Forums » General Roleplay » Guide (1x1 with Chuck227)

Kyra pulled her stick back from the small fire and checked poked at the skinned hunk of animal at the end, then shook and sucked on her singed finger. It felt firm enough, but she decided to hold it back over the fire a bit longer to be sure. Her grumbling stomach could wait just a little longer.

The heat of the day was rapidly fading, held in only by the rocks and ground. It was a bit late for a fire; it served as a glimmering beacon for bandits and the occasional animal that had no fear of fire, but her food stores were low and it was tricky to find critters worth eating among the rocks and scraggly brush on the desert's fringes. Besides, most thinking beings wouldn't attack a Sand Elf - her kind were typically considered too useful alive and too risky to try robbing. It made things a bit boring, really.

Once she got to the outpost tomorrow, though, some fights with bets would help her stock back up. It'd be nice to be in something like home again, too.

Zeke's battle-damaged vessel just barely held together on its final flight, a desperate plunge through the atmosphere of this intergalactic backwater. While the system was technically Valtradi space.. it was not policed or occupied. The aliens had won huge stretches of territory after a prolonged war with humanity and its allies, and most of it still remained undeveloped. The Valtradi State opted to focus on the most resource rich worlds to replenish its fleets, and in the meantime most of the outer-fringe planets only belonged to them in the legal sense.. Zeke was perhaps the first Valtradi to conduct a scan of the world, a momentous occasion, or at least it would have been if he'd had any more motivations other than finding a place to crash land.

The being's ship cut through the air, still burning from its trip through the atmosphere. It looked almost like a meteor.. only it was burning several different colors as his engines began to explode from the excess heat. The meteor changed trajectory, cutting into a more gentle downward slope that looked almost peaceful.. until the craft began to plow through dune after dune until it ground to a halt with a huge explosion of sand and fire. The vapor trail of the engines still lingered in the air, along with a path of sand-turned-glass that led the way to the now derelict vessel.

Just as Kyra was reaching once again for meal, she noticed that everything seemed to rapidly be growing brighter. The elf raised her head in time to see a great mass of many-colored fire blaze through the sky and, if she wasn't mistaken, change its decent along the way. That was likely just an effect of its angle and the shifting temperatures though. But, whatever cause it was of little concern compared to the fact that it was way too close.

Her fingers immediately squeezed tight around the stick and she pulled it back even as her other hand grabbed the edge of her cloak. She watched just long enough to see it crash before tucking in and blanketing herself beneath the cloak. Kyra knew better than to expect to be able to run from something like that; best to hunker down and hope for the best. The sound seemed immediate, followed closely by a shockwave that rumbled through the ground and rushed through the air. Somewhere nearby, she heard rocks burst apart, and tiny pebbles rained down on her.

Even after everything fell silent, Kyra waited a little longer before finally peering out. Her little fire was gone, the scraps of wood blown away and no doubt buried somewhere. Dust still filled the air, and a thin layer had already settled on her cloak. Looking out in the direction she'd last seen the ball of fire, she saw that the dust was far thicker there.

She stood, stick still in hand, and examined the area. In a smoldering pile of rubble nearby, a small lump lay in a much larger rocky crater; metal by the look of it. Tentatively, she poked the meat against it, and promptly pulled it back when it sizzled. She sniffed the burnt meat as she gazed out again to the dusty distance, and merchant instincts kicked in. It hadn't looked more than a day or so away, possibly much closer. If this little chunk had come from whatever the hell that had been... between the metal and the "natural" glass that had no doubt formed, she'd have plenty to trade for fresh supplies and some new gear. But her current supplies... She'd just have to make them last.

Kyra ate her meager, chewy meal as she gathered up her belongings. The lump of metal was cooled enough to pick up by the time she was done, so she wrapped and stored it. With just a faint smirk, set out to find the fiery object, hopefully before anyone else did.

The visitor's first real sensation was pain. He had drifted in and out of awareness during the wreck as his body's trauma supression systems fought a losing battle to try and keep him awake and orientated. All he could recall were flashes, vertigo, and pain. Once he'd crossed the horizon, it had been a nasty ride. His vision flickered and swam as his HUD slowly reset, and then adjusted to the dim lighting. The only signs of movement were the odd lights cast by flickering fires.. Where ever he was now.. at least there was air to burn.. Hot, burning, unfiltered air.. He had several fractures, internal bleeding, and a concussion. It was nothing his implants couldn't handle.. or at least mask. It was hard to tell how long he'd been out. Perhaps an hour? It didn't matter. He was awake now.

