Locke smirks ever so slightly under the helmet. The Greatspurs Yumi felled went down in such spectacular fashion. Even out of the corner of his eye, the absurdity of the moment was not lost on him. Just one last push now. One last strike, and they’d win this.

Aramis’ magic flares around him, drawing his notice. He pauses firing and repositions, reloading his weapon as he flanks right around the flailing, panic stricken turkey. Enemy off balance, defenses hardened, and enough handholds for him to draw on an old tried and true battle tactic.

The last Greatspur is turning to flee now, but the fallen corpses of its companions waylay its progress. Perfect angle. Locke surges forth, jump jets burning… then he leaps up, kicks off of another tree to gain more height, then grabs a handful of heavy feathers on its back. Time to rodeo this bastard.

He clambers upward, timing his movements between the Turkey’s panicked attempts to shake him off. The jumpkit aids his progress as he clambers up atop its head… Then he levels his rifle at its eyeball as it cocks its head back to look at him.

[i]CRACK CRACK CRACK[/i]

A spray of blood and the pilot kicks off, using his jumpkit to cushion the descent. He lands at a crouch… and silence reigns for the briefest of moments, broken shortly after by the thundering boom of a massive body collapsing on the ground.