Chapter 43
August 2220
That wasn't a battle, that was assisted suicide.
— Zephyr, Resonance of Fate
Day Four
After rallying his defenses and setting up the defensive perimeters in and around the city, Jorban Sal'Naa took his rest. The next morning, reports began coming in that the batarians were bringing in reinforcements to bolster their counterattack in the city, and that these reinforcements had much larger and more capable weaponry. For all of their stupidity in attacking the single most important planet in the universe, they did at least learn fast, so Jorban, befitting of the experience suggested by his rank, decided that the best course of action would be to attack preemptively. Destroy the enemy offensive line, shatter their forces, kill the rest, then call in saltorian reinforcements and transport shuttles. Jorban wanted a fighting vehicle to make way for Kurah and search for the Praetorian, and though there were trucks aplenty here in the city, none of them would last under sustained alien assault - he needed an IFV, but any transport vessel rated to carry such a load would be unsafe as long as the alien air force dominated the skies here, and though they were somewhat safe as long as their ground forces kept allied ground forces occupied, if Jorban won the ground war, he would therefor be able to direct energy lances to the sky and take down alien aircraft, clearing the sky for saltorian usage once again.
All he had to do was launch the attack, but only a fool expected one plan to work twice. Given that reports said that the enemies were fielding larger weapons, that suggested that these were the heavier weapons they needed to pierce saltorian scales and actually cause lasting injuries, meaning a full-frontal assault would only work if they were fast enough to bring it into a melee, and left valuable energy-lancemen behind allied lines to take down the alien air force. While he considered this a viable strategy, as he stood there in the Siftu building staring intensely at a map of the city and its outskirts, he knew he needed a better one, which was why he brought in another expert. He was good at war and fighting, all BattleVectors were, but a Wraith, he was not.
He looked up to the highest ranking Wraith in the city. The man was older than Jorban by two centuries - well into the evening of his life, at six hundred years old - but Jorban had far superseded him in rank. The Wraith was but a jutor, a man who took orders for a living, as opposed to Jorban, as a Lanceman, who gave those orders. Taking control of a situation from the center of said situation was Jorban's specialty, but he - as did many who achieved his rank - knew where his skills lay, and where they did not, and stealth was not something he specialized in.
"Can you do it?" Jorban asked simply, his deep voice cutting through the still air.
The pale-scaled Wraith was scowling at the map, taking in everything it had to tell him, from the unedited details to the markings showing the levels of destruction. His long, wide jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes seemed glued to one detail in particular.
"Yes." Said the Wraith, as he picked up a marker and popped off the cap. "With a team of six placed here… Here… Here, and here." He marked the positions at each 'here', with the green marker. "So long as you launch the assault the moment we are ready, and no sooner, it should work. The enemy will be too focused on defending themselves from you to notice us dissolving them from the inside out." He nodded, "my only concern is their air forces. Their infantry weapons are largely ineffective, but their fighter weaponry is not so. The slugs just large enough to pierce and cause concerning damage. The moment you begin attacking they will begin striking back, and with no air defenses of our own…" He trailed off and stood up straight, respectfully crossing his tree-trunk arms behind his back and waiting for his Lanceman to respond.
Jorban shook his head, "I have this covered." He said, "when their jets take off, BattleVectors will take to deeper cover and begin ripping them from the sky." He indicated various red squares as he spoke.
"That will leave the Tyyrahn exposed." The Wraith noted, peering up at the Lanceman, "are you willing to stake this city on your confidence in the Tyyrahn?"
"Our trust in the primal is not what matters. They know what is at stake, and they will not fail." Jorban responded, "and sometimes it pays to have the more savage warriors go in. We are in Holy War, after all. Some problems can only be solved with a copious amount of bodies."
The Wraith nodded, "right…" He peered back down to the map. "We will get it done, just make certain your timing is exact. If we send the signal and you do not attack immediately, we may be compromised."
Hours passed, the tension on both ends of the offensive was mounting. The batarians saw the saltorians bolstering their numbers, and in response were fielding everything they had to mount what was going to be an inevitable defensive operation. The saltorians, in response to batarian movements, were in turn bringing more and more of their men to the front - it was a sick game of cat and mouse, though neither side knew which one they were. The batarians had their technology on their side, but the saltorians had their natural hardiness and their weapons on their side, the gravity of the planet also played a slight role in weakening the batarian offensive line, though they seemed to be able to get around it. Though the how of their ability to fight Saltor's gravity eluded many saltorians, few really cared, they all were just waiting. The batarians were waiting for the saltorians to make their move, the saltorians were waiting for the signal to make their move.
Many batarians, after nearly an hour of this systemic buildup and response, were wondering if this was some sort of scare tactic. With all of their focus centered on the forces inside of the city, none of them knew that there were Wraiths among them, silently slaughtering those too foolish to join the defensive line, as they all moved towards their designated positions. When word was finally spread by radio, the Wraiths, as one, aimed flare-guns to the sky and fired, blanketing the gray atmosphere in an aura of blood red light.
There wasn't even a moment of silence, or a brief calm before the storm. The very instant the flares went up, and the batarians turned around, some in muted confusion and others in abject terror, the saltorians charged. Jorban found himself leading the charge for the sole road the batarians had let survive during their initial assault. It was the only undestroyed land-route in or out of the city, and that meant it was paramount that they reclaimed it. Given that its ability to funnel enemies worked both ways, a lot of saltorians were going to get injured and die during the charge, but Jorban had had a plan for that; this plan involved a massive trash-hauler and several smaller trucks and vehicles, all shifted to neutral and all with their potentially explosive fuel cells removed. All they had to do was push them down the empty inbound road, as opposed to the jammed up outbound road, and they wouldn't even have to worry about a lack of cover.
"PUSH!" He roared, before he pushed against the, person-sized tires of the trash-hauler.
Essentially a mobile recycling bin, the trash-haulers were as big as an average house and were designed to go from city to city to pick up refuse - anything from small broken children's knives and pistols to things as massive as junked automobiles or destroyed fighting vehicles - and haul it off to a recycling plant, where they would be taken apart, categorized and melted down, and sent off to where the raw materials could be used again. The tires alone were about as thick as three saltorians, and tall as an average male, so even in neutral, it was difficult for them to push it. The trick was not to push the whole vehicle, but instead get the tires rolling and to get the vehicle to pick up speed. Fortunately for them, the Hoomanisire had seen fit to grace their mission: this particular inbound road was downward sloping, meaning drivers had to climb a hill to get in. So all they had to do was get the hauler, or whatever other vehicles they were using, to move just a few meters, and then gravity would take care of the rest.
