Thera closes her eyes.
The rumble, the bouncing, the deafening and echoing rumble, none of that bothers her one bit. From disembark to ramp drop, none of the chaos gets to her, if anything it carries her away and reminds her just how little control she has over fate. There's no point fretting what is to be, they either make it or they don't. Some people had a hard time coming to grips with that… lack of agency.
An explosion rattles the transport's suspension, the distinct clangs echoing within the troop hold makes everyone hold a collective breath. Thera silently chuckles though, hadn't been them this time, just a cosmic roll of the dice. 'The next one could be us-' That's what they're all thinking, and Gods damn it was times like this that Thera wished she were more personable, more kind and encouraging; a soldier like Bragg or Leepu. Someone who could crack a distracting joke or sing a rousing song, someone that people could rally behind when death wasn't throwing darts at the board blindfolded.
Another roar of the engine, the sudden jerk of wheel as the transport jinked past some obstacle Thera couldn't see. She can feel it though- when they get going fast enough the suspension smoothes out, the breakneck pace that a final approach needed. This assault is different enough to give her that thrill she thought lost in the constant adrenaline-haze this war subjected her to. No trench to leap over, no steam cannon thumping those suppressive explosions, 'cos what could they do against a core-city fragment? A fucking core-city, the idea sends shivers still-
A fresh explosion rocks the transport, closer than the last had been. As if to really wake the troopers up, their little steel box hadn't held up so well this time; little holes punched into the side to let the daylight in, small fragments buzzing and pinging of equipment and people. Troopers screaming and cussing up a cacophonous storm, but Thera didn't smell blood yet.
"Anyone hit?" She yells back, and there's that brief pause as everyone pays themselves down. Funny how her words worked on troopers like that- not a single person pissing themselves anymore.
There's a distinct hissing sound though, steam leaking free from containment, and Raleigh raises his hand and calls out, "I am, uh, sergeant?"
There's a bit of shell fragment stuck from his bandolier, a sliver of steel embedded in one of his steam-shot canisters. Another hand goes up though, from Lewis who's writhing a bit, seeming short of breath.
"Hit me plate-" The Feline trooper wheezes, ripping the tear in their harness a bit wider to show the dent.
"Can you breathe?" Thera twists to look, but can't really move to help him out while strapped to her frame. Lewis seems fine though once he manages to loosen his armour plate, seems almost jovial when he reaches across to where Thames and Wilson yank the offending shard out of the cushion between them.
"Well 'nuff." Lewis grins, holding the metal fragment for everyone to see, "Shit pot metal. It'll take more than the shit Ursus makes to kill me."
"That pot metal pierced Victorian steel," Thera cautioned, "remember that."
"Aye, sergeant, I'll remember it, and I'll be sure to show the Urskies what quality steel it."
"Almost… almost out of… their envelope." Their driver echoes through the talky-tube from above. The strain, the wheeze, Thera knew the voice of a wounded man well enough, and it wasn't Tully the driver, but the gunner-turned- assistant driver.
A roll of the cosmic dice, that's all this is.
But Thera presses herself to the vision slit out of curiosity, the shadow of the core-city that loomed above drawn out on the land below like a finish line. Thera's transport was at the head of the pack too- ignoring the fact that they had been in the second row, with five other transports that should have been ahead of them. It's the final mad dash of a sprinter who sees the end of the race, fueled by desperation and adrenaline.
"C'mon…" Thera finds herself muttering, that tension heckling her furs as she wills the transport faster. "C'mon!" Sharp eyes can make out the warning lights from above, a massive door on the underside of the core-city opening as if to welcome the invading Victorians.
Because it was, though not of Ursus' own volition. Thera can make out the crimson capped fighters standing on the sides of the slowly lowering ramp- those daredevils that served as Victoria's knives in the dark.
