Slaving Away (Group 1) [Closed] [Finished]

Bakewell tiredly noted the buck’s behavior. In her tired state the mare was already almost ready to believe that the buck deserved the death the mare in Stableton wanted.

“You’re welcome.” Bakewell muttered quietly to herself as the male didn’t even show an inkling of thanks. Even the slavers she had helped earlier had seemed more thankful, somehow. The mare decided that she had been through so much today that for once it would be okay to get straight to the point.

“I’m sorry, No offense, but we made time to release you from slavery so I think you can probably spare enough to talk to us for a second. It shouldn’t take too long.” She tried to reason, drain evident in her voice. It probably would have been best to let Cee do the talking, but Bakewell knew something major she didn’t think the brown unicorn was aware of.

“Your wife sent us to find you. Do you have any idea why?”

Cuppa simply joined Bake in approaching the stallion for now, seemingly concerned as Bake asked what she did. Had this buck perhaps ditched his wife for Silver... well, if he had, he'd surely regret it in due time.

Regardless, he still seemed annoyed for now, so Cuppa waited for his reaction to Bake's question before she'd consider anything else. Though Kestrel's attitude to everything right now was still getting to her, he had been acting so out of character that she didn't really know what to make of it. Bit she knew the older griffon might have something to do with it, especially considering how healthy he didn't sound.

As Bake and Cuppa began to deal with their chosen target, Kestrel made his way back out into the middle of the camp again. Dash had gone off and Flash looked busy, Bake and Cuppa seemingly out of sight.

A rough grunt passed through the griffons throat and he decided to plop himself down and survey the damage he'd received. He hadn't really gotten a chance to take tally of the new wounds and scars he'd earned in his haste today.

Unzipping his armor, after being sure it was safe to do so, the griffon began to survey the wounds. Most were near the shoulder area luckily, a common hit point for the griff...others had hit a bit closer to home.

He could feel the hard lead sitting in his chest still...he'd need the medic to pull them free soon, last thing he needed was lead poisoning alongside a few new sore wounds.

Pulling his armor down a bit further Kestrel continued to locate and map out his wounds, a cut here, a peppering of shot there. Exhaling slowly Kestrel attempted to relax.

Cuppa was going to have her work cut out for her whenever she got back...

(Just gonna let Cuppa and Bake have their scene over there. I'll chill in the camp here, all half naked and shiz. Slaves get a show if nothing else~)

Dash spun himself around and gave a last look around before shooting back toward the ground, landing a bit roughly, causing a small puff of dust around himself. He looked around at his group members, aghast that they had just seemingly given up on finding Silver, "Really!?" Dash growled, "REALLY!?" He repeated, pounding his front hooves on the ground like a colt who didn't get his way. Although his anger was a bit more justified, "What's going on!? Silver's still out there! If we just sit around like this we'll lose her trail!" Dash roared.

Hearing Dash's Rant Kestrel stopped his wound-study and looked up; sharp predatory eyes locking onto Dash's own. He too was upset that the mare had gotten away, but there was no use crying over spilt whiskey like this.

"She's gone rookie." Kes started, noting a now oozing wound on his side, he touched it carefully. Clotting up nicely...good. "But a mare like her? She'll show up again no doubt. Just a matter of time."

Lightning stood there. Yup. Just stood there. While the ponies and griffons talked, the pegasus pony just stood there. For the sake of it, the stallion drew his sniper rifle and just looked around. No Silver. Where could that damned mare go? For the meantime, he just kept quiet.

The stallion rolled his eyes when Bakewell requested his time for freeing him from slavery. “Finally. That stupid mare is good for something, at least,” he grumbled, returning to stuff things into the saddlebag. “Dumb bitch wouldn’t survive a day without me putting food on the table for her. Why’d you want to know?”


(I’ll try to get through talky stuff a bit faster, everypony, so we can move things along :) )

Bakewell frowned at the buck’s behavior. She really wasn’t in the mood for this. Still, she had to dance around the subject of killing the buck until they knew what was going on. Though at this point Bakewell wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mr. Photogenic abused and put his wife through hell, and if she turned her back she couldn’t help but feel bad about betraying the trust and hope of some mare that the earth pony had never even met.

Bakewell: Cook, Mercenary, Marriage Counselor. Great, just what the wasteland needed.