They had three saltorians to each rear wheel - and with the wheels doubled up, that meant six saltorians on each side of the vehicle, with dozens more hanging off of the back or lying on top of it, and four sitting in the driver and passenger seats, all them loaded down with weapons and yelling out various battlecries. It took a staggering amount of effort to get the tires to start turning, Jorban felt his muscles begin burning before they had even gotten their first half rotation. Many of the saltorians started groaning and yelling with the strain, whilst the armed ones who had lines of sight were sending rounds down range to take down and suppress the batarians who saw what they were trying to do.
As he roared deeply, barely feeling any of the minute amounts of progress they were making, Jorban knew that this point would have been moot if they had just refrained from removing the vehicle's fuel cells and drove the damn thing down there, but if they had done that then they would have ran the risk of batarian heavy weapons fire hitting, rupturing, and detonating those fuel cells, which was not acceptable - meaning that every vehicle, from this massive hauler to even the teeny trucks, had to be pushed.
The skin of Jorban's calloused and scarred hands felt like they were being ripped off with the strain he was putting them under, but he persevered, even over the walls of gunfire that the batarians were sending their way. Many a time, during the endless trek to get the truck rolling, he felt rounds pass within mere centimeters of him, or hit the ground near him - once or twice he felt something actually drag across an arm or a leg, but they were minor flesh wounds at worst, they would heal in a few minutes.
"We're almost there!" Jorban called out after he risked a peek around the tire and saw, ahead of the hauler, the dip in the road that signified the slope they were aiming for. "PUSH!" He yelled out as loud as he could, his rumbly voice just overpowering the increasing volume of gunfire.
"AAAAAAMEEEEEEEN!" Roared out a Tyyrahn on the other side, pushing the other duo of tires. Several started joining the Tyyrahn trendsetter, and soon their battlecry was reaching the heavens, as everyone pushing a vehicle began screaming out the ancient and holy word, invigorated by the pride and meaning behind it.
Truly, several of them believed that their cries were being heard by the Hoomanisire himself - as the truck started to move easier and easier, the turning of the tires taking less strength out of their burning muscles. Before they knew it, the truck was moving faster than they were, and soon after that, it was moving on its own, quickly accelerating to a jogging pace. Jorban and the other saltorians ran behind the vehicle for a few meters, giving the tires an extra shove for good measure, before they leapt up onto the back. Jorban hung off of the back of the hauler with one hand, and had his energy lance in the other, the lethal end glowing a bright and deadly red as he pointed it at the rapidly approaching enemy fortifications.
The energy weapon melted a path of devastation as the hauler kept speeding up, Saltor's intense gravity working once again in the favor of its indigenous as the land-fleet's speed kept growing at a nearly exponential rate with every second that passed. Stone, metal, rubber, armor, anything the energy weapon hit began glowing with intense heat, with the flammable objects bursting into flame upon contact, if they weren't disintegrated outright. Better yet, thanks to their speed, when the laser hit the batarians it didn't keep contact enough to kill them outright, which spelled only excruciating pain as they received only glancing blows from the gun, the feeling akin to having their faces pressed against a jet of white-hot flame. Third degree burns were the minimum for even a second's exposure, and the speed Jorban and his gun brothers were travelling meant that a second was all most of the batarians that were hit by Jorban got, so when the truck finally arrived, a quarter of the defending force was too stunned to mount a defense or attempt to halt the BattleVectors' advance.
"BRACE!" Roared the Lanceman, as the alien fortifications grew closer, the roaring of the spinning of the tires over the ground and the sound of asphalt and concrete being crushed and crunched underneath their weight beginning to deafen them all to anything else, save for the panicked shrieks and wild gunfire from the alien defenses.
For a brief few seconds, as Jorban hung from the back of the hauler, pressed against it as tight as he could, he shut his eyes, clenched his chest, and wrapped his tail around his gut. From behind the darkness of his eyes, his senses expanded in all directions, and those few seconds dragged on to an eternity as he acutely felt the vibrations of the vehicle, the rough exterior of the truck he pressed against, the sounds of the tires turning on the ground, the war cries of various BattleVectors and Tyyrahn, the gunshots struggling to overcome the roar of the land fleet and the panicked and pained screams of the batarians manning their doomed defense. It all assaulted him at once, coming together in a deafening cacophony of sounds, a numbing blender of sensations.
The extended eternity ended excruciatingly expeditiously. The hauler truck slammed, front wheels first, into the batarian fortifications, its velocity was immediately turned to momentum as the massive vehicle's hind end continued moving in the only way physically possible - up. Jorban's eyes snapped open as he felt himself first slam into the back of the truck, and then without delay felt centrifugal force attempt to tear his iron grip free. The truck flipped end over end, the wind blasting at Jorban's ears as he saw the world rotate underneath him. At the top of the truck's arc, he got a brief bird's eye view of the entire fortification. Batarians were scrambling in every direction, running to the front line, retreating to fallback positions, running for the sake of running, a chaotic maelstrom of activity, it seemed none of them truly knew what they were doing, especially as the hauler truck obliterated the main defenses, and the other trucks began smashing through the walls weakened by the shock of the initial impact.
We need to push through this center… The batarians had fled the main road wholesale when they saw the vehicles approaching at their ever increasing speeds, instantly forming a weakness in their previously ironclad wall. If this weakness could be exploited, their defenses would be split in two and their back foot would be on destabilizing ground.
Jorban nodded to himself with a determined frown, and as he let go of the truck and pushed off of it with his powerful legs and flew through the air, he called out into his radio, "through the center! Split them up and rout them!" He flew high into the air, the hauler continuing up for just a few more inches before it finally fell back onto all fours, destroying its wheels as they were unable to handle the assault and keep their air inside the rubber prisons. Jorban was among a few wilder saltorians who got the idea to let go and fly, as opposed to hold on and simply barrel through the destroyed defenses, but his tactic was just as viable as the ground-based one, as he flew through the air and arced back towards the ground, now firmly within enemy territory and much more equipped to cause dissent and chaos whilst the BattleVector and Tyyrahn forces assaulted from the front.
Jorban momentum carried him several meters before Saltor's intense gravity violently yanked him back to the ground. The impact with the concrete was rough and jarring, Jorban felt a lot of scales sheer off on impact, and blood began seeping through the raw parts of his body, but he barely felt the pain as he somersaulted forward and hopped to his feet, rifle raised and knife ready for the first unfortunate target that he found. With the momentum and inertia from his flight and landing still present, Jorban saw a batarian just a few meters in front of him desperately trying to flee for cover, but the BattleVector would have none of that as he launched himself into the air, the strength of his legs multiplying the momentum of his roll to great degrees, and though he he wasn't even in the air for two seconds before gravity had already pulled him back down, those two seconds were all he needed. Jorban crashed into the batarian's back and slammed his thick knife into its spine with a rough popping sound, as it separated the alien's spinal cord. Despite impacting the batarian's spine, the blade had hit so hard and so fast that the resistance it felt was negligible, and the dying batarian soon became a platform for the saltorian to slide across the ground from.
