OOC: sorry I've been away, been getting: drunk, concussed, ill, and a combination thereof.
How many people do I have to kill to get a day's rest round here? thought Mikail sourly as a horde of cultists crowded into the barracks of the Arbite base. Not bothering to unsling his rifle, the mercenary picked up a spare Arbites shotgun and sent a hail of shell fragments scything into the foremost cultist.
Racking the pump action slide, the Altonian spun behind a pillar, firing off another shot at the mass of heretics, punching a crazed old man backwards into his comrades.
Pulling a smoke grenade from his fatigues, Mikail launched it in front of the cultists before they could reach him. As the black smog rose from the cylinder, Mikail stepped from behind cover.
"Fragging...heretic...scum!" punctuating each word with another blast from his requisitioned shotgun the Altonian quickly ran out of shells. Unslinging his rifle he went down on one knee and took aim...
OOC: 4 down and Mikail is extremely...angry
