Hell paused to admire his handiwork, then returned to the mouth of the cave. He warily treads at the edges as before, should any more beasts be lurking within to make themselves known. Now that the distraction was gone, he examined the meat roasting on the spit in full detail.
"Huh, that was...easier than I thought. Wonder where...and WHEN I am right now..." Mordred muttered. "Now...False Gorgan, that's all I have to go on. I'm going to need some information. I really hope I'm not alone out here. But if they wanted to get in this bad..."
Chief immediately made sure he was blended into the shadows of the jungle, waiting from the blips to arrive. After all, if these creatures could swim. They could be a problem.
The cave appeared empty, its dimly lit walls decorated by crude finger paintings, tribalesque in nature, of various portly stick figures fighting animals and one another. Animal bones littered the floor, primarily of a type of Ox of some kind, evidenced by the large haunch spitted over the fire, its woollen fur still clinging to it in cindering tufts.
The tunnels went deeper within the earth, the layout containing several long abandoned rooms, some featuring multiple beds, some just a desk and a bed, all being abandoned. As she progressed further down the corridors, she came to a room with its doorway blocked by two metal tables laid across the entrance, the barricade reinforced by a dozen square metal containers with a two headed eagle emblazoned upon the side. Lying next to the makeshift obstacle lay a human skeleton propped against the wall, wearing a similar uniform to the one outside, a neat hole burnt into the side of its skull with a pistol of some kind still clutched in its hand.
The aliens arrived quickly upon the river bank, unaware of the Spartan hidden in the undergrowth behind them. Seeing the newcomers, the blue alien began to frantically wade faster towards the other side, the energetic splashing of his movements exciting the hunters further. Brandishing a sharp looking blade from its belt, one of the creatures barked some sort of order, sending a pair of houndlike creatures who dived into the water, bounding along after their prey.
Chief knew he couldn't just stand there and watch, but they greatly outnumbered him. Even with his armour he knew they were a problem, but he couldn't just sit there and watch. Thus he counted the six aliens and their hounds. He then bursted out of the jungle like lightning. Aiming a punch at the neck of the creature holding the knife, seeking to knock it out and steal its knife for a weapon. Afterwords he could deal with the rest and their hounds.
"...right, so...nobody here I'd wager. If no one's cleared this out yet, it's not been for a long time. Nothing for me here."
With a short burst of speed beyond the limits of baseline human ability, the Chief rose from the undergrowth, coming from behind the alien hunter and taking one of its wrists within his armoured gauntlet. As it squarked in alarm, it attempted to wrest its arm free of his grip, its slim frame hiding suprisingly powerful coiled muscles, but to no avail. Striking it upon the back of the head with his fist till it was silent, the Chief plucked the blade from its now limp grip and turned to face the now alerted trio of hunters who began to pull out their own blades, one with some sort of duel edged polearm on a sling.
The land all around the top of the bunker was a battlefield, an old one if it were to be guessed, but one which scarred the landscape. The earth was littered with craters and shards of bone, some of which wasn't human but some other species of humanoid instead. The carcases of metal vehicles (Tanks according to the information in her mind) added to the scene, their ruins facing one another. Every so often a large suit of armour would be found, the colouring of the strange material varying, but primarily of a singular insignia. Within the warrior often died a violent death, leaving just his outer shell , the occupant long since rotted away.
Hell scoffed at the scraps of primitive 'culture' smeared on the cave walls and set to work on a chunk of the bull haunch, carving out a section with the sharp pincers of his staff. It was not glamorous, but in his situation he could not afford to be picky. Content with his cut of meat, he returned to his hiding spot and ate his fill in silence, content with the lingering warmth from the flame.
Several hours passed as the night became darker and the blizzard outside the cave increased in its intensity. Hell was disturbed from his musings as the crunch of large feet upon snow came from outside, with heavy panted breaths as a trio of large outlines began to approach the cave's entrance, dragging the carcass of a large animal with them.
