"Aaalright, Faaailed Delivery, pick thaaat ane an tap up. Daaamaaaged Returns, taaake ane af the athers." I quip to the pair as I lean against my upright musket. Waiting for them to get to it, I eye the crate as they carelessly shove the lid. It hits the ground with a heavy thud, carrying on and banging again with a full face. My eyes instinctively glance the mountain's way.
"So now what?" the human asks as he points the barrel about. The barrel passes by me right as his finger nears the trigger. The oxfuine's no better, either. A chilly breeze passes through my quills.
"Baaarrel dawn!" I snap, already infuriated by their lack of trigger discipline. Trying to force the human's finger up and away from it, I walk past the pair and pick up one for myself. I have yet to look them over and I might as well get to it now. At least here I can explain and show off my findings to them.
Whatever this brass-decorated weapon is, it is certainly no bolt-action smoothbore like my lifetime trusted friend. The customisability of the weapon is also quite limited. As such, I hate it immensely. A good weapon should at least offer some kind of modularity, like my good friend. But, I cannot deny that the weapon is still of a quality make. It is a trustworthy weapon, to give it some credit.
I still hate it, though...
Stepping away from the pair, I turn to the targets I had set up before. Lifting the barrel up, I inspect the stock and pick away at the ammo drum to loosen it. Snapping it out of its holdings, I twist the rather bulky disc about. I had my suspicions, but seeing this just confirms it. It's a magic-based firearm.
A dark material that seems to make everything around it darker frames the disc. Across both of its faces are six circular, wide sockets that, without a doubt, rotate to feed the barrel. In the middle of the disc is a cog-like mechanism. Moving its weight around once again, I hook it on and take it back off of the weapon a couple more times.
Firmly placing it back in one final time, I move my hand away and towards me.
Rubbing the pad of my thumb along the rear-end slope that leads to the stock, I figure out how to hold it. Bracing the butt-end, inwards-going curve of the stock against my upper arm joint, I stare back at the five exposed sockets. Turning to one target, I finish fiddling with it and place my finger on the trigger. Firing it once, I adapt the way I hold it, as while it is heavy, it lacks recoil completely.
Firing a second shot, I fire a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and a final tenth one. The disc rotates with a loud, distinct, almost snap-like noise. Bringing my eye away from the sights, I look over the weapon and at the spent socket. Steam's escaping it and the surrounding air darkens as it takes in the nearby light.
"That was a lot of orange. Is this some kind of fire-shooter?" the human guesses incorrectly as I inspect the socket more closely. The area is brightening up again, but it's a slow process. Nodding to myself, I look up at the daylight and then at the mountain. A weapon that feeds itself with light is a terrible choice for our upcoming endeavour...
Admittedly, I can't fault the makers of the gun for building something like this when they live on mountaintops and plateaus. I can, though, still grumble over the fact this weapon will be nearly useless once we spend the shots. Quite specifically, outside of the places it's best for. Even if I give them the benefit of the doubt, that does not help me here. Sneering at an imaginary gunsmith, I walk towards the target.
"Na, Arbitaaal-Haaala gun. Shaats maaagicaaally cancentraaated light." I explain to the human as I put the hefty firearm down. Crouching before the crisped-up piece of airship hull, I inspect the burns. Confident that the heat is mostly gone, I run a paw along the soot and rub it between my finger pads. Letting chips of just melted metal fall from them, I get back up.
What the gun fires is actually quite useful. These super-heated magic bolts will either cook the target to the melting point or cripple them reliably. I suppose it explains why I have come across several 'sib corpses with melted body parts. It makes me 'hmmm' out some thoughts, my left foot bouncing alongside them.
Six sockets with what seems to be ten shots before a rotation. Sixty shots of metal melting deliverance that comes with the benefit of also being an impromptu light source as well. However, reloading is a slow business, especially with these two clueless idiots. Either we go through the hive dangerously slow to allow the guns time to recharge and for them to reload...
Or, we take all the guns with us and dump the spent ones.
Shaking the thoughts out of my head for the moment, I turn back to the pair, "Aaalright! I waaant yau twa ta hald thase guns up aaas if yau are aaabaut to fire."
The human does well enough, clearly; he has at least seen guns used before. This oxfuine, though, she is clueless and too prideful to even at least emulate the human. The human's grip is subpar, sure. The finer details are just not there at all, even. But at least he makes a point of holding it properly...
Proper grip lets you at least point the barrel right way!
"Humaaan, staaart shaating the taaargets. Switch every secand shat." I say as I stand before the oxfuine, shaking my head as I do so. Watching her growl at me with a rising tail, I rub my lefthand's pads on the fur of my forehead.
"What? Got something to say?" she growls, showing off her teeth. Plenty of sharp canine teeth are on display. Not one of them as scary as a proper gut-wrecking knife with a hooked tip. I've had my fair share of dealing with thugs, working and living with Paps. This slave is certainly not one. Not now, not ever.
"Yes, tighten yaur grip." I say, knocking her gun to prove a point. My eyes roll as hers widen.
"Hey!" she lets out as she steps towards me, the lesson not learned.
"Tighten. Yaur. Grip." I reiterate to her. My freest limb even warns her with a provocative flex.
"It is tight!" she lies and I slap it again. The weapon's end goes into the dirt and the teeth come back out.
"I waaant ta maaake sure yau knaw whaaat yau're daing. Paaay aaattentian." I groan as I am beholden to her continued stubbornness.
"Don't touch me..." she threatens as she places the gun against my gut. Staring back into her eyes, I raise a brow. It continues to arch as my gut stiffens, her body not applying enough force to budge me.
