Day 4 - The Gunsmith's Gamble

[Corporal Light]

Grass rustled as Ballad tumbled through the forest, not sparing a single moment to see how far he had gone. His legs felt like they had dug through molasses for around thirty minutes, yet he did not stop to rest. He wasn't going to risk stopping until he was certain he was in a safe location. Not with these bandits on his tail.

Eventually, he brought himself to a hill, roughly twenty feet going up. He stopped, taking a moment to stare at it. The hill had a large hole in it. One made entirely of stone. It was pitch dark inside, impossible to see without the usage of light from his distance, especially in the night sky he stood in.

"Just what I need..." Ballad whispered to himself, not daring to draw attention to himself as he ran forward, falling face-first into the dirt as a spike of pain locked his legs. Gritting his teeth behind his red-scarf, he pushed himself onto his feet, limping towards the entrance.

The gunsmith slowed as he reached the gaping hole in the earth, leaning forward before placing his gloved left hand on one side of the rock formation in front of him. His hand slipped down the stone, water coating the sides from humidity. The sharpshooter looked up, using what remained of his energy to take a short look inside. With the distance closed, it was slightly easier to see what was within the cave. Stalactites and stalagmites littered the entrance around twenty feet in, mostly composed of beige, crystalline objects. The stone he stood on apparently was a platform, as around ten feet forward the rock dipped down into the abyss, evidenced by tiny pebbles rolling off of it. Dripping noises echoed throughout the cave, but no other ambience dared to disturb the silence.

The green man sighed, taking a short step forward before carefully placing himself onto his back, grunting in pain. He fished for his flamethrower within his coat, lighting the wick for it with a flick of his thumb. He slithered it towards his leggings, using the flame as a light to estimate the damage.

His skin was charred black in some areas, being the only parts of his legs that didn't feel like they were trying to stab him with multiple needles at the same time. The rest took a yellowish color, which heavily contrasted with his green as vomit skin. He didn't know what insane idea got him to try to pull that stunt, but it half worked. Sure, his legs were on the verge of being damn near useless, but he was safe for the time being. Now all he had to do was lick his wounds and hope for the best.

Putting all of his effort into concentrating, he held his left hand outwards, making sure to remove the flaming wick and toss it into the chasm below before focusing on healing.

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Around forty-five minutes later

The gunner opened his eyes, looking down towards his legs. Aside from the holes that had been made when the fire touched it, his wounds were mended. Sighing in relief, he stood up from his spot, taking a look outside the cave.

He had apparently ran straight to the edge of the forest, as large trees formed around the front of his hill like a barrier. His extra-sensory glowing eyes failed to detect any would-be intruders, so he paid it little mind. Ballad placed himself near the entrance, his body shrouded by darkness. He rolled his head against the wall of the cave, keeping his eye on the outside world just in case anyone happened to come his way. For extra care, he lifted his revolver out of his coat, placing it on his stomach with his finger on the trigger.

As Ballad's eyes began to droop, his mind became a bit more active even as his body started to shut down for sleep.

Damn... assassins don't learn when to quit, do they? It won't matter... I don't care what Camelot has to say. I ain't getting involved in their.... wars. No matter what. I'm DONE with wars. Done with them forever. Don't want to see one ever again.