As Michiru paused in her peculiarly egotistical self-narration and poised herself to leap forth in a manner that would bring her to the sandy ground below in an efficient and flashy manner--<em>what was the point of just climbing down? This was a game, and games were supposed to be fun, so hyper-parkour it was!</em>--but paused when she felt a tremor run through the pillar of stone where she perched.<br/><br/>That was odd...<br/><br/>Another tremor. She straightened up, scanned the horizon.<br/><br/>"Ooooohhhhh, fucksticks!"<br/><br/>A cloud of dust that she had not bothered to mind earlier had grown, become a column, and now resolved into the hulking brute of a Kanissian steambot. While there was no immediate sign of the customary supporting infantry, that was hardly a comfort. They might be sweeping around, or even straggling behind. And while there was no guarantee that A Certain Person was in command of this particular unit, Michiru did not feel like sticking around to find out.<br/><br/>The mighty metal behemoth was stymied for the moment: it had stopped on the edge of a wide patch of soft sand and would have to scout a way around or risk getting bogged down in order to proceed, but...<br/><br/>One massive arm raised.<br/><br/>Yeah, it could still fire. There was that.<br/><br/>Michiru wasn't about to hang around for this part. Time to go alert this, uh, Southwind Point.  Quickly.<br/><br/><br/>