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A [[Dark Age]] drifter stood against an oncoming horde. The stuff of nightmares. [[Fallen|Quad-armed, mouths full of shining carnivore teeth]], carrying weathered but fully functional armor and weapons. They moved as a mob, their boots kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced, blades glinting in the sun. | A [[Dark Age]] drifter stood against an oncoming horde. The stuff of nightmares. [[Fallen|Quad-armed, mouths full of shining carnivore teeth]], carrying weathered but fully functional armor and weapons. They moved as a mob, their boots kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced, blades glinting in the sun. | ||
"All right," he said, a quiet salute to his dance partners as he wove around sizzling Arc bolts, coat trailing him like a shadow. He might not walk away from this. But they definitely wouldn't. | "All right," he said, a quiet salute to his dance partners as he wove around sizzling [[Arc]] bolts, coat trailing him like a shadow. He might not walk away from this. But they definitely wouldn't. | ||
His Machine Gun spoke much louder than he did, over and over. | His [[Machine Gun]] spoke much louder than he did, over and over. | ||
He had never brought himself to shoot a human. Or anything even resembling a human. Risen included. | He had never brought himself to shoot a [[human]]. Or anything even resembling a [[human]]. [[Risen]] included. | ||
But these were no Risen. No humans. | But these were no [[Risen]]. No [[humans]]. | ||
He broke their advance like oil parting water, the repeating bloom of his heavy leading the way. A blue, viscous film covered the dirt, dust, and rocks when he was finished. | He broke their advance like oil parting water, the repeating bloom of his heavy leading the way. A blue, viscous film covered the dirt, dust, and rocks when he was finished. |
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