was worried for the Captain. He hadn’t answered yet, which was unusual for him. He turned around and finally spoke.
“Get Admiral Hood on the line. I’ll have to have a talk with him.” The Lieutenant nodded and turned back to his station, opening a comm. line with the Admiral’s ship. The face of a man dressed in white, wearing an officer’s cap and covered with decorations appeared on the screen. He looked at the Captain.
“Yes, Captain Stebbins, what is it?” He said in a somewhat impatient voice. The young looking Captain scratched his brown beard before uttering a sound from his mouth.
“Lord Hood, sir. We’ve lost contact with the two Pelican dropships we sent to New Mombassa. We’ve been hailing them for over an hour, with no response. That strike team may have been lost before even arriving at the checkpoint. How will we proceed?” Hood looked at him in the eyes for a few seconds, concocting a plan, but none came to fruition in his mind, so he dared not reveal them.
“Captain, I’ve decided to give you the decision of how you’ll proceed. I know you’re nervous, just being a Captain for only a few months, but I trust your judgement and experience. I’m fairly certain you can handle this one. If you need any help, don’t be afraid to contact me or any other ship in the area. Good luck and God speed.” Stebbins looked at the man for nothing but a fraction of a second before replying.
“Thank you, sir.” He said. The channel was cut from the Admiral’s side. Stebbins turned to his pilot to issue an order.
“Ensign Hall, enter atmosphere and head to the northern outskirts of New Mombassa. I plan to take a strike team down there, and get our men out myself.” The Ensign nodded and did so, taking them on a course that would enter Earth’s atmosphere.
“Sir, if I may,” the communications officer said, “isn’t it a little dangerous to go down to the surface in a warzone?” The Captain looked at him, walked over, and put his hand on his shoulder.
“Do you not consider open space battles to be warzones, Lieutenant?” He said. He then told his staff they’d be taking orders from the Commander. He headed to the elevator down to the barracks, where he would have a team assembled for the mission.

It was dark out; the sun had set, and the flames had finally calmed down. The only source of light was the campfire built by the survivors of the crash. A few were standing guard, one with a SRS 99D-S2 sniper rifle, the other with an M7/Caseless SMG. One sat down, rifle was on his lap, the other, crouched on his knee, was looking at the small town through his scope. He scanned the area, and found no signs of enemy activity. The entire town was deserted, or at least, it only looked that way to him.
“Hey, Andy, see anything particular?” The other soldier asked. He kept looking through his scope, panning slightly to the right another few inches. He lowered the weapon and turned his head to the other soldier.
“I got nothing.” He said with a sigh in a tired voice. “You hear anything, Lucas?” He asked the other. He shook his head, and turned to look at the city of New Mombassa. He saw flashes; both yellowish white, as if it were weapons fire, and other, multicoloured flashed, from what appeared to be plasma weapons. He stood up, stepped forward and kept looking.
“What is it? What’s wrong? What do you see?” He asked, turning his head in the direction of the city, which wasn’t very far from them. He saw the flashes as well.
“We’ve got to tell the Captain. Let’s go.” He got up and ran to the campfire. The other turned around and saw him.
“Wait for me, White!” He yelled. His boots made deep prints in the sand, and his visor shinned in the presence of the campfire. White got to the Captain first, Bridgemond not far behind. He stopped in front of the Captain, who had just gotten up to see what was going on.
“Lieutenant White, Corporal Bridgemond, what is it?” He asked them. His voice denoted experience and leadership. He stood with an excellent posture, and shifted his view form one of the soldiers to the other.
“Captain Gerard, sir. We saw…something.” Bridgemond said quickly. The Captain looked at him for a few seconds and turned to White, as if expecting an answer. He soon got it.
“Gunfire, sir, we saw gunfire in New Mombassa. Our boys and the Covenant. We could see the flashes, but we didn’t hear anything. They must be far off in the city.” He answered the Captain’s question, who was pondering a response to that. He looked back at the campfire, where he could see the entire group of survivors. Some were leaning against the Pelicans, but most were around the campfire, including Lance-Corporal Hayes, who has yet to awake from his fall.
“If you’re suggesting we move in there, then there’s no way we’re doing that. The men need some time to recuperate from the crash, and I don’t want to move the Lance-Corporal just yet. We move in the morning, understood?” He said with authority in his voice.
“But, sir, I wasn’t suggesting that, neither of us were.” He said in the defence of him and his comrade. The Captain nodded and apologized. He admitted to being wrong with what he said. He sat down, and the other two headed back to their posts. There was some chatter between the two; one especially was about the Lance-Corporal.
“He’s been asleep so long. Why doesn’t someone wake him up and make him stand guard?” Bridgemond said with a tone of impatience towards not doing anything but sitting in the desert and watching the area.
“He’s not asleep, he’s unconscious, and they can’t wake him up. Even if he does wake up, he’ll be weak.” White replied, making his point. Bridgemond didn’t reply to White’s statement because he knew he wouldn’t be able to counter it. They continued on their way, back to their posts where White dropped his weapon when they ran to see the Captain. Six tracks in the sand were barely visible, with the high traffic of the two watchmen.

