September 5th, OE 102
Swordian Impact Site Outskirts
Hellas Basin, Shura Controlled Territories
11:43 AM, Martian Standard Time
A silent procession, in the heat filled distant haze of the Martian surface a lone pair of legs marched with purpose. Red lights came from the 'face' of the lone unit, its limbs barely seemed to hold themselves together as they unwound and forced themselves back together, it was like they were made out of shoe laces. A passing cloud of dust obscured the encroaching machine for a moment before it moved aside, giving a clear view for any of the Shura moving about paying attention to the almost matte black thing inside their turf.
Just as it observed them, and then the Swordian. Half buried in the basin with its hull still in a state of disrepair. Whatever the Shura were using it for now didn't matter, the whale was beached and no convoluted method of entry was required any longer. Perhaps this was fulfilling a promise, or duty. Either way it was a frustrating thing. Both the machine's arms firmly took shape again as it marched once more.
There was no effort to conceal itself, almost the opposite as the dark stain on the environ would be even clearer against the picturesque red of Mars. Its make, as well was clearly not that of the Shura. In fact compared to their machines it was a giant, standing over twice as tall as a Flaus as it encroached on the ship with unknown intent and enough confidence to make one believe it wasn't by itself even if no allies could be seen at this instant so as such, the question posed was a theoretically simple one.
Did any of the warriors think themselves hard enough to come and have a go?
Swordian Impact Site Outskirts
Hellas Basin, Shura Controlled Territories
11:43 AM, Martian Standard Time
A silent procession, in the heat filled distant haze of the Martian surface a lone pair of legs marched with purpose. Red lights came from the 'face' of the lone unit, its limbs barely seemed to hold themselves together as they unwound and forced themselves back together, it was like they were made out of shoe laces. A passing cloud of dust obscured the encroaching machine for a moment before it moved aside, giving a clear view for any of the Shura moving about paying attention to the almost matte black thing inside their turf.
Just as it observed them, and then the Swordian. Half buried in the basin with its hull still in a state of disrepair. Whatever the Shura were using it for now didn't matter, the whale was beached and no convoluted method of entry was required any longer. Perhaps this was fulfilling a promise, or duty. Either way it was a frustrating thing. Both the machine's arms firmly took shape again as it marched once more.
There was no effort to conceal itself, almost the opposite as the dark stain on the environ would be even clearer against the picturesque red of Mars. Its make, as well was clearly not that of the Shura. In fact compared to their machines it was a giant, standing over twice as tall as a Flaus as it encroached on the ship with unknown intent and enough confidence to make one believe it wasn't by itself even if no allies could be seen at this instant so as such, the question posed was a theoretically simple one.
Did any of the warriors think themselves hard enough to come and have a go?
