[ It doesn't take long. Achilles fells another man even as bullets spray his way, and the corpses start to scare the remaining men. One takes a frantic potshot at Lancer, and he kills him after the gunfire misses him by a mile, pillowing harmlessly into the dirt.
The ones that disperse, attempting to scatter out of the dust bowl, are picked off by stinging spear blows through the back and heart, precise and mercilessly quick. One man bursts into flame. But in the end, he allows for no deserters, and there are no reinforcements incoming; Lancer returns to the huts with his spear already fading from his hands.
For two guys standing in the middle of camp of dead, baking corpses, he answers conversationally. ]
Hmm? [ A quick glance to his wound—nothing dangerous. Maybe it'd hurt to try and play packmule with a busted shoulder. ] I don't need any of this crap.
[ At best he'd take some heads back to prove they got the job done, but the sheriff didn't read as the type of guy who needed trophies. Nothing else'd really crossed his mind. ]
I can grab a to-go box for you, if there's somethin' you're really wanting.
no subject
The ones that disperse, attempting to scatter out of the dust bowl, are picked off by stinging spear blows through the back and heart, precise and mercilessly quick. One man bursts into flame. But in the end, he allows for no deserters, and there are no reinforcements incoming; Lancer returns to the huts with his spear already fading from his hands.
For two guys standing in the middle of camp of dead, baking corpses, he answers conversationally. ]
Hmm? [ A quick glance to his wound—nothing dangerous. Maybe it'd hurt to try and play packmule with a busted shoulder. ] I don't need any of this crap.
[ At best he'd take some heads back to prove they got the job done, but the sheriff didn't read as the type of guy who needed trophies. Nothing else'd really crossed his mind. ]
I can grab a to-go box for you, if there's somethin' you're really wanting.