After taking a moment to collect himself mentally, he undid his seatbelt, and promptly fell head-first onto the craft's ceiling with a metallic thud. It creaked violently as the sand hissed around it, sending debris skittering downwards across the floor. Zeke took a deep breath, and then forced himself to his feet. He had survived the crash. That was good. Valtradi ships were not equipped with escape pods because the crews were expected to die fighting.. but he didn't view surviving as a failure in this instance. His people would need the information that he possessed, and they would send someone to retrieve him. All he needed to do was contact them.

Surface based interstellar communication was no problem for a seasoned combat engineer like Zeke. But, after several hours of scavenging he had very little to work with. One pistol, two cartridges for his arm-gun, a field fabrication kit, some spare parts from the ship's computer, and a half-incenerated ration pack. He reasoned that there could be more supplies elsewhere though, plus he'd likely suffocate if he stayed.. The alien took a moment to decide which sand wall to dig through. His implants couldn't orient him. They only gave a 'NO CONNECTION' error, and so he let a hand full of sand slide through his fingers to determine which way was up, and then he began to dig. No Valtradi would be caught dead with a shovel, but an old access panel worked well enough.

As she walked, rock gave way to sand. The still-warm grains that slipped into her sandals felt good against her calloused feet; it might bother anyone else, but to Kyra the sensation was nostalgic. The down side, of course, was sandwyrms; she was not sure how well she could detect them anymore, and she was unsure if the crash would have been big enough to spook any in the area away, or just to draw them in. With luck, it'd be too big for them to swallow anyway.

Kyra walked on through the night, periodically glancing up to the stars to check her path once the dust had finally faded. As she drew closer though, she could see smoke in the distance. Whether from whatever had fallen, or from a camp, she wasn't sure - she'd be pleased to find either one, though.

The alien was very fortunate that the impact had temporarily driven away the worms. He was completely ignorant to such looming danger as he dug his way to freedom. Perhaps the shockwave had offended their finally tuned senses? Or maybe like any animal, the creatures had simply been spooked by something foreign.

Zeke burst forth from the sand silently.. The feel of a sky above his head was absolutely exhilarating, and it was tempting to shout out just how good it felt to still be alive. But, he knew not what waited for him on the surface.. The Valtradi were too big to really be subtle, but he hunched over as best he could as he carefully picked his way across the campsite. There were tracks everywhere! No doubt the dregs of this backwater were already tampering with the property of the State..

The alien drew his pistol as he heard faint voices.. The dialect was completely foreign to him, but that was to be expected. Slowly but surely he low-crawled his way to a vantage point amidst the dunes.. and watched. Three cloaked figures, a campfire, and some manner of crude projectile weapons? They didn't look like any sort of response team from a government that was worth anything. And so, they must have been looters. What really puzzled the alien though, was their choice of campground. Instead of camping on the sands and using the bulk of the wreck as a shield against the wind, these creatures had opted to camp right on top of the derelict, leaving a perfectly good campfire smouldering. Primitive fools.

Zeke hadn't considered the height advantage that the wreck gave the creatures, so as one happened to glance over in the midst of fiddling with its gear, it gave a surprised shout. The Valtradi reacted instantly, and squeezed off a shot with his pistol that promptly dropped it. The second and third stood to shoot in unison, though the second creature didn't quite bring up his weapon before he fell back down as a smoking corpse. The last man standing squeezed off a hasty shot that kicked up a bit of sand next to the alien, and then joined his friends... Well, at least he would have, but instead of claiming his third headshot the alien's plasma projectile hit the creature's weapon, which produced an instant pop of an explosion. Hrm, unsatisfactory. His optics would need some recalibration when he reached Kamrino.

The cyborg hopped up to investigate these creatures, only to notice that the third was still alive. How fortunate. This creature, which shared the same likeness as the much-hated human species, was breathing raggedly through shredded lungs. He would probably die soon. But, not before he answered some questions. Zeke holstered his pistol before he opted to lift his captive into the air with both hands, and shake him violently. The cyborg shouted out a bevy of questions in his strange native language, and the only answer he received from the man was for him to abruptly spit in Zeke's face. The alien landed a punch that cracked several ribs in reply, and the angry shouting match that followed accomplished little more than to frustrate him..