Two flares out -the double green- the signal clear for those who knew what it meant. Uncontested landing, the Commandos have control over the ramp control room. Months of planning and infiltration, of meticulous practice and drilling; it was why they were the best of the best. Thera'd have to thank some of those devils with drinks topside once they got there; saved Thera and the boots a lot of dangerous climbing up the crawler's maintenance ladders. The Commando's efforts also meant that they didn't have to lug out all the climbing kit -thank the Gods- because Thera joined the Cavaliers to keep her feet firmly on the ground. Maybe she'd buy rounds for their whole damn regiment for saving the Cavaliers that particular headache.
Because Thera knows once they are inside, there is no stopping their combined might. No country has seen when Victoria throws her all in, so Ursus is to be the showcase. Let Columbia know what leaving the union truly means, show Leithania that their meddling will not be tolerated, highlight Kazimierz's fall from martial grace, display the prowess that Yan dreamt of one day achieving…
A modern navy, gallant and noble Steam Knights, elite and hardened Royal Commandos, and the cream of the standing army in Her Majesty's Armoured Cavaliers; a hammer-blow to bring a city to its knees. The question is, when She stood victorious over Moskov, would She order it put to the sword, or would the Ursans be allowed to raise their heads and look up to Her glory?
They'll take Moskov, take Volga, Nizhny, Tula... take as many core-cities until Ursus- nay, until all of Terra gets the message-
Though diminished, Victoria's light will never be extinguished, and those who machinate against Her would find Her sword looming high above their head soon enough.
The disembarkation ramp from the Justice had always been a steep thing. It's why they needed the chain assist. That damn ramp just didn't have the proper length to make it a nice and smooth ride in or out of the hangar.
Moskov's on the other hand, was meant for civilian use. A nice and smooth incline that lead right to their transportation hub, into the lower-level highways that lead topside to the city-streets.
It looked more like a gaping maw to Orianna. The ramp itself is like a long, gun-metal grey tongue that lolled out from the darkness above. A rictus grin, inviting the Victorians into the coming violence after the explosive reception. The first few transports that had made it through the defensive fire drove full-tilt towards it, all part of the assault plan that had been so meticulously laid out weeks before. The absolute cream of Victoria's military crop had sowed the seeds long in advance for troopers like her, but it was little comfort. Everyone knew that once the toe-hold was secured, the elites had their missions and the Dragoons theirs.
"Onramp! Brace!" Orianna calls, managing to throw herself into her seat and just barely getting a grip when the front wheels make that first contact. Everyone bounces, but no one rattles as their transport roars its way up what felt like a kilometre long stairway to the heavens. All just nerves though, that's what she'd tell herself, even if she knows it's all just steam.
Steam or not, they all have to be ready when there is that tell-tale levelling out, the transport slowing, but still rolling forward. Through the vision slit she can see the lingering dust and steam drifting off the other transports ahead as troops rush out to take positions. Her own burden-beast's brakes squeal, the driver calling out, "Ramp!" through the tube despite not having actually stopped the damn thing. Just a bit disconcerting seeing the door drop and being greeted with the oncoming brake lights from the transport in front of you, but they still manage to skid to a stop in time.
Training kicks in; a non-contested landing. Packs out, the troop disgorged and moving for cover as the transport's wheels squeal on the road- pushing out to extend the landing zone. The Steam Knights had done their jobs well, pushed the Moskovite defenders out of the initial hangar, and as their reward they get the Dragoon's combat transports as fire support for fighting up the highway while the boots get to crawl through maintenance halls and superstructure. Those tell-tale thumps and explosions can be heard echoing in the distance, reverberating over the already thunderous noise of constant Victorian landings.
"A-Six, rally here!"
"Third Bravo! Third Bravo drop packs here!"
"Delta! Delta Delta Delta!"
