Eisenhorn

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan considered the situation as it was presented. Divide their already limited numbers, so that two may return to the Captain and inform them of what was going on. The idea was all fine and well, however, without a landmark or destination, just saying 'we should return to this particular point in the path' would be no better than simply abandoning them to the wood. Of course, he did not have the chance to bring up the fallacy of this consideration as Ser Gerard resumed questioning the Aessyr and continued repeating himself, at least he had the patience to repeat himself over and over as needed. One advantage of heading back as the messenger might be in that he could have a few moments of hastened research and preparation while the Captain rallied the rest of the knights to march out and form a single, cohesive band. That would loudly announce themselves, intentionally or not, and keep an intelligent hunter well and truly out of sight of them. That being said, it had to be done all the same. He would have suggested he go alone to return to the Captain but they finally got more information out of the fae.

That Sleep place would not have done them any good if it wasn't for Ser Caulder being far more direct than the others had been so far, getting the name of a local place of importance. Now then, that was a far better idea to meet at a local landmark, and strike out from there. That was something they could work with, and he felt more confident about being able to relocate them again and proceed from there.

"That gives us a much more certain approach than 'return to this point in the path'. If we are agreed, I can depart immediately. Dame Yael, I leave it up to you whether you'd rather remain here or return with me." Rolan had no intent on forcing Yael to act contrary to any intent she might have in her mind. He would not insult her capabilities with a concern about her swiftness of foot, she would not be a member of the Roses if she was incapable. Depending on the agreement he would be ready to depart immediately. Retracing his steps is not difficult, but he could not let his guard down just because it was easy in theory.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

T O M A M O R R I S S
T O M A M O R R I S S

^{“When there's nowhere else to go, it's impressive how much suddenly becomes possible.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Toma is the youngest child of House Morriss, a minor family known for having aspirations and goals well and truly beyond their status. He would be raised as a servant to the heir of the family, but machinations would cause him to chafe and squirm under such forced expectations and eventually create a schism between father and son. He would be forced to leave to seek greater opportunity elsewhere, which suited him fine. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Giellnalian Weapon of Choice: Flanged Mace Elemental Affinity: Ice Spiritual Affinity: Dark

