10-29-2016, 05:13 AM
There was a brief moment of calm as the guards that encircled and approached the two jail breakers, pikes barred down on the Novan and the pirate yordle. As the quartermaster watched the spear hears near in agonizingly slow caution, in her mind she tried to decide what was worse: that her glorious career would end here despite surviving attack from deranged primes, eldritch abominations, and sadistic Empire cronies to be caught a foot out the door of a Camelot prison. Or that it would be while held like a blue, unruly teddy bear in the arms of a giant man in an armored alien who doesn’t even know what a gun is.
And in that next instant any further thought on the subject disappeared and scattered to the wind along with the Yordle’s breath as the two escapees hurled through the air.
The Furtumin took each stride with the same practiced precision as his training and experience on the field, a moment of confusion from his enemy as his foot slammed into the hard surface, in this case some administration building, and he was gone with another before resistance could figure out what had just landed and left in their midst. The only real difference was the screaming bundle in his arms.
Janna herself had transition from surprised terror to a thrilling glee as the two bounced from stone roof to stone roof. Their escape had now become an unguided roller coaster with only the occasional accurate arrow or bolt to worry about. As the two made one last hurl across the great walls of Minas Tirith, they landed onto the fields beyond with a great thud and ran off into the horizon.
“That was awesome!” the quartermaster yelled out as she wiggled her arms out of the space man’s grip so that she could at least move a bit “We were all “kaboosh” and then they were all “shwip shwip shwip” and how the hell does a mug like you getta nice setta booties like that and not know what a gun is?!” Her mouth was running than her brain was, a small feat since she was already thinking about how to make her own armor like the Novan’s.
“There are more pressing concerns at the moment. I am almost out of energy, and I would rather not have to abandon the suit” Understandably, Ratione was much more level headed and his concern was focused on not being punctured by primitive projectiles.
“Ah, don’t worry your lumpy head. We’ll find some Omnilium. And then you can buy me a drink for saving your sorry ass!” The Yordle gave a manic and high pitched laugh as the two disappeared into the horizon and out of arrow range.
And in that next instant any further thought on the subject disappeared and scattered to the wind along with the Yordle’s breath as the two escapees hurled through the air.
The Furtumin took each stride with the same practiced precision as his training and experience on the field, a moment of confusion from his enemy as his foot slammed into the hard surface, in this case some administration building, and he was gone with another before resistance could figure out what had just landed and left in their midst. The only real difference was the screaming bundle in his arms.
Janna herself had transition from surprised terror to a thrilling glee as the two bounced from stone roof to stone roof. Their escape had now become an unguided roller coaster with only the occasional accurate arrow or bolt to worry about. As the two made one last hurl across the great walls of Minas Tirith, they landed onto the fields beyond with a great thud and ran off into the horizon.
“That was awesome!” the quartermaster yelled out as she wiggled her arms out of the space man’s grip so that she could at least move a bit “We were all “kaboosh” and then they were all “shwip shwip shwip” and how the hell does a mug like you getta nice setta booties like that and not know what a gun is?!” Her mouth was running than her brain was, a small feat since she was already thinking about how to make her own armor like the Novan’s.
“There are more pressing concerns at the moment. I am almost out of energy, and I would rather not have to abandon the suit” Understandably, Ratione was much more level headed and his concern was focused on not being punctured by primitive projectiles.
“Ah, don’t worry your lumpy head. We’ll find some Omnilium. And then you can buy me a drink for saving your sorry ass!” The Yordle gave a manic and high pitched laugh as the two disappeared into the horizon and out of arrow range.
![[Image: oGzCtPC.png]](http://i.imgur.com/oGzCtPC.png)