And so begins the organised disorganisation. Rally points being set, rucks being dropped, teams being assembled and grown with each fresh transport that leapt into the maw of Moskov. It's hard to miss Thera, or Davies for that matter, who is practically standing on Thera's shoulders to signal her troopers over without need to add to the chaos. And yet-
"Teller, Teller wrong rally." Orianna shouts at the retreating red-headed Feline man who was following the auto-crossbow team meant for First Squad. Things were only going to get more confusing the more troopers that started to land; one of the supposed "benefits" in being the first wave was not having to deal with that particular logistical headache. Even though they had practised this landing day-in-day-out for weeks, of course things get confusing when everyone's all hopped up on the adrenaline of the real thing. Her team is already scattered, and they were barely thirty seconds in. Made her look the fool, and she took that frustration to pelt out, "Cunningham? Cunningham! Oi, Cunning-"
"I'm right here, corporal," The Perro woman laughs the moment Orianna jumps in surprise, "there's no need to shout, 'least not yet."
Orianna gives her squaddie a grim smile to hide her embarrassment, motioning for her and Teller to fall in with her. Until they were told otherwise, they were attached to Davie's platoon… not that Orianna would complain considering the other options.
"Leepu made it! That means we actually have weapons' support!" Someone calls out, dragging Thera's attention over to Orianna. That toothy grin grows wider as she and her team approaches, not having to push through the huddle this time as the others part for them. Hearty pats on the back, welcoming gestures to let both the giver and recipient know that they're still alive- for the time being.
"Ain't unopposed landings the greatest?" Thera cackles, keeping herself standing at attention lest she drop the leftenant.
"Hardly." Orianna snips back as she throws her ruck alongside the pile. More transports are rolling up both sides of the Moskov's ramp now, some turning away to other parts of the hangar; their sister companies disembarking and ready for a scrap as well. Everyone readying for their part to play in this coming Catastrophe.
"C'mon, Leepu. You're saying you'd rather be fighting in here instead of getting a moment to rest up waiting for… hold on…" Thera leans a bit despite Davie's on her frame's shoulders, eyes locked with someone beyond Orianna before she bellows, "Waiting for Williams to get his sorry ass to the right rally!"
Orianna remembers those days when Thera'd yell at her like that. A replacement running up, snapped to the sergeant like she were a magnet... had much really changed at all though? She might be a bit more scarred, a bit more… messed up than before, but she still felt like that woman who was still too in-over-her-head needing a force like Thera to keep her walking straight.
"Leepu- oi, Thumper!" Thera's voice yanks Orianna from out of the trench and plops her firmly back in front of her. Eyes up, unflinching in how she meets Thera's icy gaze. "You'd rather be duking it out in here?" The sergeant asks her earnestly, and Orianna just can't stop herself.
"Better in the open than in a tight hallway, Thera. Least in this hangar I won't have to worry about hitting you in the back of th' head with a round on accident- Ohhh aye, your skull's so damn thick though it'd just ricochet right back into the stack."
Those with the balls dare to snicker at the slight, even when Thera growls deep and low as she shifts, nearly nose-to-nose with the Cautus woman despite the shouts and protests of the officer she's carrying.
"That right, Leepu? At least if it does, there won't be much of you left."
"Aye, 'cos I would've legged it. How else is the troop going to keep a bullheaded burdenbeast like you going the right way?"
The snickering stopped, a hushed pall draped over the gathered platoon- for those that weren't in on the joke at least. Those that couldn't see the smiles on the two women's faces or sense the hard-won respect between the two of them.
"We've got this, Leepu." Thera says under her breath. It's that soft tone, the one not meant for the moment of violence to come. Shae's one and only appearance for today, reserved for a friend.
"Aye… we got this." Orianna gives Thera's steam rigging a thump, "Just keep the rest of us squishy-folk safe in those halls, and I'll make sure to keep us safe when we hit the superstructure."
"Alright! That's us!" Davies yells over the group. Orianna didn't do a head count, but they looked all gathered- miraculously.
"Let's not squander this gift from the Royal Commandos and Steam Knights! Clock's ticking and I, for one, am sick of this stuffy place!" Leftenant Davies drew her sabre, but it was an empty gesture. Of course the Leftenant wouldn't be going first, if anyone was it'd be Thera's assault team leading the charge with the rest of the squad stacked behind.