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma of House Morriss was the most recent child born of the current lesser lord Morriss' current wife, lady Triss Morriss, who took to doting on her youngest while lord Morriss focused his attentions on their oldest daughter to prepare her for taking over for his position. His older brother, the middle child between them, was rarely home, having already elected to study and travel abroad on behalf of the family interests. As he was raised, Toma quickly realized how little room he had to advance. His older sister would inherit the title their father had, and with his brother almost never home, he realized that was by design. The family of House Morriss fell into one of two groups, by design, those that inherited the title or served in support of the heir, and those who departed to make their own way in the world in spite of this fate. Toma was initially raised to be the first, despite his mother's best efforts. He loved his books and learning, spending hours upon hours with tutors and scholars who visited on business with the lord of the house, who had time to spare while waiting for their meeting. Much effort was put into drawing out the latent magic of the youngest son, by both hired help and by members of the family. It was a badge of great pride that every member of the house awakened their powers early, and whether they would openly admit it or not, they would not tolerate a late bloomer. His studies turned into more and more rigorous and harsh methods, pushing him further and further in an effort to force him to awaken. He would, eventually, nearly freezing the tutor who was drilling him that morning alive. Fast thinking from his sister prevented this, her own use of fire keeping the ice at bay. A generous stipend bought the tutor's silence, though he would not teach at the house any longer. After this event magical practice was added to Toma's studies, as was the beginnings of maneuvering the politics of Giellnal, given the naturally paranoid and distrustful nature of its people this was seen as necessary. However, Toma was not quite the same after his awakening, his own mother quietly doing her best to sabotage her husband's efforts to have the perfect servant to the heir. Stories of the middle child's adventures, how this place had nothing to offer someone of his talents, specially hired tutors who could regale him with stories of life beyond Giellnal, beyond merely being the youngest in a long line of succession. By the time he was old enough to be seriously considered to start accompanying his sister on her political errands and maneuvering, he refused. This caught his father off guard, his mother feigned surprise, and his sister was relieved. It was her doing that kept his father from simply casting him out right then and there, and writing him off as wasted time and resources. Instead Toma would find a new instructor waiting for him just several months after his sixteenth birthday. A man-at-arms, mercenary soldier who had been hired to drill him for the next year and a half before he was given what belongings he would need and sent out into the world. Officially he was to see to the world's affairs and send reports back to the family, much like his middle brother was supposed to have been doing. He had not been faithful to this task, but that was of no concern to Toma. Rather, he would spend hours at a time, every day, being drilled. Initially it was strength building, putting enough muscle on the scholarly boy that he could fight, after that, it was combat. Perhaps out of spite, Toma would agree to the mercenary's suggestion that he take up the mace as his method of self defense. An inelegant weapon that many nobles that moved in the same circles as his family would be caught dead using, but one that suited the natural capabilities of Toma well. Initially he was forbidden from using magic to amplify his strikes, forced to learn the basics of fighting without magic before being allowed to mix magic into the mix, but by the eve of his eighteenth birthday he was as ready as he could be. Rather than wait for final orders and pointed glares from his father, he said a quiet, secret farewell to both sister and mother, both of whom he would miss dearly even if he wouldn't admit it. He would write to them, he promised, and he departed with the mercenary instead. They agreed, with a bit of bonus coin thrown in, to make sure he made it to Atutania, where he could participate in the open invitation to become an initiate Warden. His father's reaction to the last bit of spiteful subversion was not known to Toma, who focused himself on what was to come. Whatever happened was behind him now, from here on it was going to be his decisions, and his alone, that would shape his fate, at least that was what he told himself. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Reserved ⬗ Strategic ⬗ Distrustful ⬗ Underhanded ⬗ Perceptive ⬗ Ambitious A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma is a competent scholar and wielder of magic, having been awakened at a relatively young age through significant trial and tribulation. Toma spent many of his mornings deep in various academic and historic texts and records, learning what he could of both the past and current events while he trained and practiced and trained in controlling and manifesting his magical powers. He has two broad applications of Ice magic, manifesting barriers and hazards to maneuvering around him as a method of defense, while manifesting varying sizes and forms of ice shards as his preferred form of offense. Whether using singular shards to strike key weakpoints, or blistering hails across a group, Toma is rightly proud of his capabilities in the Mana Arts. Driven on in equal parts by his mother's machinations, and his eldest sister's genuine well meaning intent, Toma received training under an experienced mercenary man-at-arms for some time before his departure from the family holdings. Rather than waste time on a blade, an art that requires much more time and investment than Toma had before his planned day to leave, he was instead trained to wield a mace with brutal efficiency. Lacking the elegance of other noble's sword skills, he makes up for it with a natural bent towards dirty tactics and empowered by his ice magic. Compared to an experienced soldier, however, he still has a great deal to learn, but he knows enough to protect himself and make himself useful in a violent encounter both with and without magical bolstering. Ultimately it is his intelligence and perception that are Toma's greatest strengths, however, as he turns the stereotypical paranoia of his home to advantage. He always expects and plans for trouble, watching and waiting for the first signs of danger, quick to respond to a situation with a spell, swing, or the rare barked warning. He is a quick study as well, eager to learn even after all the years spent studying before striking out on his own, and is often willing to give consideration to novel or otherwise untested strategies and techniques. Whether he embraces them or not is another matter fully, but consideration and flexibility are useful tools in his kit.

---

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

A bit delayed, fashionably late if you will, but got the lad put together.

