Ash couldn't help but smile as they peeled away from the bar. Loose Baton had certainly thrusted them all into some sort of situation, but Ash imagined this was a good way to start off the story of her legend. A high speed chase because some prospective old buggard pissed off an obviously powerful wallord. Ash laughed aloud as she finagled her bow to be relatively out of the way in the small space of the cart.

"I have no idea what you want Mr.Baton!" Ash shouted over the warlike cacophony of noise, "But you can count me on board!"

Ash laughed again as the cart pitched wildly to one side. In Sport, you did not fear death. Even Lopers are privy to the customs of Sport. If she were to die right here, right now, she'd only regret that she hadn't left the Wal as a legend. Sporthalla awaited, and she would gladly go with honor into the halls of Mad-Den. The cart swerved back into a semblance of control as their pursuers assaulted the cart.

Ash listened to the sounds of metal pinging off the cart, of arrows ricocheting into the distance, of lasguns firing; All of it served to fill the blood in her veins. She was no beserker, not like the great Linemen of Sport, but the thrill of battle still set her blood aflame. Another wild swerve, and Ash swayed with it with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. In a battle like this there were no tactics, no strategy, no cunning, only skill and raw instinctual talent. 

 "If one of you has something to shoot with, the help would be really freaking appreciated right about now!". 

Ash threw herself back across the rear seat as she worked her bow into a usable, if uncomfortable, position. An arrow whizzed passed the hooded man's head and plunged itself into the grotesquely warped neck of one of the horses. The animal screeched and pitched forward head first, followed by the audible crunch of the rider's bones breaking beneath the beasts weight. It was much easier to take out the mount than the rider, Ash figured.

Her pulsed pounded in her ears as she shrugged herself upright. There just wasn't enough room to maneuver in here. Ash leaned out of her side of the cart, before pulling back in quickly as a spear careened away from the space her face had been occupying just a second before. She looked back, noting the guy who had thrown it, before swinging herself out of the side of the vehicle. She nearly lost her grip as it pitched violently to one side again. A motorcyclist went tumbling past, flipping impressively end-over-end from wrecking at such a hide speed. Ash took hold of the cart's top and pulled herself up.

"Hello Crow-face!" She yelled into the wind, "I hope you know how to share!"

She knelt, bracing herself against the wind for balance and counted the arrows she had left with her fingertips. Eighteen, or so, she may have double counted a few with the way the cart was swerving, and with the occasional need to duck away from enemy fire. She took aim at the man who'd nearly taken her life before. He was seated between two massive tires of a three-wheeled vehicle. Ash loosed, and watched her arrow sail away into the distance. She cursed, drawing another arrow. She wasn't going to hit him, she wasn't exactly experience in firing from atop a moving, badly steered vehicle.

Ash aimed lower, for the large front tire and embedded her arrow into it. A massive pop resounded through the air as the tire blew, becoming a useless mass of flapping rubber before losing traction completely. The trike pulled to the side violently, crashing into another of the approaching steeds before all of them fell beneath a massive, spiked roller wheel.