The platoon marched out, moving to their breach site as guided by the leftenant's maps. They'd be part of the company assaulting up through the superstructure to get to the street-level, hopefully regrouping with the Steam Knights and transports that were to fight their way through the Moskov Underpass. Others would be moving to take out the guns, the docking plate, the industrial lifts- anything and everything to take the city-core's foundations out from underneath it.
But the hardest fighting will be at the street level- there was not a shadow of doubt in anyone's mind on that. If they survived the close-in of the maintenance halls and the kill zones in the open superstructure supports, that is.
Always in the front.
Always the focus.
Always the most at risk.
And yet, time and time again Death always seems to miss her, and considering how much Thera seemed to put herself out there, it was a shit shot. Always the trooper to the left or right of her- had been that way since the border-skirmish days. The worst feeling is when it took out one of the ones behind Thera. Always leaves her wondering 'how the fuck do you miss me but hit them?' even after all these damn years.
The auto-crossbow at the end of the hall tries to explain it to her as she advances. The impacts thud off her overlapped shields, creating this cacophonous hellscape of metallic crashing and fibrous splintering of shafts that she has to walk over. Some bolts sail overhead too, and she prays to Her Light that it makes some of the troops remember the boot-camp days and the wisdom of keeping their damn heads down.
"Bombardier to the fore!" She calls back once she's finally sure that nothing was getting through her guard. Movement, shouting over the constant clanging, someone pulling up behind her. The hope was for Leepu, but no, just a Feline man -one of Leepu's new-bloods- crouched low. Had that nervous look about him, but his head seemed on straight enough with that quick and snappy, "Aye, sergeant?"
"Shut that thing up."
The familiar ratcheting to those red-painted cylinders, but the boy hesitates as he readies the lance.
"I… don't know the range."
"And I'm not about to peek it either, just fucking send it and we'll see." Thera growls, startling him. Leepu still hadn't beat the basic out of him yet- she's still too soft on her team.
"The overpressure if I shoot short-"
"Then don't shoot short."
He blinks rapidly, like Thera had just spoken Tarran at him or something.
"Whats the fucking hold up, sergeant!?" Davies yells from the rear, thumps of steam clear enough over the rest of the noise.
"Look, either you fire and we die. You fire, they die. Or they learn they can ricochet bolts down over my shields and we die." Thera manages to hold in the frustration- she'll have her outlet for it soon enough, but they needed to get this little traffic jam moving before their little sandwich got pressed by a griddle. "Or just get Thumper up here for fuck's-"
Just mentioning Leepu made the dolt brighten up, nodding emphatically as he backed up slightly, making room to lob rounds over the shield. Just before that lever-pull though, Thera swears she hears him apologise. For doing his damn job.
*Thwump CLANG*
Thera reflexively braced the moment she heard the round hit high and skip off the ceiling, taking the coming pressure wave in stride. Didn't stop the auto-bow though, if anything it encouraged more impacts against the shield, the Ursans hoping that it had knocked an opening.
"Sh-short round!" the Feline barked about a second too damn late.
"Just send another!" Thera snapped, casting an eye back to see how the rear of the formation was pushing up… or rather, being driven forward by contact to their rear. Explosions from behind startled everyone, makes them pack in against the immovable wall here, even if that was most likely Thumper's handiwork.
Another hissing thump-and-thwump, but no damn stop to the incoming. Did these gits ever reload?
"What's the holdup? Send more." Thera demands, taking a step forward, though the moment she dared lift the bottom edge of the shield, she could hear the bolts ricocheting low, the damn cunts aiming for the feet-
"Trying, sergeant-"
"Just… mount the damn thing over the top of my shield and fire 'til there's nothing in the chambers." Thera snarls her frustrations, trying to inch forward to relieve the human pressure building behind her. She could see the hesitation in the new-blood- it wasn't standard firing procedure, the whole stuffy process of "you must properly mount your lance into the flank of the shoulder, you must properly sight your target to ensure proper range, you must fully squeeze the lever and ease off the poundage-"
Load of sheit, and if she ever found the cock-ups who trained that bollocks into the new-bloods' heads, she'd certainly show them where they could mount their lances. Gods what she'd give for another few bombardiers that had half of Thumper's ability to just listen.