"Paaay aaattentian." I say once again as she struggles to pull the trigger. Forcing it up by the disc, I flick and press what I need to and point it away. A bolt of orange bursts against the mountain's hide. Her eyes widen at its trail, then narrow at me.
"Don't touch me!" she hisses as she shoves me away with the gun. Rolling my eyes again, I watch as she stands near the prone human. Which, when I am done with her, I will need to get that behaviour out of him. Possibly her, too.
"Hald the gun claser ta yaur chest. In aaa pasitian thaaat feels like yau cauld rest yaur chin an it." I explain to her as I pick up my musket so I can demonstrate with it. However, she keeps her eyes locked away from me and towards the target. Though her weapon is not following her eyes. And it will be causing us issues...
"Why? All that matters is that the barrel is pointing at the bugs!" she sharply snaps before she starts to fire the heavy weapon. It overshoots and heads right for the Valkinvar. She snaps out of the bolt's way, blade raised. Vapooliar glances our way, her distant eyes scarier than anything this oxfuine slave has shown me up close.
"Aaapalagize." I demand the oxfuine to do, an unsettling feeling in my spine. Like a segment has come loose from another bit.
"Sorry..." she mutters quietly as Vapooliar goes back to what I can only describe as a dance. Whatever it is, she's being very acrobatic and overall, she is just rubbing in her skills. Admittedly, the Valkinvar impresses me, she does impress me quite a lot. Thankfully, she passes no comment on the far-flung shot either.
At least, nothing that either of us hear.
"Aaas yau caaan see. It helps ta be aaable ta see where the shat might laaand." I point out as I come closer to the pair. Coming around on the oxfuine's right side, I grip the barrel of my gun with one paw while the other goes against my hip.
"Don't speak down to me. You're the one who made our targets smaller than the bugs themselves!" she whines. It takes a lot of patience for my mouth not to warp into a condescending smirk.
"Yes, ignaring the missed shat. Da yau knaw why I maaade the taaargets smaaaller thaaan they aaare?" I ask as I take the moment to inspect the human's efforts thus far. Though my head does not follow my eyes for the moment.
"To rub in how good you are in comparison to us!?" the oxfuine exclaims with a quick groan as she throws her hands up. I largely ignore her sulking.
Contemplating a non-confrontational answer, I keep my focus on the human. He isn't doing that badly, all things considered. He's a bit slow on the target swapping, but his weapon is also far heftier with the internal-magic buff it got. The shots are also coming out with a domineering wind-green tint, interestingly enough. I dunno, I'm no witch or a scientist of the arcane.
What I am, though, is one gods and goddesses blessed, well-trained marksman. Keep it between me, a rifle and a target, and I know what I am on about. Could even settle down and coach in the future when I reach that elderly age. Still, the human's missed twenty-one shots altogether, with about nine of them grazing the target.
"I maaade the taaargets smaaaller becaaause if yau caaan hit them reliaaably. Then yau'll hit the 'sibs even better." I explain to her as she looks away with a shaky nose and lips. Pointing a finger up at her, I make sure she understands completely that she is at fault. Regardless of the fact me and Paps made her but one more transaction. I owe her, at the very least, for the help she has given us thus far before the other two arrived.
I am able to look after Paps properly because of what she did after the 'sibs retreated to their mountain hive...
Keeping the stern gaze on her, I watch as her ears droop, "I'm sorry... I'll do as you say..."
"Gaad. Capy him." I tell her for the moment as the human finishes emptying his weapon.
"I squeezed it dry," he comments as he tries to pass it to me for inspection. Placing a paw up, I let him keep the weight-buffed weapon. Ain't no way I'm heaving that thing up. Just because I never went to no fancy school like the Acadamites came from doesn't mean I'm clueless about magic influence. Weight alteration is something I'm very familiar with.
I've tried my paws at a few heavy shots, after all...
"Yau getting the haaang af it?" I ask, getting my mind back on track. He continues to move his grip about the weapon, that new user's lack-of-confidence look all about him.
"I think? I've seen the guards back in Tobaballe use their guns before, so I've been trying to copy them," he explains as he fiddles with the disc. It jostles and twists, but doesn't come off. My eyes narrow as a worried sensation goes through me. If he tries too hard as he is, he'll break the weapon- Pondering his strength, I look back at the gun-brimming crate.
"Haw maaany guns da yau think yau caaan caaarry?" I ask as I return my focus to him and the strength oozing from him so blatantly. If it weren't for the constant edge in my thoughts about the osibindah, I'd be chasing this human off. This Sudden Induction might be to our benefit, but I hate the feeling of magic auras right now.
Especially given how claustrophobic the platform was before our crash into this god and goddess forsaken place...
"In my hands?" he asks back as he looks at them. Rough and calloused, they tell me he is a labourer. Which means he won't mind a bit of back-using lifting. Not that anyone's in a position to complain about labour.
"Aaanywhere, maaaybe an aaa sled, even." I clarify, to which he just shrugs.
"Honestly, I feel like that is a question better suited to your harness or sled," he answers as he applies his bare hand against a thick tree branch, snapping it with casual ease. Rubbing my chin, I dismiss his concerns.
"Nated, naw. Praaactice relaaaading thaaat until yau're perfect... Aaas clase ta it, aaanywaaay." I tell him before I walk away to the crate. Letting out another thoughtful sound, I glance about at the airship debris. Considering what tools I have at my disposal as well, my left foot bounces. Yeah...
Yeah, I can work with this.