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    1. GunmetalGold 6 yrs ago

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IC: Brae Tessen

"How do you have issues making people stay dead?" Brae wondered out loud. "Drive your knife into their heart, or behead them. If they're in a mech, or any other vehicle, pummel it until it's nothing but scrap." Brae said all this as if it was simple. Though being an Apatagor, she had a rather straightforward approach to killing.

Kill it. And if it isn't dead, kill it more.
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae let out a low growl.

"Whoever's piloting this rust bucket better be careful with Praetorian. If I have to replace one more conduit because of some vrae'ka idiot's flying..."
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae sighed and rested her chin on her hand. "Anything above a milligram is fatal. No more of this. Talk about something else, hm?"
IC: Brae Tessen

"Poisonous enough to kill an Apatagor in a mere minute." She said.
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae pouted. "Zaegor are poisonous. Only good thing about them is the carapace. Hard to put a dent in and makes for good armor."
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae let out a loud, growling laugh. "Beating a thing t death with it's own limb is the most satisfying thing you can do. I killed a Zaegor that way as an adolescent. Ripped off it's horn and beat the thing to death with it."

She growled triumphantly and imagined she was holding the horn in her hands. "Had to impale the thing with it to finish it off. Zaegor carapace is hard to make a dent in. Had to find a gap in the chitin and-" Brae thrust the imaginary horn down violently. "Drive the horn into it's angry little heart."
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae rolled her neck and fiddled with her knife. "It's a chance to test out the new PPC on Praetorian. But, heh, I think I'll use my fists regardless."
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae swore in her native language as she fumbled with the straps to her seat. "Tiger Three. All good here."
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae simply huffed and nodded as she boarded her own.
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae put on her helmet and it hissed as it clamped around her neck and muzzle, the visor glowing a soft orange. The Apatagor pulled up the top of her jumpsuit and zipped it up as she walked over to the shuttles, and checked her prosthesis, knife, and knuckledusters. All good to go.

"I don't mind cleaning Praetorian. Respect your mech and maintain it as you would any weapon." She grumbled, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet.
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