"Do it." Thera growls deep and threatening, because if all the danger flying through the air wouldn't get the greenhorn to move, then fear of 'Fangs' certainly would. Sure enough the young bombardier snaps to it, trying his best to shove the confusion aside as he maneuvers his lance up-and-over the shield so that the launch-tube clears the lip, at least until a few bolts whizz by his hands and he nearly drops the damn thing.
"Hold it upside-down, yeah, like that. Really grip that carry handle or the whole thing's going to lurch." Thera instructs, watching the new blood get his bearings about him.
"We need to move, Fangs. NOW!"
"Aye leftenant, handling it." Thera shouts back before casting that glare at the Feline man. The lad manages to wrap his head around holding his weapon upside down, though that first round out takes him by surprise. Kept his weapon in his hands this time though, and the second, third, and fourth rounds out are far quicker than before. A scatter-shot of high explosive without a care to range, but from the sound- or lack of sound and impacts against the shields, the lad must have gotten one close to kill or spook them.
Caution would dictate taking a peek, having a trooper or two covering just in case, but frankly, instinct was telling Thera to just go. They had sat still for no more than forty or so seconds, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Sitting still is a death sentence.
So Thera retracted the baseplates of her shields and ploughed forward like a damn bulldozer. Straight over the broken bolts, boots snapping carbon shafts and kicking aside razor-sharp bolt-heads, bracing for that moment she'd have to leap over a body.
"Thera! 'Nade!"
Leepu's voice, clear as a church-bell, and Thera was set and braced before she even felt the thud, the sensation of a particularly heavy cricket-ball against her shield, followed by that tell-tale clunk and clatter.
She wondered if the overpressure would be enough to kill her in that second or two she had to hunker-
If the pressure didn't, the swarm of metal bits ricocheting around after the thing exploded might. They sting and bite, most certainly drawing blood, but she's not dead, and she'd have time to pick the bits of metal out of herself later. A peek over the top shield, an Ursan preparing another grenade-
The *thump* from behind, even as Thera starts her bull-rush forward. She can feel the round hiss overhead, still steaming before it sailed past the Ursan as well and squashed flat against one of the bulkheads, exploding in a flash of orange. Would have been an absolute sheit shot, if the blast from it didn't knock the Ursan forward… and the grenade out of his hands.
Thera set herself again, shields up, but unable to shake the damndest bit of deja vu. It was before deployment, ... they had called him Fumbles the day he had accidently dropped a live grenade on the training course. Thera still had the scar on her back from when she tackled him-
Except Ursan grenades dodn't explode with that same concussive *whump* that Victorian grenades did. It was more of a sharp and sudden *bang!* followed by constant pinging of metal bits scattering off whatever was around. Nasty little things, yet somehow just like Ursus; cruel and dirty.
"You good, Thera?"
A quick thumbs up is all they'd get, because the very next instant that distinct Ursan warcry of "Uraah!" echoed down the hallway. Boots on metal walkway, multiple sets of boots.
"Wilson, Payne; on me, canister!" Thera barks, and to her surprise… her two teammates are still back near the last set of doors. Had she really gotten that far ahead? An impact jostles her, the clang of steel before the thud of a body colliding with her, and she knows what's about to go down.
And it's a breath of fresh air, even if that breath in reeks of crimson iron. Close in there's no worry about grenades or crossbow bolts, just her and whatever pillock was in front of her.
"Let's go!" Thera roars, shifting her shields- one in front, one with striking-face ready. One Ursan trooper in front of her waving a sabre this way and that, trying to find an angle on her while another stacked up right behind him waiting for his turn. Just beyond there's another two or three, having dragged that damn auto-bow further back. Buying time for their team? Commendable, Thera could respect that-
But she didn't have time to teach a lesson, so she drove in with a rough shoulder check, her full weight into the shield-shunt that took the Ursan by surprise. Must be city garrison or territorial guard, inexperienced chaff that didn't know just how quick or nimble a steam-frame could be, because Thera's on top of him as he retreats over the shredded body of Ursus's own "Fumbles". Second one jumps in about then, side-by-side with his comrade, a sweet show of solidarity just as Thera throws a jab.