With adrenaline flooding his system compounding the centuries of experience on the battlefield, Jorban's reflexes were in overdrive. The world around him moved in slow motion, and the BattleVector saw three targets in his immediate vicinity - one was already in cover, and it was reacting to the unexpected aerial assault sluggishly, his head only just now turning to see Jorban sliding across the ground, another batarian was raising his rifle, having been crouched behind cover and looking in the area by coincidence, and the third was scrambling away, one hand digging at the ground so he didn't fall on his face, the other hand pressed against his neck. The alien's voice was straining as he shouted, likely at someone on the other side of a radio. His priorities marked, Jorban - still sliding across the ground on the back of his impaled corpse - let go of the knife embedded in the batarian's spine and snatched his handcannon off of his hip with his left hand. Jorban brought it up to bear upon the radio operator, whilst his right hand leveled his energy lance and aimed at the two batarians in cover. The world sped back up as he narrowed his eyes and pulled both triggers.
With the sound of thunder, the massive handgun barked as its .75 caliber round exploded from the barrel and hurtled through the air. Likewise, silent save for a dull hum, the business end of the energy lance glowed bright as its invisible beam carved a path of destruction for two meters until it hit the gunman; Jorban, without even looking, tracked his target as he slid across the ground. The beam stayed on the gunman long enough to scorch his skin, burn through his skull, and incinerate his brains, while the bullet from Jorban's gun perforated the radio operator and turned his chest into a shower of dark red paste. The fool who wasn't fast enough to react to him, however, got the personal treatment as Jorban skidded to a halt just a few meters behind him; Jorban whipped around just as the batarian made eye contact with him. For the second it had as Jorban ripped the knife out of the corpse with his tail and brought both of his weapons to bear, it radiated the universal, primal fear of an animal caught between life and death, and well aware that it wasn't just leaning more towards death. In as little as two seconds, it was rendered an unrecognizable pile of ash, blood, and gore.
Jorban stood to his feet and stuck his knife in his sheath, and as he rushed towards cover, he tightly wrapped his tail back around his midsection, feeling his stomach and his bruised ribs groan unpleasantly. He frowned and popped his head above the alien sandbags, quickly surveying his surroundings, his eyes glossing over rows of cages, rivers of blood, and piles of bodies, as he searched for signs of a command center, noting the maelstrom of chaos that sprung up in the wake of the saltorian advance: The batarians were having to simultaneously deal with saltorians breaching their defensive lines, and defend against saltorians firing at them from the relative safety of the city. The result was that there were batarians and saltorians alike sprinting everywhere and firing wildly, being accosted by enemies from every direction, with no safety to be found anywhere. A batarian would be weaving in and out of combat, dodging swings from his opponent and gunfire from all directions, only to have his legs swept out from under him and his chest torn apart by a BattleVector who came in behind him. The advantage to this chaos was that Jorban was able to remain relatively unmolested so long as he attracted no attention and kept his head down, though the disadvantage was that everything looked the same, and it was difficult to find their command center. If he could take that down, it would simultaneously throw all of the defending aliens into disarray, and force them to deploy air support to try and bring the situation back under control, which would spring the next part of Jorban's trap.
After several minutes and the creation of more than a few bodies, he found what he was looking for, cleverly hidden in the outgoing traffic lane and away from the main fortifications, it was a black and gray prefab unit hidden by its decidedly drab and unassuming camouflage and the destroyed and abandoned vehicles that surrounded it. There was a cage next to it, partially hidden by an overturned truck, and multiple batarian soldiers with disproportionately large guns firing constant streams of alien slugs at any approaching saltorians. Jorban noticed, as he crouched down low and rushed closer to it, that the weapons the aliens were firing from had green holograms floating above their frames, and upon hitting saltorians, were able to pierce armor and, in some cases, even scales.
These weapons have superior armor penetrating capabilities… Thought Jorban, as he sidled up to the medium in the road, taking cover barely two meters away from the command center. He peered over the median just enough that his line of sight was unobstructed, and narrowed his eyes, taking a quick headcount of the soldiers he could see.
There were eight batarians, three amphibious creatures with horns on their heads and bug-eyes, and another one of the blue creatures with flesh sacks on their chests. The horned creatures, Bugs, Jorban named them, were hurriedly hammering away at their holographic alien computers, and though Jorban briefly considered altering his strategy such that he could recover some of these computers, he felt it an unnecessary risk: Without any way to decipher the alien language, taking their computing technology would net little benefit. The blue creature had her hands splayed out and a violet barrier enveloping her and her masters, leading Jorban to wonder if all Blues had these abilities. The batarians were, predictably, blasting any creature they didn't recognize, with the one with the brightest, most ornate armor frequently turning his head to bark orders at the Bugs, and throwing his hand out in the direction of the cage.
Whatever is in that cage, I do not wish to discover… Jorban thought, as he slid his hand cannon into its holster, and reached forward to the end of his Energy Lance's barrel, which he began rotating clockwise, constricting the focus lens, so he could have a much more focused, tighter beam.
The Lanceman shouldered his Energy Lance and slowly strafed along the median, the barrel of his lance grinding along it with the sound of metal scraping against wood, his eyes focusing and searching for any detail, no matter how insignificant, as he picked his shot. The Blue's barrier deflected all that hit it, likely precluding energy weapons as well, which meant Jorban couldn't try and assassinate the batarians inside so long as it was up. Jorban noticed, however, that the Blue was gasping for air, its chest heaving and its eyes bulging, the enslaved creature was exhausted, but would not falter, if only for the potential consequences faced for failing its masters. Jorban widened his eyes, and in his peripheral vision, he found what he was looking for. All it took was one push to send a tower of cards falling in a cascade effect, and in this case, the push would be a partially exposed power cell in a thirty two year old vehicle. There had been a recall for that model for a reason, but never had he been as grateful for the stupid as he was now. All he had to do was induce a meltdown and it would explode with the force of seven tons of TNT. Better was that the risk of setting off the other vehicles was null, due to the computers inside them detecting the change in local temperature and the force of the shockwave, they would seal the cells away, to remain locked down for six and a half hours.
Jorban aimed his weapon at the partially exposed cell and pressed the trigger. The tight laser beam crossed the distance in the blink of an eye and it didn't even take a second for the power cell to start glowing white as it heated up. As dictated by common sense, the cell was designed specifically not to explode, but that was why this specific model of vehicle had been recalled: While reliable in all terrains, it had been discovered that it only took one bad accident to expose the power cell to the open air, and from that moment on, anyone sufficiently determined could detonate it, even someone with a children's pistol. While it tried to deal with the heat by deploying various fail-safes, Jorban kept up the pressure, and after two five second energy bursts, and a close call from some stray gunfire that would have torn off his ear had he not been wearing a helmet, the vehicle detonated in a massive explosion. Jorban felt, but ignored, the heat and the shockwave of the blast as he turned his attention back to the alien command post, which was briefly cast in a bright red-orange glow by the explosion.
