pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ Arthur has to ask himself why a lot. Why was this happening to him? Why was Tessa nowhere to be found? Why a dragon? He's seen dragons before, little ones. Those were difficult enough to deal with, even with his friend and her uncanny skill with just about every weapon under the sun. Dragons were the worst.

(Actually, morbols were the worst. Dragons were pretty far up there.)

Arthur was just trying to figure out whether or not bullets would even so much as scratch the beast, when it occurs to him that the beast is getting larger. No, scratch that. It's getting closer. That's about when an armored form collides with his own, sending him sprawling. It's a small miracle he doesn't lose his glasses. ]

I was working on it!

[ No he wasn't.

He gives the armored man- or at least he assumes it's a man due to his voice- a once over. ] You honestly mean to fight this thing?

[Ornstein is not a human, but rather what some might call a lord; as a consequence, he looms a bit over most normal people, and it may be difficult to believe that he isn't looming right now over the stranger sprawled out before him. The disapproval underlying his words only accentuates this feeling.

Working on it? He scoffs (a hollow sound within his helmet), and that's his only response to what he believes is a flimsy claim.]

It is my sworn duty to do so. And you are to tell me that you had planned to flee?

[The dragon will have to make a wide turn in the air to come back around to them; they've a few precarious seconds to exchange hurried exclamations. Looking over the stranger, perhaps he should not be surprised; he doesn't look to be suited for battle, i.e. decked out in armor like himself.]

[ He’s not really sure if that derision is because of his obvious lie or because of the implication that he would very much like to turn tail and flee. Either way, he manages to look indignant for the brief moment they have before the dragon circles back around. Any normal, sane person would want to run away from a godsdamned dragon.

Though it appears that Arthur no longer has the pleasure of keeping company with normal, sane people.

He has very little time to make a decision, as he scrambles to his feet and darts out of the path of the oncoming creature. The gun he has slung across his back likely won’t do much but annoy the thing- but the looming, derisive fellow in armor seemed to be hell-bent on slaying it, and he certainly looks the part. Arthur could run, he should run and leave the business of dragonslaying to someone much more qualified, but he knows he’d never hear the end of it from Tessa… or from himself.

So instead of going for the weapon on his back, his hand goes for the book clipped to his belt. A wave of his hand sends green light and red sigils drifting from the open pages, and not a moment too soon, a translucent dome blooms over their heads. The dragon careens off of it, but already the glow of the shield is severely diminished, and the creature is circling back around for another hit. ]

It won’t withstand another collision. If you mean to fight it, then do it.

[Ornstein's focus is already upon the dragon bearing down on the both of them; he grips his lance tightly, shifting to move out of the way. But he finds he doesn't have to. At the last possible moment, he's covered by what appears to be a dome, in what he can only assume is something born from magic. The dragon deflects off of the shield with terrifying force as it veers back up into the sky.

Through the gloss of the protective spell(?), he peers over to the stranger nearby. To the open book and its pages, the faint glow of green. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots.

There's no time for gratitude, however. The dragon is already coming around for another hit, perhaps knowing that they cannot hunker down behind their shielding forever. But Ornstein is ready (as he often is), defensive and unmoving. The creature roars, a deep bellowing noise that shakes within his body, but he's unperturbed. Another giant talon slams into his shield, and it breaks -- but Ornstein has already dashed forward and out of the way, sticking his lance into the dragon's wing, close to its body.

The creature cries out again, louder this time, and Ornstein can't hope to hold onto his weapon. Spear still stuck under its wing, it flounders in the air and crashes straight into the ground, its leftover momentum dragging it across the earth in a heap of stony scales, careening straight towards Arthur.]

[ Of course, of course. Show a little kindness, and this is how the world repays you- with a dragon skidding across the ground on a direct collision course. (What? Isn't it like that for everyone?)

Another hurried hand motion, and the air around Arthur shimmers- another shield- but he's not going to wait around to see if it holds. He tucks his book under his arm and starts running. He gets far enough away that the main bulk of the dragon misses him, but one flailing wing smashes into his shield. The little bubble of light flickers worryingly and Arthur quickly resumes his running before the spell gives out entirely. ]

By the Twelve, you do like to cut it close, don't you?

[He manages a retort, even as the dragon twists back onto all fours, growling and stretching out its one good wing. The other remains injured, skewered with Ornstein's spear. The knight scoffs (again).]

I've grounded the beast, have I not?

[Ornstein, that probably isn't what he was referring to when he said "cutting it close".

There is the issue now, of course, of him no longer possessing his weapon, and the idea of getting close enough to retrieve it is dubious at best. The beast's spiked tail lashes, and the dragon lets out a roar, its jaws erupting with a column of green fire rushing towards the both of them.]

Edited 2016-10-05 04:03 (UTC)

[ That's not what he meant.

