Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-4794494-20150221232108/@comment-4794494-20150310010315

Meanwhile, in the hangar bay...

Hundreds of humans scurried around as the Covenant troops barked orders. A zealot stood on a purple Covenant crate.

Zealot "All wounded that cannot be healed with a single dose of healing-gel MUST be taken to medical rooms C, D, E, or F. Call over a pair of Unggoy and they'll take care of it. Do not try to do it yourselves!"

Elsewhere, a minor behind a makeshift podium attempted to get all the humans accounted for.

Minor "Your name is Bitch?"

Marine "NO! It's Butch! Leighton Butch! GIMME THAT PEN! I'll write it myself!"

Minor "Your name is Butch Leeg tin?"

Marine "NO! It's pronounced 'Lay ton,' you fool!"

Minor "You're the fool! You cannot spell your own name right? Using your own blasphemous alphabet?"

Marine "NO!"

Several Unggoy delivered containers of healing-gel to Marines, who gratefully accepted the aid of the grunts. Elsewhere, a Kig-yar helped a wounded female Marine hobble over to a seat.