((OOC: Setting up multiple options here for whoever wants to jump in or if it looks like it might be too much to keep a track of- but of course anyone's still open to setting their own threads!))
I. Melee Ahoy! It's a vastly different atmosphere from earlier observational missions. While the officers may have been slacking in keeping all their records straight, it's not records and missives that the Corsairs are dealing with here. The guards employed may not have seen much action at such an assignment but it's amazing what a surprise attack will do to people. Time to show their mettle. Or they might just be happy to finally do something other than tediously repetitive patrols.
Waiting is always the hardest part, but they surely can't have everyone running off as part of the offense. At least Donnie's used to waiting. He's just not normally expected to be a main line of defense. He stands there, straining to see any approaching movement from the camp, fingers curling and uncurling from around the length of his staff as he holds it at the ready. Seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like... Well, you probably get the idea. Of course it hasn't been that long since the first volleys of the active armor units within have sounded, as much a signal as any that the raiding party has struck.
Eventually they come; ragged and desperate, panicked but resilient are the prisoners that begin to stream towards the awaiting ships. "They're coming!" he calls out to the others as he starts moving in to cover them.
II. The Big Guns The streams of former prisoners has been lessening and Donnie only hopes that it means they're nearing the last of those who've been liberated. Which would be good news because fending off guards is tiring! It's hard to really keep a track of everything though, especially when you're kind of busy trying not to get killed, even when you're not trying to really kill anyone. He probably won't cry about it if he'd accidentally brained anyone too hard but then with luck he'd never have to see any of these guys again.
"Are we almost ready to-" he starts to ask, the rest of the words dying on his tongue as the shape of something large separates itself from the inky sky and then lands with a brief ground-shaking thump before them.
The turtlekin's no stranger to armor, not when he does their maintenance on a pretty normal basis, but this is the first time he's seeing a battle-active one up close and in person- and ready to mow them all down. He's stuck staring- in awe or shock, perhaps a bit of both. The logical part of his mind is trying desperately to get the rest of him working to move.
ESCAPE ROUTE
I. Melee Ahoy!
It's a vastly different atmosphere from earlier observational missions. While the officers may have been slacking in keeping all their records straight, it's not records and missives that the Corsairs are dealing with here. The guards employed may not have seen much action at such an assignment but it's amazing what a surprise attack will do to people. Time to show their mettle. Or they might just be happy to finally do something other than tediously repetitive patrols.
Waiting is always the hardest part, but they surely can't have everyone running off as part of the offense. At least Donnie's used to waiting. He's just not normally expected to be a main line of defense. He stands there, straining to see any approaching movement from the camp, fingers curling and uncurling from around the length of his staff as he holds it at the ready. Seconds seem like minutes and minutes seem like... Well, you probably get the idea. Of course it hasn't been that long since the first volleys of the active armor units within have sounded, as much a signal as any that the raiding party has struck.
Eventually they come; ragged and desperate, panicked but resilient are the prisoners that begin to stream towards the awaiting ships. "They're coming!" he calls out to the others as he starts moving in to cover them.
II. The Big Guns
The streams of former prisoners has been lessening and Donnie only hopes that it means they're nearing the last of those who've been liberated. Which would be good news because fending off guards is tiring! It's hard to really keep a track of everything though, especially when you're kind of busy trying not to get killed, even when you're not trying to really kill anyone. He probably won't cry about it if he'd accidentally brained anyone too hard but then with luck he'd never have to see any of these guys again.
"Are we almost ready to-" he starts to ask, the rest of the words dying on his tongue as the shape of something large separates itself from the inky sky and then lands with a brief ground-shaking thump before them.
The turtlekin's no stranger to armor, not when he does their maintenance on a pretty normal basis, but this is the first time he's seeing a battle-active one up close and in person- and ready to mow them all down. He's stuck staring- in awe or shock, perhaps a bit of both. The logical part of his mind is trying desperately to get the rest of him working to move.