World Tree MUSH

    Not being known as a megalomaniacal wannabe dictator does have its perks, Eggman has begrudgingly accepted.

    There's a full-blown industrial revolution going on in this little pocket of the world. A large mining operation is going on, featuring large excavators and robotic workers that absolutely don't belong in this nonmagical, medieval world. The machines are made from steel rather than fancy titanium alloys or carbon fibre, but it's a start. Adjacent to the mine is a factory, belching out smoke into the sky, presumably for the manufacture of robots and digging equipment. A mile away, within view, is a forest that's in the process of being cut down - a railway joins the logging operation to the mining and production center.

    All of the expansion seems to have been put into production - there's no defenses to speak of. Not even a wall. Which is presumably why the illustrious Doctor has hired a rag-tag group of mercenaries to defend his claim.

    Many miles away to the north is a fort owned by a feudal lord. A lord who claims that Eggman is mining within his territory. He's sent out a small band of mercenaries of his own - some native to the world, some 'trump cards' from other worlds hired with much coin he hopes will surprise Eggman. THIS rag-tag group of mercenaries is just cresting the hill...

    Navi will have let the good doctor know she's on site. She *is* here to get paid, afterall. But she's not on the ground; she's not even corporeal. Instead the air spirit rides the winds far above, noting the movements of both sides. Waiting for the fight to start before she swoops down and rejoins the realm of the corporeal. But for now, simply scouting and observing.

     One of the mercenaries that has been expected on the scene has yet to arrive. The name Wolf O'Donnell, to some, may spark to mind the image of a grizzled pale-skinned Irishman with stubble and a thick accent. The group he seems to run claims to have a large reputation and a few may even be aware of recruitment drives held under that name, or a name like it, in various locations. Star Wolf, was it? The initial acceptance of the contract had some latency, yet, despite commentary in the reply over it being beneath his usual price for such work, the deal was made anyway. Now, just on the edge of an all-out battle, he is nowhere to be seen. There's simply no sign whatsoever.

     Krystal is with the mercenaries hired by the feudal lord. If someone really was mining valuable ore from land the man owned, she agreed it was far from unreasonable that he should want to get a cut. However, this was certainly not the first time Krystal has encountered a similar dispute, and knows things are not always as they seem. She is keeping an open mind for the moment, and looking to see the situation for herself before she demands these taxes be paid. She hangs back a bit, letting the other mercenaries go ahead of her while she listens with her telepathy to try to learn what she's heading into.

    There's another group of mercenaries not far from the mining camp, milling around on the lee of a rock outcropping, testing the sharpness of blades, and otherwise loafing about until they have orders to march. Most of them look like man-sized rats, and the occasional ferret, weasel, and stoat. They stand bipedal, but they're unmistakably those animals, even from a distance.
    Two of them are standing on top of the outcropping. One, a man-sized fox whose stark whiteness is visible from... pretty absurdly far away, has a brass spyglass raised to its face, peering in the direction of the factory. He has a silk shirt, fine leather breeches, sea boots with their distinct cuff, and a battered tricorn hat stuck through with some truly magnificent feathers. Over that he has a heavy leather long coat, a trident with a snapped prong over his shoulder, a brace of throwing knives on a bandolier over his chest and a shiny black bullwhip coiled at his hip. Quite fancy.
    The second is a man-sized ferret with a simple bandolier of throwing knives, whose beady black eyes fixed on the mining facility and a scowl tweaking his whiskers down.
    Some of the rays are wearing loose linen breeches or the occasional piecemeal armour like a leather bracer or shin guard, and gold or silver rings and studs. While they look poorly-equipped, they also look vicious.
    Its not immediately apparent which side of the brewing melee this lot is on. They look like textbook pirates, except for the animal part.

    The mercenaries with Krystal are mostly an assortment of men-at-arms wearing armour and wielding weapons of varying quality. Some of them stand out, though, appearing to be leaders or off-worlders of some description - a man with a shock of blood-red hair wielding a sword as large as he is, a woman of regal bearing wearing an oversized, wide-brimmed pointy hat and apparently wielding a BOOK as a weapon, and a single mounted knight. They seem friendly enough, but everyone is here to do a job so there hasn't been that much fraternising.

    A shout comes from the red-haired man - an order to charge - and the men-at-arms and the knight break into a charge. The regal-looking woman, however, hangs back, and begins leafing through her book as she mumbles something to herself.

    At the shout, all of the working robots stop what they're doing and turn, as one, towards the charging mercenaries. In a few seconds, the lord's makeshift company is going to be slamming into the robots!

    Eggman is nowhere to be seen. Possibly he's down in the mine, or in the factory?