A bit short, half speed too to give the first some time to void himself back. Let him get that confidence to step back in as his buddy goes for the lunge on Thera's inner arm. Neither realise it is all a bait just so they came at her all staggered. Just a tip of her guard-shield forward, enough to get the piston-powered edge at about neck level, just under the chin-
The steam fires and knocks the first trooper's block clean off and down the hallway, and in the horror of that particularly traumatising moment, the second man hesitates. He isn't out of range- never was to begin with, and Thera's second jab crushes his ribcage in when it fires off, sends him broken and tumbling down towards where the auto-bow team is starting to look a bit disconcerted.
"Thumper!" Thera shouts, dropping to a knee and getting the shields aligned properly as she hears three distinct *twumps!*
Good girl, managed to organise her team and set a firing line in anticipation for what Thera'd need. The explosions catch the auto-bow this time, breaking the damnable thing- to say nothing of the crew that serviced it. Thera gave her team a chance to catch up as she put the wounded Ursans to rest, ignoring those horrified stares.
"War's not pretty." Thera grunts, more for their sakes than her own. Still, it's a sentiment that drags down that combat high, makes her feel a little bit more sluggish as she readies for the push again. "It's a good thing you are actually sane enough to hold back, that frag would have caught you." She grins at Wilson and Payne, ignoring her wounds.
"Keep pushing, Fangs."
Davie's order takes what adrenaline remains pumping through Thera's veins and stretches it out. She doesn't need to think as her body just moves on its own- Fangs doesn't need to think, doesn't need to worry, she just needs to do.
Flanked by troopers with canister shot, their little fortress pushes in. Just like a trench-assault- no, wait, it's easier than that since she didn't have to worry about reinforcements leaping over the trench-lip in front of her. A well oiled machine of pushing, clearing side rooms, and pushing again. Canister shot mops up before Fangs can sink into anything else, and Thera is able to keep the leash on her other self. The steam-frame, the shields, the raw and plodding weight of it all: her collar.
A collar that she needs. A reminder that she's a part of something bigger than just herself, a debt she owes to Her. Can't go off dying alone, not again. People counted on
Thera, and until the day came when someone else could replace her, she needed someone to hold that leash.
"Junction. Wilson, swap out with Leepu." Thera barks back, pausing where the hall split in a "T", with them right at the cross. If she were the Ursans, she'd have a crossfire ready and set; the question is just what exactly they have waiting. When her team stacks up on the wall, Thera nods, pulling her shields to her sides nice and vertical… and steps into the junction.
"Tam oni! Strelyat'! Strelyat'!"
"Sdokhni suka!"
Quick glance- left side clear, right side… definitely not clear. Open doorway to a larger room, possibly the superstructure entrance, and perhaps more concerning; two auto-bows and a firing line of Ursan crossbowmen aimed down the hall.
Quick pivot, just as the auto-bows open up, those razor-sharp bolt-heads whipping past. Funny thing, hearing how they warp the air when they miss the head by centimetres, the rush of air too-
"Broneboynyy blyat! Pereklychayetes' na broneboynyy blyat!"
"Thera!" Leepu shouts as she nears the corner, but Thera can't fathom why, it's not like she's in any danger when she sets her shields to extend the corner for the others to cover her back. If there were Ursans further down the hall, they'd be cursing the comrades for sending barbs downrange at them-
Thera's about to reorient her shields for Leepu to fire from, but the squad grenadier fires a shot at the intersection before even getting set. It ricochets, clattering off the wall before detonating just that little bit past Thera- but not with explosives. A gout of steam and smoke- like an explosion but without out the fun, killy bits of it-
"What the hell, Thumper?" Thera turns to question the Cautus woman, only to find Leepu grabbing her by the shoulder-joint of the armor and yanking her with all of that scrawny bodyweight. It's enough to make Thera lose balance and lurch, enough to shift her as the first dozen-or-so barbs that come ripping through the smoke cloud bite into her shield. Not a clean punch through, but the screech and squeals of steel was certainly enough for Thera to reconsider resisting Leepu. She lets her comrade think she's pulling all that weight, even if Thera does put a little bit of her own step to it- can't make it look like Fangs is retreating, now can she?
