ALWAYS OPEN [IC] Halo - Empty Throne: Doisac Sphere

[Apothecary Bruce]

On December 12th, 2559, the UNSC Infinity disappeared. They had been sent to stop Cortana, leader of the Created, from using Zeta Halo for her own nefarious purposes. As many would later discover, the UNSC was not the only force who had come to Zeta Halo with that goal.
The Banished, who had thrived under Cortana's iron yet loose regime, had sent an invasion force. After contact, no signal was sent from the Infinity. All probes and scouts, from all sides, who went to the Ephu system - Zeta Halo's prior location - found the installation, and the fleets attacking it, had suddenly vanished. Only trace wreckage from the Infinity, Banished warships, and a Forerunner Guardian construct, remained.

For the UNSC, they had lost the Master Chief, and their strongest warship. Both were symbols of humanity's strength and resolve, the hero who had saved them, and the flagship emblematic of their post-war successes, an era which was now undoubtably over.
For the Banished, they had lost not only Atriox, but Escharum too. With the other senior leaders of the Banished trapped at the Ark, the nascent empire had been left without a central commander, but while the cracks could be seen visibly forming, the Banished were more than content feasting upon a ripe galaxy.

Whatever happened at Zeta Halo, it had been the end of Cortana. Her Created empire immediately fractured, breaking down into warlord states as AI carved out what they could of the galaxy, using what Forerunner assets remained active and available to them.
With the fall of the Created, came the return of interstellar travel. The galaxy was open once more - for better, or for worse.

It is January 12th, 2560, and all throughout the galaxy now see the future is uncertain. While some cower from uncertainty, the bold see it as an opportunity - and the prize would be total dominion over all civilizations remaining.

---

Regions of the Galaxy:
Human Inner Colonies and Sol (UNSC/Created)
Human Outer Colonies (URF/Banished/Created)
Doisac Sphere (Banished)
Eastern Covenant Sphere (Banished/Covenant Remnants/Swords of Sanghelios)
Sanghelios Sphere (Swords of Sanghelios/Covenant Remnants/Banished)
Western Covenant Sphere (Covenant Remnants/Swords of Sanghelios/Banished)
​

---

What is the Doisac Sphere?

In the 1900s, the jiralhane master-packs achieved spaceflight, in primitive shuttles not unlike humanity's first space-capable vessels. Following much the same path, enhanced and sped up by scarce Forerunner relics present on their homeworld, the jiralhanae began their empire. This 'high skein', as they were called, spread out among their local space, ignoring the easier and longer slipspace routes in favor of forcing probes and survey ships in all directions.

Following the probes were colony ships, and with those, came a variety of kingdoms, with each major and master pack claiming territory and worlds in their name. It was an uneasy peace between them all, mostly stopped due to the rarity of warships in those days. But as soon as the jiralhanae could field such fighting vessels in sufficient quantities, war began. In 2289, the First Immolation began, a war across all jiralhanae space, equally devastating all worlds, though Dosiac itself, the homeworld, endured the most damage. Each sector, or beyliks as they were called, were burned down, destroyed in the fires of misguided politics and tribal hatred.

If not for the work of the jiralhanae dervishes, all would have been lost. They, in an event rare for their species, forsook politics and tribalism, and focused on preserving technological knowledge, their culture, all they could.
In 2492, the Covenant found the six hundred worlds of the jiralhanae. They were broken, scattered, each at a different level of stability and disrepair, and only a scarce few had spaceflight capabilities. On many of these planets, the Covenant was met with resistance, but by the 2510s, following the maps scavenged from ruined Skein records, the jiralhanae colonies were all accounted for and subjugated, including the homeworld, Doisac, and its unruly moons.

With the help of the Covenant, the jiralhanae were included as a client species, all swearing their fealty to the Writ of Union and the Great Journey. The rebuilding of their space commenced shortly thereafter, yet in 2530, this effort was ramped up by the recently appointed High Prophet of Truth. While Truth justified the rebuilding of the Doisac Sphere with the need for more soldiers and upholding the moral duty the Covenant held for all its client species, Truth merely wanted the jiralhanae to reach a level of population and industry that he might supplant the sangheili with them later on.