    Time to work. But who first? The red-haired man leading the charge was an obvious target. But his companion with the book... leaving mages unchecked, well, that never ends well. Spirit-Navi descends, winds gathering and seeming to convalesce to give her physical form as she touches down amidst the back line. Drawing both her long and short sword, Navi rushes towards the regal woman - starting a cleave in an attempt to cut through the tome on the longer blade's way towards the woman herself.

     Anybody aware of what military-designed aerial dropships look like will immediately identify the two Venomian-styled craft on approach overhead preceded only by the whine of engines which, upon reaching the main entrance to the mine, hover in place. Escorted by three other ships appearing to be single-pilot fighter jets, these attack vehicles have silver-gray bodies and X-styled wings with red and black markings otherwise. They are each indistinguishable from one another save for one with a black rose painted on the side. 

     The jet taking point in formation slows, lowers altitude even below that of the dropships, and hovers, also. The other two jets continue forward, plasma engines leaving afterimage trails from their brightness, and each make a one-two pass over the charging army before banking away to circle back around. They don't attack; they're in a holding pattern. 

     The cockpit of the lead jet opens and a figure emerges to stands on one of the wings to get a better view of the events unfolding. It's a wolf-person of some sort dressed up in leather with chains and spikes and would look at home on a motorcycle. Glinting in the light, he wears some kind of glowing blue headpiece that covers his left eye with a type of lens; like a tech-based eyepatch. He seems to speak, but whatever he says is lost to the noise of the combined engines. Pointing below, the hatch on one of the dropships opens up and a large metal crate is dropped. With a resounding thud it crashes to the ground below. 

     Furthermore, a communications line is opened, broadband, and a signal is broadcast. "Sorry for the hold-up, Doctor. Star Wolf is here to keep those punks from kicking your assets. Setting up fortifications at the mine and will be sending troops to guard the factory." Likely anybody with the ability to receive such a message can hear it in the area.

     Krystal's tail lashes in agitation, as she really doesn't like these odds, they were outnumbered, it was clear to see, but Star Wolf was also among them, which gave her pause even further. As the mercenaries made the charge toward the robots, she would follow them, but she wasn't actually attacking yet, for now she was still surveying the situation. She also taps a finger to a communicator headset hidden under her hair, and speaks to Wolf and his team. 

     "Well, what are the odds we'd meet here. This place seems shockingly small sometimes despite the number of connected worlds. I've been hired by the man who claims to own this land, saying he seeks taxes from the doctor doing the mining. But I've seen this sort of dispute enough times to know that you almost never get the full story from either side. What do you know about what's going on here?"

    The pirates on the hill seem content to loaf about and stay on the hill, despite the battle that looks to be shaping up below. Every so often, the white fox swings his spyglass somewhere else, studying the battlefield with evident apathy; attacks and counterattacks down below don't seem to bother him very much. The big group of pirates -- there are at least two dozen of them -- must not have a horse in this race, figuratively speaking.

    After a few seconds of study, the ferret standing up on the hill with the fox snatches the spyglass, telescoping it out and peering for a long time at the approaching army. In particular, the spyglass fixes on the horseman. After a few seconds more of this, the fox snatches the spyglass back and fixes it on the horseman, big white brush of a tail switching back and forth as he watches. The fox compresses the spyglass and tosses it casually to the ferret, who snatches it with practised ease from the air. He must say something to the rats below, then; they start milling around a little more animated-like until the fox jumps down from the rock, landing in the middle of them.

    The searats start up a ragged cheer. They sound like savage creatures. Without breaking stride, the fox strolls casually towards the approaching army with the red-haired giant and the regal sorceress and the others, as though they haven't a care in the world, the ferret keeping pace just behind the fox, the rats trailing behind in an absolutely disorganised mess. This lot wouldn't pass a military inspection if the drill sergeant were blind and deaf.

    Up at the front of the line, the fox raises his head, narrow muzzle pointed to the sky, and belts out a song in a heavy, resonant voice:

    "Fifteen beasts on a deadbeast's chest
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!
    Drink an' the Dark Forest done for the rest
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!
    The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
    The bosun brained with a marlinspike
    An' cookey's throat was marked belike
    It had been gripped by bloody claws ten
    An' there they lay, all goodbeasts dead, then

    Like break o' day in a boozin' ken
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!"

    He's getting louder as they get closer, but that's only because more and more of the rats join in. They look ghoulish and savage, the closer they get, and perhaps uncomfortably formidable to the average lowly footman despite being... well... rats.

