Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160927005650/@comment-26517142-20161124024507

"D-DOC - ? S-Slow time?? Sure --BUT -"

Unsure of what to do at that specific juncture, Jeiel stood, frozen. He was... shaking as he stared at Septius. And somehow... Doc sees the reason.

There was a murderous air floating around Septius. An atmosphere of tempered malice that wasn't there when he met the ex-mercenary that many months ago.

The man swings his free arm at Septius, who blocks the blow and is sent back with his feet firm against the ground. Skid marks traced in a parallel line.

"GETCHA MUDDY HANDS OFF ME YOU GIT!"

Septius' smile reached to his ears. "That'll be your last words."



A gunshot fires from out of nowhere, casting a piercing wound on the the man's shoulder. He roars in pain. Clutching at the wound, he staggers. Septius had already broken into the run, and flings a menagerie of guns into the air.

He takes a first one - a revolver with an elongated barrel and muzzle - and cocks it. Fires at the already wounded individual. Within minutes, he is down and out, filling the air with tormented screams. Several more shots are fired on the other men's legs, rendering them limp.

A second gun is taken - a Thompson - and he slams the magazine in. A hail of bullets rain down on the area where the miscreants lay. The Centaurs and Whitemarch residents flee the scene in fear.

A third gun - a sniper rifle - aims at a running survivor. Headshot.



With each gun, Jeiel is rendered speechless. In precisie aim and grace, he fires deadly round after round, and a man falls with the sound of a hollow shell of a bullet hitting the dirt.

Septius lands, and his guns clatter beside him. There was not a sound left on the rambunctious men. He slings the guns back in place.

Suddenly a man emerges behind him. "FILTHY - "

=BAM!=

A torrent of blood gushes out from behind the attacker. He stumbles and falls dead. A smoking pair of revolvers were smoking on where Septius had shot him.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:10.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none">"Not ev'n worth ma time, half-wits."

Septius' eyes land on Jeiel. "Wotcha lookin' at, ya measly weasel?"