2012 11 29

Thu Nov 29 2072

The Warrens, Orktown.
Rex, a meta-merc who's made a name of himself in Orktown, doesn't like the sporadic potshots coming from the Tir. If we're gonna tussle, let's tussle. The man's adrenaline spikes as he circles to the northern border of Tir Llewyn, hunkering down Rex pull's the trigger on his grenade launcher. PHOOT! He arcs a dozen rounds of White Phosphorus from his grenade launcher with abandon.
The rounds bounce off walls and roll down roofs exploding a fine mist of chemical induced fire that coats anything within it's radius. A toasted Leafcutter here, a smoke shriveled dandelion there, incinerating any flesh they touch. Rex is enjoying the wanton destruction so much so, that he fails to notice as a group of Leafcutters counter-attack with a barage of steel tipped arrows. Rex's luck holds, only a single arrow manages to pierce through his right arm. It ain't too bad.

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