@MaxinePrimal @meepinater @BlackBeltGamer98 @ToaNoah_Wafflemeister @Flux @ProfSrlojohn
A lance of sky-blue plasmic energon shoots down from Salvation, crashing atop the Predaking and engulfing the dragon- though not before the mercenary Llun had a chance to get to safety. The beam bursts the membranes of the predacon’s wings and melts his armor into slag, and he gives a final roar before his spark extinguishes. The beam disappears, and the charred remnants of the Predaking lie still for a moment, before something ignites within its innards and explodes, destroying what little was left of him.
The ancient fortress’s cannons stop firing as, high above the gorge, the New Decepticon fleet retreats, the glow of their engines disappearing into the early-afternoon horizon as swarms of dropships carry their armies to safety. Obsidian could be seen among them in his helicopter mode, barely managing to keep up with one busted rotor. The Death’s Head, blasted by the Armageddon’s cannons thanks to the Splitter brother’s mischief, lists into a mountainside and rolls down its green surface, spewing flames and debris as it tumbles.
Salvation quiets her guns shortly after, and a silence fills the gorge as the thunderous echoes die down, which is soon dispelled once again by the ecstatic cheering of scores of battle-weary bots beneath the Fleetcarrier. Arthropoda leads her hive in an insecticon victory chant, their victorious shrieks echoing off the blasted rocks and ancient metal.
Thrift climbs atop the wreck of a Siege Walker, a tiny whole punched into its cockpit, courtesy of Laslow. The merchant looks defiantly upward at our fleeing foes and shouts after them:
“YEAH! WHOO! YA LIKE THAT, YA TIN CANS?! HUH?! THAT’S HOW IT FEELS! DON’T FEEL TOO GOOD, DO IT?! WHOO-HOO!”
The junkion continues to laugh and shout obscenities denouncing Bludgeon and his non-existent mother as Topside and ■■■■■■■■■■■■ walk beside each other. The Autobot rolls his shoulders as he stows his great sword along his back, the sun glinting off his white armor.
“My friend,” he says to ■■■■■■■■■■■■ with a wry smile, “dare I say it: I do believe this is our first decisive victory this voyage.”
■■■■■■■■■■■■ rolls his cerulean optics, rubbing the spot on his shoulder where his beam cannon had been blasted off. “Yes, the retreating enemy warships would serve to give that impression,” he sighs in a deadpan.