    "Fifteen beasts o' the whole ship's list
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!
    Dead an' be damned an' the rest gone whist!
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!
    The skipper lay with his nob in gore
    Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
    An' the scullion, he was stabbed times four
    An' there they lay, an' the soggy skies
    Dripped down in up-starin' eyes
    In murk sunset an' foul sunrise
    Yo ho ho an' a bottle o' rum!"

    Somewhere between one moment and the next, the bullwhip snaps out from the white fox's hand, seizing the sword of an unfortunate lowly footsoldier and flinging it into the empty sky, whirling end over end. It snaps out again, quick as thought, and settles 'round the unfortunate footsoldier's throat.

    A tug brings the man close to the fox's leering face, needle-sharp teeth white in his red mouth. This close, he's burly and strong and absolutely stark-white albino, with pink eyes and a pink nose.

    "Some things ain't worth dyin' for, laddie. What say you an' your mates lay down yore weapons, then, an' go back home. While ye still have a head to go back home with. Haharr!"

    The rest of the searats form up around the fox as he speaks, brandishing their weapons -- cutlasses, the occasional pike, one or two with short swords. They're all sharp, gleaming in the sun.

    "Elsewise, we might have to kill one or two of these here..." The fox squints, yanking the footsoldier closer. "...Whatever ye lot are, anyway."

    The Doctor's voice answers Wolf's hail. "About time you showed up. I thought your ships were supposed to be faster than light." What a jerk. But still, he's apparently done all this in a month - with sub par materials and tools, at that. If Wolf can ignore the jerkitude he may be able to profit from this mad doctor's genius.

    Potentially.

    The regal-looking sorceress looks up at Navi with a sudden gasp, holding the book out to try to catch the blade. The book offers... slightly more resistance than something made from paper and leather really should, but the blade still slices clean through it and nearly takes the sorceress's face with it. "Wh- a magic weapon?! Curse you- that was a family heirloom!" The book falls to the floor in tatters.

    The foot soldiers are... not too keen on fighting these robots, it appears. They're made of solid steel, after all, so their weapons aren't doing much. When they're beset by animal-men, their morale doesn't much improve - sure, their weapons should work on beasts of flesh and blood, but they never expected to fight MONSTERS!

    The grunt pulled in close by the fox's whip lets out a strangled whimper and tries to nod. Several other men-at-arms stumble back in shock at the sheer might of this white devil!

    The metal ships floating above cause some commotion down below - and the knight's horse rears as metal crates start to slam down to the ground. The red-haired man seems to be in his element, however, practically laughing as he cuts robots in twain with his dull grey sword, advancing towards the factory without paying his comrades any heed at all.

    Easily lost in the moments of combat, Navi lets out a small breath of relief. The sorceress might not be out yet, but at least her focus was. And then... Navi retreats?
    Loathe as she might be to even momentarily leave the battle rush behind, to leave the sorceress unpressured - keeping up is important. Navi takes several steps back, weaving between her spirit and physical forms to pass the distance quicker. Eyes quietly but quickly taking in the changes. The reinforcements arriving by airship. The pirates joining the fray. Lacking a receiver, she doesn't take in any of the radio chatter. Frowning as the red-haired man advances with relative ease - but she had her own opponent to deal with. And then her focus wholly returns to the fight at hand, and she rushes back in.
    This time Navi leads with a spell attack. The runs on her blades flare briefly as she swings - sending a sharply compressed blade of air ahead at the sorceress while she moves to close the distance again.

  Terror is good. The fox studies his captive with evident satisfaction, grunting as he pushes the man away with a kick to the gut, doing something with his wrist that must release the bullwhip's tension. It returns to him with an ear-splitting /crack/. He doesn't bother to coil it. A bound takes him back into the soldier's face, this time without the handicap of being held by the throat, and the white fox bares his teeth and snarls in a deep, gravelly, he-is-probably-maybe-going-to-eat-the-soldier's-face snarl.

  "I'm Covro Saltclaw o' Mossflower Coast," he snarls, "an' so far as my mates an' I are concerned, ye be tresspassin'. Haharr!"

  He raises a hand, waving it to the benefit of the sea rats clustered arond him. "Saltclaws! Take a walk, mateys!"

  With a gleefully bloodthirsty uproar, the searats lunge for the lines of soldiers with all the subtlety of an anvil. Their weapons are as mismatched as their armour and occasionally crude, but they're still brutally efficient in their hands. It probably isn't pretty, because these vermin aren't really interested in playing nice or fighting fair, and they're really only interested in dispatching their opponents as quickly as possible. They've got a job to do. They've been promised loot for that job. They're pirates. Therfore, the highest priority for them is going to be 'punch mans, get loot.'