Arthur supposes it’s a good thing that Tessa’s adventurous spirit (read: tendency to leap before she looks) has made Arthur quick on his feet when it comes to his shielding and healing spells. And truly, bless the Nymians and their fondness for shields.

He makes a quick movement of his hand, motioning form the pages of the book to the ground, and another dome appears. This one is large in size, more than enough to shield the two of them against the dragon’s flames. It won’t last long, but it should buy them a precious minute to breathe- and for Arthur to turn and ask dryly, ]

I suppose you’ll be wanting your weapon back, then?

[Ornstein makes a note to ask just what sort of magic it is he's utilizing; they aren't the same sort of sorceries or miracles he's accustomed to seeing in Anor Londo.

He's diverted by Arthur's question, however, and while his dry tone might usually spark some indignation from him (he's a Captain, after all; the only people who speak to him so flippantly are his closest and most trusted), the heat of battle adds a tinge of wry humor to his words.]

The dragon has little use for it.

[The flames are bursting around their protective dome, unable to harm them for now. But like all magic, he assumes that it will wane, and the knight proposes a question.]

How able are you to distract the creature?

[ How able is he to distract it? ~~He’s a healer man he draws agro like automatically.~~

There’s a part of him that expected it might come to this- playing the bait- but that doesn’t mean he has to like it, and his general disapproval at the idea is clear on his face. They have very little options at the moment, so he’ll do it. Just let it be known that he’s doing it with extreme reluctance. ]

Decently, I suppose. Considering my general lack of plate mail, I probably look a bit more appetizing.

[ He snaps his book shut, clipping it back in its place on his belt, and reaches for the gun poking up over his shoulder. Their little shield apparently only works one way, because the second the dragon’s flames gutter out and it rears back to prepare another attack, Arthur just… shoots it. Predictably, the bullet ricochets off the creatures hide with barely any damage, but it certainly gets its attention.

Arthur darts off to one side, away from the man in armor, firing a couple more shots as he goes. Hopefully that’s enough. ]

[When the man unholsters his gun, Ornstein has no idea what to expect. He's never seen a weapon like that before, and to be honest, it doesn't look terribly impressive. He's too used to greatswords and longswords, to lances and dragonslayer bows, to hard steel and sharp edges.

When the gun fires, its echo cracking through the air, it's almost enough to give him a start. His gaze darts to the dragon, to see the "attack" do practically nothing. He's definitely starting to doubt the efficacy of this stranger's weapon; maybe he had been mistaken in thinking it was such. But it didn't matter. He didn't ask for him to wound the creature, he asked for a distraction, and it appears it was a successful one. Bullets continue to reflect off of its hide, and while no damage is done, it's enough to irritate the ancient thing; its neck cranes to follow Arthur as he darts away, growling. It dashes forward on all fours, towards the man.

Meanwhile Ornstein takes this opportunity to make a mad dash towards the dragon, aiming for his spear. He approaches at just the right angle to make something of a leap, armored hands grasping for it. And he's successful, palms wrapping around the weapon-

-except the dragon doesn't seem to care, hellbent on barreling into Arthur. Ornstein is tall, but he's not that tall; his feet don't even touch the ground, and he has to steady himself against the moving hind leg of the oversized lizard itself.]

Do not run! I need to be still!

[...He says to a man who's being targeted by a dragon. Because that's totally reasonable, right?]

[ This time Arthur voices his disbelief, ] Don’t run? It’s trying to eat me!

[ Though, if nothing else, he stops running on of sheer incredulity at the order. So, that works out. However, it’s very difficult to hold one’s ground in the face of an angry dragon, and Arthur’s every instinct is screaming at him to run away as fast as his legs can carry him.

If he gets out of this alive, this man is going to owe him, big time.

Now that he’s stopped moving, the dragon’s head shoots in his direction, maw wide, ready to bite poor Arthur in two. Almost on instinct, he brings his gun to bear and fires.

Unlike its outsides, the inside of the dragon doesn’t have thick scales for protection, and Arthur’s bullet zips right inside the creature’s mouth. It must have struck something, because the dragon rears back with an ungodly screech, a burst of flame erupting from its mouth unbidden. Arthur feels the blast of heat and stumbles back with a curse as the dragon swings its head wildly, unsure of what to do with the sudden injury to its throat. ]

[Ornstein yells over the ruckus. This would be almost comical if not for the harrowing fact that they could potentially be killed with one wrong move.]

It does not wish to eat you, it merely wishes to kill you! [#helpfulencouragement

There's another loud noise coming from Arthur's weapon, and while Ornstein isn't quite sure what's happened, the dragon stops moving its legs enough for him to find solid ground on the creature. Digging in his body weight against gray scales, he pushes back with his feet, yanking out the spear as the creature roars loudly. Now that he has his weapon back, it would be a cardinal sin to not use it again, given the blessed opening right before him.]

