人妻武侠另类卡通动漫

As they always did, they provided food, clothing, medicine, comfort, anything at all that could help.

But most importantly, they offered sanctuary and safety to everyone they came across. It didn’t matter who they were, what their clan status was, how old or young, how healthy or wealthy. All were welcomed.

Many accepted outright.

Whole families and occupied medical gurneys were brought aboard numerous rescue hoppers, which then flew back towards the Raven’s Refuge waiting high above. More rescue hoppers soon replaced them, however. These came back down with more food and supplies and hovering gurneys loaded in their bellies.

Azrael was among the many teams all over the city, as usual. She went hurriedly from encampment to encampment, and treated everyone she came across with the best of her abilities.

It was right when she started to scan a drogar child when the Imperial Dreadstar Troopers launched their attack.

Screams and yells filled the air, as the people all around her panicked. They were accompanied by the hum of disintegration beams, and the whip-like rattle of particle repeaters. It was only seconds later when the CDF’s alarms erupted.

.....

A klaxon rang all around the city, emitted through the countless rescue hoppers and sonic emitter drones all around.

None of it helped, and almost every civilian had launched themselves into a panic. Especially when they saw those around them get cut apart or torn to shreds.

Azrael’s heart stopped at all she was seeing.

The Imperial soldiers cut down everyone in front of them, with absolute impunity. It didn’t matter if they were Hegemony or human or Imperial or drogar – their weapons were indiscriminate. Some were cut down like stalks of wheat during harvest. Others were blown open by bursts of repeater fire.

Either way, many toppled to the ground dead or dying or in horrifying pain.

“Deploy shields!” she cried out to everyone. “Get everyone to cover!”

With that, the members of the CDF quickly got into gear. Whatever confusion that afflicted them was shaken off, and they got right back to work. Only now, under fire.

Most of them grabbed a hand-held device from their belts and tossed them up into the air. The devices quickly snapped out and expanded, at which point its antigrav field shimmered into existence.

They hovered around their owners and did their best to absorb any repeater fire sent their way.

Some of the CDF immediately got in between the Imperial troopers and any nearby civilians, and blocked whatever weapons fire they could with their hovering antigrav shields. Though the repeaters’ microscopic pellets were easily captured by them, they did nothing to stop the disintegration beams.

Those went right through the fields and cut down anyone and everyone behind them.

Despite the losses the CDF faced, they did their best to guide everyone around them to safety. They ran alongside the panicked, confused civilians and helped point out where to go, where to run, where to find cover.

“To the hopper!” or “Behind that wall!” or “Inside there! Go!”

Many did as they were told, not knowing what else to do. Others kept on going, fueled by a dread greater than their own reason.

Too many were cut down in the space between.

Azrael helped a CDF team usher in a throng of utterly frightened civilians through an open passageway and down to an underground transit station.

They had dug down into it previously to help rescue those from being buried alive. But now some of those rescued were going back in without hesitation.

“Keep going!” she said. “Take everyone down there! As far as you can go!”

She ducked down and flinched as something exploded nearby. It was strong enough that many around her were knocked to the ground. Of course, she dashed to the one closest to her, and helped the man up.

“Help the others,” she told him, which he thoughtlessly agreed.

He then went down the line and helped anyone in front of him get up, while Azrael did the same, only going the opposite direction. Another nearby explosion caused the group to fall again, but this time it was accompanied by pained screaming.

“Go go go!” she yelled at everyone. “Hurry!”

Azrael then ran straight towards whoever it was that was yelling – a middle aged drogar in simple robes. Dark red blood seeped through his midsection, from what seemed like a seriously deep and wide wound. She ushered as many people towards the underground entrance, even as she knelt down to the man’s side.

As always, she tuned out the screaming and dying and explosions all around her and got to work.

She pulled out her medgun, scanned him, then prepared his treatment. Fast as clockwork. At the same time, she was doing her best to calm him down.

“It’s alright,” she said, over and over. “It’s just a bit of shrapnel. I’ll get rid of it, no worries.”

One of her drone arms swung over and, with a quick tap, delivered a dose of Azrael’s concoction straight into his wound. Swarms of nanites released their painkillers almost immediately, which helped numb the area around the wound.

Then they went to the shrapnel itself which tore well past the scales and the muscle, and had embedded itself halfway into his stomach. There, the nanites began to eat away the shrapnel itself, and dissolved it down into tiny particles.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be alright,” Azrael continued, in a voice as comforting as she could muster. She hoped it helped at least some degree, despite what was going on all around them.

With her biogenetic scan complete, she slid a fresh biocell capsule into her medgun and injected a second swarm of nanites into the pained drogar. They worked to stitch together his torn tissues and organs and muscles and scales back together.