  The white fox takes a few steps backward, swishing his tail and casting a critical pink eye toward the extremely messy battle line. "Haharr. Lookit 'em go, Vikar."

  The big bandolier-wearing ferret next to him only grunts, toying with the hilt of a throwing knife and scowling silently. He must be a beast of few words.

  "Nice weapons, though. Good steel. Might be worth pickin' a few o' these up after all's said an' done, haharr! If they ain't too badly bloodstained, anyway. Might even be as good as some o' them stripedogs' work... maybe." Covro shows his needle-teeth again. "We'll just sit back here an' watch for a few minutes, aye?"

  The ferret grunts. It sounds somehow disappointed.

     The gray and white wolf standing on the wing of that hovering jet gestures with an arm in the air in a circle before pointing out toward the rising columns of smoke. The dropship that didn't give birth to a supply crate of some sort heads out that way to deliver the contents. The one that did drop off the metal box turns and finds a spot to lower very close to the ground before the barrel empties and all the monkeys come pouring out. 

     There are more than monkeys, however. There are some very tough-looking lizard-people, a few dogs, a fox or two, and a cat. The mass of searats and other salty types aren't the only ones that comprise an army, although this one has a different feel. Looking from one face to another among the ranks can show the glow of avarice and the lust for violence. While they are visibly acting as a practiced militarized force, the individual faces taken separately reveal that they are no more than well-equipped and well-trained gang members, thugs, hooligans, trash, and vermin (the other kind). 

      "Cover the entrance. Panther, you're on overwatch. Get high and provide intel. Leon, get to that factory and provide support. Focus fire on their command." With a hustled march the troops rush to take up position as a defending line with automatic energy rifles while a group of three take to higher ground carrying a rocket launcher and the supplies for a mortar. One of the jets that circles back around also slows, opens, and panther-person holding a long-range scoped rifle jumps out and lands on the ground at the absolute highest point nearby possible and finds a position to go prone. 

     The other jet takes off to provide cover for the dropship heading to the factory, presumably piloted by this 'Leon', leaving Wolf to keep his hovering position to call out commands as needed. However, the lupine mercenary receives an incoming transmission from a familiar voice. "See, THIS is what happens when you insist on flying solo, Krystal. This is a land dispute; a tale as old as time and we don't have time to discuss who did what. If you haven't noticed, your side isn't prepared for this and if you don't do exactly as I say then the battle is going to be right on you. I'll clear a path for you, but I'm -not- doing this again. Take it or leave it." 

     Unholstering a pistol, Wolf fires at the box below. It folds out and open to reveal a turret-styled energy minigun. The merc jumps down from the wing into the seat and powers it up. "Everybody, pick your targets and fire!" Pulling the triggers, O'Donnell aims to part the seas of combat with suppressing fire. Anybody that gets in the way, too bad. They should be more observant.

     "I'm sorry Wolf, next time I'll send you a signed invitation whenever I decide to do anything." Krystal shoots back at Wolf with a snarky tone. "Just try not to blow my head off. I can see with my own eyes that the poor souls that signed on with me are, as you said, ill equipped, not to mention lacking the drive to fight in some cases. I didn't come here to die over a tax dispute." She adds as she pulls out her staff and extends it to full length, more so she's prepared to engage it's shield if she has to than to fight, as at this point she would rather turn on the mercenaries she'd come in with than fight along side them in a losing battle. She begins to move closer to the heart of the conflict, while trying her best to avoid the firefight.

    The red-haired swordsman pays no heed to the giant metal birds disgorging even more opponents - they'll fall by his blade just like this steel demons! He's still rushing for the factory - perhaps expecting the Doctor to be there, and hoping to capture him to secure the payment? Who knows.

    He doesn't pay any heed to Panther, either. Presumably he doesn't know what a sniper rifle is. Poor guy.

    The mercenaries are getting routed, many cut down by pi-rats or shot by space thugs. Those who aren't dead or dying are trying to take cover from the turret emplacements, with limited success. This fight is rather one-sided. The person who hired them clearly didn't know enough about other worlds for his own good.

    The sorceress visibly breathes a sigh of relief as Navi seems to ditch her - then lets out a sudden yelp as the half-elemental sends a compressed blade of air directly at her. In a panic, the formerly-regal but now rather disheveled woman claps her hands together, brilliant purple light surrounding them - and she CATCHES the blade of air with a facial expression that just screams 'HOW AM I NOT DEAD'. "Aaaaah! I yield, damnit, I yield!"