Ha! [Ornstein pierces the dragon's hide again, this time in its flank. With injury to its throat and its side, a panicked sort of rage boils within the drake, and its long tail coils around to whip at the knight on its hindquarters. It works, and Ornstein is hit in the torso, the force knocking him off and to the ground with a grunt. At least this time he's kept a hold of his spear.

He lands with a clatter of armor, his helm coming loose and laughably rolling a few feet away. He nearly doesn't notice, too concerned about pulling himself back to his feet before the dragon's maw draws too close.]

[ Was that supposed to help him feel better? Because it super did not.

Whatever small sense of victory he feels when Ornstein manages to free his weapon and once again wound the beast is short-lived as the man is sent sprawling after a hit from the dragon’s tail. Arthur doesn’t have quite enough time to grab his book, what with the way the dragon is focused on repaying Ornstein for the wound it’s now sporting.

Fortune smiles on Arthur just a little in that as the dragon turns its attention to the other man, it exposes its wounded side to Arthur. He quickly loads another round of ammunition into his gun, and unloads it just as quickly into the wound on the dragon’s flank. The bullets strike the exposed flesh one after another, after another. Arthur would take a moment to admire just how good his aim has gotten lately if not for the fact that now the dragon whips back around and heads for him. ]

[The whole making people feel better thing? Totally not his forte.

He's beginning to think this stranger excels at creating distractions, because there's a sense of relief and very very vague gratitude as the dragon turns its attention away from him. It's bleeding even more now, thanks to those bullets. Dark-colored blood ekes from the wound, flowing down its hide, trickling through the grooves of its scales. Even as it moves with anger, it's obvious that it's favoring its injured flank, and Ornstein takes this opportunity to rush forward.

He skids to a halt in front of the dragon (a move some might call reckless, if they didn't know the knight well enough), swiping his spear up and at an angle, scraping along its snout. It's more annoyance than injury, but Ornstein knows that with enough time, it should become lethargic from blood loss alone. The drake growls at him, snapping its jaws and stopping, looking between Ornstein and Arthur as it decides which one it would like to tear apart first.

There's a surreal sort of... stare-down between the three. Ornstein looks unfazed, while in fact his entire body is coiled like a spring, ready to leap at the first sign of movement.]

How accurate are you with that... thing?

[It's a question directed at Arthur, his meaning being the gun. His voice remains low, not tearing his gaze away from the dragon.]

Edited (Damn you, shift key ) 2016-10-06 17:10 (UTC)

[ Arthur would very much like to question the wisdom of running in front of the face of an angry dragon, but then he’s no dragonslayer. They don’t really have the time for it, anyway, as the dragon looks between both men, weighing its options in a way that Arthur finds unsettling.

So focused is he on the wyrm, that he almost doesn’t hear the question directed at him. In spite of himself, he feels a slight twinge of disappointment that his earlier feat of sharpshooting went unnoticed. ]

Quite, I think. You have an idea?

[Ornstein will certainly notice it this time, if he can pull it off.]

The eyes. Blind the damnable creature, punish it for being so bold to draw so near.

[Calling the dragon bold for daring to face him, instead of the other way around? Typical Ornstein. But he's tactician enough to take hold of an opportunity when it presents itself.

And then the action threatens to start again; the knight can see it in the way the dragon's talons grip into the ground, the way its tail switches, the wave of harsh heat escaping from its exhale. He yells:] Now!

[Green flames flicker around sharp teeth, and Arthur can probably guess what they're about to get a face full of if he doesn't act quickly.]

[ This guy was a piece of work, wasn’t he? Arthur is pretty certain that the only thing that can punish a dragon is a bigger dragon, but once again, he’s left with little time to marvel at his impromptu ally’s eccentricities.

The dragon is rearing up for an attack, flames building in its maw, and Arthur can already feel the first waves of heat from where he stands. The only blessing is that as the dragon prepares to douse them all in flame, it gives Arthur a stationary target. He levels his gun, allows himself a fraction of a second to steady himself, and he fires.

The flames gutter out as the dragon roars in pain, head snapping back as a spurt of blood escapes its eye socket. It’s half-blinded, at least, but Arthur won’t get another shot until it stills again. He snaps open the now empty ammo chamber on his firearm and reloads, waiting for his next opportunity. ]

Stay close. It will likely try to keep us both on its good side, and I'd rather not waste my ammunition.

[Ornstein is usually the one giving commands, but he doesn't argue the point. Staying close might prove tricky, given that the dragon is now swiping at them half-blindly with its front talons, and he has to use his spear as an impromptu shield, angling it to deflect the claws away. The force is nearly enough to push him back, despite his cognizant attempts to keep his heels dug into the earth. He grits his teeth, shuffling a little to the side to remain in the dragon's newly-acquired blind spot.]

