The Guardian
Selected from Annex D-4246T.
The following is the account of Pale Lodge Hunter Arkan Thoole.
It wasn’t an easy fight.
I learned rather quickly why so many junior hunters lost their lives trying to take the damn thing down, and why Hunt Master Poligek had been forced to up the contract’s estimated lethality rating (much to his chagrin). The titan was much faster than I gave it credit for, far nimbler than one would expect something of its size to be. I thought I’d be attacking a fairly stationary target, but that wasn’t even remotely the case. Its joints may have coughed clouds of rust every time they moved, but that made it no less rapid in its assault, and no less ferocious in its attacks. In addition, its weapons were far from limited to the long-range seeker rounds that I had to dodge on my approach. The burst cannons on its torso would have turned me into a fine red mist had my reflector shield not been fully charged, and the whirling plasma whips that sprouted from damn near every surface as I tried to climb its legs sent me hurtling through the air when they met my ferro-plated armor. “Godsdamn you Poligek.” is all I remember thinking in the blissfully painless moments I spent aloft before my unceremonious meeting with the ground on the other side of the city.