Toma Morriss

T O M A M O R R I S S
T O M A M O R R I S S

^{“When there's nowhere else to go, it's impressive how much suddenly becomes possible.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Toma is the youngest child of House Morriss, a minor family known for having aspirations and goals well and truly beyond their status. He would be raised as a servant to the heir of the family, but machinations would cause him to chafe and squirm under such forced expectations and eventually create a schism between father and son. He would be forced to leave to seek greater opportunity elsewhere, which suited him fine. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Giellnalian Weapon of Choice: Flanged Mace Elemental Affinity: Ice Spiritual Affinity: Dark

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma of House Morriss was the most recent child born of the current lesser lord Morriss' current wife, lady Triss Morriss, who took to doting on her youngest while lord Morriss focused his attentions on their oldest daughter to prepare her for taking over for his position. His older brother, the middle child between them, was rarely home, having already elected to study and travel abroad on behalf of the family interests. As he was raised, Toma quickly realized how little room he had to advance. His older sister would inherit the title their father had, and with his brother almost never home, he realized that was by design. The family of House Morriss fell into one of two groups, by design, those that inherited the title or served in support of the heir, and those who departed to make their own way in the world in spite of this fate. Toma was initially raised to be the first, despite his mother's best efforts. He loved his books and learning, spending hours upon hours with tutors and scholars who visited on business with the lord of the house, who had time to spare while waiting for their meeting. Much effort was put into drawing out the latent magic of the youngest son, by both hired help and by members of the family. It was a badge of great pride that every member of the house awakened their powers early, and whether they would openly admit it or not, they would not tolerate a late bloomer. His studies turned into more and more rigorous and harsh methods, pushing him further and further in an effort to force him to awaken. He would, eventually, nearly freezing the tutor who was drilling him that morning alive. Fast thinking from his sister prevented this, her own use of fire keeping the ice at bay. A generous stipend bought the tutor's silence, though he would not teach at the house any longer. After this event magical practice was added to Toma's studies, as was the beginnings of maneuvering the politics of Giellnal, given the naturally paranoid and distrustful nature of its people this was seen as necessary. However, Toma was not quite the same after his awakening, his own mother quietly doing her best to sabotage her husband's efforts to have the perfect servant to the heir. Stories of the middle child's adventures, how this place had nothing to offer someone of his talents, specially hired tutors who could regale him with stories of life beyond Giellnal, beyond merely being the youngest in a long line of succession. By the time he was old enough to be seriously considered to start accompanying his sister on her political errands and maneuvering, he refused. This caught his father off guard, his mother feigned surprise, and his sister was relieved. It was her doing that kept his father from simply casting him out right then and there, and writing him off as wasted time and resources. Instead Toma would find a new instructor waiting for him just several months after his sixteenth birthday. A man-at-arms, mercenary soldier who had been hired to drill him for the next year and a half before he was given what belongings he would need and sent out into the world. Officially he was to see to the world's affairs and send reports back to the family, much like his middle brother was supposed to have been doing. He had not been faithful to this task, but that was of no concern to Toma. Rather, he would spend hours at a time, every day, being drilled. Initially it was strength building, putting enough muscle on the scholarly boy that he could fight, after that, it was combat. Perhaps out of spite, Toma would agree to the mercenary's suggestion that he take up the mace as his method of self defense. An inelegant weapon that many nobles that moved in the same circles as his family would be caught dead using, but one that suited the natural capabilities of Toma well. Initially he was forbidden from using magic to amplify his strikes, forced to learn the basics of fighting without magic before being allowed to mix magic into the mix, but by the eve of his eighteenth birthday he was as ready as he could be. Rather than wait for final orders and pointed glares from his father, he said a quiet, secret farewell to both sister and mother, both of whom he would miss dearly even if he wouldn't admit it. He would write to them, he promised, and he departed with the mercenary instead. They agreed, with a bit of bonus coin thrown in, to make sure he made it to Atutania, where he could participate in the open invitation to become an initiate Warden. His father's reaction to the last bit of spiteful subversion was not known to Toma, who focused himself on what was to come. Whatever happened was behind him now, from here on it was going to be his decisions, and his alone, that would shape his fate, at least that was what he told himself. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Reserved ⬗ Strategic ⬗ Distrustful ⬗ Underhanded ⬗ Perceptive ⬗ Ambitious A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma is a competent scholar and wielder of magic, having been awakened at a relatively young age through significant trial and tribulation. Toma spent many of his mornings deep in various academic and historic texts and records, learning what he could of both the past and current events while he trained and practiced and trained in controlling and manifesting his magical powers. He has two broad applications of Ice magic, manifesting barriers and hazards to maneuvering around him as a method of defense, while manifesting varying sizes and forms of ice shards as his preferred form of offense. Whether using singular shards to strike key weakpoints, or blistering hails across a group, Toma is rightly proud of his capabilities in the Mana Arts. Driven on in equal parts by his mother's machinations, and his eldest sister's genuine well meaning intent, Toma received training under an experienced mercenary man-at-arms for some time before his departure from the family holdings. Rather than waste time on a blade, an art that requires much more time and investment than Toma had before his planned day to leave, he was instead trained to wield a mace with brutal efficiency. Lacking the elegance of other noble's sword skills, he makes up for it with a natural bent towards dirty tactics and empowered by his ice magic. Compared to an experienced soldier, however, he still has a great deal to learn, but he knows enough to protect himself and make himself useful in a violent encounter both with and without magical bolstering. Ultimately it is his intelligence and perception that are Toma's greatest strengths, however, as he turns the stereotypical paranoia of his home to advantage. He always expects and plans for trouble, watching and waiting for the first signs of danger, quick to respond to a situation with a spell, swing, or the rare barked warning. He is a quick study as well, eager to learn even after all the years spent studying before striking out on his own, and is often willing to give consideration to novel or otherwise untested strategies and techniques. Whether he embraces them or not is another matter fully, but consideration and flexibility are useful tools in his kit.