The Blue shrieked in pain as whatever it was doing to keep up the barrier was overloaded on the spot, and the violet barrier popped like a bubble, leaving nothing but a translucent violet aura that dissipated through the air like smoke. Jorban ducked his head and retrieved his handcannon, baring his razor-sharp teeth in a savage grin as he heard the batarians scream and shout in the face of sudden danger. Jorban counted three seconds before he leapt over the median and rushed forward, his gun held aloft, spitting massive bullets with deafening barks and violent bucks. Jorban scored two kills before he made it to the prefab and vaulted over the wall the batarian invaders were hiding behind. He unfurled his tail and threw it out to the side, slamming it into the throats and chests of three more batarians and sending them falling to the ground with a loud, crunch-sounding impact, as Jorban hauled his handcannon up to bear and shot one of the amphibians in the back, obliterating his core and leaving little but his limbs and his head remaining.
The batarian in the ornate armor cried out in fear, barking orders at the other amphibians, but just after he finished yelling out his orders, Jorban smashed his free fist, itself nearly the size of the batarian's head, into the creature's throat, flattening it, shredding skin, and pulverizing its spinal cord with a sickening 'pop' sound. Two batarians attempted to leap onto Jorban's back and immobilize him, but even with their metal, gravity-fighting frames amplifying their strength, they could do nothing to match Jorban's, let alone to overcome his weight. The BattleVector simply pushed backwards with his legs, hopping into the air and crashing out of the prefab in a shower of debris, destroying the wall they had been using for cover and crushing the two batarians on his back upon impact with the ground. Jorban's weight, and the gravity of Saltor, both saw fit to kill the two batarians instantly, shattering their skeletons and crushing their organs; the saltorian felt his body armor become coated in the thick, warm blood that seeped out between the ridges of their plate armor, and he knew he'd be washing for days if he wanted to keep the uniform. Without getting back to his feet, Jorban raised his pistol and wrenched his bloody energy lance off of his back and pointed them both at the batarians. The handcannon bucked and barked, and the energy lance burned to ash everything in its path, as Jorban felt several dozen slugs slam into his body, some making direct impacts, some simply grazing him. He felt his ribs creak and crack, and some of the miniscule slugs penetrate his scales, but his gunfire overwhelmed that of the batarians, forcing them to squeeze themselves behind whatever cover he hadn't demolished.
Jorban grunted and placed his hands on the warm, blood-covered ground, but before he could push himself to his feet, he heard a deafening roar and then felt something slam into the side of his ribs, punting him several feet and into the front bumper of a truck with a loud, metallic thud, the impact causing him to drop both weapons. Jorban left a sizeable dent in the vehicle, which he had to wrench himself out of, but when he lifted his helmeted head, he was greeted by a strange sight. Standing several feet away from him, at seven feet tall, was a burly creature with dark skin, a thick hide, and natural chitinous armor plates covering most of its body. The brutish creature had eyes on the sides of its head, and thick muscles practically bursting out from underneath its thick leathery hide, which were dense enough to keep it upright in Saltor's gravity, unassisted, and even punt Jorban so many feet across the ground. With both arms hovering above its sides in an angry manner, it was standing tall under Saltor's intense gravity, despite having no metal frame like its masters, but what Jorban noticed chief among all was that its eyes, clearly the eyes of a predator, were hollow and empty. This visibly powerful creature had been broken completely by the batarians, and only existed now to take orders.
Were it another time… Another world… I would feel sorry for it. Jorban plucked a grenade from his vest, as the creature's masters barked orders to it. The brute's eyes went from dead and hollow to sharp and angry in a fraction of a second, and when it saw Jorban toss his grenade, it roared loudly and barreled forward, smacking the grenade out of the way with the back of its arm and leaning its head downwards, clearly intent on tackling Jorban as it was wreathed in an aura of violet fire, not unlike the blue flesh creatures.
The grenade landed as intended: in the prefab unit, it exploded violently as Jorban hopped to the side, dodging the brute's attack. The brute, upon impact with the car, managed to send it flying away with a brief burst of violet fire, before it straightened up and whipped around to face Jorban, who had both fists extended and in front of eachother, his shoulders pressed tight against his chest, and his tail wrapped around his stomach in a clearly defensive stance. The BattleVector kept his gloves on, knowing the creature's hide was too thick to try and cut into ribbons with his claws, meaning he had to use a combat art that relied more heavily on his fists than, but could also adapt to the unknown element. The brute roared again and reared its head as it charged forward, but Jorban ducked down low and with two quick steps he breached the brute's defenses and got within inches of him. Jorban jabbed the brute in the stomach with his left fist, stumbling the brute back several steps. The BattleVector followed up the blow with several bone-jarringly powerful haymaker punches to the brute's head. The brute's head whipped from side to side with each blow, the thick, thunking sound of flesh striking bone filled the air.
The brute growled and threw up its arms in a boxer's stance, managing to deflect the next blow and buy itself long enough to catch both of Jorban's fists when he came in for another strike. Thanks to his far denser muscle mass, Jorban almost immediately began winning out in the test of strength, but the brute's sheer rage and the violet fire both flooded its veins with power, and as its arms shook with the strain, it roared once again, filling Jorban's ears with painful, sharp ringing. The brute managed to halt Jorban's arms in their place as it was covered in more and more violent fire, and after a moment of leering directly into Jorban's golden eyes, it reared its head and slammed it into Jorban's. Its size belied the powerful impact it had, which was enough to stun Jorban, and buy the brute enough time to throw both of Jorban's hands back, clench both of its glowing fists together, and slam them into Jorban's gut as if they were a wrecking ball. The impact exploded with violet fire and sent the BattleVector flying several feet and off of the side of the highway. Jorban fell several meters before he hit the dirt and the grass below with a painful grunt, as he felt several ribs crack and at least three break.
Jorban opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd clenched shut, getting a brief look at the fire-red sky above him. Barely a second later he grunted in fear as he saw a vehicle slam into the shoulder of the road and destroy it, careening over the edge with hundreds of pounds of rubble and falling straight towards him. The BattleVector rolled to the side and scrambled to his feet, managing to dodge the rubble, but not the brute, which had leapt over the shoulder the road and landed upon him, fracturing and breaking more of the saltorian's ribs, even managing to sheer off his scales and draw blood, which quickly began to coat his already blood-soaked fatigues and seep into his body armor.