"Depends what you're looking for outlander." The dark skinned man running the fruit stall answered. "Of course it will cost you, but you know what they say, nothing worthwhile is free."
The man laughed. "A pleasure to meet you too Robert Edwad Ohspeedwagon London Biweiovhoosturn. It would be a poor decision to share where i hide my treasures, but I suppose i could give a few directions, though i would suggest avoiding Mushroom Town. The Orks have been getting restless ever since one of their big uns started making noises in the badlands. Last i heard they were planning another run on the spire for salvage. Though if its coin of a less suicidal nature you are after, i hear the Bloodpits after anyone who can handle themselves for a few rounds."
Chief kept his HUD tracker on to make sure the two hounds weren't retreating back towards him and look at the other three. The one with the polearm was probably the most dangerous. Thus chief needed a plan.
The blue-skinned doctor cursed his luck. If only that damned blizzard subsided, he'd have long since left the squalor of this filthy hovel! One of the creatures he could dispose of, but three in tandem was beyond him. Stealth was his chief option now, but if the need arose he supposed dissuading the brainless beasts from attacking him with well-placed words would be well within his ability. Possible paths in mind, Hell lay low, the dark colors of his cloak wrapped around his form to provide what camouflage he could muster in the peripheral dark.
"Good god, they're gigantic..." Saber muttered at the titanic shells. Where had such warriors come from? Shelving that question for later, the knight made a beeling for the distant buildings, her horned visage moving at a moderate clip.
The knife sank into the chest of one of the aliens, it giving a final croaked screech as it sank backwards from the force of the impact. Meanwhile the other struck towards the Chief with its own blade, who caught it's blow at the wrist, twisting the creatures arm back as he felt the bone within his grasp begin to break. Lining up the shot, the final alien hefted its pole-arm to its shoulder and discharged a bolt of energy from one of the ends, the shot glancing off the Chief's shields. Alarm's trilled as the shield flared and collapsed from the shots blast.
"Rippa, where are ya?" the larger of the three called out, a specimen a head taller than the one encountered previously with a rusted shoulder pauldron covering one arm and with a tree-stump dotted with sharp shards of rock clutched in the other. The other two dumped their catch on the floor, a large furred creature with large claws, similar to a bear.
"Not a local gent as such, but there are people who're from all over. Maybe one of the nomads might have the right eye colouring for you. They're usually a strange sort. As for your debt, i'll take it my friend. One day i'll probably need all the friends i can find."
The arena itself was easy to find, located at the center of town. The air was hot and filled with the stench of animals, people and a hint of blood. Vendors trying to sell their goods to the crowds shouted from the edges as street children ran amok.
Well, that was unexpected. But Chief wasn't a spartan for nothing. Even if the shield had fallen doesn't mean Chief was down for the count. He threw the alien in his grip at the one with the pole-arm and dashed, hoping to seize the strange projectile weapon for himself.
Ignoring the cries of battle behind him as the blue creature fought the hounds, the Chief instead rushed the final opponent who was knocked off its feet by the flailing of its pack-mate. As the Chief seized its weapon, it slung its companion upon its shoulder and dashed away into the undergrowth. Within the center of the river, the blue alien was desperately attempting to hold off the jaws of the alien hound, the other's body floating away along the river with a large rent in the side of its neck.
A mile from the cities outskirts, Mordred came across a checkpoint, the squat concrete building still intact with the smell of smoke emanating from within one of the two barracks buildings attached to the structure. The buildings were all decorated with the imprint of either a two headed eagle or the roman numerals VIII. A horse stood tied to a metal pole, looking upon the stranger with dumb eyes. Beyond that there was little between the location and the city's limits.
The hulking green figure fixed its beady yellow eyes upon Speedwagon.
Chief slung the weird pole-arm around his soldier and moved to the corpse that still had a knife in it. He seized the knife and tossed it as hard as he could towards the hounds neck. Hoping his super-human strength will allow it to penetrate the creatures neck.