“We wanted to know because she told us in an odd way. She didn’t even tell us where you were. Just gave us a photograph.” Bakewell worked to dismiss to 'why' without truthfully answering it. “We really just wanted to know more about her. She seemed kind of strange. You don’t really seem to like her very much… Why wouldn’t she survive a day without you?” She was trying to press him into slipping up and saying something incriminating, but didn’t really know where to even start. “Um. Need any help filling your saddlebags?”

Cuppa quietly stood there, looking over towards Kestrel as he returned and decided to start surveying his injuries of this entire event. He seemed to have calmed down at least, moreso it now seemed that Dash was the one getting aggravated. All because Silver dug her damn way to freedom. Cheating non-ponies...

Now Cuppa had the choice of staying here and ensuring Bake had a little backup in case this buck tried to get away or something. Or she could sort out Kes' wounds and have a word with him.

With the decision as it was, she was obligated to attend to Kes because he was wounded, but she didn't want to just wander off in case Bake got into trouble... So for now she'd stand and wait, giving a tiny frown as the buck bad-mouthed the mare he was married to.

Dash glared right into Kestrel's eyes, and opened his mouth for another angry argument about how Silver had to pay, but the words scattered themselves to oblivion before they even reached his mouth. The memory of thinking he was about to be killed by that very griffon. And here Dash was, looking like he was about to go off on a rant about how that griffon was wrong. He didn't want to anymore. He didn't DARE. Dash thought quickly trying to find some way out of the situation. Then, his sharp mind found a solution. Dash plopped himself on his rump, set his Marksmare Carbine infront of him and began field stripping it to check for any internal damage.

Working with weapons and other mechanical things was one of the few things that could actually get Dash's mind off something truly disturbing to him. It even helped him cope with his rehabilitation after he had awoke from his coma. For hours he would take a pistol apart and put it back together, just to get rid of the feeling of being useless and weak.

(Repair 45, checking his weapon for any damage)

Lightning lowered his rifle from his eye with a light sigh. Where could Silver go? This entire mystery wasn't sitting well with the pegasus and if Silver managed to sneak into Stableton, what would happen? Would his friends be in trouble? What about his marefriend, Spectrum? They had to find her.

The blue pegasus would turn his head to look at his friend and deputy, Dash, sitting off checking his weapons. Lightning frowned a little as he could tell that his friend wasn't taking this well and this day was probably very taxing on his emotions. Considering how he was nearly killed by Kestrel and doubted by all his friends. The stallion walked over and laid his hoof on the black pegasus' shoulder, trying to comfort Dash. With a small smile, he would say, "How are you holding up?"

The buck grumbled something quietly under his breath. “What photograph? Show it to me.”

When Bake expressed further interest in his wife, he shot her a hard glare. “Look, she’s my wife. I thought that was clear. I love her, and I won’t hear you accusing me of anything less. What goes on in my family ain’t the business of strangers, Missy, so I’d appreciate if you don’t go sticking your snout where it don’t rightly belong.”

After a couple more seconds of glaring, he returned to picking up stuff off the ground. “I don’t need any help packing. Just nopony bothering me.”


Dash looked over his weapon. It didn’t appear to be mechanically damaged, just mistreated. What had caused the deep scratch across the barrel was anypony’s guess, but with enough time and effort, it could be polished out.

As the Buck spoke and started trying to tell them to leave him alone, Cuppa casually, as if nothing was wrong with it, emptied the six chambers of her .357 revolver and loaded a singular round into it, spinning the chamber and slamming it home, so to speak, she had no idea which chamber held the round now, it was all up to chance.

Bake wasn't going to approve of this, but Cuppa had the impression that this Buck wasn't going to just slip up. "'Scuse me, sir." She said as she raised the pistol and put it right to his skull. "But ah'm gon' play a lil' game wi' ya."

"Because when a wife ya apparently love wants ya dead, ah start t' think somepony isn't tellin' me th' truth." Cuppa, like the rest of the group, was tired of all this shit, Cuppa herself moreso tired of being lied to after being so well-lied to by Silver when pretending to be Bake.

"If ya dun start talkin', ah'm gonna pull the trigger an' we'll see if yer lucky enough, ya'll get a second chance. Ya've could 'ave five chances if yer the luckiest buck ah've ever met. But fer all ah know, ya could have none." She continued, pushing the end of the barrel against his head to be sure he didn't move. Clicking the hammer back, Cuppa began.