Hayes finally woke from his unconscious state. He was breathing heavily, as if he had experienced a nightmare. He saw three figures standing above him. All three were dressed in dress uniforms. They helped him up. He too was in a dress uniform. He looked at the three of them and recognized their faces immediately. One of them was Captain Francis Gerard, who appeared to be wearing Colonel Decorations. The one on his left was his friend, who was a First Lieutenant, Dustin Morris, who wore Major Decorations, and his cousin, First Lieutenant Amelia Stevenson, wearing Captain Decorations. In appeared Hayes was wearing different decorations himself. He was no longer a Lance-Corporal, but a Master Gunnery Sergeant. They appeared to be in a building on Earth. It was sunny outside, the perfect day almost. He wondered why he was on the ground.
“Don’t worry,” his cousin said, “you passed out, but you’re fine now.” She dusted off his uniform with her hands. She placed her right hand on his left shoulder and smiled. He looked around; they were right outside a room full of soldiers in uniform. One man was talking in front of them. It was Lord Hood. He spoke the four’s names and they entered the room. He told them they were being honoured for the defence of the home planet. Each received medals, when everything blacked out. He woke up once again, beside a campfire with three figures standing above him, looking down. He sat up, and the one in front of him helped him up. It was his cousin, Amelia. He looked around and saw the entire strike force in ODST armour and the two crashed Pelicans. He saw several dead inside one of the Pelicans.
“Welcome back, Nate.” She said to him. He then realized that the other two were the Captain and Dustin. He was glad to see them. The last thing he could remember was falling, then waking up somewhere on Earth, in a building in dress uniform, then waking up again in the present in Africa.
“I had the weirdest dream…” He said, holding his head with his hand. His cousin put her hand on his shoulder, holding him up.
“You’re weak, you need some rest. Come, I’ll find you a nice place to sleep.” She said, carrying him over to one of the Pelicans, the nearest one to the campfire. She lowered him gently onto the sandy ground and got back up.
“There, you shouldn’t be bothered by the light or our discussions here. I’ll have Lieutenant Morris watch over you tonight. You’ll be fine, just get some rest.” He made no reply. He had nothing to say in reply to her, just lay there, quietly. She walked away back to the campfire and told Morris to take care of him. His arms were crossed and he was looking at her. He nodded and dropped his arms and walked over. He walked to the Pelican and leaned against it. He dropped down on his behind to the sand bellow and sat there, changing his glances from to the troops standing around the campfire to his boots to Hayes and back to his boots. He didn’t like what was happening; the crash, the wait, the entire mission in general. He never thought it was a good mission from the start. He felt Stebbins was making a big mistake, and the incident seemed to have fuelled that feeling. He just sat, lost in his thought.

“No way am I going to let you do that, Captain.” The Major said. He was furious with the Captain’s plan to retrieve the lost men. He seemed sceptical they were even still alive. The Captain would usually say ‘That’s an order’, but this time, he was hesitant. He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. He decided to stay and think his plan through, because he knew that, without a plan, the Major would never do it, and would never let him do it either.
“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to go to my quarters and think it over a bit. I’ll have the pilot bring us back into orbit. In the mean time, prepare your men, because I intend to go get our men, with or without a plan.” The Major nodded in agreement, but most certainly didn’t agree with half of what he said. The Captain turned around and headed to the elevator as the Major walked back to the barracks. The Captain would devise a plan of attack and the Major would pick and prepare men for the mission. They both know it will be a costly mission, but, even with the Major’s doubt, the Captain still thinks positively about anything, which may become a big help to them in the future. The hallways were empty and quiet. After the departure of the two men, the hallways became dead silent. They would soon be bustling with life.

