Log:Mandalore: For Whom The Bell Tolls
Rodia's position in The Slice made it an excellent place to hide. While the Empire tried to maintain a presence, as the First Order had, it was a vast world of swamps with a culture often compared to Trandoshans for their heartiness and their obsession with The Hunt. In fact, the Rodian's cultural obsession with hunting is what led them further and further into space as much of the natural animal life on the world was extinct, besides the most dangerous of fauna.
So often it was said that only the galaxy's most dangerous people.
One of the Warlords of Mandalore had managed to bypass the Journeymen Protectors. Past the Reckoning and are looking to begin swelling their ranks for a return to the homeworld in force.
Bounties were placed and Mandalorian clans loyal to Mand'Alor dispatched. Mercenary work.
<<"Advancing, hop-frogdog it, keep to cover, find defilade.">>
<<"GO! GO! GO!">>
The fight itself was illuminating portions of the swamp in the northern hemisphere, the waters turbulent, AA fire barking as the Kyr'am ra Kote disgorged warriors from its drop tubes and drew attention from the ground, the cruiser's shields enough to soak fire and its weaponry thus to allow a screen for other craft and ground approaches from the local settlement.
Among the assembled, brought forth from his more innocuous work on the fringes of civilized space, Hadrix marched through muck and slime - Al'Verde Kora acting as one of several field commanders present. <<"Point three has an opening, we need to wedge it wide and sweep. Force them to reform and split their lines.">>
Point 3 being a section of pre-fab wall sunk into a rocky shelf, covering advance with point defenses to keep swamp craft and swimmers from moving around it. The small gate in its center was open, blasted apart, and now a bottleneck was starting to form. But if it could be taken, it would become what seasoned field combatants might call 'A problem.'
<<"I need bodies, while other units are tying up the other fronts. Volunteers?">> the dark armored warlord of Dxun not waiting for shout outs, merely turning to join the melee whether others follow or not.
<<"I will lead the sortie into the opening.">>
Sumi Kora's voice was a mix of rasp and accented feminine tone. To highlight her advance, the blue armored Mandalorian took to the air and landed amidst the fighting to begin the charge into the opening. Preparing for close quarters, the Mando warrior landed and extended a telescopic baton that had been forged to the shape of a large mace. She spins it to generate electricity, the arc bolts blue, encase the serrated edges of the weapon, and she uses it to charge into the mess to sow chaos and discontent.
<<"With me now; now with me! Haha!">> WHACK!
Always on the front line of volunteering, that was Mai Dara. Being a ship monkey, this was not always advisable. But then, so was ever letting her out of any ship, anywhere. "Dara, here." She did not need to identify which Dara she was. Jallo's voice was much more melodic and soothing. Also manly. Because...you know, man. "Right behind you, Alor Kora." If nothing else, the female Dara had fighting spirit, as she uncached her rapier, moving into position to keep Sumi's flanks safe. Weapon in her left hand, a bright shield hummed to life on the right.
He walks slow and with careful tread. The dark-tinted armor is further modified by his wearing a black smudge of ash over his visor's glossy space. Teev Knavra, packed with firepower and fury, keeps a low profile when feasible and moves up into position, his weapon of choice being a Kylan-15 rifle, a few words in Basic written down the barrel: Until It Is Green Again. An old, warped motto from a Rebellion splinter group: Alderaanians who fought hard to enact revenge more than anything else. Words of power. Still, he moves with intent, then takes a knee, rifle hoisted to his shoulder. "Seeking, seeking," he quietly murmurs, scanning the field of vision for anything too dumb or slow to hide from him. Range is a killer and he is gifted with range.
Jallo lets out a sigh before he takes off at a trot behind Amaia and Sumi, <<"More Dara here as well following behind you.">> He reaches behind him and grasps onto his staff like weapon attached to his back/jetpack pulling it off and activating his electro-staff, <<"Into the breach we go.">>
It was the pristine, silvery body of the YT-2000 Void Drifter that cut through some of the fire, shields flaring as it's engines glowed. It swooped low enough, through the swamp and paused just long enough for its loading ramp to allow a lone figure to disembark by jumping into the muck. Clad mostly in dark, mismatched pieces so common of the Rebellion of this day and age, Calia wears a field helmet on her head, her blonde hair tucked up underneath with a neck curtain draped around her. As soon as she was away, the ship was leaving -- not staying for the fight, retreating into the atmosphere.
