The orichalcum fists of Saffron's power armor strike the warstrider in the center of the back, destabilizing the thing's balance, making it bend forward, and leaving the articulated plates on the front open, bent aside from the stress, leaving King's avenues of attack undefended, as the blade slices along the seams, severing the straps and gears in one arm, leaving it useless, the blade slipping agilely between Jade plates, always avoiding being caught as the pilot recoils, barely able to defend himself, as the blade seeks in, gouts of blood marking the sand rust red, and the final blow severing the plates holding the gigantic pieces of Jade in, the hulk settling down, unmoving, a human figure falling out of the center, dead from the vicious blade and the crushing blows. The people of the village have fled into the desert from the sight, and will not likely be back before morning. For the moment, it is quiet.