---

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

Most excellent, once the CS is available I'll start putting someone together. Juggling a few possible ideas currently.

Wardens of the Glade: Interest Check

It's safe to say I'm interested so far, sure as sure. It'll be interesting to see how the magic system overall works.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

At the feel of a hand on his shoulder, Ser Gerard's, Rolan shifted back and let him be the more readily diplomatic of the two of them. Likely of the four, given the response to the offered pastry, he started musing on the information given thus far. Large, long legs, gaping maw, incredibly dark in coloration. He would have kept attempting to match it to wildlife he knew existed in the woods but the next bit of information took him off that train of thought completely. The things very presence spoiled the air, and its impending arrival was foretold by something being off in the area. Whatever it was seemed to be poisoning its surroundings by existing, and that was before it went around devouring things whole. An unnatural being devouring a fae might change matters, something Dame Yael seemed to clue in on before the protests and assurances of aessyr cut her off. Rolan started going through his supplies, taking stock and considering the circumstances. Alchemist fire was out, torching the aessyr trapped within was as good as letting it digest, he wasn't certain the caustic smoke bombs would do much more than blind the knights and cover for the monster. The poultices and supplies he had for treating injuries and ailments weren't worth a damn in a fight, and given the lack of enchantments or the like on his weapons, effectively wounding, let alone killing, a monster could prove tricky if it was resilient to mundane means. If.

"Under ideal circumstances I would take time to study what we know about this thing to properly prepare, before considering hunting it down, but if we are to do this, time is not a luxury we have. If nothing else, having something that taints the very air and surroundings it passes through wandering the woods cannot be beneficial to anyone involved." Unless they benefited directly from such things being spread, but if that was the case curing the Duke's affliction would be far more complicated than he had initially thought, and that was after seeing the actual farce going on back in the keep. At no point, however, had he agreed to go hunt this thing down, though he would very much rather do so at this point. They had their original goals in mind, after all, and it wasn't like they had set out ready to hunt something unnatural devouring fairies and tainting it's surroundings. Right now he would have to hope, should they set out, that it was susceptible to mundane means of wounding it, otherwise they would have to withdraw and replan.