Soon trekking up to the others, the Rebel Captain slipped her service JSP out of its holster. Mercenaries maybe, but most were Mandalorians. Warriors. And though she was separate from them, it was something she understood, and several had come to her aid when she needed it. Calia -- the Rebellion -- was here as a show of solidarity, to prove that they would answer the call, just as the Mandalorians had answered hers.
And when they begin to charge, Calia charges with them, not barking orders like she usually did -- simply following, listening to the comms over the frequency she'd been given, and charging in with the others with her pistol ready.
If Sumi is leading the charge, Terek knows they'll be unstoppable. Which is why he's been more than happy to stand behind her and rush into the chaos. So when she takes off, he starts to follow, sticking to the ground for the moment, as he pushes forward. The cathar's W-35 was already drawn from his side holster and in his hand, finger still off the trigger as he pushed. Meanwhile his Droideka Krayt had been rolling along through the charge with him, as the Mandalorian did his best to keep his head down, <"Krayt keep close, we're going in hard and fast, and they won't expect to see you coming in behind me."> He radios to the droid.
Sumi's charge forms a wedge, Mandalorians, mercenaries and the odd bounty hunter looking for a payday falling in behind - but at her elbow is Alor'Kora's own Al'Verde. Massive wookiee cannon held with long practices so that the weapon that is actually longer than he is tall doesn't hinder his step or his balance. Ready to relay orders issued by the smaller figure that, curiously for many, can demand such deference from a warrior festooned with trophies. Whose reputation for battlefield brutality often precedes him. Who is known by such titles as The Boar-Wolf of Ealor.
Warriors at the bulwark call out, pointing, voices phrases in Mando'a calling for fire to be directed, the golden glow of Mandaltech weaponry swinging towards the oncoming forces in the vanguard. Clouds of steam and mud rendered to powder fill the air. Creating a haze of detritus and making uneven terrain even worse for those seeking to cross the bit of rocky scrap and raised scrabble requiring the bullwark in the first place.
Above the massive Gozanti continues to fire its turrets, seeking more to channel foemen, create avenues for the ground assault, its shields constantly rippling from resisted fire trying to cut a hole, a weak point.
The opening in the gate looms near, where battle can be met in full gruesome glory - the Mando'Ade meeting their foes head on with battlecries in their throats and weapons in their fists.
Sumi felt energized by the sound of huffing and puffing behind her, the heavy, thunderous steps of warriors following her into the breach, and the silent calm before chaos. When warriors surged to close the gap and meet the Mando'ade in battle, Sumi cheered their sporting show of resistance, <"YES!"> She struck the first warrior she saw across their helmeted face, the collision of mace to head create a sudden combustion of kinetic energy that it kills her foe instantly and jettisons their body away from her position, opening a hole in the line of warriors.
Sumi crushes inward, striking another warrior in the chest, before twisting about with a nasty upper-cut, catching a third warrior upon their chin. <<"CUT THROUGH THEM!">> Sumi bids, activating her bracer shield and shoving through to get to more open ground for an all out brawl. All the while, she's laughing. <"STAND YOUR GROUND AND DIE WARRIORS! OYA!"> This was the greatest death any Mandalorian could experience, at the heart of battle, surrounded by their own.
With the man at her back who had kept her alive since she was little more than a pre-teen, how could Mai fail? Actually, probably a lot, but we're not going to talk about that now, okay? Mai charged in, not moving quite as spectacularly on the chewed up ground as she might have across a ship's deck, but she got there in the end. The business end of a rebel Mandalorian body, which she promptly skewered with the red-plasma dripping blade, the weapon sizzling as it drew blood and then sealed the wound on exit. The body got a kick to clear it out of the way as she moved, keeping the shield high as she charged into a second body, bashing it away with the shield before she readjusted her aim.
Dropping low, Teev scurries into the mix, rolling to a halt in front of a crouched-down Mandolorian, who turns in time to see the tall and scarred form rising up to draw a wicked vibroknife without a word. In a flash of motion, there's two rapid slashes, one across the Mandolorian's torso, the other up their bicep, both drawing out a spray of blood, the third strike riding their helmet and gouging a line down its visor. The knife in his hand does a small dance belying his age and he gives a low, menacing grunt when he squares himself to the Mandalorian. "<<A widow.>>" He inhales and readies for the next few brutal moments.
Jallo's staff begins to spin as he moves into combat the electro staff slamming into one of the Mandalorian Warriors crumpling them with some little lightning bolts over their armor for a moment before the staff shifts wrapping over and hitting the next one before getting slightly tangled up and stumbling the nice smooth movements he'd been making.