The enraged exchange continued until the derelict abruptly shifted and creaked underfoot. Was it the sand settling? Or.. something else? It surprised both of the creatures enough to silence them both as they turned and watched the sands.. Was this some sort of strange planetary happening? Or was that.. some sort of... creature slithering about in the sand? He could speculate all day, but there was an easier way to find out. He abruptly tossed his screaming captive out onto the sand, and then sat down to watch. Whatever it was, he hoped that its stomach would be filled by the locals.

Despite his injuries, he immediately stopped screaming upon hitting the sand and did his best to roll from the spot, but it did no good; a gaping maw burst from the sand where he'd struck, only to come back down on top of him. As the creature vanished back into the sand, only a crater remained where the sand had been displaced.

Kyra had found lumps of glass in malformed dunes, stepping on it where it lay beneath a layer of the ever-shifting sand. She picked up some of the more interesting and easy to carry pieces, but immediately froze at the sound of of an explosion of sand, just distinguishable from the sand that shifted in the wind. She looked over in time to see a falling geyser of sand near her destination.

The elf cursed, and considered. If a sandwyrm was already active there, it was pretty much a guarantee that someone was already there. It was most likely a clan of Sand Elves, as few others dared to get even this far into the desert. If it was a clan, she wanted to help; it was partly a unifying sense of honor, and partly the knowledge that they'd be happy to share the spoils if she made herself useful. If it was just some idiots who had wandered in, though, there was no problem with waiting it out until she was sure the beast was gone.

Screw it.

She dug a small explosive she'd picked up at the last town out from her pack and strapped it firmly to a hunk of glass to add weight. Kyra hated the idea of losing it as expensive as it had been, but it was precisely for a problem like this that she'd purchased it. She'd just expected to hold onto it a little longer... Hopefully it turned out to be worth the money.

Kyra took a breath, explosive in one hand and a knife clenched in the other, blade pointed down. Again she cursed to herself, the ran forward. She did her best to maintain speed across the sand while also being light of foot, dashing in an erratic line and praying she didn't gain the beast's attention.

The Valtradi watched with an intrigued, almost scientific sort of detachment as the man was consumed. What an interesting creature. If they could be caught, tamed, and then exported.. he could be rewarded for his contribution to the State. Or, at the least avoid public execution for his failure when he returned home. The return home.. would take some effort though. So, Zeke thought it best to not dwell on scheming. Instead, he turned his disciplined mind to his own gear, and the equipment he'd salvaged from the locals.

He felt pretty secure on top of the wreck. Even the locals hadn't risked an encounter with the creature, so he doubted anyone else would be snooping about. The sand creature drifted idly, but it didn't make any more threatening advances. Perhaps it was full? Either way, Zeke thought it best to wait the creature out. He made a tidy layout of all of his equipment in front of himself as he sat crosslegged, and then set to taking apart one of the scavenged projectile rifles. Piece by piece, the alien studied its workings with an appraising gaze. While he preferred the elegant cruelty of a plasma rifle, at least this crude firearm would keep him from having to get blood on his cybernetics.

Once the enjoyable puzzle that was the rifle had been meticulously pieced back together, Zeke studied the clothing of the dead locals. Hrm, perhaps a cloak was in order. Valtradi skin was dry, and nearly leathery in comparison to delicate human flesh. But, Zeke knew to give the possibility of a sandstorm plenty of creedance. Valtradi or not, he'd be all sorts of dead if he had to weather one out in the open. Every little bit of protection would help, and the alien was about half-through tugging a cloak off of a nearby corpse when the wurm creature suddenly shot past the wreck so quickly that it caused the derelict to shift once more. He followed the creature's path through the sand, raising up on his toes to try and keep it in view.

The creature didn't seem to be rising again. Had it been disposed of? Had it been something else to begin with? Or had it simply already given up on finding anything ahead? Kyra maintained her broken path, her eyes skimming the sand at all times.

There! A slight rise was snaking through the sand. She focused on it, watching, waiting for the right moment. It drew ever nearer, and with both calculated and instinctual precision, she jumped to the side just as the mouth burst up for her. Allowed herself only a quick roll as the beast dove back beneath the sand, then kept perfectly still.

She was in luck. It was only a young one, still small and much softer than an adult. If it was showing an interest in surface-walkers, then it also wasn't feeling the need to defend itself from any larger wyrms in the area.

Once Kyra was certain that it would pick up of the shift, she pressed to button on the explosive and hurled the lump of glass as far as she could, while at the same time moving as little as possible. The sandwyrm immediately turned toward where the chunk had landed, and the glass vanished into the maw.