    The knight on horseback finally has his mount back under control, as he's passed by that odd blue fox-woman. His helmeted head turns to follow her. Why isn't she doing anything? And why is she advancing despite that... light-spitting contraption? For some reason the shots aren't going anywhere near her, so the knight decides to follow in her path.

    Navi looks both surprised and impressed as she comes to a stop - and hesitates indecisively. Does she trust a surrendering opponent to really stay out of the fight? Truthfully, no... but, it seems, she has enough of a conscience to not want to strike down a yielding opponent either. She gives a simple but respectful nod to the sorceress, then fades away once more. Winds picking up tell of her rushed passing, now trying to catch up to Mr. Redhead. But even for a windrunner, it's some distance to go.

     "We've got a lively one breaking free on his own to advance, toward the factory, Leon," crackles a talk-show host's voice over comms as the image of a very amused man disassembles robots with ease in his path is clearly viewed through the scope of Panther's rifle. However, being on the move as he is, it's hard for Panther to have a proper shot. He stands-by in case such an opening reveals itself. 

     In a hurry to reach a position at the factory, the dropship lowers altitude in order to let a dozen more troops get boots to ground followed by the squad's commander: Leon Powalski. "Oh, I can't wait to meet him." The third and final jet opens to allow its pilot to jump out. This one is some sort of lizard, although the shape of his head and the position of his eyes make it apparent that he's a chameleon. His dropspot places him very much in the path of the advancing man with the shock of red hair and oversized sword. However, seconds after making contact with the ground the chameleon fades from standard sight, ready to ambush. Behind him, those monkeys and lizards scramble to form yet another line of defensive fire. 

     Unlike a minigun that fires ballistic projectiles, the sound coming from the emplaced turret mounted by Wolf only consists of the whine of the generator supplying power. "Show a little respect," is all the reply he gives to Krystal at the moment. Wolf is unable to really take note of Krystal's shadow tailing her in the path as he clears and so is unable to warn her. Indeed, the jerky motion of the mechanized minigun snapping into position before delivering yet another deluge of superheated 'light' again and again is all Wolf can focus on at the moment. He's more than agitated, too, at having to devote field-time playing rescue. However, the internal capacitor empties and, much like needing to reload, the suppressive fire stops as the generator needs time to recharge it. And then Wolf sees, "Making friends, girl? I know somebody that will be jealous." But the path has been cleared. "You want part of my cut for this, do something about it. Don't bring your problems into my territory."

  Covro and Vikar pick their way around the battlefield, apparently content to let the sea rats get the savagery out of their system. It could be possible that the fox is a coward, but it could also be that he and his first mate ferret are looking for something more specific.

  The sea rats are happy to sate their inherent bloodlust on the poor, unprepared soldiers. They aren't very merciful, nor are they very fair, although the soldiers are on more or less even footing because their equipment is just that much better than the piecemeal stuff the rats have with them.

  Meanwhile, the white fox and the brown ferret skirt around the swirling and eddying vortex of battle, making their way closer to where there are supplies littered about the battlefield. Covro knocks at one with the butt end of his trident, frowning and poking at it. It makes a dull 'tonk' sound. "Vikar. Wot d'ye suppose is in these metal boxes?"

  Vikar Bloodkeel grunts again.

  He must only have one mode of communication, and that's 'monosyllablism.' Closer to the others, though, there's a jagged scar across his long throat, which probably explains his stunted vocabularity.

  "Think there be anything worth carting off in these?" Tonk, tonk. Covro prods at the crate again, strolling to the other side to poke at the opposite panel. "Mayhap somethin' we can sell to the stripedogs. Metal. I be willin' to try helpin' meself to one or two, but..."

  Covro's head whips around to the battlefield.

  A piebald black and white rat has a soldier on the run, chasing him and roaring what must probably be piratical obscenities at the top of his lungs, waving his chipped scimitar. "Lads! Come wif me! We gots 'em on da run, haw haw!" More of the rats break off and join the black-and-white rat. Not one of them are paying attention to the captain.

  Covro whistles a long sigh through his teeth.

  "Ye want somethin' done, ye do it yoreself. Vikar, get the other end o' that. Aye, now heave!"

  Shouldering one side of the crate, the ferret grabs one end and Vikar grabs the other, and the two manage to half-drag the crate, struggling and wheezing, around the great big tangle of combatants. So far, nobody seems to notice what they're doing.

  Which is, of course, robbing someone blind while nobody else is paying attention.

  Eggman probably should have expected some of his equipment was going to go 'missing.'

  "Heave-ho, Vikar! I be feelin' generous, so ye can have half o' what's in the belly o' this blood-'n'-vinegar-be-damned contraption. But first, we be gettin' this hunk o' metal back to me ship!" Covro gives another heave, stumbling over rocks and dirt in an effort to keep the crate steady. "It be somethin' valuable, I just know it! Haharr!"