Why did it have to be muck?!
Calia's bringing up the rear, or pretty close to it, covered up to her thighs in the stuff with it splattered even higher. Stupid swamps. It seems like she found every muck hold to fall into, every vine to get trapped in.
By the time she gets within pistol range, she snaps it up on target, but the fighting has already begun. She's careful as she picks her shot through the melee, aiming for a target that was in the process of going down and 'pinking' against him. She fires another round off, but it goes wide, and then she's back at it again, closing the distance to the rest of the fight.
And as she draws closer, she shoves her pistol back into it's holster, reaching for the vibroblade in its chest harness instead.
The muck and holes from those explosions don't prove as much of an obstacle for Terek as they might, however he's not quite lucky enough to be able to strike any of the targets that are in front of him. He opens fire at a couple of the grunts in cover at the main bulwark, but the golden blaster bolts manage to do nothing but hit wall. Muttering a bit to himself, Terek directs Krayt to move towards their right side and set up, "<Open fire on my signal, Krayt!"> He calls out to the droid as the ball breaks off and rolls through the muck, <"I deserve an oil bath after this."> replies the droideka, <"There's goo everywhere.">
The closing is explosive, sudden figures emerging from the mists born of blaster fire, the cacophony enough for the Miraluukan Mandalorian in the aggressor's number to see a world in full spectrum, full detail. The ghostly static caused by soundwaves distorted by the atmospheric disturbances cut away for a picture of a world on fire and the shapes of those engaged in battle in a clarity that Jallo's species rarely enjoy.
A greet comet surges through the mass of mixed fire weaving red and golden from blaster discharges and ion weaponry crackling - exploding against a cypress and making it shorten as the truck bows under the pressure of vaporizing sap. The armored figure that had slapped Hadrix's cannon off aim singing a bolt past the big man's head before the trumpeted barrel is slammed against their torso hard enough for the durasteel to bend.
<<"FORWARD!">> his roar, his bark, is something like rage given form if only sound, a boiling anger unleashed.
The defenders surge, the humps of shelters erected where they can in the swamp, Mandalorian structure one part fortification, one part trench and one part earthworks den in view and behind those small craft that are trying to be prepared under the threat of the Kyr'am ra Kote, the Death or Glory trying to box them in.
A muffled WHAMP signals the body being blasted apart before Al'Verde Kora as he continues to stride forward, seating the stock in grooves forged in the iron plate at his shoulder.
From the fortifications more fire comes, voices crying out in Mando'a. The air thick with battle fervor. The joy of combat. Fear is absent. For these are Mandalorians. Fear is for the enemy, fear and blasterbolts.
Sumi moves into the chaos of the battle like one accustomed to a dance. Ducking beneath an attack, her foe received her retaliation across their face, dismissed the second her baton crushed against their helmet and sent their body flying. Sumi charges ahead, finding the liberty to move more freely in the open rather than the confined opening in their wall. She makes full use of this space by close-lining the first sprinting warrior she sees.
She spins in place, cape trailing behind her as a third is crushed by the mace, bending their body up from the impact against their stomach. <"YEAH! HAHA! OYA!"> Sumi kicks the warrior away from her and trudges forward. <"WHERE ARE YOUR WARRIORS?!">
As the insurgent team...they were the insurgents in this scenario, right(?) moved into the field of battle, Mai found herself lodged between a rock and a hard place as more than a few of the rebels opened fire, and she found herself in the unenviable position of trying to use her shield to deflect the blaster bolts. She managed one, so that helped, but having to dodge so many others made her swings entirely ineffective. Still, if nothing else, it did give the ship's gunner a chance to spy a turret she very much wanted to lay claim too, <<"Going to split right for that turret, see if we can gain some battlefield advantage."
The tall form of Teev, slowed by the muck and the mud, is considerably worse off for the conflict with the Mandolorian he is soon in the company of; the knife in his hand is ill-suited for the immediate proximity, so he switches to hand-to-hand - and does not do well with that effort. Instead, he ends up muddy and coated in the thick, gruel-like stew that runs in rivers down the battlefield, his irritation a steadied fire he stokes with a new grunt of disdain.