"Not solely my decision to make however. Someone should at least inform the Captain and the others what has been found out so far, should we pursue this beast." Rolan knew where he stood at this point in time, even though he was still waiting on the aessyr to even answer where the beast originally was struck in the first place. Might be waiting for an agreement to help before leading them off the path, but that was a risk no matter what. While he was inclined to agree with Dame Yael on the unlikely nature of the aessyr's friend, he didn't comment on it in front of the as of yet living aessyr. It wouldn't do them any good to distress her further than she already was.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan glanced back at the voice as the fae rolled in, seeing the palm sized aessyr flit out after complaining about them not being proper knights in shining armor, or something. Technically only one of their number met that description, the one that chimed in based on past experience most likely. He himself did not pretend to have as much dealings with them as the others present, deferring to their expertise on the matter while considering what was going on currently. Apparently her friend got eaten whole, home destroyed, and the rest scattered. Big beast was just about as vague as one could get. Big for such a small fae could have been anything, from wolf to bear to anything else, and that was just assuming naturally occurring creatures. Fae involvement could lead to who knows what moving around the woods, though this was about as good a lead as any that they had right now. He didn't bring up that, by this point, this Enfys had probably been digested. It wouldn't accomplish anything, not really, so rather he asked a rather simple question. It promised nothing, but would help narrow down what they might end up hunting down. Assuming they wouldn't be poaching on fae territory, or accused of such.

"Can you describe the beast any further than just 'monster'? This seems to be the best lead we have, though I am concerned about being accused of poaching on fae territory." Rolan was blunt and to the point after his question, already thinking on hunting down this 'monster'. Tracking a beast large enough to swallow a fae whole, small as they were, in such a way as to not immediately kill the poor thing did mean it had to at least be on the larger side. A larger wolf, perhaps, and he was already running through his mind the most expedient way to track the monster down. He'd have to aim for the head, not ideal as he preferred the heart, but he did not want to risk a stray shot, even by a few inches, possibly perforating the would be rescued fae within the thing's gullet. Depending on the details of the so called monster, he could plan a better approach to bringing it down in one swift strike. Cut the trapped fae clear, assuming it yet lived, and then clean the rest of the kill to be returned for use.

Just because they hunted it for other reasons didn't mean he would not let the rest of the beast, whatever it may be, go to waste. Hide, meat, bone, every part of the kill was of value. Enough fur and he might reline the inside of his cloak, it wouldn't hurt to get his cloak in a bit better shape. Fae might be outside his expertise beyond how to avoid them, but hunting was right where he was most confident in his capabilities. Still, he kept a careful watch on their surroundings as he listened and planned, as it wasn't on him to make the decision quite yet. Though the old instinct of slipping off on his own to sort out the problem was in the back of his mind again, especially since Ser Caulder was about as well suited for hunting as a combined war party, but he had stated he wouldn't go wandering off without good cause. Tempting as it was, this was not good cause, not yet.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

"I'll not go roving alone without good cause. Slow going, but safety in numbers and all that." Rolan did not waste his energy with gestures, eyes already scanning their surroundings as they breached Brennan Forest properly. Dame Yael's suspected opinion of both Ser Gerard and himself was not lost on the hedge knight, though he was not exactly concerned with it even if it had been. The Captain insisted on a giant of a man in frankly overly gleaming armor that bordered on distracting, while lacking any ornate design beyond that. One almost wondered how long the man spent polishing the armor to get it to such a gleaming degree even in woods like these. Dame Yael, meanwhile, preferred a more practical armor that concealed much of who she was while remaining far more practical. Still far too much noise and metal for his tastes, but most knights did not need to worry about concealment and noise.

Once the search began in earnest, Rolan slowed his breathing and began focusing not on just what he could see, but what his other senses could tell him. Ser Gerard was sharp eyed enough alone that he felt confident in focusing on his other senses, not to disregard the additional two knights with them. He kept an eye out, but his intent was on the surrounding sounds, the noise of the wood, the feel in the air. Long years hunting had taught him that, if something strange was afoot, one of the first things to vanish was the sounds of wildlife. They would go to ground and hide first, robbing the wood of part of his natural sound, while the potential of the Fae meant that he had to take every sense into account rather than just what he could see. Cover enough of their possible signs of Fae and one was bound to slip through to their attention. Still, it was slow going, as a group tracking anything would go while maintaining a proper formation.