That master plan was executed in 2552, at the end of the war with humanity. The Great Schism would tear the Covenant apart, dooming the majority of the jiralhanae and the sangheili to a long race war. Yet in the end, it would not be a skein or a prophet who would end up controlling the Doisac Sphere - it would be a Brute.

A jiralhanae war chieftain without compare. Atriox, leader of the Banished.

With the skeins weakened and without the guidance of the Covenant, Atriox took control of the reins of his species, bringing the majority of its strength under his command. By the end of Cortana's reign, he had united many of the packs and clans under his rule, reforming them into legions and fiefdoms. He converted his realm of barbarians, into an empire which would carve its name across the galaxy, from the furthest edge of human space to the farthest corners of the former Covenant domains.

At the heart of the sphere is Doisac itself, ruined, destroyed by Cortana's Forerunner Guardian constructs. As punishment for refusing to bow to her wishes, Cortana destroyed Doisac in November of 2559. By December, Atriox claimed his revenge, though in the process leaving his empire behind.

Without a leader, the Banished have remarkably remained intact. They still follow the will of Atriox, a founding desire which all dokabs, legion-masters and chieftains follow with fervor.



The Doisac Sphere was the site of the first jiralhanae empire, and now comprises the core worlds of the Banished.

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

@rissa

Onboard his assigned Drekar ship, Enzo watched the planet of Elek'aahna emerge in the holographic view-screens. While it was meant to help the kig-yar shipmistress guide the vessel, the display was large enough for onlookers to enjoy as well. "Jhan-Eh-Sear-Ee," she tried pronouncing. "Our ship reaches port. Grab things. Good work done with you. May we work together again, eh?" the shipmistress, T'ela-Ul, commented. Kig-yar often did not lie, though perhaps these sorts of clandestine transport jobs paid her better than the usual fare.

Her ship had been Enzo's home for the past two months. Under the nose of Cortana's forces, the Drekar slipped into Earth's orbit, dropping Enzo and a squad of jiralhanae to raid what they believed to be a Forerunner relic site, near the city of New Mombasa in Africa.
While the portal to the Ark was under heavy guard by the Created, there was another site, not too far, that already contained several devices recovered by ONI xenomaterials specialists.

Enzo and his twenty temporary pack-mates were able to blast their way through the surprisingly light Created defenses there, but as they entered the compound, he and his teammates realized they weren't the only forces coming to raid the facility.
Two UNSC Pelican dropships came in, guns blazing, cutting down two of his teammates instantly. Marines and two of his Spartan-IV brothers got off the lift, ready for battle. While they were likely surprised to be fighting Banished in the facility instead of Prometheans, the UNSC forces were far from easy prey. Another three of his pack-mates were lost as the Banished raced to be first inside the facility, Asper fighting first Created digital locks, then the original ONI code, while they tried to fight off the encroaching marines and the pair of Spartans.

If it were just one Spartan, Enzo might've taken his chances, but there were two of them, and each had fresh GEN3 MJOLNIR. From that alone, Enzo knew this wasn't part of the Earth resistance movement, but that these troops were from the rest of the slowly re-coalescing UNSC in the Inner Colonies, or even a team based onboard the UNSC Infinity, though it seemed unlikely that the military would risk their flagship at Sol.

Regardless, the bounty of the ONI site ended up being split. While the UNSC made away with the prize Enzo was looking for, a Guardian IFF tag, Enzo was able to recover, for the Banished, two other devices. One was a small block of a strange Forerunner material, continuously pinging, and a synthesizer for hardlight ammunition.

It wasn't the bounty Legion-Master Graadius, of the Legion of the Sundered Star, was expecting, but it was far from nothing. So far, Asper had only been able to determine the pinging brick wasn't a bomb, but it did seem to be pinging a location deep inside the galaxy, far beyond the edge of the Orion Arm.
Ultimately, Asper figured Graadius, their current sponsor inside this more tumultuous time for the Banished, would wish to do what he wanted with the block. The ammo synthesizer would at least buy Graadius' forgiveness, and despite how the Brute may despise it, the fact was he needed Enzo just as much as Enzo needed him. A Spartan was a legendary force multiplier, and Graadius couldn't afford that loss.


