[b][I]Raven Rivers[/i][/b]

One of their quarry had escaped, probably to end up as the last survivor of the Crimson Fists once the Green Knights' ambush was done with his co-workers. It didn't matter; whatever happened, he was getting the Firestarter unless [i]Ziska[/i] staked her claim to it first. So as the Green Knights' lance entered the battlefield, Raven spoke briefly, "Nothing will save them, no matter what they bring." 

Then to Ingrid and the others, he spoke, "Lance Captain, I am requesting permission to climb up the Mountain; best to have the high ground if they're bringing something heavy. Maybe it's the same for everyone else?"

Raven knew that taking the high ground endangered their concealment; movement could be detected and the enemy might be able to flee before they had a proper engagement. But he grasped that even with the advantage of surprise lost, the Crimson Fists would probably be confident enough in their numbers and hardware that they'd pick a fight with the Knights anyway, and that'd be the death of them - He'd make sure of it.

And if they didn't detect the Green Knights deploying for the ambush, which they might not if he did not use his jump jets and instead [i]walked[/i] or climbed, then that'd be even better.

So when it came time to deploy, Raven's Shadow Hawk prepared to climb up the mountain, looking for a snowy plateau from where he could take aim at the Firestarter as it crossed the first ice bridge; his plans were to take advantage of the fact that the Firestarter was crossing first to launch everything he had at it, signaling to the enemy that this was indeed a battle to the death. 

That said, if the Shadow Hawk was allowed to crawl to the plateau, which would be the equivalent of a ledge to a Mech, Raven reckoned that crouching his Mech down for a bit would grant him a bit more concealment and allow him an elevated position to strike.

But he waited for orders first, though; he suspected that Ingrid would tell him no or approve of his logic - She was black-and-white like that.

At least in this environment, he barely needed his cooling vest; the heat of the mech was actually a blessing and would be more than that in the snowy mountainous battlefield where the weather did not stop being icy just because mere humans were going to have a battle.

If he were a poet or had spare time, he'd describe the scenery as more than, well, scenic; find words about how the white and grey and black spoke to the soul if not for the fact that it'd be destroyed soon. But alas, the blood of their foes called.