Lordofhjoerring on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/lordofhjoerring/art/Reaper-unit-76590077Lordofhjoerring

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Reaper unit

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Watching the reapers slaughter the enemy without effort at all, always made you wonder wether you really were on the right side of the war. The adrenaline, and the heat of the moment didn?t give you much time for consideration, but the image of the twelve feet tall mechanic nagas, scything, incinerating and crushing their foes, burned in your retinas for later conscious and subconscious deliberation always had you doubting, if only for a moment.

They were of course flawless in design. Perfect for their purpose.
If susceptible to believing in the supernatural, the terryfyingly intimidating design of the Reaper would no doubt make you believe you were on your way straight to hell. Hell, I even thought so once in a while. These demons of death - hacking their way through countless bodies with mechanic precision and awesome speed.
Black polished, bulky, sceletal machines, twelve feet tall, paralyzing by their appearance alone, wearing draped pieces of cloth to further the resemblance of Death, they even had hoods covering their mechano-sceletal skulls. In the dark of night, beams of blinding light would tear from what would be their eye-sockets beneath their hoods, always searching for their next target. Their scythes of course was more than just instruments of cutting. Carrying disrupters as well, the Reapers were as diverse a unit as anything, and aside from their scythes they carried two metal tentacles for grapping and crushing. Finally, instantaneous sensory and reactionary processors gave them reflexes almost the speed of light. These machines would even impress the NA's (Neuro-Accelerators) of the tenth battalion.

There were something strange about their behavior though that we could never quite explain. These machines were purely mechanical, with digital processors programmed for effectivity and speed. Nevertheless it seemed as though they made an art out of their work. As if they performed an almost aesthetic, grotesque ritual butchering their way through enemy ranks as slithering snakes, coiling, swimming, whipping, dancing and rending soft, bleeding flesh.
They seemed to prefer close combat, using scythes to rend bones and flesh and organs. They were performers, and we, mere mortals, watched in captivating horror as the onslaught unfolded.
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