Quoted By:
A piece of you wants to get on your own speakers and demand an explanation for the nonsensical commentary.
The majority, though, is analyzing your last clash and settling on a new attack direction- low, underneath where you cannot be brushed off again, and where the armor should be weaker in order to enable fluid movement.
“The leg. Cripple it!”
Your pilot’s directive reinforces your decision.
Vertical missile racks open again, launching rockets into the sky once more. Your frame moves in response, boosting around a series of rapidfire crackling blue bursts, and lunging beneath the center torso of Pyramid, finding only a set of small laser turrets on the underside of the main disk trying to ward you off with their lesser beams.
A greater concern is the legs, as consistently striking the same location is annoyingly difficult while they try to stomp you underfoot, raising and smashing the ground with whatever leg you try and target with a rake.
The sheer mass would crush whatever is caught underneath it, should you be caught even once.
Explosions surround Pyramid, the launched missiles being understandably unwilling to target directly.
“Higher! Higher!”
Your pilot’s directions have taken on an eager tone, as you finally start smashing armor bits off on one leg, finding a lower joint and hitting it again and again, exposing the artificial muscles beneath.
Her excitement is infectious, even if the substance of her commentary isn’t particularly helpful.
At least the fear is gone.
Metal screams and strains underneath the load as Pyramid comes down on the damaged leg, finds it insufficient, and twists it far beyond normal tolerances inwards.
The tripod falls, and you scramble to get away. Dust has been kicked up everywhere from the missile volley, and all you know is that you don’t want to be beneath it.
Dash out, evade, and re-mount is the plan.
As the dust begins to settle, and you twist to return.
<span class="mu-r">Pyramid Structure: 9/20</span>
Smoothly, the two functioning legs prop the whole construct up, tilting it upon the stub of the crazily twisted leg while the arms tilt and aim in your direction, spewing high-powered energy rather inaccurately from the leaning position.
It’s certainly hindered.
“Take out the missiles, then fall back and leave it for tomorrow to sweep up. That thing’s not going anywhere fast.”
New directive from your pilot. All confidence and certainty.
<span class="mu-b">Error</span>
>I need 11 rolls of 1d6, again, for Close Combat.