The Drekar, The Sailor's Gift, looked like a small building in comparison to the urban metroplex that was the shipyard of Elek'hanna. Built from the remnants of an ancient jiralhanae empire space station, combined with the nearby Covenant civilian shipyard, the Berths of Broken Teash could not be growing faster. Already, it had been doubled in size, and had quadrupled since the first time he was brought here, during...initiation.

Enzo found himself enter the hangar bay, with his supplies slung over his shoulder. He could immediately report to Graadius...or, he could look around, refamiliarize himself with the station, do as he pleased. Ultimately, in a few hours he would have to report to the Legion-Master and receive his next assignment, but the choice was his.

 

[rissa]

May we work together again, eh?" the shipmistress, T'ela-Ul, commented.

"May we," Enzo admitted, a rare truth falling from his lips unprompted. It almost surprised him. He palmed a small gift to the shipmistress and made his way into the hangar proper, Asper momentarily busy calculating the shipyard's expansion, as well as the quickest route to its Legion-Master.

He would report now, get it over with, and hopefully get sent out after his Spartan brethren. He didn't even have a chance to offer them true freedom, too busy keeping himself and his pack-mates alive. Only a handful ever make it back, only those who stick close, stay smart, resist the urge to berserk until just the right moment. It was infuriating, in a way, how useful and yet how useless they could be. They died far too easily.

"If I asked Halkor to initiate a training regime for new pack-mates, what would the perception be?" Enzo asked under his breath, not yet an expert on the cultural nuisances within the Banished nor the jiralhanae.

"With the current fervor? Bloody, more than likely."

Enzo rolled his eyes and continued on. It didn't take long for him to find his way to Legion-Master Graadius, goods still slung over his shoulder.

@Apothecary Bruce

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

May we work together again, eh?" the shipmistress, T'ela-Ul, commented.

"May we," Enzo admitted, a rare truth falling from his lips unprompted. It almost surprised him. He palmed a small gift to the shipmistress and made his way into the hangar proper, Asper momentarily busy calculating the shipyard's expansion, as well as the quickest route to its Legion-Master.

He would report now, get it over with, and hopefully get sent out after his Spartan brethren. He didn't even have a chance to offer them true freedom, too busy keeping himself and his pack-mates alive. Only a handful ever make it back, only those who stick close, stay smart, resist the urge to berserk until just the right moment. It was infuriating, in a way, how useful and yet how useless they could be. They died far too easily.

"If I asked Halkor to initiate a training regime for new pack-mates, what would the perception be?" Enzo asked under his breath, not yet an expert on the cultural nuisances within the Banished nor the jiralhanae.

"With the current fervor? Bloody, more than likely."

Enzo rolled his eyes and continued on. It didn't take long for him to find his way to Legion-Master Graadius, goods still slung over his shoulder.

@Apothecary Bruce

Graadius' tower was next to impossible to miss. It towered over the walls and ceilings of the dockyard, visible through the many orange-tinted energy field windows. None of the in-progress hulls, including dreadnaughts, could rival its height. Even adjacent to the station's defending warships, led by a Ket-pattern battlecruiser, the tower was still imposing, massive, a symbol of power for its occupants.

Thousands of troops stood guard. Enzo knew some of them were even fresher recruits to the Banished than he. Some of them might have not even heard of the Banished, before Cortana's rise to power. Sangheili in storm harnesses, likely once part of Jul 'Mdama's Covenant not a year and a half ago, now wore their armor repainted crimson. Brutes, wearing cloth and metal, like the human knights of old. The closer to and higher up the tower one went, the better armed and armored its defenders became, before Enzo began to see whole hallways lined with elite champions and warriors he would be scared to face in battle.

Chieftains who had broken Promethean Knights apart like toys. Blademasters who had cut down Spartans. Snipers who had slain entire lists of warlords. None of them human, as Enzo might've guessed. Only his own augmentations allowed him to reach the power required to find much glory in the Banished - not that the UNSC provided any, though. Any human who followed the tenants of the Banished would be stronger than their UNSC counterpart, more able to find glory, purpose, power.
In but a few years, the Banished had risen from a band of pirates, mercenaries and renegades, to an empire the likes of which had not been seen since the death of the last High Prophet. Though they were far from the heights of the old Covenant, they were certainly the closest of any successor state to such a wealth of power.