The brute smashed its thick, fire-coated fists into Jorban's back, each one feeling like a cannon blast and filling the air with crunch sounds. Jorban unfurled his tail and had it wrapped around the brute's head, before he wrenched it to the side and tossed it off of his back. The BattleVector leapt to his feet, curling his tail back around his armored stomach and re-entering his tight, compressed defensive stance, as the beige-plated alien hauled itself to its feet, not even struggling for a moment under Saltor's gravity. The creature, its violet flames only growing in intensity, growled threateningly as it strafed around Jorban, searching for an opening as it kept its fists held up in the air in a defensive stance. Jorban, in response, began backing up, his elbows pressing tightly against his throbbing ribs, switching the placement of his fists such that his right hovered behind his left. Jorban felt his boot scrape up against some debris from the highway, and in the fraction of a second it took for him to glance back to confirm he was in front of the upturned car, the brute charged, throwing its hand forward and blasting Jorban with its other-worldly energy.
Jorban flew backwards and impacted the car, pushing it back several inches and digging up a large pile of dirt behind it as he and it ground to a halt. The BattleVector shook off the impact, but couldn't wrench himself from the car before the brute arrived. With metal partially wrapping around his waist and keeping him pinned to the thick vehicle, the BattleVector was now firmly on the defensive. The pinned saltorian caught one fist, feeling the bones in his forearm creak under the pressure, and reared his right hand, before throwing it forward and slamming it into the brute's head. The impact with the thick headplate sent a jarring shock down Jorban's arm, but had the same effect upon the brute, stunning it. Jorban threw the brute's fist to the side and grabbed both sides of its head, before he wrenched it around and slammed it into the side of the vehicle with a loud, metallic bang, and the sound of its skin splitting and its skull cracking. The BattleVector placed both hands to his sides and pushed forward with all of the dense muscles in his tree-trunk sized arms. Not caring for fidelity or even his own physical well being, Jorban instead opted to free himself as fast as possible, and the result was multiple small gashes in his abdomen, which immediately began to seep enough blood that Jorban, through numbness of the settled combat high, actually felt the blood flow out of his sides and droop down his body. The saltorian was covered in so much blood that he had the appearance of a demon, and with his thick, toweringly titanic frame, it wasn't an incorrect comparison, especially when compared to the brute he was fighting.
The BattleVector ripped himself from the car and whipped around, using his circular momentum to drive his fist into the brute's fleshy throat, the adrenaline-filled, blood-splattered saltorian grinning savagely as he felt his hand sink into the brute's thick flesh, and felt its skin, muscles, and even some bones and cartilage crush, snap, and pop under his knuckles. Jorban quickly followed it up by smashing his foot heavily upon the brute's stomach, sinking it further into the car with the sound of grinding metal, and even causing the car to tilt back and dig up a few more inches of dirt. The brute almost looked as if it were using the car as a bed, and had sank into it like a children's caricature. When the saltorian removed his foot, the brute threw its hand out to the side and grabbed an exposed piece of jagged metal, which it tore off of the vehicle with a grinding noise and loud roar, before he leaned forward and jammed the jagged hunk of metal into Jorban's throat.
Jorban stood there for a full second, the hunk of metal utterly failing to achieve the desired effect, barely managing to penetrate his scales and draw any blood from beneath them, though its jagged edges did manage to draw some blood from the brute's fingers. Jorban and the brute alike turned their eyes down to the hand wielding the improvised weapon trying to pierce his throat, and simultaneously turned back to make eye contact with eachother. Jorban, in a flash, drew his own knife from the sheathe on his combat vest, and in a single forward motion, slammed it into the chest of the brute, meeting a great deal of resistance as it tried to pierce its thick plates and its dense hide, but not nearly enough to overcome the saltorian's naturally greater strength and prevent penetration. The brute yelped in pain, and adjusted his strategy, now stabbing at Jorban's shoulder with a single sharp and downward stabbing motion, though this yielded even less results, as it now had to penetrate Jorban's body armor in addition to his scales. Jorban felt the sharp, jabbing pain of the object attempting and failing to penetrate his multiple layers of armor, but little else. With a deep growl, Jorban back-handed the brute's hand away with his left forearm, and stabbed the brute repeatedly in the chest and stomach, before finally yanking his knife out of the brute's core and slicing it across its throat, leaving it to gurgle its last breaths.
Breathing heavily, Jorban took a few steps back, wiping the blood from the knife off on his tail. With a snort, Jorban turned around and peered up the highway, trying to find a way back up to get back into the fight. Just looking at it, there were no purchases on the highway that he could grab onto, so as to climb up, but Jorban figured he could ram his knife into the stone hard enough to make improvised climbing equipment. Before he could continue on this line of thought, however, he heard the sound of rushing air, and obeyed every single one of the instincts that told him do dodge. With a speed and flexibility that belied his enormous size, Jorban bent over backwards and completely dodged a flying, spinning tire. Jorban was straight up and in his combat stance an instant later, and he saw the brute back on its feet, its bloody wounds having sealed, its lungs inflating and deflating rapidly, and its eyes glazed over in pure rage.
Jorban cursed, this creature had an adrenaline-fueled blood rage, similar to that of angered glorphines. If it were similar to the creature in question, it would now be completely numb to pain, and the sheer amounts of adrenaline and endorphins flooding this thing's body would increase its strength, and if it were at all similar to saltorians, then that meant this blood rage would trigger reactions in its brain similar to the fight-or-flight instinct, and it would be able to use the complete one hundred percent of its muscles' power. Even worse was that, whatever powered this brute's violet flames now had a great deal more energy and power to draw from, so its hits would be dramatically increasing in power.
"This is Lanceman Sal'Naa." He called out into his radio. "All BattleVectors and Tyyrahn, be aware: The enemy has shock troopers with glorphine-like blood rages and healing abilities similar and likely superior to our own." The brute roared a guttural, deafening cry, managing to make Jorban feel it in his chest, before it charged forward, far faster than before. "They stand at two and a quarter meters in height and are covered in natural, chitinous armor plating, but the batarians clearly have a limited number." He backed up two steps to buy himself the time he needed to push out the last words as fast as he could. "Should you find yourself engaging, stay at range and confirm your kills." He leaned to the right to avoid a powerful straight from the creature, before he curved his stomach back to avoid a left cross.
Jorban took two quick steps forward and got within inches of the brute, before unleashing a series of six lightning-fast jabs, trailing upwards from the brute's armored chest to his fleshy throat, before he whirled around and, with his fist clenched, back-handed the brute on the right side of his face. Using his circular momentum, Jorban twisted as far to the left as he could, before he continued his lightning-fast combo and threw his body to the right, slamming his left fist into the brute's face. Blood flew from the brute's cut cheek, but before Jorban could go in for another right cross, the creature recoiled with a savage punch of its own, which managed to form a bruise, break Jorban's scales, and draw blood, before it grabbed him by the shoulders. Jorban barely had half of a second to realize that the brute's blue fire hadn't burned him earlier, and it wasn't burning him now, before the brute yanked Jorban downwards and repeatedly slammed its thickly-plated skull into Jorban's head. Jorban grunted with each hit, but found his lower half and his arms enveloped in a pale blue aura that froze him to the spot, allowing the creature to back up and unleash a savage series of haymakers on Jorban's face. almost as if in mockery to the similar attack Jorban had unleashed earlier.
