06-27-2017, 08:07 PM
A massive hole opened in the cheek of Desertman, as a blast of pure force tore a ragged hole through it. Sand rained over the Liberators, and the monster silently reeled back, not out of pain, but just from the sheer power carried by Sun’s attack. Somerled grinned as he watched the beast get its bearings again, and whipped around to face the fallen monkey.
“You’re not done yet boy!” He exclaimed, shooting forward and hauling Sun back to his feet. He let out a weak protest, undoubtedly surprised at suddenly being wrenched into the air by nothing. “Jim!” Somerled barked, swiveling on his feet. “I’m going to keep the gunslingers occupied! Hopefully you should be able to focus on sandman!” He released his grip on Ogong and pushed forward, boots skidding on the sandy stone. His eyes darted over the Desertman for a brief moment as he began to charge down the gunslinger’s split selves. The behemoth had finally caught itself, and loomed forward, towards the other two. Sand exploded out from its slowly-rising right hand, likely the work of the soldier he couldn’t see.
A single gunshot exploded into existence from somewhere in front of Somerled, and a bullet slammed into his chest, driving out his breath. He stumbled before catching himself, and he turned his attention forward again, fire in his eyes. The two half-darkling’s cackled madly, standing delicately on either railing of the bridge. Somerled spared a quick glance down, towards the bullet wound, mist rising up from where it had struck. It hit his rib, but it didn’t pierce. A cruel grin crossed his face as he looked back up. It’d take a bit more than their shitty peashooters to take him out.
With a monstrous snarl, he surged forward, charging down the one on the left. The skull-faced demon hopped backwards with a laugh, dropping right out of sight, probably scurrying along the bottom of the bridge to the other end of it. Somerled skidded to a halt and lashed out with his whip, cracking the leather weapon at the enemy on the right-hand railing. A ragged, bloody wound tore open in the darkling’s side, and the monster spun to face it just in time to watch it stumbled backwards off the edge. The spirit sprang forward and struck down with the whip, tangling it around the railing barely in time for him to sail right off the bridge. He righted himself in midair, and just as he cleared the lip, his feet slammed into the face of the gunslinger’s first split. A massive cracking noise sounded from beneath Somerled’s boots, and the half-darkling was thrown clear from the side of the bridge, plummeting into the pit below.
“Not-” Somerled started, before his breath was driven out him, his back slamming painfully into the bridge. “-Today.” He finished with a sharp breath, and dragged himself back up to safety. Cold metal pressed against his forehead as he rose above the lip, and he shouted a short, sharp exclamation. His head exploded with blinding pain, white filling his vision as the point-blank bullet flattened against his skull. The monster’s grip faltered, and suddenly he felt weightless. In a blind panic, his arms shot forward and found glorious purchase on the bridge’s railing. His vision came back, blurry but there, and he stared intensely at his assailant. He could faintly make out the blood-stained side of the second split.
Mustering up all the strength he could, he hauled himself up and over the lip, right hand reaching for the bony face of the gunslinger. The half-darkling reeled back, caught off guard again by the spirit’s leap. His hand found purchase, and his weight carried the two down onto the stone of the bridge. A heavy gasp escaped the gunslinger as it was crushed between the bridge and the monster. Warm metal jabbed into Somerled’s side, but this time he was ready. His arm shot back and closed around his opponent’s bony hand before it could pull the trigger. Electrical energy welled up in the spirit’s other arm as he forced the beast to turn its own gun to its head, its arm straining feebly against his superior might. Three more barrels pressed against the monster in various places, but it was already too late.
CRACK
His left arm surged forward in a magnificent, crackling blaze. Bone crunched beneath the monster’s fist, both his own and the darkling’s. Cracks webbed opened up across his opponent’s face, spawning from the total obliteration of its right cheekbone. Stinging pain simultaneously suffused Somerled’s hand, and the spirit took in a sharp breath. Beneath him, the gunslinger’s split lay still, dazed from the strike. He planted his left hand against the ground, and released his right hand’s grip, changing it over to the beast’s bony jaw. His arms strained as he hauled both of them back to a stand, and he cast a quick glance over to where his bullwhip should have been. Thankfully, the leather weapon was still there, dangling over the precipice.
Dragging the limp assist behind him, he stepped over to the railing and unraveled the whip. His eyes flicked over the weakly-struggling form of the half-darkling in his grasp, and he frowned. Four arms, that’d be tough to tie up. Yet he attempted it anyway, taking precious seconds to wrap it’s two bottom arms behind its back.
“Not so tough when you can’t run, huh?” He mumbled half to himself as he held the gunslinger up by its two free hands like it was a trophy fish. Then again, there weren’t a lot of things that remained tough after he got a hold of them. “Now where’s your master?” He glanced around quickly, searching the arena for their original form.
CRACK
Pain blossomed across his temple as cold metal found its mark, and suddenly gravity shifted. The monster’s once steady stance suddenly gave away and he crashed face-first into the stony bridge. A garbled exclamation of some sort rose out of his throat, and the original gunslinger’s cackle sounded in ears as he suddenly found himself rolling down the bridge, back towards his allies, with the bound assist still in tow.