Many among Graadius' counselors and confidants did not respect humans. It was a fair position. Humans were frail, primitive, easy to kill. Like unngoy, but far less populous, and more delicious too. Several legions among the Banished regarded humans as livestock, not an equal member species. Bred for their organic product, food and perhaps menial labor, and used for nothing more.
Graadius himself, though, was not that harsh. He had seen first hand the capabilities of well-trained, well-determined humans. During the Human-Covenant War, he - then just a captain - fought and barely survived an ambush by a squad of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.

They had cut down his packmates, used captured fire bombs, burnt off half his face. He was forced to shave off his fur, adopting the look of the Vheiloth skein, despite being a Rh'tol, because he was too badly scarred to ever properly regrow a full coat. His barren hide bore the scars, the bullet wounds and knife punctures. Even now, he wore pieces of that squad's armor in his own.
It was because of this experience that Graadius accepted humans into the Banished, he had seen their strength, even if it required more forging, more shaping than most other species.

At last, the final elevator reached Graadius' chamber, or rather, its entrance hallway. It was dark steel, lined with red and orange lights. Banners of fallen enemies, trophies from dead warlords and champions, lined the walls. They were the legion-master's, reminders of his victories over forty years of warring, and thirty of command.
The skulls of sangheili, their tattered flags adorned with ancient symbols torn and burnt. The stripes and medals of a UNSC colonel. Shattered marine and ODST helmets. Even jiralhanae skulls - one with its spinal column attached.

There were six guards, jiralhanae warriors in black and red power armor, enclosed and shielded like Enzo's own, though wholly alien in design. They considered him idly, allowing the Spartan to pass them as the door to Graadius opened. There he stood, tall, broad, already meeting Enzo's eyes as soon as the automatic parting doors revealed his burnt face.
"Spartan..." the legion-master began, flanked by his council. There were the typical faces - Shipmaster Etas 'Ralam, Chieftain Valdon, Shipmistress Fal'A Eedr, and Deacon Mapal - but, curiously, there were three newcomers. A sangheili, wearing the Covenant-era General's combat harness, a yonhet, wearing a black cloak, and another jiralhanae, a chieftain by the looks of him, and Rh'tol, judging by the fur. "You have returned from your hunt. What bounty have you to present me?"

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

@Moonlight501

The Requiem Over Bhedalon dropped from slipspace in the space between star systems, seeking enough breathing room to conduct what repairs they could, and make their next move. With superluminal communications restored after a brief disabling, and both long-range sensors and regional records pulled up, Shipmaster Ussa 'Moram and his fellow onboard leaders were free to begin planning.

First, the issues. There was no chain of logistics this far into Banished space for the Swords' vessels, and their pre-Created efforts to stabilize and pacify jiralhanae space had obviously collapsed. While Cortana's death left room to conduct long-distance operations, Atriox and his empire had already swiped up the entire Doisac Sphere.
Needless to say, the situation was bleak. Luckily, 'Moram knew of several 'needle forces', a term and philosophy comparable to the blamite needles and their supercombine effect, except now relating to task forces and the Doisac Sphere. The Bhedalon had been part of a needle force, their attack on a Banished factory installation a week prior, but now with superluminal comms back online, 'Moram could see the results.

Most forces had failed. Their ships, captured or destroyed. Crew, slaughtered, imprisoned...even, in a few places, defected. There would be no 'supercombine' - the war would not be won in a single offensive strike. Indeed, it seemed the war between the Swords of Sanghelios and the Banished, Atriox or not, would rage for a long time.

What part in that war Bhedalon would play, was now for deciding.


A distress beacon had been laid by one of the other needle forces, on a planet named Heldrus, in a system close to Oth Sonin named Oth Joordin. It was an old jiralhanae world, part of their pre-Covenant empire, and thus had a sizeable population. During the 'new empire's' reign, the Prophets had constructed a shipyard around the planet, meant to produce karves and drekars, ships for the jiralhanae. The Sword strike force, consisting of one Ket-pattern battlecruiser, an Ester-pattern armored frigate and five fireships, had jumped in, and after a fierce battle, the shipyards had been heavily damaged, but all but the armored frigate had been destroyed.

