Mawite Legend
Location: Carlac, City of Asoport
Allies:
Tegan Starfall
Foes:
Keilara Kala'myr
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Ranoc Sar
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Aemilio Valaar
The infiltrator clawed at his face, her fingers scrabbling over his durasteel mask... but it was bolted to his skull, and it would take either surgery or truly brutal force to remove it, an experience that would certainly be fatal to him in either case. Her armored hands drew blood as they broke the skin of his forehead, a trickle of crimson that ran down the faceplate, making his wild appearance all the more sinister. He did not let go. All of his rage poured into his mechanical grip, keeping him squeezing even as his wounds sapped his strength. He had lost a lot of blood from his ravaged chest...
... and even a man who is half-machine needs blood.
Behind him, The Mongrel could hear the rumble of engines - the famous NIO tanks were approaching, and the tromp of heavy feet indicated that walkers had been deployed to support them. How had the dropships managed to breach the hurricane-force winds to deploy such heavy reinforcements? He didn't know, and he supposed it didn't really matter. He should never have put his trust in the dark sorcery of the Force Storm; he had learned long ago that such sorcery was more fallible than the sorcerers would admit. He would have to deal with the reality, whether it made sense to him or not.
The rolling thunder of rhypalm missiles and mortar strikes reached his ears, far louder than the oncoming vehicles, and The Mongrel realized he had made another wrong assumption. He had guessed that the NIO would want to preserve this city, to save its infrastructure so that they could put it to use, just as they had before Carlac's rebellion. But he had assumed foolishly. Though they fought with the methods of "civilization", methods he considered cowardly, their battle plan here closely resembled Mawite tactics: utter punishment of those who defied them, turning their cities to ash.
The warlord could see now, with all the clarity of a Rhandite' sorcerer's darksight, what was going to happen here. There would be long, harsh fighting, block to block and house to house... but the NIO forces would not hesitate to level everything and root the enemy out of the blasted ruins. Pockets of Carlaci troops, Mawite marauders, and Perished might hold out for days, but in the end they would be ground down by the vengeful fury of a great power mourning their Imperator. They would inherit a world of dust and ash, worthless to them, but they would punish those who had slighted them.
"I lost good warriors to the sneaky tricks of your cowardly commanders," The Mongrel said, as much a gasp as a roar now. His ravaged chest was heaving, his legs shaking... only his mechanical arms held firm. "But you have spirit. You will become a slave-soldier, and you will serve my tribe in their place." The infiltrator was still clawing at him, kicking with her legs. She had come close to killing him, and if she prevented his escape, she would finish the job; he had faced
Aemilio Valaar
's troops before, and he knew they wouldn't hesitate to put him down if they found him wounded and alone. They'd be eager to.He had to get out of here before that happened.
Ziare's final, desperate kick caught him in the side of the knee, and his weakened leg buckled. He stumbled sideways, and was forced to drop her in order to catch himself, letting her slide down the wall. Feisty to the end! She would be a strong warrior once the Taskmaster broke her. But only if he could get her out of here before the NIO showed up. Had he managed to knock her out?