Jallo's three section staff now begins to spin again as he judges the distance towards some more of the enemy warriors first one flying short but the second pass smacking one warrior dropping them to be followed quickly with another strike on a different warrior. With a quick 'glance' towards the turret he nods, <"Need some cover on the way up?">
Once in the fray, Calia wastes no time closing the distance to one of the grunts, vibrodagger still flashing in her hand as she slashes at weak points that she can get access to -- most often the neck. With two slices, she rides one armored figure half-way to the ground before moving swiftly on to the next, dagger still in hand, crouching and slicing at a joint meant to stagger. The battle rages on around her, and her senses are alive to it, the tactics of their entire group aiding to her awareness of the surroundings as they all work together to push their advance.
Once Krayt has reached position, the droid pops up, and his shield deploys, which no doubt will bring a lot of attention his way. No doubt the lancing sound of those twin cannons on either arm will also draw attention towards the droid. The plan works, however, as one of the enemy mandos raises from cover to fire at the droid, Terek fires at him. A simple mistake, but a fatal one as two gold bolts lance out, the first shot hitting low in the abdomen, and making him lean over, which allows the second shot to hit him between the neck and shoulder, and he doesn't get back up, and Terek keeps pushing forward, motioning for the droid to keep firing. Splitting attention means openings.
From the trenches come figures of a different stature. Heavy plates, heavy weapons. One of them with a helmet shaped for a non human. A gran? An Ishi-Tib? A human in their number pulls a broadsword and points before the new wave charges towards the failing bottleneck where more of the attackers are pushing past the defenders forced to choose who to have their back to.
Those inside? Those still coming?
Bodys hurled and fire melting armor on either side, a small mound of the dead built around the gap in the bullwark slowing ingress, but now the approach of figures headed for the wall, to get around it. The shift in focus bringing a sudden roar of jetpacks as some dare to brave being caught in a cloud of AA flak in order to join the melee.
A figure trying to level a repeater carbine suddenly caught in the side by another of Hadrix's plasma sheathed durasteel quarrels, bending them in half and blowing their innards out in the wake of its passage.
From the kel'karyai others begin moving - hand gestures being given. The suddenness of the attack demanding they relocate. Fade away. Find a point to strike back while recovering - and those put on the rear-guard charge to give the others a chance to engage Mandalorian pragmatism.
The challenge issued, and Mando'ade answer. Sumi can barely contain her excitement as larger warriors draw arms and charge into the battle. Of the first to cross paths with her, she dispatches them with a face shot, clocking them so hard their head turns unnaturally toward one direction. The next warrior shows slightly more mettle, but ultimately is defeated by her second strike, where she shattered their sword defense and broke both their arms.
Leaving those pair, she moves in search of others, walking briskly toward the next collection of warriors to pick a fight.
"I got this. Stay in formation." Mai did not usually take to passing orders to her Alor, but they had a system, so many years into working together, and she took off, breaking away, shield and rapier swinging and bashing as she moved through the line of rebels to make for the turret. Her happy place. You'll see. The Rattataki mando charged the turret emplacement, kicking off from the ground as she deactivated her shield long enough to let her get a hand up and bring herself into stabbing range. Which she managed, sliding into the hot seat smooth as butter as the gun's original operator fell back to the ground. <<"Dara on the guns.">>
The knife once more gets into the fray as it slides down into Teev's waiting hand, the gravity-fed sheath dislodging it quickly and efficiently. Soon, he's got the edge of it riding into the gap of the Mandalorian's armor, just as it joins thigh to hip, and then curling around to the rear of the same leg; a move designed to sever arteries one after another, staving off a tourniquet due to the height of the wound on the limb. As the soldier drops, he turns away from them, already looking to the next target, then looks back for a moment.. plucking a grenade pin from the corpse and turning it face-down into the muck. He smiles behind the mask, letting it do what it does - the wet, muffled thump of a blast rises up behind him, tamped down by a corpse, a red smear spreading around it in the murky swamp.
Jallo starts to spin his staff bringing it around and towards one of the Mando'Ade a few misses that gather more momentum until he brings it back around for one solid smack across the Mando'Ade's face, <"Keep up on comms then. And make us a bigger hole so we can go eliminate more of them.">>
The fighting continues, and Calia doesn't slow even as the blood sprays from the wounds she creates and she moves through the fray. New figures emerge. Bigger figures. Threatening figures with swords, and though she was smaller, less well armored, and armed with only her blade, Calia continued forward into the fray.
Moving swiftly up to two of the larger figures, she slid her dagger into the neck of one, once more riding his form half-way to the ground before moving again to claim another. Another slice -- but not enough to kill him.