Of course, all the focus on listening and the like meant the sharp, abrupt scream for help was almost painfully clear. Rolan instinctively pulled his cloak around his left side, obscuring both knife, blade, and satchel packed full of his alchemical supplies. By design, he had ensured that his off hand could access any of them while obscured, to keep any observers guessing. His stance shifted, subtly, to one he could ready his crossbow off his shoulder at a moment's notice. No armor that he needed to worry about donning, so he could instead focus on Ser Gerard's instructions, naturally falling in line at the rear of their diamond formation. He turned his back on his fellow knights, turning to watch their flanks and rear instead. The three in front could keep a close eye on the one calling for help, but sparing one of them to watch their vulnerable flanks and rear while otherwise distracted would be wise.

"Following your lead Ser Gerard, keeping eyes and ears on our surroundings." Rolan spoke low and fast, barely loud enough for the others to hear him, ready to react to danger at a moment's notice. He did not spare thought or time to prayer, wasn't ever quite his style beyond showing due respect in a chapel on the odd times he passed through one. Rather he was considering the route back to safety, how to get there in a timely manner, various contingencies should this prove to not be what it appeared to be. The shouting could just be a distraction as well, little more than a ploy to get all eyes in the same direction so it would be easier to slip behind them, or in the midst of them even if all focus was elsewhere. Better at least one of them see the trouble coming before they get ambushed rather than the first warning of trouble was blades at their collective throats.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

"Your concern is understood, Captain, but if we wait for the rest of the knights to finish with their indulging of madness we might be here all day. We will be careful, rest assured of that." Rolan was not keen on simply waiting for an undefined number of knights to become available to start combing the woods. Between piecing together the maddened rambling of the Duke, waiting on summoning of a Fae and whatever answers, or questions, that might provide, and not being well suited to politely gathering information meant that their skills were best suited to scouting ahead, to better direct any information found within the Duke's holdings towards the Fae if the time came. Since she had not simply ordered them to stay, Rolan treated her concern as a suggestion and added it to the mental list of things to keep track of while solving this latest concern.

@VitaVitaAR

---

Rolan listened as Ser Gerard began speaking on the folk stories of fae sign and how to identify it, starting from the thickest of the present wood and working from there. His knowledge of the fae territory was limited to what studies he had done prior to going to areas suspected of, or having, such a presence. It was decently rare before now, as most of his targets prior to joining the Captain's personal retinue were not so desperate as to flee to lands claimed by the Fae, and Rolan knew that there was more truth to folk tales and legend than more traditionally learned men might be willing to admit. Such things didn't get into generations of retelling without having some truth to them, after all, and it aligned with the fewer, but more pragmatic, cautions given when he was still learning to hunt as a child. "Smart that you grabbed a suitable offering then, should we find it necessary. My own rations and belongings are mostly lacking in the worthiness of being an offering. I have a jam, I suppose, but I am not keen on parting with that, not without time to prepare a replacement batch."

Rolan's efforts alongside Ser Gerard's along the more well worn paths of the wood watched for the signs he spoke of in addition to his normal tells and signs of passing individuals and the like. Ideally once they found signs of where the Fae claimed territory began they would report their findings back, before crossing over and inviting trouble that would require a response from their fellow knights.

@HereComesTheSnow

The Things We Fight For

"Wouldn't have to watch for your ass if it wasn't hanging out for the Aberrant to chase."

Howe's reply was calm and level, contrasting the intensity of the violence he was sending downrange into the oncoming threats. The arrival of a Constellation, shouted by the supporting forces, was well received. Howe altered his firing patterns to account for the gaps in her attacks, the empty space between each swing being met with 20mm and scything blasts of buckshot. Ammo reserves were depleting steadily, but not enough to worry him yet. He would worry when he ran out of options to fight with, which hardly ended when he ran out of ammunition. Sabine requested a burst of 20mm, the firing solution received and processed across the display, a quick glance between reloads of the shotgun confirmed they were good. Vickie, one would think almost begrudgingly, allowed the 20mm to swing and bark a precise burst of rounds on target, shredding the already wounded and beleaguered Jetsam while Howe continued engaging the incoming remains of the current batch of threats. It was during this brief gap in firepower that not only was the constellation wounded, but another Pawn leapt for Dunkirk during the same gap.