“You’re not done yet boy!” He exclaimed, shooting forward and hauling Sun back to his feet. He let out a weak protest, undoubtedly surprised at suddenly being wrenched into the air by nothing. “Jim!” Somerled barked, swiveling on his feet. “I’m going to keep the gunslingers occupied! Hopefully you should be able to focus on sandman!” He released his grip on Ogong and pushed forward, boots skidding on the sandy stone. His eyes darted over the Desertman for a brief moment as he began to charge down the gunslinger’s split selves. The behemoth had finally caught itself, and loomed forward, towards the other two. Sand exploded out from its slowly-rising right hand, likely the work of the soldier he couldn’t see.
A single gunshot exploded into existence from somewhere in front of Somerled, and a bullet slammed into his chest, driving out his breath. He stumbled before catching himself, and he turned his attention forward again, fire in his eyes. The two half-darkling’s cackled madly, standing delicately on either railing of the bridge. Somerled spared a quick glance down, towards the bullet wound, mist rising up from where it had struck. It hit his rib, but it didn’t pierce. A cruel grin crossed his face as he looked back up. It’d take a bit more than their shitty peashooters to take him out.
With a monstrous snarl, he surged forward, charging down the one on the left. The skull-faced demon hopped backwards with a laugh, dropping right out of sight, probably scurrying along the bottom of the bridge to the other end of it. Somerled skidded to a halt and lashed out with his whip, cracking the leather weapon at the enemy on the right-hand railing. A ragged, bloody wound tore open in the darkling’s side, and the monster spun to face it just in time to watch it stumbled backwards off the edge. The spirit sprang forward and struck down with the whip, tangling it around the railing barely in time for him to sail right off the bridge. He righted himself in midair, and just as he cleared the lip, his feet slammed into the face of the gunslinger’s first split. A massive cracking noise sounded from beneath Somerled’s boots, and the half-darkling was thrown clear from the side of the bridge, plummeting into the pit below.
“Not-” Somerled started, before his breath was driven out him, his back slamming painfully into the bridge. “-Today.” He finished with a sharp breath, and dragged himself back up to safety. Cold metal pressed against his forehead as he rose above the lip, and he shouted a short, sharp exclamation. His head exploded with blinding pain, white filling his vision as the point-blank bullet flattened against his skull. The monster’s grip faltered, and suddenly he felt weightless. In a blind panic, his arms shot forward and found glorious purchase on the bridge’s railing. His vision came back, blurry but there, and he stared intensely at his assailant. He could faintly make out the blood-stained side of the second split.
Mustering up all the strength he could, he hauled himself up and over the lip, right hand reaching for the bony face of the gunslinger. The half-darkling reeled back, caught off guard again by the spirit’s leap. His hand found purchase, and his weight carried the two down onto the stone of the bridge. A heavy gasp escaped the gunslinger as it was crushed between the bridge and the monster. Warm metal jabbed into Somerled’s side, but this time he was ready. His arm shot back and closed around his opponent’s bony hand before it could pull the trigger. Electrical energy welled up in the spirit’s other arm as he forced the beast to turn its own gun to its head, its arm straining feebly against his superior might. Three more barrels pressed against the monster in various places, but it was already too late.
CRACK
His left arm surged forward in a magnificent, crackling blaze. Bone crunched beneath the monster’s fist, both his own and the darkling’s. Cracks webbed opened up across his opponent’s face, spawning from the total obliteration of its right cheekbone. Stinging pain simultaneously suffused Somerled’s hand, and the spirit took in a sharp breath. Beneath him, the gunslinger’s split lay still, dazed from the strike. He planted his left hand against the ground, and released his right hand’s grip, changing it over to the beast’s bony jaw. His arms strained as he hauled both of them back to a stand, and he cast a quick glance over to where his bullwhip should have been. Thankfully, the leather weapon was still there, dangling over the precipice.
Dragging the limp assist behind him, he stepped over to the railing and unraveled the whip. His eyes flicked over the weakly-struggling form of the half-darkling in his grasp, and he frowned. Four arms, that’d be tough to tie up. Yet he attempted it anyway, taking precious seconds to wrap it’s two bottom arms behind its back.
“Not so tough when you can’t run, huh?” He mumbled half to himself as he held the gunslinger up by its two free hands like it was a trophy fish. Then again, there weren’t a lot of things that remained tough after he got a hold of them. “Now where’s your master?” He glanced around quickly, searching the arena for their original form.
CRACK
Pain blossomed across his temple as cold metal found its mark, and suddenly gravity shifted. The monster’s once steady stance suddenly gave away and he crashed face-first into the stony bridge. A garbled exclamation of some sort rose out of his throat, and the original gunslinger’s cackle sounded in ears as he suddenly found himself rolling down the bridge, back towards his allies, with the bound assist still in tow.
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Assist 1 is waaaaay down in the pit. He’ll probably be back though. Assist 2 is bound by Somer and will likely be used as a bludgeon somewhere down the line.
Gravity is now shifted by like 45 degrees for Somer. The bridge is more like a hill right now.
![[Image: ZpWQiiu.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/ZpWQiiu.gif)