The strikes now were multiple times more powerful than they had been, and as a result Jorban felt scales get ripped from his face and blood fly out from his rapidly opening wounds. Thinking quickly, and realizing that the creature had only frozen his core and his lower half, Jorban did what any sensible saltorian would do, and when the brute threw its next fist, he opened his mouth and snapped down, catching the fist in between rows of razor-sharp, meat-grinding teeth. Jorban's mouth instantly filled with blood, that began leaking out as he growled with the hand still inside. The brute almost instantly dropped the immobilizing barrier, but instead of trying to wrench Jorban's mouth open, it simply tore its arm out of the BattleVector's mouth, carving it open to the point where it freely poured blood. The creature let the arm hang limply as it repaired the damage, and gathered a fist-sized ball of dark energy in its healthy hand.
Jorban may not have known what was about to happen, but he knew it was bad, and as such he dived out of the way, dodging the attack by inches. When Jorban rolled to his feet, he saw that the grass impacted by the odd attack was being eaten apart by the otherworldly energy. This was something, Jorban realized, he could not combat - he had to end this fight now, before the creature tried using such an attack on him and actually succeeded. Jorban dashed forward and launched a massive superman punch at the brute, managing to slam his fist into the side of its head, specifically the creature's head-plates. In a fraction of a second, Jorban felt the slightest amount of give upon impact, and the creature roared out again, but this one was filled with fear as opposed to rage. With an instinctual quickness, the brute slammed its violet-flamed fist into Jorban's stomach and sent the saltorian flying back several meters with a burst of cold fire.
Jorban hit the ground with a loud grunt, but he kept his balance and stayed on his feet, sliding backwards with his feet braced behind him. Jorban ground to a halt and lifted his head to make eye contact with the brute, a savage grin stretched across his face, as he now knew the creature's weakness. No one reacted so fast, and with such fear, unless they were suddenly very wary of death. The junction of the creature's head plates, close to the front - if Jorban could stick his knife there, perhaps he could tear those plates off, and then expose this thing's brains. A plan in place, Jorban ripped his knife from its holster and bolted forward, his knife-arm reared and his feet slamming into the dirt, tearing it apart with loud thuds. The brute met Jorban's challenge and charged forward himself, its head, its best weapon, reared for another great impact.
The two met eachother in a second, the brute threw its head forward with a guttural cry, and Jorban swung with his knife. The knife sank into the brute's skull and got stuck fast, as the brute's head hit Jorban's chest and knocked the wind out of him. Not letting the brown brute get the better of him, Jorban grabbed the knife and with one powerful motion, wrenched it upwards, separating the plates just enough so Jorban could grab onto them with his hands and rip them off with a brutal jerking motion. Blood, gore, and bits of skin flew in all directions as Jorban completely exposed the creature's graymatter. The creature screamed in fear, grabbing at the exposed, bony edges of its bleeding head as it retreated from the BattleVector, who held the top half of the alien's skull in his blood-dripping hands.
As the setting suns crested over the horizon, and cast Jorban in powerful shadows, he looked down at the bloody head plate clenched in his hands, unfurling his tail with a menacing slowness. He threateningly turned his gaze to the brute, who was frozen to the ground in fear, as it saw Jorban's golden, snake-slit eyes narrow dangerously and reflect the dying sunlight with an almost metallic sheen. Jorban threw the useless plate to the side and bolted forward, stooped low to the ground like a predator, making a bee-line for the brute. Jorban's hand briefly skipped over the ground, just long enough to pick up his knife again. The brute didn't even have time to stumble back a step before Jorban leapt high into the air and, with the knife held in a reverse grip with both hands, high above his head, came hurtling back down to the ground. Jorban collided with the brute and pinned into the ground with a painful grunt, just before he slammed the knife into the brute's exposed brains repeatedly, not stopping until he was covered in pulverized graymatter and the creature stopped twitching.
Gasping for breath, Jorban slowly got to his feet and stood over his kill, his hands and knife dripping with blood and graymatter. He flicked his knife to the side, spraying alien gore all over the ground, before he keyed his radio.
"This is Lanceman Sal'Naa, addendum to last: The brutes have a weakness. The plates on their head have a junction near the back, above the right ear. A hard enough impact with a knife can allow you to tear those plates off and expose their brains to the very air we breathe. Then it just takes a bullet." He swallowed thickly, his mouth still tasting of blood. "Give me a situation's report." He said, flicking the copious amounts of gore off of his knife, and then wiping what was left on his blood-stained uniform.
"Lanceman Sal'Naa, reports of ten Brutes encountered, total. All killed, but not without casualties. The enemy is retreating from the city limits, their air forces are making their approach." Came a voice after a few second's pause.
"Contact the BattleVectors back in the city, using the buildings as cover. Shoot down the enemy fliers and clear us our airspace. I want this city to be uncontested within the day, and I want an IFV even sooner than that." He said, turning to the highway again and searching for a way up that didn't entail him running across it lengthwise until he could haul himself up the shoulder of the road.
As the saltorian ran down the side of the road, he saw multiple dozen alien air vehicles burst through the air, the sonic booms vibrating Jorban's chest. It wasn't even thirty seconds before he heard loud, deafening explosions, and when he turned to look behind him, he saw the air become choked with thick, billowing black smoke as alien fighters began breaking apart, some exploding, some tumbling to the ground in an uncontrolled freefall, and those that escaped unscathed banking hard and performing evasive maneuvers. The saltorian could just barely see the bright red lasers lancing through the air, as their beams passed through smoke and thick clouds of particulates, all of their lines facing directly towards the fighters they were taking down.
A smirk growing across Jorban's face, he turned back forward and found a place at which he could leap onto the highway. There was a tree, just close enough that, if Jorban climbed it, he could feasibly make the jump. With a goal in mind, he picked up speed and, with a mighty push and a savage yell, leapt off of the ground arced towards the tree. He slammed into it with a loud 'oof', but his hands and feet quickly found purchase. Though Saltor's intense gravity was working against him, the centuries-old warrior had been climbing fences and trees since he was an Oather, he knew the proper form and, in seconds, was scaling the tree. The effort came in when he got to the top and his momentum had been bled off, his muscles beginning to strain and shake from the effort of keeping him moving at speed. After he reached a proper height, the BattleVector leapt to the side and hit the road chest-first, with a loud grunt. The Lanceman groaned as he climbed onto the road and felt the pain of his multiple broken and bruised ribs. When he got to his feet, he heard the sound of hundreds of boots hitting the ground at once, he turned to his left, facing the direction of the city and saw the batarians were in full retreat. Hordes of them, hundreds, thousands, the sheer quantity of feet slamming into the ground causing it to quake, and the amount of dust thrown into the air beginning to choke it with a thin cloud. The empty, barren inbound lane filled to the brim with the horde of rapidly retreating from a slowly, more tactically advancing line of Tyyrahn.
