RP: Reactivated Reactivated M2: Reconnoiter

Nara had come with her own set of equipment, something she would become very grateful for later down the road. It was nothing like what she had worn in her last outing into bloodshed. No nothing close to that, she still had her power armor from her time with the MERN and for some time she had been itching to put it back to use. Its sheer black color followed the curvature of her slender form and was suited for heavy combat, but direct hits were probably not its best friend. Though this situation was nothing like combat she'd faced against the Umarians the last time she had the chance to use it.

"Jiks lu kaumnuk//gods be damned", she cursed in Nira'las as the convoy came under fire. As she swiftly maneuvered to a position from which to better assess the enemy they were facing she tapped into the private comms Revjak was utilizing. As she was doing such she hear Morris' voice thunder over comms summoning Revjak. Perhaps there was some kind of malfunction, because he had not said anything since their group came under fire. Maybe he was having a nice cozy conversation with the other occupant of the Defender LAV. "Revjak, your least favorite milk drinker here. Might wanna check which comms your on, Morris has been trying to get ahold of you on the other channel." she said in rushed trade before swapping back to the other channel. "Shos!//Shit!" she shouted readying her plasma rifle as sounds of combat thundered in the vicinity. She was itching to get her blades properly bloodied, especially since it was Mr. Stabby's first outing.

("I am going to wring that Ancestor's Damned bastard's neck!") Morris growled, peeking from behind one of the APC's as he fired off a shot at the gribbly infantry-the only good thing about all this crud rolling in is that it'd force the bastards in close-well closer. Their basic infantry guns typically out-ranged theirs and could only be really matched by crew served weapons. Still, all the range in the world didn't mean squat if you couldn't use it effectively. ("You got eyes!?") He shouted to the spotter, who was currently in the process of reloading his own weapon; a modified version of the skullcracker revolver; he'd modified it with a stock, likely to accommodate the massive rifle rounds it used. ("Negative-can't get a clear look at em with all the thurok-fucking dust in the air!") Peeking around, the spotter cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. Click! He pulled the hammer back again as Morris let out a shout of 'Reloading!' Same result. Cursing as he gave it several vicious smacks before trying again. This time it fired-before malfunctioning again.

Morris thought he saw a humanoid figure go down, that was until they'd received yet more return fire. Snarling a wordless curse, he returned fire. "We need to move," Someone shouted, "We're thurok bait out here!" Morris growled, before turning to the fox-morph. "Auli'il! Assist the spotter, now!" The big man began bellowing orders, trying to rally the scattered yeomen-their own sergeants doing likewise...

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Revjak was silent for a moment-he didn't recognize the voice but he recognized the accent. Norian. Not bothering to address the individual in question-it could be dealt with later-he switched to the general channel. "All units, report!" There was a burst of static, followed by the sounds of combat as the voice of Jacob Morris greeted him. "Revjak!? What the h-" The Squire cut him off. "Comms difficulties-status report!" A pause followed by a sigh-"We've got gribbly infantry and who knows what else bearing south-south-east, over." Another pause as the squire pursed his lips, before peering through the defender's perescope-flipping the infrared module on. Sticking his head out would make him a prime target. While the feed had some static-a byproduct of the planet's atmospheric conditions, he could at least make something out-a series of hunched figures, and a large heat signature right behind them. They had to be at least a half-klick out. "Roger that Morris-targets sighted." Looking at the gunner next to him, he nodded. "Swing the turret around, 180 degrees," He ordered, the gunner complying as the electric motor in the turret started, bringing the autocannon around, "Have a target-infantry with one unknown-get me a ranging shot." A nod, followed by a shout of "Sending!" and the gun's roar. He watched as the round churned up the dirt, the fire from the infantry increased focusing on the Flamethrower-he could see the steam from the interior wall starting to rise as the paint began to burn-the metal glowing in a few spots. "Impact-round short! Adjust barrel elevation 3 degrees-send it!" Another shout of sending-followed by the impact of another round-that shot had landed too far, "Adjust depression 1 degree!" Another shout of "Sending." No retort save for the mechanism clicking. The gunner tried again-same result-racking the bolt a few times-he opened up the feed cover. A cartridge was stuck at an odd angle-misfeed. "What's wrong!?" The squire barked. "Misfeed-need to clear it!" The man pulled out a large broad-bladed knife and began to pry at the stuck cartridge.