Say what you want. More to come soon.

"In order to learn and be yourself, you must first let go."~Steven Haché

I am of clan Tremere
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Tremere Philosopher [Prince]

Number of posts : 265
Lenght of Unlife : 26
Location : Parliament, Ottawa
Job/hobbies : Ruling the Camarilla in Ottawa
Humor : Take a guess
Registration date : 2008-10-14

PostSubject: Re: Halo: Relics   Sat May 23, 2009 9:36 pm

I'm gonna double-post now. Admin privilege. Very Happy

Chapter 2

October 21st, 2552

The sandy dunes of the African desert glistened in the fiery sunlight. Seven of the men and women left from the crash were awake. The other half were sleeping. Hayes got up and walked over to the dead campfire. His helmet in his left hand, MA5C in the right, we proceeded to the nearest of the troops. That one soldier, in turn, walked towards Hayes. He nodded and the soldier returned the gesture.
“Good morning, Lance-Corporal. Glad to see you out and about. The Captain wants to proceed to the city in a half hour, when everyone else is awake. Get ready. This is going to be quite a battle.”
Hayes nodded and turned to look at those who were asleep. He counted three. Four had already woken up and were preparing to leave. The Captain was directing his men. He ordered them to split the troops into two groups of seven. His four Lieutenants among him immediately proceeded to do so. Two of them, White and Morris walked towards him. Stevenson and Ford headed to a group of others, most of which had jus awoken. The Major was going to accompany them while the Captain would accompany the group which contained Hayes. He and six others would take the direct route to the city while the others would flank to the left of the city. They were to enter quietly and make a command post somewhere in the city, find a working long-range comm. system and radio for a pickup. The task wouldn’t be easy; the city is already swarming with Covenant forces. Hayes thought for a few seconds before putting his helmet back on. He caught up with the rest of the group as they started their advance to the city.