  ...Yep. Pirates gonna pirate.

     Krystal hears Wolf's words on the com link and finally decides fully to switch sides. She knows Wolf isn't exactly a saint, far from it, but she does know him, and knows she doesn't really want to be on his bad side. So she quickly turns toward the knight as she leaps into the air. "Sorry, nothing personal." She says quickly before coming back down and thrusting her staff at the ground, causing the ground to shake in hopes of throwing the horse off it's footing and causing it to buck the horseman off it's back.

    Even if these feudal men-at-arms manage to cut down a few of the pirates and star-thugs, they're clearly completely outmatched. Really, their entire plan was to have the sorceress use her magic powers to enhance the company so they would be a match for anything that stood in their way... but Navi ruined THAT plan pretty much immediately. The sorceress is fuming, glaring daggers in Navi's direction... before a shining pellet of light - a stray bolt from the battle - sails half an inch above her head. "...Screw this, I'm going home."

    The sword-wielding redhead grins as he charges at Leon's squad, the one-man army leaping fully three times his own height into the air before bringing his sword down, looking to scatter the space mercenaries with its massive weight. He... doesn't seem to be able to locate Leon, though.

    As Krystal suddenly turns and strikes the ground, the horse rears again and throws its rider before making a run for it. The knight rolls, before trying to scramble to his feet and draw his sword. "T-traitor! Why?!"

    The crate Covro has plundered will later turn out to contain copper ore. Which... is actually probably worth quite a bit to the right people.

    Once more unto the breach, this time assisting Leon's squad. Navi rematerializes as she gets closer to the redhead, but she's more cautious than she was with the sorceress. Seemingly not wanting to get into a direct contest of strength, the woman now tries to dance around any blow that might come from the other sword-wielder. Navi tries to slash from the limits of her longsword's reach, but the flaring of its runes suggests any blow that lands might be more than just physical.

     The poor space grunts dive out of the way just in time except for one monkey that goes down firing. They're used to having gunfights, not going against some monstrosity of a furless tailless monkey with such a huge blade. "Mmmmh," moans a disembodied voice. "That's really big, but how's your stamina with it?" Two daggers seem to float up off the ground from behind the swordsman as the ground itself bubbles up, peeling away, before it becomes apparent that it isn't the ground at all: the color of green fades back in and eyes, moving independently, open up. The no-longer-disguised chameleon taunts when he could clearly get in an attack. "Cut me, cut me, cut me, cutmecutme, come on and cut me. I'll cut you back. We'll cut each other all night long and who needs money when we have each other -- YOU CAN'T CUT ME, ONLY I CAN CUT ME. I am the Great Leon!" 

     As if to punctuate this announcement of unnecessary proportions, just as Leon prepares to counter whatever he can get this blade-wielder to throw at him, a streak of light cuts through the air from one side of the battlefield to the other. There is no report. There are no taunting words. There is only absurdly precise aim and a trigger pulled thrice in succession as Panther, watching this exchange through his scope, decides to get in some blows before the crazy lizard manages to get himself hurt...no matter how much Leon would enjoy that. Hopefully Navi doesn't get in the way as it happens. The feline can only see so much while aiming. 

     Wolf, meanwhile, steps free from the turret and watches the exchange between Krystal and her surprised opponent without getting presently involved while also surveying the rest of the battlefield. "Beta Squad, report status," he orders wanting to know the state of the Factory so far.

     "From the looks of things, this was a suicide mission from the start, and it turns out I have a sort of friend on the other side, which I'd really rather not fight against. Now, I'll give you the chance to retreat here, which I would recommend, considering how horribly outmatched you are especially now that most of the others have either already been defeated or have fled the scene, or you can try to get past me." Krystal offers a way out for the poor knight, really feeling sorry for him and the others, but they brought swords and magic to a battle with space fighters and high powered energy weapons. 

     Next time she'll remember to do her homework on who she'll be teaming up with before taking a job like this, at the very least. If the knight refuses to retreat, Krystal will engage him with a strike toward his sword hand, attempting to disarm him.

    Before the red-haired swordsman can accept Leon's challenge, and before the speedy half-elemental manages to engage him, three shots light up the sky for a brief moment before... the swordsman keels over, a hole punched clean through his chest.

    The un-mounted knight swiftly finds himself the last remaining warrior on his side - the others have either fled or worse. His sword half-drawn, he looks frantically to his left and right - before throwing the sword down, turning, and fleeing.

