[i]...The Massen Company, or in full: "Rekyl-Gevayr-Skindikat af Hynwuld Massen og Sonner", is considered by military scholars to be one of the oldest weapon's manufactories in Outer Elysia, if not the oldest. Additionally,  Massen forms one of the principal members of "The Guild of Barrel Makers and Lock Filers", a Cartel that controls the vast majority of the ballistic firearms market in Elysia. The company was founded as an arms repair and refurbishing shop on the crossroads between Sigasmaranda and the Core Worlds, but as more settlers began to migrate to the Outer Systems, the company reinvented itself as a quality arms producer in an attempt to gain a slice of the market before the larger corporations arrived. With the advent of rapid colonisation, however, so came the proliferation of cheap, crude and more often than not, unsafe weapons, as a result, Massen and various other enterprises formed the previously mentioned guild. The Guild of Barrel Makers and Lock Filers was created to protect legitimate firearms concerns from the influx of cheap weapons, and with the approval of many state actors, weapons that bore their proof (and only weapons that bore these proof marks) could legally be sold in the Guild's jurisdiction. In recent decades the influence of the Guild has been waining, with the advent of more powerful and easier to produce energy weapons, the traditional arms manufacturers are on the backfoot. With the exception of Rekyl-Gevayr-Skindikat af Hynwuld Massen og Sonner, which still maintains primacy in the Sigasmarandi arms market...[/i]

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"[color=gray]Fuck this thing is heavy,[/color]" Mira puffed, heaving her end of the tangled mass of tubes and solenoids. [url=https://imgur.com/a/URACz4h]Midshipman Mirrandra Snevlicks[/url] wasn't used to danger of this calibre, she had joined Cerberus Gate as part of the security attaché, and that meant the most action she saw was tasering drunk sailors when they got too close for comfort. Maybe that was why the sent her to retrieve the cooling coil, she was expendable. [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/77/d0/d3/77d0d33af16aade61a509195dd48e68d.jpg]Flas[/url] lifted his end with far less effort, one hand gripping on to his end of a frozen over pipe, as he scanned around with his machine gun at a low ready. "When I said find us a cooling coil I didn't mean this jury-rigged anvil.

"[color=silver]Your whining isn't making it lighter kid, just fucking move it.[/color]" Flas' eyes roamed around the darkness of the factory for a few moments before turning around, the pair headed towards the gaping hole that they had blown in the back of the factory, where their utility buggy awaited them. As their feet shuffled noisily through the debris from the blast, a high pitched sound hissed in the background, growing sharper as they approached their makeshift exit. The hiss was shattered by a deafening screech, as they flew forwards the cooling coil simply fell to the ground by virtue of its mass. Flas rolled, came to a halt on his knees with his gun shouldered in the direction of the forceful blast. In the reticle of his sight, clouded by the billow of dust from the stirring shove, a darker figure was etched out against the darkness of the factory interior.

Jornwuld levelled her Pyroclasts at the Ziharin, silver front sites gleaming where his small head 'ought to have been. 

"[color=696969]'Right, Clunch. Drop the piece or ee'll 'ave yer gizzies for supper, follow?[/color]" Flas was struck dumb by what his translator was feeding his ear, truly whatever the brigand was speaking it must have been the most colloquial language in Elysia. He pulled the trigger on his gun but was met by a faster response from Jornwuld, before he could depress the second stage of the seer his gun exploded in a shower of sparks and cartwheeled out of his hand. "[color=696969]Aye, ye reck'n'd ye could tug me lids o'er me eyes? I'll 'ave yer skivvies we'hen ee'm done with ya, tha's fer cert'n![/color]" She racked the finger leaver of her pistol and crouched down by the hulk of metal that was the cooling coil, resting the pommel of her other pistol on it. "[color=696969]Now, wha's te idea'er with pinchin' tha' codger's doodah?[/color]"

As the sentence left her countryside lips, the Midshipman stirred from her trauma-induced slumber. Watching through blurred vision and hearing through ringing ears as Flas broke down the situation to the armed blackguard. Mira reached for her service revolver, the one she had not touched since her training with it, which was buried under months tasers and truncheons. Flipping the latch, she reached into her holster with dazed fingers, before a posh voice rang out in the din. 

"[color=696969]And what have we here? Your dithering compatriot has awoken from her lullaby slumber? I'm afraid you won't be needing that, my dear.[/color]" Jornwuld spoke, gesturing with the muzzle of her other pistol for Mira to discard her gun, "[color=696969]In the dust, that's a good girl." Mira scowled at the clad figure and did as was told, tossing her pistol and watching it skitter away under a pile of loose rubble. "[color=696969]Now that we are all chummy, and the situation is crystal clear, I purpose a solution to our mutual catastrophes.[/color]" Jorn turned her attention to Flas, and smirked under her wraps, "[color=696969]Ee'll bring ye the fellah oo dun fiddl'd this contraption inta being, and ye'll tell me wha's te way to yer floaty, follow?[/color]"

Flas considered it, as haphazard and junky the coil was, it would probably take him and the mechanics onboard the Cerberus Gate time to decipher the pipes and wire. Time they precious, little had. Perhaps siding with the Rogue would do them some good, and if he didn't come through, they probably head enough flak-shells to hold out for a bit. 

"[color=silver]Tell me your name and I'll tell you where the ship is.[/color]" Flas said as he rose from the dust, met by mimicked motions from Jornwuld, guns still held at the ready. 