She waited, trying not to even breathe lest she give away her position. Moments passed, and the beast's movements slowed as it listened. What was wrong? Had she been sold a dud? Had she set the trigger wrong? Had the beast somehow disabled it?

As Kyra began considering how to take it down with only knives, her thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of sand that knocked her back. She immediately got back up and danced about, making her way to the crater; sure enough, there was the wyrm, a fatal wound ripped into its body. The elf laughed and let out a whoop.

"Now 'ats a meal!" she shouted to no one in particular. Looking off to her destination - what appeared to be a small mountain surrounded in the light glinting from glass - she noticed a figure standing atop it for the first time. "An' maybe some company to share it with."

The elf slipped the knife away and, keeping mostly to places where the glass was thicker just in case she was wrong it believing that no other sandwyrms would be about, she made her way to where the thing had crashed with a steady, relaxed pace.

Zeke had been able to watch the stranger's kill with much more clarity than traditional eyesight would have allowed. The stranger had confronted the sandworm. The others had not.. and so that meant that there was something special about this loner. Was she a part of a different tribe or government? It was all very interesting. Still, the alien wondered if he could hit her from where he was standing with such a crude projectile weapon.

He suspected that he could. Of course, the Valtradi believed that they could do everything perfectly. But, this alien wasn't quite so arrogant that he overlooked the potential for help. The reality was that he had no idea where he was, and what dangers were present. If giant sandworms were a common denizen of the sands, then he needed a local. A guide.

The alien wondered what this traveller might want. Was a precious metal the currency of this world? Or, was it something so simple as water or useful equipment? He didn't know. Whatever is what though, chances were that the Valtradi State possessed it. Zeke doubted that a promised payment would get him very far if he were a local. But, as an outsider, perhaps the offer would be made more appealing. Or at the least, believable.

The figure only sat with a rifle across his lap as he waited for her to approach. He hadn't even bothered to move the bodies.. Once she was within what he perceived to be her field of view, the cyborg waved her over. Zeke resisted the urge to shout back to her. If he did, his language would no doubt sound like gibberish to primitive ears. No, he would need to speak her language. But, in order to do that.. he would need to hear it.

Kyra saw the figure wave as she drew nearer, and waved back. The closer she got to to the small mountain-thing, however, the more strange it looked. Metal or stone, it didn't look natural. Instead, it looked more like a partly-buried, artificial structure. Well, this just kept getting more interesting.

Even though the figure already sat atop the structure, Kyra touched it just briefly to test in anyway before climbing up, careful of where she rested her weight. As she reached the top,she started to greet the stranger, then froze at the sight of the bodies. The cloak had been stripped from one, and the stranger - the rather large stranger - now wore it. He also had a rifle handy, amongst things, and the man himself appeared to be some kind of cyborg.

Her previously amicable expression twisted into a scowl. She did not immediately reach for a knife, but her motions became slow as she finished climbing, her muscles tense and ready to spring at any moment. With a low voice not too far removed from a growl, she asked carefully, "What happened?"

The alien probably looked quite strange. Sure, he was close enough in form and function to not be completely incomprehensible. Zeke could have passed for a human. A giant, oddly-colored, and partially mechanized.. human. His implants could have been mistaken for some sort of armor from a distance. But, his eyes always gave away the true nature of his species. They were cold, lightly-glowing metallic blue lamps that appraised her with an eerie, unblinking gaze. It wasn't as if Zeke was another person simply looking at her. Instead, the implants made it seem as if he was some strange creature appraising her impartially through a microscope. In many ways, he was.

In comparison, Zeke thought that this woman looked small, dirty, and scrappy. A survivor. But, he didn't look down on her. She was exactly what he would need to get off this backwater. But, to do that.. the cyborg needed to communicate. He couldn't understand her language, but the way she tensed and looked towards the still-smoking corpses that the alien sat so calmly next to, communicated her question in ways that surpassed spoken language. The Valtradi turned to glance at the bodies, and then shrugged dismissively. "Sho-ra." he uttered. It was his people's term for looter. The word also meant selfish, or criminal. These were concepts that were commonly grouped together by his people. Even without that insight, the woman would be able to tell that the alien had in fact killed them, and he was either completely impartial about it, or had felt totally justified in committing the act. It was probably a mixture of both.

