Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20190911202955/@comment-25684606-20191001202944

Lem kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut, the latter mostly because his motion sickness, while far less pronounced than in the Valkyrie, was still not willing to vanish after the simple transition from air to ground. Peeking through the hatches, he spotted numerous downed imperial vehicles but few of the strange, sleek type, concluding that they must have exploded to unnoticable smithereens, while the glorious crafts of the empire had merely been put to a temporary slumber. No doubt one of the cogheads would soon venture out here with a gaggle of servitors and bring each and every tank and plane back to the Manufactorum's to make them battle-ready once more.

He shared this conviction verbally with Ishmael, occasionally taking a break to reign in his tumultous stomach. If he had had the mental capacity for it, Lem could have found it ironic to suffer from motion sickness while having worked his entire life, the conscious part at least, on a conveyor belt bolting tank threads together. Alas, it was entirely lost on him.