The Desert is Cold in the Dark [Dark Data]

[Summer]

Somerled’s eyes rapidly scanned the battlefield, flicking over every figure and every scrap of burning metal. Four on the ground, one still riding. All have guns. A heavy sigh escaped the monster as he loosened his grasp on the whip, allowing the rolled-up weapon to unfurl and fall into the sand. The three who emerged from the wreckage of their vehicle were doing much better than they had any right to, and if they played their cards smart, they’d try and use their range advantage to keep the trio at bay. 

Sand slipped away from beneath the storm spirit’s boots, as he kicked forward, lunging for the raider that had been dazed from Raynor’s attack. His left hand jerked out, lashing his whip towards the cloaked marauder’s neck. Surprisingly coherent, his target’s arm shot up, forearm intercepting the leather missile, which wrapped around its forearm. Electricity began to course through Somerled’s body and he gave a hefty yank, the raider’s shoulder popping as it was suddenly flying towards the monster.

CRACK

Lightning flashed brilliantly from the spirit’s right arm, as it rocketed forward in an instant, slamming into the bandit’s masked face. Pain exploded in Somerled’s hand from the very bones themselves, and the now limp body of his victim was launched back towards where he’d been pulled from, dragging him with. The monster gritted his teeth, trying to fight back the throbbing in his hand as he crashed into the sand next to the unconscious darkling.

“Close the distance!” he shouted, turning his head up towards Raynor just as the first shots began to crack out. The metal clad man yelled some sort of affirmative back, and began to charge the group, metallic pings ringing through the air as their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his armor. Somerled turned back towards the meat shield lying beside him, right hand scoring a deep furrow through the sand as he reached forward with it, closing it around its neck in spite of the pain, and lifting them both up to a stand.

“Follow him!” He barked out another order, whipping his head around to face Sun as he propped his improvised barrier against his shoulder. “I’ll keep the cavalry at bay!”

“Got it!” the monkey boy responded, charging off to duck behind Raynor. With a quick and deft movement, Somerled jerked the bullwhip back harshly, pulling the darkling’s limp left arm into a pin against its back, before looping it around, dragging the plaited leather across its clothed throat and holding the whole makeshift pulley taut. Left arm bound, breathing restricted, should be good if it regains consciousness. The storm spirit released his grip on the raider’s throat, dropping his arm a bit further down and wrapping it around its chest.

Now with the unconscious bandit properly secured, Somerled hefted it just barely off the ground, and kicked forward, sand bursting up all around him as bullets missed their mark. He paid all those misses no mind, however, keeping his eyes fixed on the last mounted bandit, looping around for another charge. Careful to keep the darkling between himself and all the bullets flying at him, the monster sprinted to get in the cavalry’s way.

Unable to get to his allies without first going through the spirit, the mounted raider and its demonic, six legged horse bore down on him, spear lowered and ready to impale. Hooves beat menacingly against the ground, and the rider of the beast shouted unintelligible jeers, but the unarmed youkai stood steadfast, tightening his grip on the handle of his whip. Finally, just as the horseman was upon him, his arms heaved with a monstrous strength, and the meat shield was whipped around almost effortlessly, displacing Somerled with the momentum and putting it right in the way of the spear.

With a delicious crunch, the metal-tipped pole tore its way straight through the chest of the first raider, and Somerled immediately released his grip on everything but his trusty bullwhip. Despite just riding down its own ally, the horseman pressed on, dragging it forward. A loud pop sounded from the monster’s shoulder as his arm tore out of its socket and he was flung off his feet, pulled along with the skewered raider. He skidded along the dunes for a few meters, eyes clenched as closed as he could make them as sand spilled into every crevice and opening in his clothing, before he ground to a halt, hand somehow still gripping the whip. Dislocation, not too bad.

Somerled sprung to his feet, releasing his whip and forcing his eyes open. He counted his blessings that he could still see after that little spill. He was much less thankful for the now-two conscious raiders also rising to their feet, one spitting sand out of its mouth, the other trying to dislodge the spear stuck in its ribcage. Well at least the gunfire stopped.