"Why would yer... Ahem, dumb bitch, of a wife want ya dead for if ya love 'er so much? Try an' be honest now, it's healthy fer ya t' tell the truth. Ah'm a doctor, ah should know whut's healthy fer ya."

(Drawing .357, putting one round in and now playing Russian Routlette with the Photo-Buck.)

“Cee…” Bakewell weakly protested, but trailed off. What did it really matter? She reached back into her saddlebags and displayed the picture where the buck could see it, making sure to at some point show the message written upon it.

“We were sent to kill you.” Bakewell clarified, before quickly adding “Which we could have easily done several times by now. We wanted to give you a chance, just in case you’re not in the wrong. It's really hard to tell when you do nothing but mouth off.”

She stepped back a bit, keeping her eyes on the buck. In her experience most ponies didn’t just sit there and let you play games with their life. If he attacked Cuppa, then Bakewell wanted to be able to defend her.

Dash felt Lightning's hoof on his shoulder and listened to him. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long, loud sigh, "All this crap happens with that mare and then suddenly nopony cares?" Dash grumbled, reassembling his carbine, "If I could have gotten my hooves on her, I could have seen if she knows where my brother is. Not only that, but end all this... This disguise, conspiracy stuff as well." He shoved the mag back into the carbine and replaced it onto his back, "Not only that, she can just prance away to all her sadistic fucking slaver friends and tell them all about how we think..." He huffed again, "I hate slavers... And now we might not even get paid."

Lightning kept his hoof on Dash's shoulder and shook his head slightly. "I would had liked to catch her too. Honestly. I would. But we can't lose our minds here. Not yet. This mission isn't over yet. We will find her. One way or another. I hate slavers just as much as you do. You remember what happened to Spectrum. I told you about that. But if we just stay calm, think this through, we will figure this out and we will make sure she pays for her wrongdoing. I assure you of that." The pegasus removed his hoof from Dash's shoulder and took a look around at the others. "Besides, we have our friends here beside us and let's thank Celestia that we're all still alive..."

Dash nodded as Lightning spoke, the younger but more experienced pegasus' words making sense to him. Although he wished it all could have happened then and there, Dash knew that all of them being alive and free allowed them to revise their tactics and be better prepared for their next encounter. Provided the bitch didn't slink off to Fillydelphia to retire to Wall duty... However, as experience showed, not even that was a guarantee, "You're right, Lightning, thanks." he said, smiling, "Change and adapt like the rushing wind... It's... something my dad used to say."

The stallion startled slightly, when he looked up from his packing to see Cuppa pointing a revolver at him, and flinched slightly as the barrel tapped the side of his head. He rallied after a moment, his face darkening. “My wife? She wouldn’t do something like that; she oughta know better than to leave our foal without a dad to put food in his mouth. No, I think you were hired by some scumbag pony back in Stableton. Now, cut the crap and tell me who and why.”

“Mouthing off?” he scoffed at Bakewell’s accusation. “I don’t have to put up with this.”

His eyes went towards the revolver and then to Cuppa, and his lips curved slightly into a smile. “You aren’t gonna shoot; you don’t have the gumption.”

Kestrel, who had been silent and mostly still this whole time, began to move suddenly. His motions were slow, deliberate, almost bored as he held his Hellsing up and squeezed the trigger; the weapon in his talons hissing once as it spit a span of furious steel towards the annoying buck with a single muttered phrase.

"I do."

Now why, as if a reason was really needed, did Kes do this? Simple really. The pony who'd been droning on and keeping the doctor from doing her damn job was still talking. He was an obstacle. To Kes' tired, aching mind, the most logical thing to do to GET the healing he needed, was to REMOVE said obstacle.

Violently.

Brutal as ever, the griffon had aimed the lethal span of steel at the ponies eye; assuming it flew true, would be finding itself a new home right in the cocky stallions cranium; shutting him up, and cutting him down all in one smooth, efficient movement.

(Guns 100, Firing Hellsing once so as to pick the stallions brain in search of a permanent mute button.)

The stallion turned his surly expression as Kestrel approached, his eyes going wide in the last moment before a high-speed metal bolt punctured his skull. His head jerked back, his body went instantly limp, and he collapsed to the ground atop the meagre items he’d packed. His eyes were still open as though his body never even had a chance to realise it had died.

“Look. Calm down. It’s possible. I just want to get to-“

And then the stallion’s head suffered a fatal wound from a Hellsing bolt. Bakewell’s head whipped around and settled on Kestrel, hellsing still drawn.