He was still turning to look at her when a shot rang out, his armor pierced by a hand-cannon of a weapon. There was more blood, but the big figure in front of her was dropping to the ground, no longer a threat.
She raised her dagger in thanks, looking over her shoulder briefly in the direction of the shot, finding Terek with a brief smile before moving on.
he chaos and bloodshed is overwhelming to most. It requires a keen focus, to be able to pick out targets on the battlefield that open themselves up. Terek, for his part, is very good at that. While the mando'ade is being beaten to death, one of those opportunities presents itself, and Terek fires a single blast into the melee, hitting the leader just below the nape of the neck and killing him. The folks fighting up close can't see his grin under the helmet.
A few steps down the battlefield and Terek spots a wounded Warrior trying to get a shot off at one of the other fighters. He quickly switches to that target and fires, catching them and taking them off their feet.
Terek then catches sight of something. A glint off of scope maybe, who can tell. The cathar catches Calia's grin, but he doesn't respond yet, turning towards that glint he spotted and raising his pistol. Even with all the chaos around, he takes a moment to aim and brace his shot with his left arm, and pulls the trigger.
Up on the bulwark proper, a warrior who had been sighting in on one of the unarmored targets manages to catch a flash of gold, and as he turns his scope towards it, the blaster bolt catching the scope dead on, and the warrior's eye behind it. After he's satisfied with the shot, Terek gives Calia a quick salute with his hand that doesn't have a blaster in it.
Dropping to one knee, Hadrix's voice rises - his helmet vocalizer switching to 'battlefield' volulmes, <"COVERING!"> leaning into the bracing of his shot - the report of the wookiee rifle actually shoving the figure of the Massive Mandalorian backward, digging furrows in the mud with his boot and knee plate. Pressing his armor plate painfully against his shoulder and even the Mandalorian Iron of the pauldron creaks.
He does not turn, does not relent, firing the weapon that requires even Wookiee to struggle to maintain repeated fire. In the wake of the thunderclaps two of the rearguard forces are cast backwards nearly five meters each, armor fragments, shattered bone, blood and pulped flesh chasing after.
The Turret powers up under Amaia's control and the tide turns from a withdrawal to a route as the attackers swarm on wings of fire over the barricade while figures working under the aegis of the rearguard fighting to their last mount craft. Swamp speeder and even a few cobbled together spacecraft that begin to weave at high speed under the guns of the cruiser above - a fighter exploding like celebratory fireworks casting a golden glow over the conflict and illuminating the distinctive shift of the battle lines.
sense to step back, but it wasn't enough to avoid being struck. He hit hard against her left arm, but even his alloy weapon was no match for beskar'gam. The sword 'CLANGED' like he had just struck something else metal and it did not give.
To his credit, the strike did move her. Sumi stumbled to one side, soaking in the kinetic damage as well as she could, then straightened, testing the arm and moving it like little had happened. <"My turn,"> she growled, and batted down his sword arm when it rose to counter, breaking it with one swing.
She spun in place and struck him across the face, bringing his massive body down to the ground where she stepped upon his chest and drove a final blow down on their head. The sickening squish that followed told all that needed telling. Dead.
Sumi stood poised, booted foot still propped on the dead, her head turning to observe the battle and moment of victory. Sparks showered down, explosions in the distance, and the sound of dying everywhere. <<"Kill those advancing in the other direction. OYA!">
Bodies were bodies, yes, and this was a target rich environment. But Mai Dara had not brought a knife to a gunfight, and you didn't waste the big guns on small fish. As Mai took the gun under her control, she brought up the tactical targeting system, the gun swinging around as she took aim at one of the transports the rebels were attempting to use to get free of the field of battle. The turret jolted under her command, the force of the blast as it was fired rocking the supports (who put a turret in the middle of a swamp and thought that was a good idea, I ask you) and then again, as a second shot was released. That too hit, but the transport still managed to continue limping along, despite the bodies pitching out willy-nilly. Ah well, good thing there were still rounds in the magazine.
An unwary Mandolorian finds herself between Teev and the rear they're guarding, the flank soon to collapse as the retreat is sounded. She bears her own sharp, wicked-looking blade and squares off with the tall Rebel, who swings from one side to another, then dips down for a moment, clutching his wounded abdomen, his moan one of pain and the question for pity. She doesn't relent - and he doesn't need that. Instead, he regards her coldly and drops the knife from one hand into the other, then back to the original, a small dance of a blade, which rides up over her shoulder and around it, gashing in deep along her armpit and plunges in again, this time down her ribs. She's a corpse by the time he's turned around, the bloodied knife shivering in his hand - not from fear, from the power-cell affixed to it, soon clean as a surgical tool, just as effective in his hand. He grunts, seeing more targets, then begins to chase one.
