Their blades probably aren't magical as such, but they do spark and crackle with electric potential. A complication Harley may want to watch out for. Nor do they seem entirely hindered by the gas, despite their wariness of it. When Harley's knife bites home on one it jumps backward with a snarl, a wisp of something chemical and acrid filtering from between the cloth on its chest. The other creature immediately presses the attack, and it's not alone. From the shadows springs a taller creature, masked by a flattened helm into which a couple of tubes feed. Twin swords spark in its hands and a short cape curls around its body. It slashes at the troublesome human, letting its smaller comrade try to flank her. Their eyes are bright now- eyes or the slits in their masks, who knows, glowing a an unearthly blue.

Meanwhile, gangly forms clamber around the sides of the hatchway, dropping onto the ramp past Harley. More of the creatures- one or two bigger ones, mostly a handful of small ones with things that sure look like pistols drawn. They grab at the robot too late to stop him being pulled away down the ramp. If Furiosa means to shoot, she'll have to pick her targets, but it might slow down the horde starting to boil out of the ship after them. Harley's running out of time to get out of there.

They don't seem to be paying any attention to Palmer's attempt at communication- one, perhaps, that turns its head with the four eye slits of its helm aglow and makes a rasping sound that might be laughter. The low snarls, scratchy barks and inhuman squeals of its kindred are only getting louder. More and more of those in the ship are joining in, pressing forward in their eagerness to go after the prey.