The silence had been broken by gunfire, now every movement she made echoed around her. Leather against leather, metal on metal. The room was stiflingly hot, stinking of dead flesh in various stages from freshly killed to rancid. This place was like a sarcophagus of warped iron and stone, perfect for these now deceased Skarrd to drag a few hapless victims into and gorge themselves while hiding from the merciless heat of the day. If there were more of them she would soon know.
She edged back into a shadowy alcove and checked her guns. Several dead Buzzblades lay riddled with bullets nearby, one still clutching the entrails she had been devouring, her prey a small boy bound by his hands and feet. Whether it was some child from a nearby settlement or the feral woman