[img]https://images.evetech.net/characters/2112987026/portrait?size=128[/img][h3][color=aba000]Hamazasp Sulser[/color][/h3]
He muttered a silent prayer of gratitude to be granted the comfort of climate conditioning and spared the discomfort of those itchy respirators.

Hamazasp was the kind of gentleman who'd, to open a wrapped present, peel off the tape then unfold the paper into a slightly battered quadrangle. His recent adversary lacked that courtesy towards even allied infrastructure. The Taurian beheld the mutilated mechbay portal as he passed it en route to the tunnel network, reminding himself that respect for life and property separated his faction from his foe. Well, that and the bloodthirsty thuggery. And color schematics. A myriad of things, but the former foremost among them. He'd hardly commenced his walking cycle before a swarm of infantry buzzed about him, bounding in their low gravity environment. Confound it, it was cumbersome enough maneuvering his 'Mech without avoiding these suicidal mites!

His leg stalks were each a human's width, the limit of reasonably avoidable but only for those paying attention. Locusts were commonly used for riot control, so perhaps they were less hazardous than most. Still, law enforcement vehicles possessed better methods to ensure minimal accidental casualties. He fumbled for his comms, switched the setting to "Loudspeaker" (in hopes that the atmosphere was sufficiently thick to transmit sound), and alerted his comrades: [color=aba000]"Oi, maintain a three meter berth from the legs' range of motion, please, thank you."[/color]

One could imagine Sulser on a pair of stilts by the manner by which he tiptoed over the terrain. The method was calculated but appeared clumsy, and occupied nearly the entirety of Hamazasp's conscious thought. He heard his neurohelmet buzz as it tried to keep up with his cerebellum. At last he reached a haven of respite, the entrance that would ideally funnel his allies into formations that wouldn't disrupt his movement. A minor yet audible scratch pealed above the neurohelmet's ring. The additional static hinted that Sulser's antenna scraped the upper surface of the facility. He was precisely the right height, though Lundqvist would be further inconvenienced.

[color=aba000]"Oh, come on!"[/color] His voice echoed throughout the concrete canyon. [color=aba000]"Apologies. Muting self."[/color] He returned to normal frequency radio. As if the lifeforms weren't a hassle already, he now faced a hodgepodge of tools, crates, and other knickknacks strewn across the ground. Channeling a concoction of creativity and frustration, he wound his foot back and pressed its flat forward in the attempt to kick a box aside. This was successful, and he'd knocked a couple spanners clear to boot. He'd repeat the process several times, forging an unimpeded path to venture down the tunnels as necessary. [color=aba000]"My vehicle comes with high beam headlights. Permission to activate them?"[/color]