They landed far ahead of the other forces, moving with a decisive purpose. Their time to fight would come, but for now, they had other goals in mind. A warehouse lay before them, now undefended as its caretakers fled in the wake of the invasion. It was the perfect window of opportunity, but a tense one, as their great worry was that the ensuing conflict might destroy their prize. Their burliest member headed straight for the first door they found, getting to work with his power tool without hesitation.

[b]"Hurry it up."[/b] Their leader, an Ortakk, began. [b]"If we stay here too long, we might actually have to fight someone."[/b]

[b]"I'm going as fast as I can."[/b] The burly alien replied, his voice raised over the din of his cutting instrument. [b]"Just a little patience, and we'll have the cores. Then we'll be set for life."[/b] 

His words provided little comfort to their leader, as he continued to wearily eye the skies, watching as the streaking forms multiplied and compounded. Their paymasters, this "Tiger Dominion", would have little love for mercenaries that had no intention of fighting, but they would hopefully be too busy with their little plan to bother with them. He had turned his back on his own civilization when he had chosen the life of a thief, and he could care less if these bloodthirsty humans hated him too. He just wanted them to focus on their own business long enough for him to get away with his.

[b]"Hey boss, someone's coming!"[/b] He whipped around at the warning from his comrade, instinctively raising his rifle in the direction of the threat. An armored stranger approached, seemingly unconcerned with the fact they were confronting four armed and battle hardened mercs. Their intrusion on this operation rankled the Ortakk leader something fierce. [b]"Hey, back off!"[/b] He barked at them, shaking his rifle threateningly. [b]"We don't want trouble, but we'll kill you if we have to!"[/b]

His words did not phase the stranger, but they eventually stopped just a short distance from them. Even as three of their number pointed weapons directly at them, their gaze seemed to look past their aggression, seeking something. Their eyes rested on the leader, which deeply unnerved him. They seemed to stare for all too long before finally producing some device, and a female voice rang out, [b]"Are you aware, my sweets, that as you are in the midst of a military and/or criminal action, I can legally acquire your property as salvage?"[/b]

The question baffled the lot of them, but the leader's patience had worn thin. He looked to his right hand man, signalling for him to attack. But he barely had time to nod before the stranger was already plunging a sword through his chest. The leader looked in horror as the life leaked out of one of his long time comrades. The one to his left jumped forward, hoping to blast the stranger close up with his shotgun, but all he achieved was having his throat held in a vice grip. The burly alien at the door produced his machine gun, firing off a barrage of bullets. The stranger simply used their own ally as a shield, shooting forward and then hurling the bullet riddled carcass into the burly one. In the blink of an eye, a bigger, deadlier sword appeared in her hands, which she used to slice through both the dead man and the burly one in a single stroke. It was here that the leader finally escaped his stupor, choosing to take the opportunity to shoot the stranger right in the back.

Just as he squeezed the trigger, he could have sworn he saw the barrel of his gun seal shut. He only had a split second to register it before the thing exploded in his hands. He collapsed in agony, unable to do anything but stare at the mangled mess that remained of them. The stranger stood over him, and he braced for death. Instead of his end, he heard a cooing voice instead. 

[b]"Ah, you poor thing. I know, you weep..."[/b] At first, he couldn't believe his assailant was trying to comfort him. Things became somewhat more clear when she reached down and took his sword from his belt. He managed to look up, and saw the stranger had opened the visor on her helm. Everything made sense now. She was an Ortakk too. She was now cradling his sword as though it were a baby. He realised another horrifying truth. This was not just any Ortakk, it was that insane Exalted one with the sword fetish. Garamm was her name, if he remembered clearly. Just about every rogue Ortakk had heard of her. He actually began to chuckle at that moment. Their whole unit, slaughtered, just because this bitch wanted a new sword. His sword wasn't even all that special, just something he had picked up on a job. He was going to die so she could have a shiny new toy.

[b]"...for your master lies dying. I know, it's sad. But don't cry, I will give you a new home. I'll take care of you. [i]I'll cherish you.[/i]"[/b] She then lowered the sword to his neck. [b]"But first, a christening. The head of a traitor, the blood of a thief..."[/b] She then raised the sword once more, and swung it down hard. Those were the Ortakk rogue's last moments.

Garamm left her tiny battlefield, her new blade sheathed as she carried the Ortakk's head with her. The sword would find a place in her cargo hold, and the head would be taken to Ortakk'Nai for a tidy sum. [b]"What do you think, my little darling?"[/b] She spoke aloud. [b]"Will we find you some brothers..."[/b] She looked up to the sky, where ever more ships entered orbit. [b]"...or will we bring you to safety first?"[/b]