But he didn’t have the time to simply lay there while her meds did their magic, so Azrael quickly grabbed him and helped him up on his feet. He groaned in pain and clutched his side, even as his torn flesh sealed itself shut.

Albeit, slowly.

“Come on,” she told him. “Let’s go.”

Though he moved slowly at first, the ceaseless gunfire and screams certainly sped him up.

But just as they reached the underground entrance itself, a handful of Imperial troopers came up to greet them.

“Wait, wait, wait!” said Azrael in response.

She was forced to let the man go, who hobbled away as quickly as he could. At the same time, she raised her hands up in the air, and blocked their aim with her body. Or at least, as best she could. It wasn’t as though she was a large person to begin with.

Azrael sucked in air as she slowly walked towards the soldiers with her hands up. And in

“Please,” she said, “don’t kill these people! They haven’t done anything to you! They won’t harm you!”

As she pleaded with them and kept their attention, more Imperial civilians ran into the entryway by the dozens.

But none of that seemed to sway the troopers. Not in the slightest.

“I don’t care if you’re in the way,” said the one right in front of her. “Everyone dies. Dreadmother’s orders.”

He raised his particle repeater in the air, pointed it right at Azrael, and fired a single shot. That one particle hit squarely in the chest – it ripped through the armor with ease and tore into her skin.

But at that same moment, she drew in a great lungful of air, and allowed her body’s energies to flow through her. Just like how Freya had taught her over all those years.

She hardened her skin and her bone as much as she could in that instant, and repelled the particle. For the most part. Her skin split open, and her sternum cracked from the impact. More than that, she was thrown backwards from the force, and toppled to the ground.

All of the troopers in front of her were utterly astounded when she picked herself up off the ground with a pained groan.

She breathed in and out laboriously as she clutched her open wound.

“Stop!” she said again, as loudly as she could muster. “Please! We surrender!”

Some kind of switch flipped in the trooper that had shot her. It wasn’t just the sight of her surviving a point-blank shot from a repeater pellet. It was on realizing just what it was he was doing.

He looked around at all the dead that surrounded them – the humans and the drogar. Their bodies were everywhere, torn apart, bleeding. And not one of them fought back the entire time. A kind of guilt filled him in that moment, and it ate at him ever so slightly.

So he stepped back and lowered his weapon.

Then told his team, “Ceasefire.”

~

In the planet’s upper orbit high above the city itself was the main Corvus Republic fleet. They had found themselves being assaulted by hundreds of Imperial cruisers and frigates, and were pounded on all sides by their weapons.

Hundreds of heavy fighters swarmed around the Republic’s ships and flung mortars right into their thickest armor plating. Although the dark orange energies that crackled around the mortars were easily diffused, the nuclei still did significant damage to the plating itself.

And the more the fighters bombarded them, the more they chewed into the armor.

Some of the thinner frigate armor gave way after only a handful of hits before the structure beneath began to show. More mortars slammed into the weakened ships and chewed all the way through to the decks underneath.

The atmosphere inside numerous sections were immediately ejected out into space, which caused dozens of crew to choke and gasp and suffocate to death. Others were thrown out into space, where their bodies froze solid from the unyielding cold.

A few were struck by the nuclei as well, and were dissolved into nothing before they even realized it.

The Imperial cruisers and frigates added insult to injury when they fired their toxic stingers into the Republic’s weakened hulls. Though most simply shattered against the armor itself, or embedded itself only partway through the armor.

Any that exploded or broke open spilled their toxins all over the plating they struck, and began to eat into it. Though the damage they did was quickly neutralized by the ships’ robust repair modules.

Not everyone was so lucky, of course. A handful of their stingers were able to punch through any weakened armor easily. They lodged themselves deep in the ships, and erupted in every direction. And of course, caused horrendous caustic damage in their wake.

Orsethii grinned at the destruction she was witness to, but something bothered her deeply. In fact, every officer in her fleet was bothered by the same exact thing.

It was simply that the Republic didn’t fight back. Sure, they were vastly outnumbered. They only had three cruisers to their hundred. But they were clearly weathering the majority of their damage, and could easily counter.

Why didn’t they? Why did they refuse to fight?!

The thought angered Orsethii deeply, but caused confusion among her officers in contrast. How could they not? After all, what they originally thought was a war party turned out not to be, despite all the arms and armament they carried.

They couldn’t understand what it was they felt about them – was it pity? Or remorse? A few decided that it was a shame they felt about themselves.

And so, when the Corvus Republic emitted signals of surrender and opened comms to parley, those few officers accepted readily.