The BattleVector growled, and after getting to his feet to his feet, he elbowed the window of the closest car. After he unlocked the door and let it swing open he viciously yanked on it, smashing the hinges with his boot and tearing at it with his immense strength. In order to stand up to Saltor's intense gravity, everything they made, from buildings to cars to even the very clothes they wore, was made from denser, more durable materials, but if one knew what they were doing, and especially if they were trained and drilled as a BattleVector, it wasn't at all impossible to perform surgical removals such as this. As the batarians grew closer, he popped one of the hinges, and with one final heave, and his foot braced against the side of the car, the second hinge was torn asunder, and he now had an improvised barrier several inches wider than his chest, providing full protection, so long as he remained crouched under the shattered window. He gauged the metal on the door to be just thick enough to block the minuscule bullets the batarians fired. On a hunch, the BattleVector reached inside the car and opened up the center console, where he found, to his brief satisfaction, a pistol. It was of a dreadfully small caliber, only a .50, likely a child's starting gun or perhaps a target shooter, but given the durability, or lack thereof, of the batarians, Jorban figured it would do the job.
Thirteen shots to the magazine. Thought Jorban, as he firmly grasped the pistol in one hand, and hefted the car door up by its inner handle. After that, my knife. Jorban vaulted forward, roaring defiantly as he charged the retreating batarians.
It took the batarians a few moments to realize that someone was blocking their retreat, but given how densely they were packed, not all of them could fire at once. The ones at the front of the retreating group raised their rifles and fired wildly, spraying the air ahead of them with hundreds of miniscule slugs, a precious few of which actually hit Jorban's improvised shield. Some of these slugs came from the green, armor-penetrating weapons, and as such they dug through the door, but they lost so much energy piercing his shield that when they hit his armor, they could do little but try and wind him. The towering BattleVector charged straight into the densely packed group of invaders and slammed his shield into them, toppling all of them and forcing them all to skid and slide backwards as he continued charging inside. The number of people he bashed with his shield and forced to go against the grain grew until there were so many people, tightly packed against eachother and bracing against his shield, that their collective strength was able to overcome Jorban's dense muscles and his momentum. When he finally came to a halt, the other, untouched batarians snapped into action.
Jorban's ears were assaulted by the sounds of dozens of rifles all barking their loud staccato. He spun in a wide circle, his car door held aloft and blocking all of the bullets in his way, as he swung his pistol up and pulled the trigger, eliminating three batarians in as many seconds, the loud thunderclaps of his own gun briefly overwhelming the metallic clangs of the alien weapons. He felt dozens of slugs slam into his back and sides as his shield failed to protect those areas, but he launched himself forward and into a trio of batarians, knocking them to the ground and bringing himself so close to their defensive line that the others had to cease fire, else they risk hitting their allies.
Now with the advantage in his court, Jorban used both his weapon and his improvised shield offensively, batting aside batarians as they tried to charge him with their bright orange, searing hot wrist-mounted weapons, and shooting in a wild, yet calculated fashion. He fired at knees and other squishy, fleshy parts of their bodies, so the bullets soared through multiple targets. When these people inevitably fell to their knees or stumbled forward, he followed up by ramming his shield or whipping his tail into their faces, crushing skulls and sending them to the ground, whereupon they had to combat gravity as well as him. The sounds of people shouting, bones crunching, bullets striking metal, and a ballistic handgun's thunderous barks filled the air as Jorban brutally beat any batarians that came his way. He would jab at his enemies with the flat of his shield and use the pause of their recoil to shoot them in the head through the shattered window, he would duck down and block gunshots from the enemies that got close enough to fire with a modicum of safety, he would use his tail like a whip and steal their legs out from under them, and he would decapitate them with several brutal chops with the edge of his door.
After several minutes of this relentless, brutal combat, he quickly established a small, circular clearing in which he was the center, and anyone who entered was quickly taken down. The batarians were backing up, widening the space between them and him as he brutally crushed a batarian's skull with his door. One charged in, its rifle held high and its large bayonet glinting in the dying sunlight, but Jorban swung his pistol around in a wide, circular arc and shot the man in the chest, sending him stumbling down, where Jorban stepped up and stomped down on its head, crushing it underneath his boot, flattening it into a red and gray paste. Another batarian charged him, but was caught by the BattleVector swinging his tail around and slamming it into the batarian's neck. The BattleVector curled his thick tail around the batarian's throat and yanked him forward, backhanding the soldier in the face with his shield when he came within range, snapping his head back again. The rapid forward, backward, and forward motions of the alien's neck were too much for its already strained skeleton, and it snapped in an instant, going limp in Jorban's unyielding grip.
His hearts thundering in his ears and his blood boiling, the saltorian dropped the limp-necked batarian's corpse, and his now spent pistol. He pulled his knife and slowly revolved on one foot, making eye contact with everyone that surrounded him. They were positioned on the bridge in such a manner that no one could pass without having to go through him, or over the cars to their left and right, which made them targets for the rapidly approaching Tyyrahn forces. Knowing their time was growing short due to the sounds of deep, guttural battle cries and the feeling of the ground shaking beneath their feet, even moreso than when they had made their retreat, the batarians grew desperate and, as one, charged the Lanceman, hoping their numbers would win them the day. Unfortunately for them, in any other situation they would have been right, but in this one, they had too many variables stacked up against them: The skill and experience of the BattleVector, the gravity of the planet, their sluggish speed due to said gravity, and the durability of the BattleVector they fought.
The crowd enclosed upon Jorban in just a second, but he was already weaving in and out of combat, smashing his foes with his shield and slicing and stabbing them with his knife. His door took many damaging hits due to the searing heat of the batarians' various omni-tool weapons, to the point where it looked like it had been mauled by some kind of animal with superheated claws. His body armor didn't fare any better, as many glancing blows and outright stabs tore at it and scorched it heavily, some even managing to penetrate and burn his scales, before they ripped out and drew blood; but for every hit the batarians dished out, he responded tenfold. His door was eventually reduced to a jagged chunk of molten, slagged metal, the inner handle now functioning as something of a knife's grip as opposed to a shield's brace. Now with two blades, one proper and one improvised, he swung savagely at the batarians, slicing open chests with the knife and ripping out throats with the door. With how the indomitable monster seemed to shrug off anything the advancing batarians threw at him, it didn't seem like it could get any worse, but as if the universe was conspiring against them, the sound of two synchronized, deep, and bellowing roars grew over the din of combat, and before many could even blink, two new BattleVectors charged the field, intent upon breaching the thick enemy line and making it to their Lanceman, and whatever was in their way would either move, or be moved.