"Idiot! Of all the Ursan words you learn what 'bitch' means, but not 'armour-piercing'?" Leepu curses under her breath as she takes Thera's place on the corner, wincing as death tries to pepper the hall when it can't see. Before Thera can even muster an excuse, the sharp emerald of Leepu's eyes stare her down. Hard, serious, not an ounce of fear showing despite… everything.
"How many, and distance." Leepu asks coldly, swapping out canisters.
"6 or seven, two auto bows set behind a barricade, shooters in cover beyond that."
Leepu nods as she shifts her load- Thera can count… one canister shot, three explosive, two… that she didn't know. Just what was the bunny up to?
"And range?"
"Didn't get a good read."
"How many strides of yours, you think?"
"Six."
Leepu clicks her tongue and nods, setting her lance low on the corner and adjusting the angle even as bolts crack and ricochet past. First squeeze is the thump and echoing clatter of canister shot that is answered with a cry of pain and more contemptuous shots fired at where the Ursans think it came from. Second must have gone long, because the explosion sounded far off. The third though, that struck something closer, maybe the barricade, because there was a lot of shouting and certainly a lot of "blyat" going on. Third round in exactly the same spot with even more cussing, and more importantly, less bolts coming down the hall.
And Thera watches stunned as Leepu picks her lance up to shoulder it, peeking the corner even as the smoke dissipates, as bolts still whizz past down the hallway. She angles… oddly high, and the thump is certainly weaker, the round not packed with that same oomph -
It dawns on her then that Leepu had gotten her hands on something interesting.
The lance coughs with the telltale steam, but the shot glitters gold- beautiful, dazzling at first before turning horrifying. The gold dust ignites, white-hot flames sizzling the very air as it rains down upon the shrouded outline of the barricade. The confusion is audible at first, screams of "Caster!" soon twist to more agonising notes as the flames land amongst the Ursans. It's about when the terror sets in that Leepu fully rounds the corner, takes two steps, and fires again. The crackle is more pronounced this time, the distinct *whoosh!* of air being pulled to fuel a sudden and violent flame that finds the gaps in the barricade..
It is like Leepu just cast some sort of Arts from the barrel of her lance, but as the Cautus fires her last shell she throws a smoke grenade. That hissing billow mixes with the sizzle, the screams, blankets the horror unfolding just beyond that barrier in a pall.
"Don't breathe it in," She warns as she slips around the corner past Thera, "They call it 'Draco Breath', but it uses activated Originium as the primer."
Her voice is cold, emotionless, her movements mechanical and stiff as she dumps her spent casings and loads new. She's fixated too, no doubt drowning out the screaming from around the corner as she hums to herself. Thera… wants to say something, wants to reach down and reassure Orianna that this is just another fact of war… but she's wearing her collar- hands gauntleted and strapped to those massive shields. Shae… can't do a damn thing for Orianna right now.
Ori glances up at her, the light of her eyes gone for the moment, before turning away. "Hold your breath when you go through, just in case not all of the Originium was burned up." Orianna quietly instructs, "Better advance while you still have smoke cover- just in case."
"Good work, Leepu. Fangs, push on that barrier and secure the entrance." Davies orders… and Thera hesitates. She stares at Orianna, asking without asking, reading those little movements. The darting glance, the nervous jitter, that furtive glance.
And the soft nod. She's still all in there, she's still okay, and she wants Thera to be okay too. In that moment worry is gone as Fangs drags one shield over the other, snapping the shafts but leaving those pointed tips as a reminder of her own words-
Don't underestimate the pot metal- for it can still pierce Victorian steel.
"Aye… leftenant." Fangs growls, "As She wills-"