Opening a comm, he directed the two remaining APC's and Myrmidons to conduct their own ranging shots-churning up more yet more dirt and further worsening visibility.

----

Morris watched as the APC fired off a couple of shots-it'd forced a lapse, however brief, in the hostiles fighting before they'd started to concentrate fire on the lead APC. The others swung their turrets around, firing a few bursts being mixed in with the odd rivet from one of the tanks plowing trenches into the ground. In spite of their advantage in initiative, it was quickly waning, though the same could be said for them. Spotting the other Norian-where the hell did she come from? He opened a comm-"Oi-pointy ears!" He barked, snapping off a few shots-likely not hitting anything but at least he was doing something, "See if you can't flush the bastards out into the open!"

A string of explatives escaped Mike's lips as she switched her weapons again, firing a burst of covering fire to allow Morris and Auli'i's retreats. ("I can't see shit out here, and I got a shotgun and a carbine, what the fuck do you expect me to put down with this shit?!") Seeing them behind her, she started pulling back behind the hill, still firing off shots at whatever targets presented themselves with no belief she would actually hit. ("Someone get me my fucking gun!")

There was no direct response from Revjak after her callout out. What there was however, was a near immediate callout from the aforementioned knucklehead. If she could have been bothered to deter her focus from combat for a moment she might have gotten a smirk out of it. In this scenario it did not merit any form of acknowledgement as they were on task. The chaos swirling around them stood in pleasantly stark contrast to previous situations she had found herself in. Nara aimed her plasma rifle in the direction of the incoming fire, taking a few shots at anything that moved that had not come with the Iron Company. She had familiarized herself with those who should be around and knew enough about their movements to pick up just about anyone who did not belong.

Nara's ears twitched a bit as she was delightfully summoned to the lovely tune of "Oi-pointy ears!" While continuing to fire off shots on the enemy she opened a comm to Morris and rattled off "As you wish boss." She activated three feather drones slapped a nasty little treat on each and sent navigated the drones via mindhive to their destination. The drones armed with plasma concussion grenades lined up in a formation behind and above the sight of the figures that included the larger heat signature. Each drone simultaneously dropped their hellish payload and returned back to homebase on Nara's power armor. "Hopefully that does the trick." she thought to herself as the drones locked back in to position on her back.

Morris watched with grim satisfaction as Pointy-Ear's bombs did what the tank crews couldn't as the plasma bombs dispensed super-heated death across their intended targets-nothing exploded from the larger target-it was unknown what exactly it was, but judging by the faint glowing of slagged earth, and possibly metal, it likely wasn't an issue any longer. The lack of return fire was also a plus. "Bombs hit-good effect on target," He toggled his comm, "Revjak-hostiles seem to be neutralized; moving to confirm." Revjak acknowledged as he gestured for Auli to follow. "Mike," He said in trade as checked his rifle-sorely wishing he had his shield, "Give us some cover."

Revjak's voice cut over the comms; "Someone's bound to have heard that scrap; hurry up and get a confirmation; we move in two." Tell him something he already didn't know. "Alright, you heard him kid, let's go."

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Revjak watched as the crewmember finally got the autocannon unjammed-the large cartridge, from what he had been told had a bad primer. Hoping against hope that some fool in the Complex didn't give them bad ammo as he waited for their report; worse came to worse if the gribblies had this area pre-sighted in, they'd be under pressure from artillery if they didn't get moving, and soon...

Auli, her lithe form moving with silent grace, trailed closely behind Morris, her trusted adoptive father. Despite the chaos that had erupted mere moments before, her senses remained sharp, honed by her fox instincts. As Morris issued commands, Auli obediently followed, her weapon held firmly in her grasp, poised for any potential threats lurking in the shadows.

Her keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any hint of danger, while her ears strained to catch the faintest whisper of movement. Every nerve in her body was attuned to the task at hand, alert to the slightest deviation from the norm.

Amidst the chaos, the lingering scent of Nara's explosives hung in the air, a potent reminder of their recent skirmish. Auli couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the thought of their enemies' thwarted plans. She silently commended Nara for her skill and precision, resolving to express her gratitude once the immediate danger had passed.