While the alien seemed very calm, he was actually quite concerned that he might soon be stuck with another fight and nowhere to go afterwards.. And so, he very slowly and deliberately raised his cybernetic arm for her to see with his fingers outstretched. As if to say, 'This is not a weapon.' But, of course, it was. Or at least, it could be. The alien slowly tilted it to the side, and reached with his opposing hand to flip open a small panel in the forearm that had previously been nearly undetectable. A three-dimensional holographic display blinked to life, and the alien got to work. He spoke another line of his native tongue/gibberish to her, and then rolled his mechanical wrist as if to say, 'Talk back.' If she did, the device's algorithms would analyze her speech, and Zeke's next line of gibberish would seem a little more.. native. While the alien's methods were probably quite foreign, he was obviously trying to learn her language. Presumably, because he wanted to do something other than shoot her.

The word the large man spoke was strange; she knew languages it could be a part of, but none really made any sense in the current situation. So far as she could tell, some stranger had simply murdered members of kin, and so she naturally hopped to the side when he lifted his arm. Rather then some blast or other weapon coming from it, though, the man merely opened a compartment and some sort of... screen? ...emerged.

Kyra watched as he spoke into it in an unfamiliar language, then held it toward her. She didn't want to move any closer to him though, and certainly didn't want to be caught off-guard. Her unfamiliarity with translation devices didn't help any either. So, rather than and single, sensible language, what the man got was the same question over and over in several different language as she estimated from the sound of his own what might be spoken near to whatever his origins were. Each time she asked if the one she spoke was a language he knew, and each time she paused to await any recognition.

The alien seemed to realize at some point during his process that she was actually switching languages on him, but not right away. At first he simply suspected that her spoken language so complex or unusual that his arm's AI simply couldn't pin it down and decipher it. He adjusted the device's settings several times, and eventually, the alien giant seemed to be getting irritated. His cybernetic hand closed into a fist, and he turned his head away for a moment and glanced across the desert as he sighed in frustration.

After a brief second or two to compose himself once more, Zeke took the rifle from his lap and sat it off to the side. He glanced back to her, and raised up both hands. "Vak, Vak!" the alien exclaimed as he bid her to stop. To help emphasize, he brought his hand across his neck in the classic cut-it-out sort of motion. Next, he patted his arm-screen in frustration before he raised other hand back up. He paused for a moment to think, and then began babbling incoherently for a second. It didn't sound like any sort of structured language, but rather he was simply babbling to represent talking. Once he fell silent, he raised his mechanical hand back up and held up a single finger. He repeated this several times, putting special emphasis on the talking, and then the one.

This local woman was clearly intelligent. It took a lot of effort to learn multiple languages, and from what he could tell she spoke at least three. Why would someone need to learn multiple languages? Zeke hoped it was because they were well-travelled. This sort of revelation made him regret shooting the last few.. and feeding one to a worm. Perhaps the locals were a little more bright than he was inclined to give them credit for.. and perhaps his natural Valtradi urge to incorporate death into problem-solving would have consequences.

The more she tried, the more frustrated the yellow-ish man seemed to get, until he finally interrupted. Kyra wasn't entirely sure what to make of his actions - most specifically with the finger across the neck. It could have been a threat... but in context, it mostly just seemed that he wanted her to shut up.

She fell silent, and watched. As upset as he appeared to get without making any move to harm her, she wondered perhaps he had a valid reason for killing her kin after all. The Sand Elf doubted it, but she'd play along awhile longer, at least.

Babbling, the arm-thing, one. Babbling, the arm-thing, one. She still didn't like the idea of getting any closer to the man, but she leaned forward a little, eyes constantly studying him. Kyra considered speaking in her native tongue, but opted for one more common among the fringes instead as she asked carefully, "You are wanting me to speak at your arm?"

Zeke didn't seem keen on threatening her. If she decided to walk off for whatever reason, he would be the one who was left high and dry. But, given his size and his strange appearance, he just sort of looked menacing to begin with, even without a few bodies laying around. The cyborg had placed his weapons down and remained seated both to avoid confrontation, and appear less terrifying.

The alien was about ready to consider the options of some sort of signaled or written language. But, as she spoke a full sentence, his device chirped and then flashed a different color. Zeke didn't catch the entirety of what she said, but he'd certainly heard 'your arm' towards the end. He closed the panel off, and then regarded her curiously. "There is nothing wrong with my arm. It is simply a machine." he replied dismissively. It was probably a mystery as to how he'd managed to connect his brain, his arm, and a mysterious translation device. But, the answer was more than likely high technology.