Jallo looks at one of the Mando'Ade and chuckles, <"You backed the wrong one."> And then the staff begins to spin whipping over to smack them repeatedly even after their body starts to crumple... And then another time just because.
Spun and slammed into the mud by a a stream of repeater fire cutting across his position, beskar cuisse glowing and the impact enough to knock him over, Hadrix rolls to get clear of the heavy weapons Mando'Ade that had taken him for a personal target. Biting out curses in a multitude of languages while thanking his fortune that the seals on his helmet kept him from having to go bare-head to avoid drowning in his bucket.
The vehicles, boxed by Amaia's turret fire, are forced into kill zones that see figures blasted by ranged fire and point weapons from the cruiser.
More figures were lifting skyward on jetpack thrusters, heading for copes of trees and swamp-jungle foliage or atop those craft not disrupted by parting fire. Going to ground, forced to leave their honored dead as they ba'slan shev'la - Strategic Disappearance. Some will escape, some will fade and try to regroup. The hunt will begin on this world or perhaps into the cold of space.
A pair of cannon rounds plucking a warrior from their swamp speeder and another in flight is rendered an explosion when Hadrix's blast ignites their fuel. Sending them hurtling, flaming to the ground.
A victory and of surprising calibre considering the forces matched.
'Kill those advancing in the other direction. OYA!'
The cowards, she meant.
Calia had barely finished the up-nod at Terek before she turned to find her next victim... and found them running. Scattering. Racing for speeders. Racing to get away. They were in retreat.
She'd been around a long time. Granted, not much of that time had been spent around Mandalorians between her initial training and her foray into the Rebellion, but she'd never actually seen a Mandalorian retreat, before.
It was Sumi's call that had Calia's blaster clearing leather, the vibrodagger in her hand still dripping blood down her wrist, the drew with her other hand, leveled it on the backs of one retreating target...
A muzzle flash. One down.
Another muzzle flash. Another one down.
She was still dripping blood -- thankfully not her own -- mixed with mud and swamp water and who knows what else. But they were in retreat, and it was time to check on her comrades, her attention specifically turning to find the other Rebel. She'd barely seen him during the fight, but she knew he was there... and even as she moved towards him she re-holstered her blaster, concern finally on her features.
Another body in front of Teev is ablaze, the source some errant passing transport ablaze and discharging its payload before crashing into a hillside. He doesn't stop nor slow, regarding the body as a terrain feature, his boot to the corpse's face for traction purposes more than disdain's inducement. When he can survey the battlefield, he exhales hard, then pulls his rifle, checking ranges on the departing vehicles - and scans their IDs, when possible; no sense letting folk get comfortable, after all. They may need hunting later down the line.
He then steps back to the last corpse he can claim, pulling them out of the mud and the gory splatter that is the swamp, hoisting them to his shoulder, intent to carry them to the nearest ally for assessment; maybe they have an asset of value that the Mandolorians want, so no sense wasting the opportunity. He also pauses to render what aid he can to other associates, staggering on despite his injury, the stalwart and stoic sort, apparently. To stave off his injury, he sprays it with an epoxy agent, grunting from the hissing burn of it, otherwise unbothered.
There's a difference between a retreat and the cowardly act of outright running. These guys were running. Sumi's call gets his attention, though a moment later the blasts from Calia's weapon draw his attention back to the moment. His own blaster fires off, striking one 'advancing to the rear' target, though the ever-temperamental W-35 lives up to its reputation as the last bolt in the weapon is fired, and Terek finds himself off target and on-empty, "Damn."
Mai did not relent, as she seemed bound and determined to first, expend every round in the gun's magazine, and second, attempt to summon enough strength to carry the turret home on her shoulder. Spoiler alert. She managed one, but not the other. The act of hopping down and reclaiming a hold on the sword she had temporarily set aside was the answer to which of those she managed, "I really do need to find a way to get a shoulder mount for that sort of thing." She did not need to ask if her Alor was still alive. Tall as he was, she could see his helmet peeking out above head and shoulders of the fallen and still falling. <<"Clearing the dead.">> The other half of the job. Making sure the dead were dead and the downed soon joined them. It was bloody work, but not something to which the female Dara was unaccustomed. <<"Marking any clan insignias.">>