“You…” She gasped as she stared. “You…” she teetered uneasily for a second before gaining a footing and slowly approaching the griffon.

“Why… We had it under control! Why did you do that? Why… I don’t… you…” She continued stumbling drunkenly forwards. “That shot… You could have easily missed and hit one of us. Why would you even…” She continued as she continued in such a manner until her and Kes were a conversational distance away.

“You…” She said, managing to keep her voice calm and conversational as she quite obviously attempted to find the right word. “You…”

“You idiot!” She screamed and lunged, moving sooner if he attempted to obviously get away, whipping Komodo’s chain through the air. Rage burned in her stomach as Kestrel once again needlessly killed, not that Cuppa had been acting largely better, but at least there had been the possibility for a merciful outcome. The mare had been on edge, Bakewell had barely been holding back herself. But that griffon…

“Don’t you know how to do anything other than kill?” The earth pony demanded as she swung the chain at the much larger and sociopathic griffon, because somewhere deep down, the bully side of Bakewell knew that violence was the only communication the griffon would listen to.

“Are you really that dense? Are you really that bucking selfish?!” The mare screamed. “Don’t you have a brain? Don’t you ever think? No. Don’t answer that, nobody who thinks would have rushed into a slaver camp straight through the middle in broad daylight. Nobody who thinks would have had to have a stable chef save their entire team’s Celestia-forsaken lives because they couldn’t stop and think!Nobody with a brain would have tried to kill Dash with no evidence. You’re both deputies, for fucking sake. You’re supposed to support each other, yet you turned on him in seconds.” Another swing. “What does teamwork even mean to you, Kes? Because you make it look like it means ‘A way to get others to help me get what I want.’ What if it had been Flash? What if it had been me? Don’t answer. Don’t even bother opening that stupid ugly beak of yours. We already know you wouldn’t care. You’ve proven a thousand times that you have no bucking loyalty to anything but yourself. You don’t care about anypo- no, anybody but yourself unless it wraps back around to how what happens to them effects you. I bet you’ve never done a single bucking thing for someone else’s sake unless you got something out of it you stupid. Idiodic. Ugly. Overgrown. Buzzard! No, that’s an insult to buzzards. You’re not even that!” She yelled through gritted teeth, loud enough for the wastes to hear as the pent up rage from the day, being denied its intended outlet, rocketed towards the only other available target. Bakewell didn’t want to kill the griffon, wasn’t really sure that she would be able to, and certainly wasn’t about to try, but if the griffon refused to talk any language but violence, what choice did she have but to try and rough him up a little? She couldn’t let him keep doing this until one day he did kill her, or Lightning, or Cuppa, or worst of all, Scrap. Please, Sisters, not her Scrap. Anypony but Scraps. Kestrel needed to learn that the world didn’t revolve around him; that he was doing nothing more than using his reputation to be another type of bully.


(5 AP move. 2 Hooked Chain attacks on Kestrel. -20 ap 7 ap dodge. One Trench Knife attack if he gets in range. 1 Ap remains. If Trench Knife doesn't get used, dedicate the 5 ap to defending or whatever.)


(Tentative Chain stats as given to me by Zestari, with my bonuses added)

Hooked Chain – Hit: 50 – Damage: 68 – Crit: x1.5 (60) – AP cost: 10 – Special: entangle, pull, can use target as a weapon

Kestrel didn't even blink as his target jerked and fell. A clean shot. Painless, brutal, beautiful in its own way. The griffon had just about been ready to ask Cuppa to get over an help him when Bakewell started up.

Her tone set him on edge right from the start and as she began advancing towards him the red lights began flashing. With his armor where it was and his current physical condition The griffon knew he couldn't take any hits. So he did the only thing he knew to do.

He moved.

The instant she started walking towards him, he flared his wings and flexed his hind legs, pushing himself up and into the air; flapping his wings a few times as fast as he could to gain altitude.

Funny thing about Earth ponies. Despite all those strengths they had, how tough their hide was, and how hard their hooves hit....all it took was a few feet of distance upwards and they couldn't do a single. Fucking. Thing. Of course, he had foolishly given the mare her trophy from before and now she had the range to hit him.

A weapon like that would take a lot of practice however, and that was something Bake didn't have at the moment.

