was that really necessary?
a thin emerald beam laced out like a serpent born of light at '62.
the laser dissapated centimeters before his knight-like helmet, its energy spent on a faint blue barrier. Behind the opaque face plate of the XI-2A4Strike Style suit, '62 winced, his eyes flicking to check the dampened shield levels of the suit. That was not supposed to happen.
Nothing to it then.
'62 drew the Fifth Claymore from its slot at the his back and ignitied the energy blade. With a hiss the wide blade of energy came to life, lighting the dark night with its bluish glow. '62 suppressed a grin, allowing the blade to droop to touch the floor damp with the night dew. His element, his battle.
Classic entry of course. With a great roar muted by the armor in its silent impressiveness, '62 broke from his position, his tool of death in his hand as he launched against the enemy position.
haha.
sorry.
another uninspired piece.
i just wanted to get some guy to use the fifth claymore.
energy blades are cool
i want one when i grow up.
'62 charged against the squad of Imp suits, who had clearly pre empted him. Simultaniously all 5 suits let loose with their arm mounted lasers, searing toward the solitary Loki. Without breaking momentum '62 deflected all the beams with a swipe of the claymore, before leaping into the air, beam blade poised to strike.
school has been okok i guess.
12th of each month is payday
must remember that. heh.
furthermore mrs tey is sick again
quite gd doe her timing
everytime she's sick, there isnt bio lesson.
haha
but loads of clues dropped for bio and physics SPA
the rookies
'62 landed in the middle of the squad, killing intent in his narrowed eyes. Before the Imps had thought to turn to face the intruder suddenly admist in their ranks, '62 sliced two of them with a sweep of the claymore, and then another with a backward stab.
wasnt it obvious he had a sword?
prelims are edging in real soon doe.
haha
and i havent studied much
Ughness
must start chionging soon. =(
i need a break in the time nexus haha
And then the enemy panicked.
At point blank fired his twin shoulder mounted sort ranged missiles, which detonated relatively harmlessly against the superior Loki barrier field, uselessly throwing '62 to the floor. The same couldnt be said for the rookie, for the explosion tore apart the weaker suit that fired it, and maimed its companion.
The cries of a dying man filled the tranquil night sky
'62 blinked, the only sign of his shock. In a second he was up, claymore raised once more, above his head, as he stood over the bleeding enemy Imp. From the rents and tears of the puncture suit came the final wails of the enemy soldier. Wounded. Bleeding. Just like any other man. '62 paused for a second in his killer's pose, ready to deliver the coup de grace.
War.
was an ugly thing.
the night went silent again, and the claymore returned to its sheath.
The Word of God is my Claymore
My Lord sustains me
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