Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20191108235505/@comment-33521582-20191127140010

The deafening din of the Chimera was an old, well known friend. "Keep her steady," Kuzvert shouted through the port, "anything the armor can't crush we'll lay into from the gun-ports."

The Lok'hert checked his gear, setting up by one of the ports, and fell into his patter of slumber and vigil, appreciating the cold air that seeped in through the hole, a comforting contrast to the hot, metallic atmosphere within the vehicle.

He wasn't given to speculation or idle fancy but he wondered if, with all the shaking to and from, not to mention the wild beasts, the Rachadh would still be perched on the roof of the vehicle in a few hours. "On the bright side," he thought, "if we come across a forgotten anti-tank mine, he'll be the only one to survive it." The morbidity of the situation made him chuckle slightly.

The mutterings of the Walker, as well as his stiff demeanor, didn't concern him too much. Nor did the McAlinden's routine ellicit more than a short, curious glance, before turning back to his rest.