“Don’t you know how to do anything other than kill?” the mare below asked, and Kestrel was forced to think. Did he? Sure he knew how to survive on his own, how to push himself to the ends of the earth just to finish his job, how to craft things from the world around him and remain hidden and quite when it came time to hung. But when it got down to the end of it all, deep in the details, did he know anything more than death and war?

No. He didn't.

Kestrel, for all his knowledge, for all his power, for all his experience in this damned hellhole called Equestria...only knew one thing 'Fight, Adapt, Survive. No matter the cost.' He'd long ago given up on having anything else.

A growl raising in his throat Kestrel let the mare rage on, screaming insult after insult after him. He'd heard it all before, the words far to common to have major effect on him; thus they were for the most part ignored, only a few kept and used for fuel.

When she'd finally finished the predator in the sky narrowed his gaze and directly disobeyed the mares orders not to speak. His muscles were screaming at him for trying to fly again, the bullets in his chest moving that much deeper into the muscle. Still he knew if he landed he probably would end up on the other end of those hooves of Bake's. He didn't feel like putting up with that right now, he'd already been under twice today. Another trip to the void was not acceptable.

"I'm not here for me, pony. I don't give a damn about 'me'." Kes started glaring down at the mare with the fury of Sun itself. He wasted no time in continuing however, not letting the mare have a single chance to butt in.

"I'm here because there is a dying griffon in the back of a shanty town bar who needs medicine I can't afford. I'm here because maybe my actions could save a few from the horrors I went through in Fillydelphia." Kes continued tone never wavering, even for a second despite the image of his own dying father the words brought up.

"I'll admit I fucked up. The wounds you and the others sustained and the bullets in my chest are evidence enough that my emotions cloud my judgement. I am also aware that you are the one that saved the team, for that, I'm willing to give you one chance. ONE chance." The griffon readied himself, to dodge or to fire if need be as he finished his speech and moved to make his one and only deal.

"If you stand down now, I put the gun away, we move on. You fight, and I WILL put a bolt through you and leave your body for the birds." Kes finished his tone cold as ever. Maintaining his altitude and taking aim right at the mares chest Kes started to tighten his talon on the trigger; one twitch and Bake would be the next target, maybe even his next kill.

"Your choice pony."

(However many AP to take flight and get out of Bake's reach so as to avoid getting hit the first time. All remaining AP to dodging any other attacks.)

Cuppa didn't even realise what had happened to the buck just after he was saying she wouldn't pull the trigger, as she was about to prove him wrong, there he was.... Dead on the ground with a bolt through his skull. By the time this realisation had hit her, Bake was all but screaming at Kestrel and flailing a chain at him.

What a failure of a doctor Cuppa was, prioritizing her friend's personal task over treating the wounded. Just how many fuck ups would it take for the coffee mare to realise that she wasn't cut out for any of this shit? First with the slavers and the loss of her family, then in Appleloosa with failing to be a competent nurse.

Stableton, the slaver attack devastating the town and causing Cuppa to work herself ragged to try and help keep as many injured ponies alive as possible.

Silent Hill was one she didn't want to remember, that one simple action causing so much pain and terror for her...

There were many more she could try and recall, but this was the latest on an already sizeable pile of fuck ups, making her seriously doubt anything she thought she was able to do.

Gently setting her revolver back into her saddlebags, the mare could still hear Bake ranting, and Kes was only just responding now. Upon the mention of a griffon that Cuppa knew of and that Kes was failing to get him the medicine he thought the griff needed, Cuppa snapped out of her numb wallowing and slowly moved. She'd known that griffon was important to Kes, but she didn't know how important other than enough for Kes' rationality to be affected by it.

No matter what, Cuppa was still a terrible doctor, but now she had put basically all of the puzzle pieces together, aside from one. What exactly was that Griff to Kes?
Thinking about all of this, Cuppa was so horribly depressed now that she'd stopped caring about what reaction would be had by her next action.

Suddenly Cuppa put herself more or less between the pair, practically standing right in front of Bake. "Stop. Jus'. Fuckin'. Stop... B'fore ya'll kill eachother, would be preferable." She said with sorrow over-riding any other tone in her voice. "Ya should be blamin' me fer this. If ah'd actually been a good doc ah would've gone straight t' treatin' everypony who was wounded an' not selfishly helped Bake."

Cuppa looked at Kes and pointed towards the larger of the two buildings. "In there, sit on a bed an' wait, ah'll be in t' treat ya in a moment. Ah wanna have a private word wi' ya anyway."