Now, shipmaster Salae 'Kardav called for aid and rescue. Forces on Heldrus' surface still fight as well, their guerilla war doing their best to disrupt any chance for export of goods or mustering of Banished forces on the planet. They would not last forever, however.
Heldrus would be four days' time in slipspace.


The planet Voordin, in the aptly named Oth Voordin system, was now in revolt. For years, they had been one of the last lynchpins of the old faith in the Doisac Sphere, and now, with the support of the Grand Covenant Empire - one of the old union's many successor states, though this one largely controlled and populated by jiralhanae - Voordin rejected their Banished masters in exchange for freedom and religious rebirth.

With a hardy defense fleet, and ships on loan from the Grand Covenant, they've managed to hold off Banished reclamation forces for nearly six days. While the GCE still preached about the Great Journey, if somewhat changed, they were more an enemy of the Banished than they were of the Swords, and any possible friend in such hostile territory was a bond worth making.
Voordin would be five days' time in slipspace.


Less than an hour prior to 'Moram's planning session, the crash site of a human starship was reported by the Banished's probe network. Busy elsewhere, the local legion-master decided to leave its investigation and salvage to private groups and individual salvagers, with the promise of hefty pay if something of worth is presented to the legion-master.
Its classification and crew, or even allegiance, is unknown.



There was also the ship's own problems. They lacked any resources or equipment for true repairs, only ensuring atmosphere isn't leaked out. They can patch holes, but they lack any sort of nanolaminate stores or the right tools to apply nanolaminate. In addition, they've begun to run low on blamite - as firing a rare resource at two hundred rounds per minute for three chainguns, not to mention the other needle-powered small arms, without any sort of logistical chain was a difficult thing to maintain.
Beyond that, food would last four months, as would water. Deuterium was fairly stocked as well, and would last nearly a year at the current rate.

 

[rissa]

Mankind was but a babe in the galaxy when they struggled long enough to outlast the Covenant. Imagining what they could do with another couple hundred years kept him going when sneers of malcontent made him think of overstepping bounds. Most of his superiors could shear him clean in half or rip him limb from limb, that he knew, but sometimes he welcomed the challenge. Welcomed the thought of leaving behind something so severe one couldn't ever forget.

Perhaps that's why he respected the legion-master and the old scientist— they understood Atriox's will didn't stop at jiralhanae.

Enzo refused to let the palpable tension make him cower. His respect had been paid in bloodshed and pledged spoils, but he did incline softly at the guards, his legion-master, and those newly gathered, mostly so Asper could get a full scan of their power armor and biometrics.

"Not the bounty I was sent for," Enzo admitted, hefting the bag off his shoulder. It landed with a soft thud against the dark steel floor. "The UNSC, I believe, is about ready to begin their counter-attack to reclaim Earth." He had Asper project a hologram of the two UNSC Pelican's delivering marines and fellow Spartans, both wearing sets of Mjolnir armor shinier than his own GEN3 and cutting down a quarter of his pack-mates before Enzo could fortify them. He left out the desire to be sent after them and continued.

The small chunk was first. "Forerunner, unknown purpose and material. Ping's somewhere far beyond the Orion Arm constantly." Enzo reached into the bag and pulled out his other prize, "And a synthesizer for hardlight ammo."

It wasn't exactly much, but Enzo wasn't exactly made for retrieval.

He was made to hunt.

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

Graadius' smile faded and became a frown with Enzo's bad news. "Spartan," he began, displeased, "I shall not blame you for the ambush - the UNSC recuperating so quickly was...unexpected. But your failure to bring back the right artifact, and your failure to slay these...weaklings...is disappointing."
The legion-master stood, murder painted across his face as he stared down Enzo, like a mad dog. "But," he started, face softening, "You did not return empty handed, and for that, I will forgive you - mostly. The synthesizer will allow to utilize scavenged Promethean weapons for a extended duration, a fine prize. As for the other...deacon, what is it our dear quillick has brought home?"

