Unfortunately I’ve been falling behind on my goals – November is a massive crunch time for me this year, with school things, Warhammer Club and Tournament things, plus now D&D things keeping me busy. I’m still going to finish this novella, but I’m falling behind in my goals. Never-the-less, here’s some updated writing!
“Turn!” Screamed John, hanging onto the chariot’s frame by his fingertips. The chariot bounced over the hard ground, throwing Lucia against the front. She nearly lost control of the vehicle, the reins hanging loose in her left hand. The rim of the chariot smacked into her breastplate, slamming the breathe out of her and leaving her bruised. The horses bucked as she forced herself up and attempted to regain control of the team.
“That was too close!” Sarat said, hauling himself to his feet. “You’re sure you want me to aim for the wires behind his back? The pilot’s compartment is practically begging to be hit by one of these bad boys.” He hefted his last javelin. “I’ve primed it with the explosive warhead, so try not to hit any more bumps.”
“Bumps?” She cursed at the man. “That thing has a ballista on it’s arm!” The mechagladiator was striding towards the half-circle of combatants, it’s right arm holding a massive gladius and its left holding a razor edged shield. The autoballista sat on top of the machine. There must be some sort of trigger mechanism in the main cabin, but it only seems like it can fire straight ahead. It wasn’t tracking them as they tore around the left flank of the machine. Cycle around, take it from the rear.
“Aim for the silver cables!” She shouted at Sarat again. The crowds roar crescendoed, mixing with screams and cries of alarm as the gladiators and walker came together in a bloody smear of violence. The mechagladiator swept his sword, gears and cogs whirring as the pneumatic pistons steamed. Lucia couldn’t hear the result, but the groans from the crowd told her everything she needed to know.