Phoenix Logs/Campaign Logs/The Graveyard


 * Palmer, Nathaniel J. Archaeologist, Lamb Research Center.
 * Personal Diary Date: 11/28/2558


 * Fifteen of us managed to escape the attack. I still don't know if anyone else
 * made it out.


 * We were returning from a survey expedition when we heard the first
 * explosions.


 * I ran back, following the plumes of black smoke rising into the evening sky from
 * just over the bluff. Sounds of UNSC gunfire were soon drowned out by the too-
 * familiar whine of plasma weapons, confirming our worst fears.


 * As we looked down at the horror below, we saw several hulking outlines move
 * amongst the shadows. Jiralhanae, I think. Brutes. They were everywhere. The
 * air was filled with the smell of burning ozone as a couple of bright, electric blue
 * shapes arced their way toward us. We scattered as the plasma blast hit,
 * vaporizing the trees nearby and showering us with ash and debris.


 * We instinctively turned and ran. My ears were ringing and the ground shook,
 * but we somehow managed to stay together. I yelled at everyone to keep
 * moving, to not look back no matter what. But when the firing stopped I
 * couldn't help myself, I turned around and witnessed the orbital plasma
 * bombardment of our home firsthand. It didn't last long. I didn't need to. But
 * the finality of it will be forever seared into my memory.


 * We've been on the run for three days now. The grime and smoke and ash clings
 * to our clothes, our hair. We sleep in shifts, but not for very long. Every sound
 * wakes us with a start and we expect to see the enemy bearing down on us.


 * We don't know where we're going but we've found some temporary shelter
 * amongst some old wreckage from the last time humanity was here - skeletons
 * of the past.


 * I can't help but think of the people we left behind. Will the Ark simply clean
 * them away as it repairs itself? As if they never existed, layering fresh grass
 * and fauna over their graves until the scars are no longer visible? They should not be
 * forgotten. I think of you and I pray we are not at war again.