    Congratulations. You've managed to help an evil megalomaniac commit tax evasion. Well done!

    Navi's home world has rifles, but not the long ranging technology where 'snipers' exist distinctly from riflemen. Nevermind energy weapons. She doesn't see the shots coming. The bolt that punches its way through the redhead swordsman also punches its way through the brown-haired swordswoman. Navi utters something very impolite under her breath as she staggers back but doesn't lose her footing, a sort of miasma spreading from the wound instead of human blood.
    It quickly turns transparent and disappates, but that doesn't seem to make it any better for Navi as she grits her teeth, taking the very focused look of one trying to keep on top of the pain. Fortunately - at least, more fortunately than for their opponent - the shot seems to have missed anything really vital.

     Wolf calls out after the fleeing swordsman. "Tell your Masters that if they even look in this direction again, the wrath of Star Wolf will fall upon them and their families like the anger of whatever diety they believe in!" Just to get the point across, he draws his hand cannon blaster and fires a few rounds at either side of the figure to cement the point. 

     "All clear over here so far, Lord O'Donnell," replies the hissing voice of a lizard near the Factory looking over the poor fallen monkey. "We have a casualty, though, Boss. Jameson...er- It's not pretty, sir." 

     "We'll scoop up whatever is left and take him home when we clean up and assess overall losses," replies Wolf. 

     "Lord O'Donnell, we have wounded! One of the other mercs," interjects the lizard again as one of the squad with medical training reaches for his supply belt as he rushes over. "Sir, they've been hit by Caluroso." There comes a click of the tongue from the panther before a sigh. "And, sir? Can somebody come get Powalski?" 

     The chameleon is so upset with Panther ruining his fun that he stalks around the fallen swordsman yelling even more taunts in frustration. He's gone rather manic and he has nobody else around of which to take out his anger upon. 

     Wolf sighs, too, and reaches up to press thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his snout. "Don't go near him. I'll send Pan-" He sighs again. "Panther, get down here and help with cleanup and recovery in case that punk comes back with more help. I'm going to head over and see if we can find the Doc. Doctor? Are you still monitoring this? Forces are dispersed currently. I'm going to have a team of my boys set up with the fortifications, just in case." O'Donnell begins walking that way while one of those dropships near the factory finds a spot to land in case the injured Navi needs lifting out to a place with actual hospitals instead of...leeches, or whatever this place has.

     Krystal watches as the fallen horseman flees, and is glad, as she didn't really want to fight him, she felt bad enough for betraying them in the first place. She would certainly be careful not to wind up in a situation like this in the future if at all possible. Hearing all the chatter on the com link, she is even more sure of the fact that Leon is insane, and the fact that Panther shot one of their own was certainly not good to hear.

     "How badly wounded is the one Panther shot?" Krystal asks over the radio, though mostly out of curiosity and maybe a bit of worry as she isn't really able to do much about it. She puts her staff away and begins heading toward the others.

    In careful, deliberate motions, Navi sheathes one blade and then the other. In the same way she moves to slowly sit, but it turns into a less controlled fall halfway. She gives a long wince on landing. Passing a hand over her wound, there's a soft green glow and the bleeding - or, leaking - slows and then stops. But she still doesn't look exactly good.
    "Hey- you- hey," Navi says to the chameleon, hardly above a murmur. "By the hells, slow down." A pause, and a long careful breath. "You got an infirmary on those airships?"

    "Thank you for keeping them occupied," comes the Doctor's voice - booming out of loud speakers dotted around the area. "Now, witness the might of..!"

    The side of the factory splits open, two doors rolling outwards as a gigantic metal contraption steps out into the daylight. The thing is shaped like an egg, with the pointier end facing forward and the broader end at the rear. The bottom half is unfolded into four thick metal legs, and it has a glass canopy at the front showing its pilot. Two guns jut out from the forelegs. "E three seven eight two: EGG WAL-"

    There's a long, drawn out pause.

    e-3782 "Egg Walker" walks backwards back into the factory, the doors closing behind it.

     "I didn't shoot them directly. You're hurting my feelings," says Panther as he stands, brushes his flight suit off, and begins to work his way to lower ground. "I'm used to people having laserproof armor and shielding. 

     "Sir? Somebody really needs to get Powalski, he's playing Stabby-Stabby again and- GAH!" The troops once again scatter like roaches the factory itself opens up and a huge machine begins to step free. 

     Leon doesn't hear the plea from the injured Navi. He's far too busy drawing pictures with crayons. Only they aren't crayons. 

