BRUTALATOR 2
There were a few whistling sounds, here and there amongst the hazy heat of those plains. Each one corresponded to another frame turned back to metal. Kahn had not met a worthy adversary in quite some time. The scrappers were becoming cognisant of his frustration.
“Stop! Stop! Okay we give up, take what you want!”
A gnome in a bandanna knocked open a ramshackle cockpit with his arms raised. The gnome had a long scar across his nose to what was now half an ear. The rest of the scrappers followed suit. Welding tools and carts did not make good fighting gear.
All of them were lined up now, in a line. Their rinky dink frames could not put up much of a fight at the best of times. This had been another farce. The orcish frames rib cage cockpit split open to address the yielded party.
Kahn kicked his way out of his seat and rose to full height before the grim congregation. The runes on his frame were still active, standing at full height and radiating heat like a bonfire. Everyone present had sweat running down their foreheads. In all that steam, they could hardly see the orc.
“Is this the best you can offer?”
One of the scrappers, a lizard man from the looks of things, start to spit colourful grievances in a dozen tongues. Kahn knew a few by word and the rest by intent. Lizard men did not deal well with heat. This one was struck across the head by the gnome with the scar. The meaning was understood, and the grievances stopped. The gnome saw fit to speak for the men on trial.
“Alright you big green bastard, you beat a bunch of back water scrappers, congratulations. Must feel like a big man slicing up some heirloom rust buckets in the middle of nowhere. Feeling real proud about taking the food out of our mouths. Again, take what you want, just leave us be!”
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The rebuke was passioned, spittle flying in all directions from the gnomes mouth.
“Hmm, As a word of advice, perhaps finding your scrap from corpses will suit you better. Your ‘heirloom rust buckets’ are not fit for a moving target.”
Shuffling of feet ensued. The gnome mustered up enough courage for a response.
“You take your chances, you make your own luck. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Walking around in that monstrosity”
Kahn’s eyes narrowed. They could never know what it had taken to put him in that frame.
“You have nothing worth taking”
Kahn landed lightly on the charred grass 5 metres underfoot. The plains stretched out in every direction. You could see in every direction for a small eternity. Nothing was coming, not for hours.
“A pound of flesh”
The orc produced a jagged knife the length of his forearm. The motion was theatric, the blade unsheathed from behind him, out of the scrappers view. The gnome would have used it as a claymore. The lizard man gulped. The 3 men on either side of him shuffled a half step away. A dwarf on the far side tripped over backwards. He returned to his feet with the elegance of a drunkard.
“I demand no more, a pound of flesh from each of you”
The gnome blinked once. He blinked again. His red bandanna was more grease than fabric.
“N, Now hang on a minute, a pound of flesh off me is half my weight! It’d be a pinky on old mate Sel here, why not take two from him and call it even!”
The lizard man had been sold up river in the space of two blinks. His forked tongue escaped his mouth along with a hiss. It seemed at home amongst all the steam of the early morning and the lightly burnt field. The orcish frame still burned behind Kahn.
In the flicker of an eye the gnome produced a knife and stabbed at the orcs throat. The orc parried it lazily as the rest of the scrapper crew ignited into action. Another hell broke loose. It was 9 against 1. Kahn’s frame made a quick swipe with it’s wrist one way, and then the other. It was 2 against 1. Kahn threw the knife into the gnomes foot and jumped backwards into his frames hand.
“That will suffice for a tribute. Good health to you and god speed on your travels”
The lizard man fell backwards, joining the rest of his crew. He and the gnome were still in one piece. They had been baited.
Kahn’s frame was in motion past the remaining two scrappers before the lizard man hit the ground. The sun was setting. They watched the living mass grave walk into the sun set. The bones along it’s surface appeared ochre in the heat.