But amidst her thoughts of victory, Auli harbored a deeper concern for the safety of her makeshift family. Morris, her steadfast father, and leader of the team; Tacho, her nurturing adoptive mother; and her fierce sisters, Mike and Nara—all of them were embroiled in the perilous mission at hand. With each step forward, Auli whispered a silent valhallan prayer, hoping against hope that they would emerge unscathed from the trials that awaited them.

As she treaded cautiously through the treacherous terrain, Auli clung to the faint glimmer of hope that they would emerge victorious, united in their resolve to overcome whatever challenges lay ahead. For in the face of adversity, it was the strength of their bond that would see them through the darkest of times.

"Roger," Michelle sighed, leaning her head against her rifle with an exasperated groan. "If anyone with some lifting capacity would be so kind, your local Royal caliber dumbass has left her antimateriel rifle in the transport."

Still, she stood and moved with the pair, staying just far enough behind to offer covering fire support, but not close enough to be caught in whatever scraps they got caught in.

As they approached what was left of the enemy's position, Morris looked over the rather gruesome scene-the slagged remains of some kind of tank and the charred corpses of their attackers-3 in total-least the ones that weren't vaporized in the initial blast.

Nothing moved-then again if you were unfortunate enough to survive a plasma charge, if the burns and dehydration didn't get you the radiation would. "Morris here, we have 3 confirmed KIA; rest were likely vaporized in the explosion, over." A pause followed by a response of "Confirmed-get yer ancestor's damned arsed back here and mount up; we're moving out-over!" He signaled to the two to followed. "Alright, you heard him-double time!" Running back up the slope and closing the distance in short order they clambered back up the myrmidon. Lurching forward, the convoy began its assault run-moving along the edge of the basin in an attempt to make themselves a far harder target.

So it began.

Revjack sat in the cupla, the hatch open as he kept himself as low as possibly while scanning for targets. ("All units-keep your eyes peeled; someone's going to have noticed that scrap and we're liable to run into patrols sniffing around-I want the Norians airborne and scanning for ground approached, the rest of your rounds in the chamber, over.") This was followed by a series of acknowledged and the sounds of rifles being chambered.

(OOC): I'm moving everyone along for this part.

As the tanks began their steady advance, something stirred in the dirt in front of the leading Myrmidon-the driver had yet to notice given the adverse weather conditions and watching for hostile armor. This threat emerged in the form of a small, robotic form; boasting a smooth dome and a quartet of strange, spindly legs as they awkwardly moved across the toxic sand-their motions strange and jittery. As the tank neared, it scooted towards the metal behemoth before making an attempt to climb the dozer blade-only to encounter the potent electromagnetic screen triggering whatever explosives were in it. The driver flinched as he reflexively closed the combat cover of its cockpit as the yellow-white flash enveloped the vehicle; thankfully they hadn't been hurt but the warning flashing across the console was clear; shields down by seventy-five percent. ("Bollocks; give me power to the shield generator!") The driver barked as he made to lower

Revjack has seen the flash; but hadn't seen the shot-no muzzle flash, no warning of any sort save the explosion. ("Revjack to lead, what the hell happened?") A pause followed by a shout of "Mines!" in Trade over the comms. "Then lower the ancestor's damned dozer blade and plow through!" He barked, before here a clank behind him-whipping his revolver out of its holster-he saw the little drone clattering over the tank and realized just what kind of mines they were dealing with. Pulling the trigger-and hoping like hell that a misplaced shot wouldn't be the death of them he toggled the command frequency. ("This is Squire Revjack-all units be advised-we've got some kind of skitter mines out here-we are falling back-repeat-" He fired again as an explosion rocked the lead Myr-the heavier tank absorbing yet more punishment even as it sent rounds from its sponsons so the softer skinned APC's could get away, "-we are falling back-requesting artillery support at the following grid coordinates...")

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Morris listened as Revjack called in the strike; skitter mines-ancestor's damned things were a menace to armor and infantry alike. "Watch the hatches-might have one try to climb through." He told his squad-the latter drawing pistols and various other close in weapons-not that it'd do them a damn bit of good if one got in.
---

As the Company unit withdrew, a small army of the skittering death dealers attempted to follow-this was cut short by the whirr of incoming shells, followed by the near earth-shattering force as the rounds impacted; detonating the sinister little machines. It left a foul taste in the mouths of the yeomen, but they'd made it without any casualties so it somewhat lightened their spirits. It however proved that their opponent was intelligent enough to use such defensive measures, and it did not bode well for them.