The Brute stumbled back on the deck, its feet buckled out from under it and now it was crawling, backward with a wide-eyed look about it.  It just stared at them and continuously backed on its four limbs and eventually reached the bulk head wall.  The call was an unusual one but Thackle referenced it for future learning.  It was making long calls, two syllables, over and over.  It appeared the tongue was being pressed against the roof of its mouth whenever it made this call.  Finally, more brutes rounded the corners of the hall, some looked at the first Brute and laughed, some high pitched barks, others low pitched almost growls. Others, looked down the corridor and stopped dumbstruck looking at the group.

The Brutes had a weird look about them.  It was almost hard to believe they were the same species.  Some wore, their fur atop their heads, this was the most common, but some would wear it on their faces and others, both.  There were dark skins, light skins, furless skins, furry skins, red fur, black fur, brown fur, yellow fur, fur tied in knots at the back of their heads, some with it cropped short to their heads, so that it showed the curvature of their scalps.  They're height, and build varied among them.  It was disgusting, barbaric, savage, undisciplined and oddly, comical.  Thackle let off a low laugh at their apperances.

This appeared to get all of the brutes attention for they snapped their heads around at him and they gave him the same wide-eyed look as the first and soon all of them were offering that same call, some running and others, dumbstruck.  One fellow, dressed differently than the rest dived out the open hall in a flash.  Thackle could see the grey messy uniform he wore, he had plates of metal on him too, as if it would proclaim his prowess as a warrior.  The Brute knelt, slightly covered by a potruding door and Thackle saw his arm dart to his hip and draw something in a flash of blinding chrome.  A flash and a pop.  And almost instantly after three gasps and squeaks.  Thackles head peered down and he had seen a grunt once happily plodding with them before, laughing at the appearence of the humans, honoring the gods with all he did, lying in a pool of purple and blue liquid.  He didn't move and there was a hole in his head.  Some of the grunts barked in surprise and one began to shake his comrade continously murmuring "Zedel...Zedel...Zedel!"

"Brother! they have killed one of us!" Goran said.  Some of the grunts drew their plasma pistols but Klorian belayed them with a hiss, from his throat.

"They are surprised at the sight of us brother.  They do not know of the holy covenant or maybe other species." He raised his sword again "Now hear me Brute-"

Klorian staggered back as another pop thundered through the ship and blue blood plumed from his shoulder.  Klorian gasped and Thackle instinctively  activated his shield.  The whine of multiple shields being activated cacaphonied against the calls of the Brutes.  The grunts growled and backed off with the elites.  Klorian activated his shield just as another pop sounded and his shield sparked and rippled. 

"They use stone throwers!" A sister yelled.  She drew her plasma rifle and raised it but Klorian waved his sword.

"No! do not fire on the brutes, they have done little harm to us and our grunt has been sent on the journey to salvation.  They do not act on order of their commanders"

The brute looked wide eyed as his shots had no effect on the elites so instead he shot the grunts.  They yelped as the shots found their marks accross their tough skin.  Thackle kept his rifle raised at them but did not fire, just kept it out as a warning against them.  The grunts pulled their wounded comrades behind the elites who shielded them against the Brute's shots.  A grunt squeaked and Thackle turned his head to see a group of similarly clothed brutes approach them, but this time holding much larger things in their hands.  The things glimmered in heresy and they were pointed towards the grunts.  White fire erupted from the barreled ends and the grunts, yelped as pieces of their flesh were ripped apart by an unseen force.  They screamed now, the grunts did and the staccatto of pops made a rat-tat-tat sound, like a demon beating on bones of his kill.  Thackle's shields sparked as the enemy's stones found him and his shield meter began to drop.  A growl to his left as a brother's shields imploded, washing Thackle in a wave of heat and scattered sparks on his own shield.  The elite suddenly jerked back multiple times, as if hit by swift hard jabs but holes suddenly burst from his back and blood was blown from it like darts from a blowpipe.  Thackle watched in horror as the brother staggered made a last cry and toppled to the ground, eyes wide in surprise.

Klorian growled and whispered "You die with honor brother"  then raised his sword and waved it from the piece of metal he took cover behind. "Peace Brutes, I beg of you!  We do not come in war, see! you have killed many but we do not fight!  We do not--"

A rattle of the Brute's weapons finally imploded Klorian's shield and his head was blown apart like splitting a melon.  Thackle watched open mouthed as a quarter of his honored commander's head suddenly disappeared in a staccato burst.  Klorian tumbled to the ground.  Two brothers ran to help and were cut down by the stones.  The sister poked her head out and her shields were imploded and she withdrew it quickly cursing.  Klorian's head angled toward Thackle, his mouth still moving as he mouthed nonsense to Thackle.  The gods had cursed them today.  No, Klorian wasn't muttering nonsense.  Thackle could hear now "active...camouflage...peace...none..."  Thackle looked as his vision blurred and Klorian's head was ripoped apart from a final stone and the four mandibles of his mouth never moved again.  Thackle activated his active camoflauge, the light bending technology given to him by the gods through the Forerunners, and peered out into the hall.  The sister broke cover and threw her plasma weapons aside, raising her hands to show she didn't have weapons, the sign of ultimate dishonor and surrender.  And she toppled forward as the stones punched through her shields and exited her back.  She screamed all the way down.  The smell came to him now.  The mix of sulfur, burned flesh, raw flesh, the last phermones of his comrades, fear, panic, despair, the stench of the Brute's perspiration, and their Evil, disgusting stench. 

 
This is not what the gods would have wanted.  They have declared war against the covenant in this action.  Killing a diplomatic creature, killing innocents, destroying a surrendering bystander who had not even fired a shot.  Thackle felt his anger rise and he could smell his own phermones now.  Hot, like fire and cold like ice, they lingered in his nostrils and Thackle savored the smell.  He bent over and picked up the rod lying next to his commander and it too became invisible like him, the sensors in the rod matching the sensors in his hand.  The brutes came over, with their long barreled stone throwers and they clapped eachother on the helmets and then looked down at the dead elites and grunts guffawing and staring at them.  They presented their backs to him.  Thackle prayed to Grond, god of war to bless him in holy combat.  He crept up behind the first one and squeezed the rod in his hand.  It glowed to life, springing two prongs from the side that exuded heat and savage energy,  It hissed at the smell of Brute blood.  He lunged at the first Brute.  They would all pay.