“Damn buggers. When will you learn?”
Lieutenant Colonel Isaac Romero, who was already engaged with the Covenant forces in New Mombassa, knew he would have a hard time getting past the enemy checkpoint with only the few men left of his squad. He wore a field cap rather than a helmet. He had a small soul patch beard, a brown strip of hair between his lower lip and the underside of his chin. His face was old. He was, of course, thirty-five years old. His short brown hair was a perfect length for regulations. His face was covered in stubble due to lack of time to shave. He wore the same standard UNSC Marines Corps armour all the other Marines wore. He fired his BR55HB SR Battle Rifle. He and Gunnery Sergeant Maxwell McCray were debating over a game of poker the night before.
“He was bluffing. I could tell. His left eye always twitches when he bluffs.”
He’d been firing between sentences. Romero laughed a warm, fatherly laugh.
“Well, I now know I can count on you to see such strange minor details, you strange man, you.”
Romero was known for his laid-back attitude. He would joke about anything when he felt like it. The Covenant forces kept coming relentlessly, and Romero and his men were quickly running short on ammo. He ordered them to fall back. The enemy broke through and three of the marines that were fleeing were shot. Two killed instantly and the other attempting to crawl to safety. He was taken by a Sangheili warrior, clad in gold armour, by the neck with one hand and, with a swift motion, lifted from the ground. The warrior removed a curved stick that resembled a dumbbell. He activated it and a two bladed sustained energy pulse was released. He was executing the Marine. The blade protruded into the man’s chest as he kicked and screamed. Blood fell to the ground and the body soon after. The rest of the Marines ran, getting pots shots off the smaller Unggoy. Most were wearing orange armour and were easy to pick off. A couple of the larger Kig-yar were attempting to pick off the zigzagging squad. Behind them were the much larger Mgalekgolo, moving in a pair, but slowly. They didn’t fire, yet. Up above, there was a swarm of Yanme’e heading in the same direction. It was an ambush. Romero had a feeling in the back of his head. He knew this was going to end in disaster. New Mombassa was theirs, and he could do nothing about it. He was told reinforcements were to arrive, and yet he was left hanging.
“Keep moving! Don’t let them shoot you! Don’t let them touch you!”
His yell was heard by the now three remaining soldiers of his ever reducing squad. They ran, fast, but the enemy came faster. Everything was over; they knew that they’d share the fate of their fallen comrades. A bullet whizzed past Isaac’s head. The round penetrated the Sangheili’s shielding and helmet, as a purplish blood blew out of the extra-terrestrial’s head. He fell to the ground, already dead from the trauma to the brain. Romero thought he had a guardian angel, until he looked in front of him, and he saw something better. Reinforcements had arrived. The promised ODST strike group was here, but only a day late. A couple of them were snipers, firing at the distant and more powerful enemies, while most of the others, including Hayes, were laying down covering fire for the now three men. The enemies continued their attacks, until their numbers were reduced. The Yanme’e did not dare descend to engage, but the Mgalekgolo did. They attacked with powerful swings, which knocked two ODST and one Marine to the right with its gun. The other crushed a few with its shield. They started to fire at the exposed bellies of the many creatures that lived as one in the giant suit of armour. Orange blood flied though the area, but they did not yield. One fired its canon in a form of a light green beam, which it spread around. One ODST threw a grenade which landed behind it. It exploded, damaging the back and spraying a lot of blood all over. These things just wouldn’t go down. Romero lifted his BR55. The display showed there were twenty-one rounds left in his clip. He fired from cover at the exposed back of the injured one. It fell after a few shots, but the other turned to engage. As it fired, Romero ducked and the others were able to attack it with everything they had. It fell after massive damage to its back. They were victorious, but had lost a few. Romero was alone with one Marine, as the ODST were reduced to less than half of what they had before. Nine ODST were killed along with the one Marine. Morris checked the bodies.
“Well, Captain Gerard and First Lieutenant Stevenson are dead. Corporal Bridgemond’s gone too. We lost Private Baker and Sergeant Major Ford. Private Porter and Private Jones were killed too.”
“Wait, over here too. I think It’s Lance-Corporal Hayes and Sergeant Milligan. They’re both gone too.”
Morris was shocked when White mentioned Hayes’ name. He rushed over to check. He had no pulse. He removed his helmet. Eyes wide open, blood dripping from the left corner of his mouth and his left nostril. His medium brown hair flowed though the wind. Lifeless blue-grey stared into nothingness. His young face slowly turned pale and cold. Morris closed Nathan’s eyes and replaced his helmet on his head. The remaining men gathered.
“Okay, let’s see who we’ve go left. You all know me, except you two. I’m First Lieutenant Morris. Let’s see, Second Lieutenant White, Private Nabakov, Private Lange and Gunnery Sergeant Matheson. How about you two?”
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Isaac Romero and this is, uh, I didn’t catch your name, son.”
When Morris turned to look at the other Marine’s face, he saw Hayes’ face there. Same eyes, same shape, same everything. His voice even sounded oddly the same, especially the words that came out.
“Oh, my name and rank, yes sir. I’m Lance-Corporal John Hayes.”
Everybody was on edge about what had happened, and to hear this come from the Marine didn’t help, but it actually caused some unnerve in the others.
“Are you his, um, Nathan Hayes’ twin brother or something?”
The Marine nodded. He was the same age, held the same rank, but was much greener than his older twin, Nathan. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his brother died, but it was really suppressed emotions. He didn’t want to look like a baby in front of everyone. A few awkward seconds past until silence was broken, when Romero spoke.
“Well, I’m the superior officer here. I’ll take command, them. Morris, you’ll be my First Lieutenant until we get to Voi. There, we’ll set prepare for any oncoming attacks that might occur there. We’ll be well equipped and safe. Let’s get moving, people!”
They moved on out of the city, leaving the dead. They had grabbed whatever ammo they could, first, of course, but left as soon as possible. They radioed in a Pelican drop ship to come pick them up. The eleven of them could fit in it, since maximum capacity is fifteen people: ten sitting and five standing. They exited the city and waited. Behind them, and ongoing battle in New Mombassa in other areas of the city continued.

