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The 'Traot Saga, Ch. 36-39
Chapter Thirty-Six: Found in Translation
As Ahst walked down the stairs, she heard a roar of pain outside. The voice sounded like a Sangheili, and Ahst double-timed it down the steps to try and aid the injured warrior. Before she could make it to the door, however, she heard a human voice roar a command, and the staccato of rifle fire. By the time Ahst arrived outside, the golden-armored commander she had spoken to was lying on the ground, unmoving, surrounded by deepening pools of blood. When Ahst approached to investigate, she also noticed a fresh plasma burn on the Sangheili's shoulder. Ahst gasped in horror, realizing that the Kig-Yar sniper, Vhar, must have missed his target, yet again, and a nearby squad of humans heard the commotion and took their opportunity.
Ahst bowed her head in respect for the fallen commander, unsure of what else to do, and was about to rise and move on when she heard a scuffling behind her, then a squeak. The young Minor whirled around to see
PMD: SWS Ch. 2
Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Silver Wing Showdown
Bane tried to think as the Murkrow took off into the air. Okay, focus, Bane. He-or she-is just a regular Murkrow. No big deal. Let's just wait for them to dive down, and then we'll let them have it!
As the Murkrow dove towards him, Bane rushed forward, swinging his arm back for a Slash attack. He snarled in frustration as the Murkrow nimbly dodged. Stupid Flying-types. Bane then jumped in the air, and aimed a Crunch attack at his enemy's feet.
Bane looked up with glee, but saw that he had not bitten the Murkrow's foot. Instead, he had chomped down on its tail feathers, and now the Murkrow was trapped, dangling from Bane's mouth.
"Let me go!" the Murkrow squawked furiously.
Bane shook his head, making sure to swing the Murkrow back and forth by its tail.
"All right, you asked for it!"
Bane winced as he felt something invisible swipe across his face. The pain forced him to open his mouth, and the Murkrow
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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