Then her stare turned and focused on Bake. "Ah'm sorry fer playin' favourites an' not doin' muh job, if ah had done what ah'm meant to, ya'd still be able t' sort things out b'tween that buck an' his wife. If ya should be hittin' anypony, should be me, ah fucked up again an' caused this. Like everythin' bad that happens, 's cause ah fucked up." She sombrely explained, head down and ears low.

Now whatever these two did was entirely up to them, but the brown mare would be insistent on standing between both of their lines of attack.

Bakewell unfurled the fine chain with the vicious hooked barb at one end as Kes took flight. Dropping the length at her hooves, and with the non-hooked end anchored in her mouth, she flung the chain at the griffon.

The throw was magnificent, the barb arcing through the air like a missile. Kes moved to dodge, but the hook wrapped itself around his forelimb and yanked him earthward. He plummeted like a weight, and Bakewell lashed out with the chain a second time, but she hadn’t wound it’s length back properly and the hook simply tore at earth.

Abandoning the chain, she dashed forward, trying to prevent Kestrel from retaking the air. She swung her knife, but Kestrel’s forelimb held her at bay.

Before Bake could press her assault any further, Cuppa began shouting at them and trying to break up the fight.

By this point, all the slaves were gone, having run away to hide at the sudden outbreak of violence. They didn’t know what the buck had done to deserve an impromptu head ventilation, and they apparently didn’t want to wait around for one of their own.


(DVD bonus content:
Bake attacks Kes with hooked chain (71+50 = 121) and hits.
Kes tries to dodge (3+21 = 24) but fails.
Kes takes 53-30 = 23 damage and now has 51-23 = 28 health.
Bake attacks Kes with hooked chain (18+50 = 68) but misses.
Bake attacks Kes with trench knife (28+50 = 78) but misses.

Hooked chain has a base damage of 25, plus 28 from Bake’s various perks and such.)

It had seemed that the fates were somewhat against the griffon today, as despite having little to no practice with the weapon Bakewell proved perfect, and the griffon grunted as he was yanked down towards the ground.

His ribs, already sore and aching, some popped free from the earlier onslaught of Komodo, groaned as the weight of the massive predator pushed against them; causing the grunt to become a growl of pain.

He wanted to just lay there and be sore for a bit, but instinct and prior experience told him otherwise. Unlike the blind emotion of anger before, his instincts led him right and with far more luck than should be necessary the griffon managed to be missed by the second blow and block the mares knife with his foreleg.

This all left him in a rather awkward position. With Kestrel at the mares throat, and her right in range to stomp him into the ground.

The griffons gaze dropped slowly, those cold, empty eyes of his coming to glare right down at the mare from up close this time. Would she feel the ice? Or would all that rage inside just burn it all away?

As he stared down at the mare the other one, the doctor, began to speak. Trying to take the blame for all of this onto her shoulders. Yeah, she sucked at doing her job first, but Kes would take his lashes. He was the one that caused them all to nearly die. He was the one that feel not once, but twice only to end up at the throat of his own team member.

Had this been any other day, had Kes the energy and knowledge that he could keep going, he no doubt would have ignored the mare and ripped out Bakewell's throat with his talons, and gone on to kill every last pony that got in his way after that.

But Kes didn't have much left in him right now. He was tired, and he knew if he struck back it'd only end up with him down or dead. Maybe both. And the doctor was still being stupid.

Fucking. Ponies.

"No. It's mine." The griffon said pushing the mare back a bit and pulling away, limping over to get his previously dropped Hellsing and roughly holstering it.

He went silent after that, moving over to the dead buck and taking care to rather messily pull the bolt in his skull free. The sound of bone grinding and slick removal sicking no to those that dared listen no doubt.

He didn't even blink as the gore landed on his unarmored talons and chest. He was too used to the feeling. Too used to death and all its horrors.

He didn't bother cleaning the expanse of metal yet, he just gripped it tight and began moving towards the building that had been specified to him. Nothing had gone right today when he'd led himself, nothing at all.

So instead of fighting on and shedding more blood like his emotions said to, Kes acted like the slave he once was and obeyed; his heavily scarred form still on display for all to see as he walked away to do as he was told.

(Moving to the building to rest after getting my gun, which no doubt dropped in the fall, and most recently fired bolt back from Sir Nolongerpartofthisthread)