     "Oh, for the love of-" breathes the exasperated lupine-person. "Double-time it, Krystal. Panther, you're washing the seat covering and control panels in the Rainbow Delta when we get back." That would be the name of Leon's ship. Wolf breaks into a sprint in order to minimize the time it takes to reach their location. He's very well-trained and in-shape. 

     Thankfully, the dropship nearby allows some of the troops to come hurrying over, despite the robotic display, carrying a stretcher. "Don't worry. We'll get you some medical care. Just stay awake and try to focus on my voice," says the canine field nurse. "What's your name? ...Lord O'Donnell, if our client has an Infirmary of some sort, that would be great; otherwise we can airlift her out, by your command." The dog mainly worries over basic medical procedure: in this case, applying a sterile compress to provide pressure.

    Navi holds very still, lips pressed together and staring daggers at Leon. It's not that she particularly cares about his... pasttime, but she clearly doesn't like being ignored.
    But her attention turns to the medical team. At first Navi looks like she might protest all the fuss, but then she has second thoughts and, it seems, decides to go along. Not eager to linger on the battlefield, it seems. "Navi," she murmurs. If nothing else, she could get back to making her own way whenever her differing biology got in the way of treatment. "If you've got a Source, that could help fix this..." No explanation offered about exactly what that means.

     Krystal does hurry, breaking into a run, arriving near Navi's position just a moment after Wolf, but it would appear that there were already medics attending to her, which was a relief, even if the wound did look pretty rough, Krystal winces a bit in empathy just looking at it. She ultimately turns to Wolf. "I suppose I'll have to try not to get in your way next time."

     While the army provided by Star Wolf has medics, there's only so much they can do at their present location. "I, yeah, I don't know what that is," comments one of the other mercs standing nearby with a shrug. 

     "Fine, get her out of here and do what you can. Maybe she'll even pay us for the service," relents Wolf as he closes the distance. At this, the medical guys move to lift up the stretcher, a device that uses gyroscopes to keep the wounded level, to carry Navi to the dropship just shortly after Krystal and Wolf arrive. Wolf, however, has other priorities. 

     The chameleon giggles a bit before a sudden pressure on his neck from behind has him being hoisted up into the air. "Get a grip, Leon -- get over it!" Leon spins around to wrench out of the hold along with a swing of a dagger toward Wolf's belly. It misses. Wolf doesn't. The resounding impact of the punch drops the lizard like a sack of flour...right into a puddle. O'Donnell rolls his eye and throws his hands up before turning walk away to go pace near what's left of Jameson after getting the brunt of a mega-sword attack. 

     Wolf does turn to stare at Krystal for a moment, though. "You do what you want to do, Krystal. I'm not your pop." Honestly, he doesn't really care about the deal with the vixen being on the opposing side for something like this. He just hates surprises. "But if you want to help further, we need to search the battlefield for survivors. It's not going to be pretty, so don't volunteer if you don't like getting your hands dirty." 

     "Lord O'Donnell, we're going lift out now, but she said something about a 'Source' that would help." 

     Wolf has a blank expression on his face. Funnily enough, so does Leon. Wolf looks to Krystal. "Or you can ride with the wounded and see if you can help figure out what magic bean we need to hunt down."

     Krystal watches as Leon tries to slash his knife at Wolf and blinks in surprise for a moment, shocked that the lizard would attack his own leader. After recovering from the surprise though, she just sighs, thinking to herself 'He really is insane...' To Wolf though, she nods. "I'll happily help search for survivors, and no, don't mind getting my hands dirty at all. I can use my telepathy to help locate any who are still conscious, or at least dreaming loudly, though I doubt that's likely in anyone who's half dead..."

     "Fine, you go with these three and see what you can find. Watch out for those rats. My boys here have some beacons you can tag survivors and injured with, we'll get them out, and you can feel better about having to betray the people you signed up to help. Not all of the survivors will be our own, after all." Wolf reaches over to take one of the beacons in question, which looks like a little lapel pin, and he walks over to lean down and put one on Leon. 

     "Don't worry over him. He'll be fine when he wakes up. I'm going to go find the Doc and see what else needs doing and we'll work out getting our contractual payment. Just...be nice if you see him. Any man that can build up something like this in a short time on his own would be a good business partner, so -don't screw it up- for me. I'm not here to pass judgment on anybody." He nods questioningly to Krystal as if expecting acknowledgment in return. "Business."

     Krystal nods to Wolf. "Honestly in hindsight, though I do wonder what his plans are with such a robot, he's obviously able to put these resources to better use than the locals, who will probably just make more swords to kill each other with. Anyway I'll mind my manners if I meet him, but for now, I'm off with the cleanup crew." She says before leaving to help find survivors.