I've a spear, not a great shield. [Ornstein's fighting style was rarely focused on defense, and his choice of equipment reflected that much.] I suggest you move quickly.

[He's certainly impressed by Arthur's aim so far, but he'll not say as much until after the battle is fought. Compliments are nothing more than wasted breath if they do not survive the fight afterwards.]

I’m going!

[ Arthur can’t cast spells and shoot at the same time, so for the moment they’re both without a shield.

And really, that suggestion wasn’t necessary. They’ve done nothing but move quickly since the beast attacks- snap decision after snap decision. Arthur skirts around Ornstein, though as he does, a wild swipe of the dragon’s claws clips his side. Arthur lets out a pained noise, bringing his free hand to the wound.

The sound draws the dragon’s attention, and it fixes its good eye on Arthur. The two lock gazes for a brief moment, before Arthur brings his gun up, doing his best to ignore the way pain shoots up his side at the movement, and fires one last time. Blood erupts from the beast’s eye, and Arthur just turns and runs to get out of range of those claws. ]

[Ornstein frowns as the dragon manages to connect a swipe, injuring his companion. He can only hope it isn't too grievous a wound, that it isn't too deep. His ally doesn't appear awfully distraught, though he assumes that he may just be fighting through the pain, too focused to care. It was something the knight could relate to quite fervently.

There was no point in worrying about it now. Scratches and cuts and worse could be tended to after the fact. When the bullet connects with the dragon's other eye, blooding spewing from its injury, it rears up with anger and pain, claws sweeping in the air before him. Ornstein dodges through, seizing this opportunity to dash in even closer, confident that their opponent it too blind to stop him.

His spear begins to literally spark with energy; at first it's nothing more than a quiet surge of electricity, only to erupt into what appears to be literal arcs of lightning coiling around the weapon itself. The Captain was not a proficient magic wielder, unable to perform miracles with the adeptness of a master cleric -- short of one. Lighting was a dragon's weakness (in his world, in his experience), and it would be laughable for a dragonslayer to not become familiar with the art. His weapon pierces into the dragon's belly, and the creature releases an ear-shattering roar. Lightning arcs around its entire body, crackling, blindingly bright. It's only a few seconds, but the moment feels needlessly long from tension alone.

And then, finally, the lightning subsides. The dragon breathes out weakly -- injured by blood loss, blindness, and now magic itself -- and collapses on its side. Ornstein's spear still remains pierced between its scales, like a stuck pig, and the knight moves out of the way so he isn't crushed by the drake as it falls.]

[ The spectacle with the lightning actually distracts Arthur from his injury long enough to just... stare. That was magic, to be sure, but quite unlike anything Arthur has ever seen- though he supposes it could be a distant cousin to Thaumaturgy.

The dragon falls, one last breath escaping it in a pained rasp, but Arthur keeps his weapon drawn until it's certain that the thing is dead. ]

Could not have called down the lightning sooner, hm?

[ He means for it to sound lighthearted, but it comes out a little strained. The wound at his side hurts, throbbing with every movement, every breath. He glaces down to see red seeping into his clothes and through the fingers of the hand he still has clamped over the wound. Slowly, so as not to pull at it, he replaces his gun in its holster at his back. ]

[There's always a grand sense of accomplishment after felling such a creature; Ornstein feels it rise in his chest as he looks over the fallen drake, blood still eking from its multiple wounds. But this emotion is distracted, quelled even, when he hears the words of his companion. Strained with injury, as he's heard from many before in his time. He knows it for what it is.

He doesn't retrieve his spear just yet. It certainly isn't going anywhere, and instead he turns Arthur and walks over, his lips pressed into a visible frown. The question is completely ignored.]

You are bleeding. [The red is visible through his clothes, even more vivid on his fingers.] How bad is the wound?

[ Arthur somehow finds it in him to cast a look at the other man that seems to say "No, really?" He didn't think the fact that he's bleeding needed to be declared. ]

Not too deep, thankfully. At the very least my insides have remained where they belong.

[That look might as well have been water sliding off of his armor. Ornstein remains unfazed, frown plastered on his face. It did need to be declared, and loudly at that. A dragon's talons were not always so straightforward as to be only sharp. Sometimes they were poisonous, or tainted with infection.]

We should find you a healer as soon as we are able. Unless- [A glance at Arthur, the memory of protective magic enveloping them as the dragon tried to tear them apart.] -you are able to heal yourself?

I am.

[ Thankfully, the Nymians from which his healing magic came had no objections to keeping oneself alive. Really, what good was healing magic if it couldn't heal the healer?

With his free hand, he unclips the book from his belt and flips it open. Then, he offers it to Ornstein. ]

Hold this, would you? I would so hate to get blood on the pages.

Ramey > open rp

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)