The unngoy walked across the room, and boldly snatched the block of metal up. "A homing beacon of some kind," he said, without thinking, and the room bristled. "Enzo, you have brought a homing beacon to this facility?!" Graadius roared.
"No, no, wait!" the deacon's squeaks calmed the legion-master and his company, if slightly. "Not a beacon, my mistake - a homer. Connected to another device, a long ways away, but it acts more like a way-finder, to...something. I can't say what, not enough info, I only recognize it from the Covenant scriptu- err, records. It was a common-ish device, apparently. The Covenant found many of these things, the results were either really small, like the remains of pets or whatever, or big things, like the weapons we derived the fo...fo...focus rifle! Yeah, that one from."

"An interest worth pursuing," Graadius replied, smile as toothy as could be. He turned back to Enzo. "You, I will not bore with an expeditionary run. Your strength is needed elsewhere, to the core." The Sanghelios Sphere? "The UNSC seeks to rebuild," Graadius explained, "An issue we can deal with. But so too does the Swords, and they are doing so far more rapidly than we expected. We will be cut off from our allies in the Jool system, and once that happens, fresh Subanese crystals will become out of reach for us. Before the Swords regather too much strength, we shall conduct a series of raids...refill our stocks...capture slaves...cow the people of Sanghelios and its bastard moons. You will be in this detachment, Hunter Enzo."

"The other legion-masters seek to collaborate on this battle," Graadius continued. "Saying that we must use events like this to stay united, act as a war council, a parliament of fangs. The Banished needs a War-Master, but I shall not be the fool to try and claim that throne, and destroy us from within. I order all of you to not scheme for such a role. We wait for news from Zeta Halo. We are loyal to Atriox. We are not mongrels, who will eat each other at the slightest twinge of hunger. Am I understood?"

His council barked in agreement. Graadius looked upon Enzo, not showing fear, but simply checking to see if the Spartan was listening at all. "Am I understood, Enzo?"

 

[rissa]

Obviously. "Of course," Enzo replied and though his helmet obscured his face his eyes never left Graadius. "Atriox's Will will not be forgotten."

It was spoken as half a mantra and Enzo felt a pleasant burn from his initiation scar as that pledge was repeated. It was half the reason he was alive after all— alive and free to pursue what he wished. And what he wished to do right now... He bit down the urge to kick the unngoy apart as his gaze finally left the legion-master and tracked its movement across his HUD. It would be too easy though, not worth the effort, and the deacon had settled most of the nerves in the hall by clarifying he wasn't an idiot who brought a beacon back to central command.

Swords are worthy heads to hunt and defect though, and raids always satisfy the men.

Enzo waited, wondering if he was to be bored with exposition over unification before deciding to bite the bullet. "Do we have outposts and raid camps to rally to or will you send me out to secure new ones, legion-master?"

 

[Apothecary Bruce]

Graadius smiled. "I am always pleased with your eagerness. While we have allies in the region with their own sets of bases and outposts, yes, you shall join the assault on Uka'pala Keep. With their collapse, the surrounding region, which produces food for many communities across Suban, will be near-defenseless. Even if the Swords of Sanghelios move to recapture it, they shall be distracted and we can raid the blamite mines.
"With this mission, I entrust you to represent me, and your kind in the Banished. Many believe that no human should be allowed in our ranks, but despite your shortcomings, denying humanity entry into the Banished only harms us. You must fight to prove your people have a place among us, as you always have. But if you don't care about that, then you should care about the name of our legion and pack."

The legion-master gestured to the deacon. "Take this one with you," he ordered, and the deacon jumped. Obviously, he wanted to protest, but he was ironically too afraid to voice his concerns. "Do not kill him, do not eat him - but take him along. The sangheili homeworld and its moons have much lore that may benefit us, or threaten to hinder you. He knows the old Covenant scriptures, and then some. Even if he is stupid in other ways. This, I order you to do. You shall be ferried on T'ela-Ul's Drekar ship once more. I trust you and the shipmistress have not fallen out of favor. Once again, I shall refill your ranks with fresh meat. Try to not to get them killed again.
"Unless you have anything further to discuss, then you are dismissed."