Zeke watched her for a moment as if he was contemplating what to say, and then spoke back in the common dialect. "Are there any more of the burrowing creatures or looters in this area?" While he could be understood, his accent contrasted sharply with the spoken language, and only helped to enforce the fact that he was from somewhere else.

For him to suddenly start speaking intelligibly wasn't something Kyra had been expecting; she stepped quickly back, then scowled.

"If ya' knew the language, the hell was all that about?" she demanded, and followed it up with a nasty, quietly-spoken insult in her native tongue. She continued to grumble, but remained ever alert.

"If ya' mean the sandwyrms, I don't think any're close, an' I really don't feel like sharin' that one's meat with ya' anymore," she said at last, jabbing a thumb back the way she'd come from. "You not familiar with Sand Elves 'r somethin'? Those 'looters' are collectors, you ass. We trade. It's life. The hell happened 'at made you decide t' kill 'em?"

Zeke wondered how he would explain learning someone's language nearly instantly. "I had to hear it for awhile before I could learn it. You made things difficult by being unable to even settle on which one to use." he grumbled. His use of the language was somewhat textbook. It was proper to the point of being over-articulated and difficult to understand. It was as if he had learned the language from a dictionary.

The news on the sand worms was good, but it seemed like he'd offended the local 'sand elves'. Well, at least they weren't humans. "No, I am not familiar with sand elves. I am not familiar with any aspect of this world. I came from..." he pointed straight up, "there". It was a strange claim, but perhaps she had seen the craft's descent. "I traveled in this. It was once a vessel used to cross the distances between worlds." he explained, knocking on the cold metal just below them. "It doesn't work anymore. But, it is still the property of my government, and anyone who tries to repossess it will be killed. I could have explained this to these.. 'sand elves' but they were more eager to draw weapons."

Zeke seemed to realize that she hadn't moved in with the last group. It hadn't really struck him as odd before, but given that sandworms were likely a common problem, it would make sense to travel in groups. "Why did you move separately from the main body? Are you a scout?"

Kyra was not happy. So it was a problem that she had tried to figure out some language he might know - nevermind that she'd wanted to kill him the moment she'd arrived. She didn't even care that he came from some other land - nor realize what he'd actually meant - in his flying... thing. There was a small possibility that the dead elves were rogues, but... how hard had he really tried to communicate? She was far more apt to trust the intentions of her kin. He had probably spooked them.

For the first time since she'd gotten up there, she took her eyes off the man and instead moved closer to one of the bodies. The holes blasted in them were certainly not from the rifle the man had with him. How much of a chance had they really had? Where was the weapon that had caused this?

She fondled one of her knives, the motion blocked by the rest of her body, still fighting the urge to simply stab the man and be done, as it surely wouldn't be so simple. But, little as her exile tended to bother her anymore, his question still pushed her past the tipping point.

Kyra spun back to her feet, shouting a curse as she whipped the knife around with the motion and generally aimed for... anything. It was too impulsive, too emotionally-driven, and sloppy.

Zeke hadn't been trying to goad her into any sort of confrontation. Quite the opposite in fact, but his species was somewhat.. hard to emphasize with. Even the concept of exile would have puzzled the alien. If she'd done something wrong, why not just execute her as an example? Sending a criminal away was just a.. waste, in a lot of ways. Or, so he thought.

The alien could tell that she was mad. But, he never would have guessed that she would have actually attacked him. Three of these degenerates had been a warm-up for him. What chance would one have? Well, with the element of surprise, a decent one. Her cursing gave him a little bit of a warning, but not nearly enough of one. Zeke was about half-way through jumping to his feet when she whirled around.

As small as his attacker was, it was actually quite difficult for Zeke to counter her. Instead he just raised both of his arms in a last ditch effort to keep something between his face and the knife. His hand fit the bill. But.. due to the angle.. the one that wasn't made out of metal, of course. His fingers quickly closed around the hilt of the blade as it sank through his palm.

There wasn't much blood. What trickled out was a strange bluish substance. But, she'd most certainly hurt him. Zeke's normally calm features twisted into an angry sneer as he stood up fully to tower over her. The alien tried to pull her knife, and the hand that held it, straight up and out of her reach. His fingers were taunt enough to keep her from drawing the weapon back out. Though, she could certainly twist it inside of his hand. His mechanical arm quickly reached to draw out his plasma gun, and aim at her face. "Would you like to see the weapon that killed your kin? If you react violently again, I will take my chances with the sandworms."