As Jorban spun his malicious maelstrom of ichor and death, he got just a glimpse of the charging BattleVectors, and the sight that brought him pride and a moment of reprieve, brought the enemy aliens terror. The BattleVectors had taken to the air, one by hopping onto a car and leaping off of its roof, one by leaping off of the ground and then shattering a batarian's shoulders by using it and its metal frame as an improvised springboard. The car-jumper soared through the air gracefully, one hand held in front of his chest and the other reared high above and behind his head, each of them holding energy lances that had been shifted to their white-hot bladed form. The batarian-jumper, however, deigned to dive through the air, both hands in front of him, one held out to the side and holding his blade-form energy lance in a reverse grip, and the other hovering in front of him, clenching his handcannon, which barked with a thunderous staccato and blasted apart anyone unfortunate enough to be within its line of sight. There was an instant air of terror as the batarians all backed up, and the airborne BattleVectors hit the ground, the dual-bladed warrior sliding to a halt right next to Jorban, whilst the diver hit the ground, rolled to his feet, holstered his pistol, and raised his superheated blade in one smooth motion.
"I believe you dropped this…" Growled the dual-bladed BattleVector, who handed Jorban one of the lances.
Jorban dropped his useless car door and clenched his fist around the grip of the burning blade. The batarians, some with their orange, wrist-mounted weapons still active, some without, raised whatever ranged weapons they had as the three BattleVectors went back to back. Where once there had been thousands of them, the combined efforts of Jorban halting their retreat, the two BattleVectors tearing their way through them, and the advancing Tyyrahn blasting apart whoever remained, there now were hundreds, with fewer than three dozen close enough to actually worry about the trio of BattleVectors. They all, however, knew that while they had this calm reprieve, they had to take advantage of every second, and opened fire. The BattleVectors were raked with gunfire, the miniscule slugs slamming into them with great force, their kevlar was shredded, exposing the dragonscale armor underneath, while the shots that passed through broke scales, penetrated skin, and drew blood. The three BattleVectors were pressed against eachother by the sheer number of bullets being blasted at them, using their allies as braces against the ground, to avoid being bowled over by the sheer volume of ammunition. After a few seconds, the batarian guns overheated, and the number of bullets dwindled to zero, and the BattleVectors remained standing.
Their armor was shredded, their dark red blood was beginning to pool on their chests and stain their uniforms, and their ribs had certainly been damaged, fractured, and even broken in a few extreme cases, and in the case of Jorban, his previous injuries, only partially healed, had been exacerbated, to the point that his head felt cloudy from the blood loss, and he was bleeding such that the adrenaline that had flooded his system, was now draining from it. After this battle, he knew, he would need time to rest and heal, but that came later. Given how they still stood, it gave the trio the appearance of having just taken volumes of gunfire from the equivalent of multiple firing squads firing nonstop, and were only inconvenienced by the experience. The trio simply stood there, their eyes slowly orbiting around them and making contact with each batarian invader individually, malice and rage filling the alien eyes with terror. After a moment, Jorban even smelled something putrid coming from within the armor of one of the batarians.
"I suppose we have kept them waiting long enough, Lanceman."
"I grow tired of these games." Growled Jorban, as he felt one of his lungs seal itself up, and he coughed up the blood that had leaked into it, spitting it out in a wide spray. "And they grow tired of their lives." He said, not even registering how terrifying the sight of a creature as enormous as he, spitting out blood and not even acting concerned was to the batarians that surrounded them. "Finish this. We need to find the Praetorian, and I need some rest, and air conditioning."
The trio charged forward and clashed again with the batarians. Death cries, screams of pain, and the sounds and smells of flesh roasting soon filled the air.
"Alright, bring it in, now. Slowly." The deep, rumbly drawl of Jorban Sal'Naa filled the radiowaves, as he used two burning blades as improvised marshalling wands, their heat casting pale but visible white auras into their immediate vicinity, bright enough that even those who stood at the tops of the still standing buildings in the city could just make out their visage, as he waved them back and forth.
Dozens of meters above him was an enormous, house-sized aircraft. Its four huge rotary blades drew up small, deafeningly powerful cyclones as they rotated at blinding speeds to keep the aircraft afloat. Dangling from five several inch thick metal cables was a massive infantry fighting vehicle. Even from his position beneath it, Jorban could see its powerful main cannon and secondary turrets, as well as the miniature dishes that provided it with instant access to communications networks, Innsua Command, and the Temple of the Hoomanisire. The only problem was that they couldn't simply drop the vehicle anywhere they pleased, thus requiring Jorban to guide it in to the empty inbound lane, specifically where there wasn't a pile of corpses for the vehicle to slip and lose traction on.
The sky had long since turned to dusk as the combined Tyyrahn and BattleVector mopped up the remaining batarian invaders in and around Chairon. Rumors had spread about movement under ground and soldiers with explosive weapons, and bodies had been found to substantiate them, but aside from searching the city, top to bottom, there was little Jorban could do. His main focus was instead appointing a field commander, setting up a defensive perimeter, and leaving to search for the Praetorian. Without that man's leadership, the war would descend into millions of disorganized resistance cells. No structure would ever rise and take hold until the war was either won, or as good as, and nothing proved this more than the report Jorban had gotten earlier that day, after he had shed his uniform and cleansed himself of the burnt and charred blood of the retreating batarians: The Dregs had been unleashed in Sithresi, and barely two hours later, the city had become quiet, save for the ceaseless hiss and endless howl of the endlessly starving insectoid drones.
A/N:
This chapter was fun to write.
I think I've found my groove, though, because I was stuck for the longest time, about halfway through it.
I was sitting there, staring at a half-finished chapter, wondering, "Okay, how do I make this combat more interesting than just a bunch of pew pew pew?"
And then it hit me: BattleVector vs krogan.
One thing I've been meaning to address is just how strong, physically, saltorians really are after having evolved on such a high-gravity world.
So, I thought, 'who's the biggest, baddest alien the ME Series has?' and while Elcoor immediately jumped to pretty high on the list, the obvious answer was a krogan. So, the oooobvious conclusion was to go all out and have a biotic krogan get into a fight with a BattleVector.
Now, while the winner is and was unequivocally the saltorian, it is also important to note that Saltor is a 5G world, whereas Tuchanka is 1.14 G's.
So obviously, while a good match-up, the fight itself wasn't nearly on equal footing for all parties. That's one problem I hope is becoming increasingly clear as time goes on: Given how durable the saltorians are by necessity, due to their native gravity, Citadel weapons and ammunition just can't stack up unless applied en-masse, or modified like the deserter weapons.
Anyways, a better fight would ideally be in a lighter-gravity environment, where the two fighters would be on equal grounds... Say, like the environment a certain ship full of batarian deserters are hurtling towards.
God help us when the saltorians start making biotics, though.
So, after I wrote the krogan fight, I just decided, 'alright... Now what else can I do?', and the highway fight was born. I feel I could've done that one better, but at that point I was just having fun.
Now, you get bonus points if you can figure out what'll be going down next chapter.
'Till next time!
-PFB