An Elite's Tale

Luckily, the top platform was much smaller than the middle one, which made getting down to the second level much simpler than if they were of equal size. Especially given that there were no holes in the floor of the top platform. Also, the drop was considerably smaller; twenty feet as opposed to the thirty to forty foot drop he'd just experienced. It was still going to hurt, just not as much. No one ever said that being the Shipmaster's Plague was easy.

He landed in a crouch on another one of the short walls down on the second level in time to see Tartarus throw an unconscious Imp at the Arbiter. Ludo noticed the ancient stone head of the Fist of Rukt starting to glow as he did so. Then Xepo was suddenly flying into frame, screaming like a maniac with an energy sword raised. Almost all in one move, before Ludo could hop down or even call out, Tartarus tossed the Imp and spun around to greet the frenetic Elite.

It was a devastatingly graphic few seconds that would unfortunately make its way to Ludo's permanent memory banks, along with the rest of the horrifying images and clips stored there. The hammer completely decimated Xepo. There was nothing left to speak of, or at least not a large enough chunk of him left to be considered identifiable. It had splattered him into a mulch of chunky flesh and tattered pieces of green Special Operations armor, which was painted all over the short wall, floor, and crates nearby.

That was when Tartarus looked up and saw Ludo.

"Back for more?" he asked with a sinister grin.

Back for whatever's left.

The Plague may have been one of the most disciplined Bin Son practitioners of his time, but he had enough sense to know not to bring fists to a gravity hammer fight. Another shield-busting snipe from Johnson, then rapid fire carbine shots from the Arbiter pulled the Chieftain's focus away. Ludo hopped off the wall and ran over to the hole he'd been knocked down and saw his spiker resting on its blades like a tripod just a few feet away. Waiting for him.

Zuvo and Joha had just jumped down from the walkway to the middle platform to join the fight. Right on time. Ludo raised the spiker but couldn't get a clear line of sight on Tartarus, as the Arbiter was reloading and backing away from the Chieftain towards Ludo's position. Ludo strafed to the right to get a better firing angle.

Tartarus strode confidently after the Arbiter, though numerous, grotesque battle wounds already scarred his body.

"What's the matter, Arbiter? Afraid of my little hammer?"

Joha and Fieldmaster Fin 'Goromai climbed over the short wall the Chieftain was next to, landed in front and behind him respectively, and engaged. Joha came in like a helicopter propeller and Tartarus held up the Fist of Rukt to block. The swords clashed loudly off the metal shaft and Tartarus used the end of it to jab him back. Before he could follow up with a finishing blow, Ludo could see Zuvo behind him slash back and forth across his back, the Fieldmaster's amber blades apparently having no trouble with the violet forcefield. Tartarus grimaced and yelled, turning, and Joha came back at him with two overhand strikes like a windmill.

"A lucky strike," the Chieftain said as he fought the Elites. "You will not land another."

The Arbiter and the Shipmaster's Plague nodded at each other and rushed in to help. The Chieftain's shielding shorted out again due to Johnson's constant sniper fire. This was it. This was the end.

Or so it seemed. Ludo noticed that faint glow again as Tartarus raised the Fist of Rukt.

"Shut up!" Tartarus bellowed.

The Brute Chieftain slammed the hammer into the ground as though he were trying to win a prize for his girlfriend at the fair. A visible, violet gravitational shockwave spread out all around him. All of the Elites went flying back.