The answer to both questions was yes. 

“[color=skyblue]Quinn! Just hold on, I’m headed to the lift now, I’m—I’ll let it take me low enough for a good angle and then I’m dropping down! Just keep your distance![/color]”

Strangely, that didn’t seem like it would be too difficult. The swordsman turned its body sideface as Quinn’s shot flew past it, exploding harmlessly on a distance hill. It matched her circling, and as the space grew between them it didn’t swerve to chase her. Instead, it reached down and plucked up one of the axes buried into the ground, not yet returned to the void. It stared at Quinn silently, and clutched the axe’s haft hard. 

White flames burst to life on the head, as though activated. Only that couldn’t have been so—Modir never had two weapons. Did it mean to come at her with both? To make good on Roaki’s promise to gut her, to tear her limb from limb?

Evidently not. The flames on the axes grew brighter, spread from the blades down into the hilt, and burned deep. The swordsman’s grip closed harder, and there was a metallic keening sound, brief but sharp, before the blazing axe crumbled into embers. Far away, its twin collapsed into dust. It was nothing at all like how weapons were normally dismissed. What on Illun had it done? 

She didn’t get much of a chance to wonder. Strange task done it kept walking, still staring straight at her but not a step towards her. Why? It had obviously come for a fight, and with the camp so far away, she was the only one—

It stopped over [i]Blotklau[/i], and before Quinn could even realize what it was doing, it lifted its sword high and plunged it down into the Savior’s chest. The fuller flared, the ichor that poured out from [i]Blotklau[/i]’s heart burned and spewed silvery smoke. The swordsman tilted its head, pulled the blade free, and then repositioned it over the Savior’s face.