Somewhere in the outskirts between New Mombassa and Voi was a group of outposts that were to keep watch for any oncoming vehicles. Sitting on the stairs that led to the top of the bunker was Private Jared Sharp, who was preparing his weapons. He loaded a full clip into his MA5C and laid it beside him. He took and M7S/Caseless submachine gun and loaded a clip into that as well. He liked to have a SMG rather than an M6G pistol as his sidearm. The SMG might have more recoil and be less powerful, but they have about the same accuracy and distance. The SMG, however, has an automatic firing mode and has more rounds per clip. He also liked the feel of a two handed weapon rather than a one handed one. It also had a suppressor attached to the weapon if he ever needed it. His helmet lay beside the MA5C, so his bald head remained uncovered. He didn’t have any form of facial hair except the light stubble that grew on his face and his reddish-brown eyebrows. His commander, who wasn’t but a Staff Sergeant, walked down the steps. His voice was coarse and harsh. He told Sharp to get ready. He replied in his heavy British accented voice. They were heading out. He assembled the troops. He said another squad would be taking their place. They got ready and headed out. The Sergeant said it was a distress signal. They weren’t sure who it was, but they knew it was human.
After a long walk in the direction of the distress call, the Sergeant pointed to a hill. He said that was where it was coming from. He ordered Sharp to take point and another Private, named Grissom, to take the rear. As he emerged from the other side of the hill, he saw a squad of soldiers on the ground. Six were Marines, but the other two were more than just that. They were Spartan super soldiers. He rushed down, trying to avoid breaking any bones on the way down. The others followed, all but one. When he got to the bottom, he could see they weren’t sunbathing. The six Marines seemed to have discernable bite marks on their chests. It appeared to be in the shape of a leech mouth formation, but he couldn’t be sure, with the size and all. The six others reached the bottom, none noticing Grissom wasn’t there with them.
“Do you see that?” Sharp said, “Those bite marks look like some form of rounded tooth formation. Like a leech. The dead seem to be deprived of blood too.”
“What about these two?” A Marine asked about the Spartans. “What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re dead-“
He was cut off by the waking of one of them. He stood tall, about seven feet tall with all the sand green armour. His was only Mark V armour, since he hadn’t been given the chance to upgrade.
“I’m Staff Sergeant Roebuck. State your rank and designation.”
The Spartan crouched and picked up an M90 Close Assault Weapons System, or, to cut it short, a shotgun. It latched onto the magnetic plates on the back of his armour. He then took an M7/Caseless SMG and latched it to the magnetic plates on his right thigh. He then turned to look at the Sergeant and finally spoke in a stable, indifferent voice.
“Command Chief Master Sergeant Kyle-138 United Nations Air Force. Now, Sergeant, there’s something here. I don’t know what it is, so don’t ask me to explain it, but it killed the Marines and possibly that other Spartan. I feigned death to avoid it. It worked. My suit was able to hide any vitals that would be seen heard or felt. It seems to suck the blood out of the body, using its large teeth in a round jaw setting, kind of like a leech, but bigger and bipedal. We must leave, now.”
The Sergeant nodded when he finally noticed Grissom was gone. 138 said it might be the creature and that they’d have to leave immediately. He started to run up the hill and the others followed suit, except one, who had been caught by the creature who seemed to burrow under the sand and emerge to attack. Some watched as it sucked the blood and the life out of the Marine. All that was left was a dry carcass, devoid of life. It dived into the sand, but had to go around the rocky formation they ran up and down so thoughtlessly. They kept running. This time, it had jumped and almost got hold of Sharp and Roebuck. They narrowly escaped it. The bunkers were near. They were built on solid rock, so it would have to emerge from the sand to attack. They were safe, but with two men lost. They relieved the other squad, which was dispersed among the seven bunkers. They waited until the night, but nothing came. They assumed it had given up and then got the call. They were to be reassigned to Voi for defensive purposes. They had three days to get ready to leave, as a Pelican would arrive after three days to take them out of there.

Note: This chapter is shorter than the first by a whole page, I think. This is about four pages in MSWord with character size 12. Enjoy!


"In order to learn and be yourself, you must first let go."~Steven Haché

I am of clan Tremere
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