The giant plump helmet man, charred purple head and all, was taking a sabbatical in the corner. Apparently he was trying to regenerate his dammaged myconoid tissue by sucking in water through his feet, which he had plunked down in a bucket he had drawn from the isolated upstairs hospital zone's well.
Weird joykill didn't care, just as long as plumpy didn't become yet another statistic in this insanity. When he got his hands on hugo, the laughing tincan was gonna have his head pop off like a jack in the box. Nothing short of it would be in any way satisfying. Popping head. End of story.
After nearly being vaporized by corai...a few times.... (they couldn't have *all* been accidental either...) the kobold seemed to have a limited grasp of the controls. With the shell compromised, they decided to turn the forcefield generator on, even though the feild ate a huge amount of power. With all the ollifex goop splattered all over, you just couldn't be too careful.
Sadly, corai's grasp of the "flight mode" was a little less than spectacular. He refused to try again after shooting straight up like a rocket and impacting into the ceiling. Well, at least if he avoided stairs he would be fine.... maybe....
closing the hole up the SPHM created I his "Oh Yeah!" Hysterionical entrance performance, Joykill finally took a moment to let the adrenaline slack off. His knees felt like jello.
Loud stomping, roaring laughter, and deep baritone taunting came from outside the fortress, but weird didn't care.
Shambling more than walking to the scene of the OK Corall part II just outside the dining hall, curls of orange cloud still creeping out from behind the slightly ajar doors from between the crumbled bits of rubble.
The engravers would be more than pissed.
...if they were still alive....
Once these stupid trashcans were up, and corai's gang of goons stuck in em, he would go do an emergency census to see who was still alive. The last thing they needed right now was a bunch of killer ghosts on the loose from improperly memorialized dwarves.
One thing at a time....
Corai's tank sat idly in the hall, facing the stairwell.
He sat on the floor, next to the wall, fiddling with a dalek casing. One thing the suit was not designed for was comfort. Rubber and glass don't breathe very well, and he had been doing gymnastics (or as close to as possible) in the thing. He was hot. And sweaty. And his back itched. He removed his headgear to get some ventilation, and to breathe free of the filter mask.
If these daleks came with an instruction manual, it surely wasn't in trilingual french, spanish, english format, that was for sure. Jabbing a black button inside the exposed control panel on the half demolished unit he was handling, he received a pretty intense shock as the forceshield came on, and the autorepair sequence activated.
"Ok... don't push the black button..." he said to himself, as corai's red eyed turret swung around 18o degrees.
"Nobody's in it." Joykill said. "It's empty."
"DON'T PUSH SCARY BUTTONS!" Corai chittered in retort. "BUTTONS are SHOCKY!"
Shaking the sting out of his now half-numb arm, he was apt to agree. At least it wasn't the auto destruct.
On the plus side... this shell didn't look damaged at all now.
He dug around for something to pry it open with.
Then corai's tank hit the ground, and he started yelling. A muffled sound from inside, since the combox had gone down too.
"Push the black button,... second from the left... on the bottom row!"
The yelling stopped a moment, then a shrill shriek came from inside the advanced special weapons tank, as the shocking started.
"I'M GONNA KILL YOU JOYKILL!" Was the only intelligible thing he could make out, but in a few seconds, the damaged casing sealed up, the eyestalk lit up again, and the tank resumed its low hovering.
Moments later, the tank wheeled around, and 2 heavy weapons barrels were aimed right at his head.
"I surrender!"