Only to meet the reinforced grasp of Vickie, catching it by the torso midleap and squeezing, crushing the life out of it before hurling it forcefully back into the remaining Pawns as they were torn apart by the return of the Constellation Commander. About time, and now that the violence had paused for a brief moment, Howe prepared to get moving when the presence of a new threat threw the entire plan into the dustbin. Walking Shrimp, Rook Class, Howe had a particular disdain for that particular breed of Aberrant, but what didn't add up was it arriving now, after months where it could have done so much more work. It was held in reserve, Howe was increasingly certain, to counter just this sort of maneuver. However, that could be mused on later, right now they had marching orders to keep moving. Problem, the infantry and other pilots were in bad shape and would not be able to keep up as they were. Listening to each pilot's reported issues, Howe began speaking firmly, a touch coldly, as he approached the mech with the damaged leg.

"If you can't see, fight unbuttoned, being blind will kill you even faster than being exposed, check your manipulators for jams, otherwise your going to have to fight up close. Richie, on my mark I want you to rev the broken leg's hip actuators like you were trying to jump, I'm going to hold the leg in place so you can maintain at least some limited mobility by warping the parts together, maintenance crew will hate me for it though. I can't do anything for your thrusters, but you'll be mobile. Get Kindred to salvage one of the down and out APC's radio kit to act as a patched in fix. Ready Richie? MARK!"

On his command, Howe jammed the damaged leg back up into the actuator well that normally held the leg in place and moved it smoothly. This was a patch he saw back on New Alexandria, where any mobility was better than none during the fighting withdraws as the planet died around them, the goal going from reclamation to withdraw, to survival and back to a mad escape that couldn't afford to stop moving. It would keep Richie moving, for what it was worth, and once it was done Howe maneuvered Vickie back towards those still able to move and fight under their own power. Then it was desperate survival, now it was desperate prevention, how little things changed. The Shrimp needed resolved, but right now Howe could not readily help with that. Wrong combat package for engaging the thing, and he lacked the maneuverability to meaningfully help engage the Rook. Given the circumstances, he was best kept here holding the line. Compared to the elements that could keep moving on the Princess, he was the slowest, the rest would be able to move significantly faster without having to wait for him.

"Commander, I'll hold here and buy as much time for repairs as possible. We'll see what happens from there, ideally catch up before things are decided."

With that Howe maneuvered his frame to the best spot to protect the most people as he could, noting the current damage reports from his own diagnostics. His armor had taken a beating, ammo was starting to reach the point where he might have to start worrying about repurposing weapons into bludgeons, reactor was looking good though so there was that. Making sure everything was topped off, Howe listened to the howling Aberrant that surrounded them, the sound of more moving in just deciding things for good as he watched the group head off. No, no now was the time for him to dig his heels in, metaphorically, and put himself squarely between the Aberrant and those who were compromised, and he turned off his outbound comms for a few moments reflection as hostiles closed in. Last stands were tricky things, especially buying time for other people to act. By the time you go down, you can't know whether or not your stand meant anything or not, had to hope or have faith, if you still believed in such things.

"Right then, let's see if the Aberrant take us seriously or not..."

With that Howe reactivated outbound comms and stood ready, armor damaged, munitions lower than anyone would like, but unbowed and in the best shape of all the Frames that stayed behind despite the previous engagements. If it was time for him to join the rest of New Alexandria, he'd make damn sure it would cost the Aberrant dearly. So dearly they couldn't divert to protect their Princess, even if he couldn't keep the Shrimp from engaging further. Let them come and see, then, let them come and see.