"[color=696969]Barbell, Tamzerwuld, at yer service.[/color]" 

"[color=silver]Northwest for about ten metric miles, you'll see it waving the tricolour.[/color]" 

_______________________________________________________________

"[color=696969]Fuck![/color]" Jornwuld retreated her head around the corner of a sandstone hovel, clutching at a smouldering wound on her arm and hissing with frustration. She had battled through the winding alleys of the desert metropolis for what had felt like hours, but what must have been only minutes. Flas had described the invaders in a way that had made her quietly confident, and despite their crude tactics, their potent weapons and greater numbers were proving a challenge. She fingered the lever of her pistol forward a sliver, seeing if she had a round chambered before she progressed, in Jorn's mind she counted the shots she had fired and guessed that there were likely three rounds left in the tube. The unspent one in the chamber making it four before she would have to reload. 

Jornwuld brought her hand away from the burn and wiped the miasmic tar off on her trousers, leaving a black, hand shaped smear. 

In a fury of fluttering blackness, the exile launched herself out from around the corner, nearly catching a chestful of plasma. Slipping on loose gravel and sand, Jorn slid forwards, crossing the street at a diagonal as the Reaver charged up its next shot. She arrived at the wall of the cramped alley at speed, and let the speed carry her up it, until friction couldn't support her any longer. She launched herself off of the wall in the direction of the assailant, hand curled up into a fist and arm extended towards the creature's dome-like face. The punch connected and hairline cracks spider-webbed out across the bulbous, glass surface. Just as the Reaver began to recoil, Jorn opened her mouth and let out a piercing shriek, had she been back home it would have probably torn the creature to tatters. But there, on that curseless desert planet, where the sun drove off most Vapour, the scream served to send the creature piling into the ground under its own weight.

The opposing force of her Wuld sent Jorn carting backwards, head over heels in an elaborate, wheeling arc. She landed on one knee, sliding back against the gravel and her own residual momentum before an outstretched foot stopped her against the wall. The Reaver stirred, steam hissing out of the glass bowl that covered its face. 

An echo of a gunshot rang out from the alley, followed promptly by a dashing, dark figure. Jornwuld rolled under a market stall and vaulted over another, heading for the open maw of the squat ship that stood in the middle of town. Around her, a battle raged for control of the city centre, Reavers and Terersgis firing at each other in large volumes. Sprinting towards the clearing between the market and the airship, the huntress scooped up a loose metal panel and used it for cover as she traversed the space. Gripping on to it, she grit her teeth as bolts of plasma slammed into the plate, shunting her into a stumble. She discarded the searing metal panel and careened into the monumental airship, followed hotly at the heel by bolts of plasma, leaving behind clumps of molten glass. 

Jornwuld was met by the bristling muzzles of Seeg rifles, pointy, glinting bayonets hovering just in front of her face. 

"[color=696969]I'm looking for Jeet.[/color]" 

Jeet screeched loudly, jostled about as Jorn bolted and vaulted across the crossfire outside the ship, accompanies by the screeching of the other Seeg, who were willing to abandon the holy ship to save their own skins. They clung on to Jorwuld's clothing as she barrelled into an alley and down its length, navigating towards the outskirts of the city using intuition and a little luck. Breaking into the sunlight, she was faced by the bone-dry wastes ahead of her, and with her suit leaking at an alarming rate she was sure she wouldn't make the treck to Cerberus. Standing there in the sand, Jorwuld cupped her hands around where her mouth was under her scarf, and chirped loudly. It was quiet, apart from the muffled sounds of battle in Terersg and the panting of the Seeg on her back. Her eyes scanned around flightily, squinting into the sky despite the relief from the vaporous veil about her eyes.

From the alley that she had just emerged from, the sound of a pair of heavy footfalls rattled towards them, most likely alerted by the sound of her high-pitched cries. She passed an empty pistol to one of the creatures that clung to her back and drew her other one, three shots remaining in it. 

"[color=696969]Load it, and be quick about it,[/color]" Jorn commanded, to the quick response of the Seeg, passing around bullets from her belt and loading the gun behind her back. She extended her weapon forwards and stood sidelong, aiming down the length of her arm at the alley where the reavers would no doubt emerge. As the first one came around a corner and into view, a massive, dark shadow sailed across the ground and then promptly disappeared into her periphery. A few moments later, after she had fired a round into the beast, sending it back around the corner, the shadow returned crossing her field of view.  

Before she could take the next shot, as a reaver came around the corner, followed quickly by the other, the dark mass descended and landed its talon ended wings on the houses that flanked the alley. Thrusting its head downwards, and crunched against the chitinous exterior of the Reaver, thrashing it about with shakes of its head before throwing the body against the now retreating alien. Flashes of green Plasma glowed from the next street over, but the winged creature traversed the rooftops and once again darted its head into the street. Rearing its head up, it took off with a mighty flap and tossed the Reaver into the air with a backwards flick of its neck, send it carting into the air and off some considerable distance. 

"[color=696969]Top Man![/color]" Jorn called as Tarkarus circled down to land. She panted as she rushed towards him, the Seeg dismounting her so as to climb aboard their latest mode of transportation. Chattering about it curiously as they climbed on to it, inspecting it and worried as to the lack of wires and pipes. Jorn scratched the mottled, matted fur of her mount rewardingly much to the amusement of the Seeg. After that she didn't spare a moment, mounting and sitting high on Tarkarus' neck, snatching her machine gun from the little gremlins before they could take it apart. 

Tarkarus flapped and lifted off the ground, inducing a plume of dust beneath him before spiralling upwards and away in the direction his reins tugged him.

Now Jornwuld just had to find the crew of the Cerberus, and get everyone back there safely. 

"[color=696969]What a treat...[/color]"