lash v bandercoerul/archeosaur (special guest: hashmal!)
The monster chased Loch through the trees, every now and then releasing a bone-chilling shriek, like a reminder that she couldn't run forever. But it, whatever it was, could. She was bleeding from a wound on her side, a swing of claws not dodged in time, and though the stench of blood filled her nostrils, like the beacon keeping the beast on her trail. Her breath was becoming ragged — fuck smoking, and fuck the city of Emillion, too, and whatever it had that kept the monsters coming back — but she was damned if she was going to stop. Vanishing was not an option, as she had discovered earlier; the beast would simply dispel the veil with another shock of electricity magicks. She had sheathed her weapons to allow herself more freedom of movement, but the monster was closing distances despite her efforts.
A blast of magic hit her square in the back, and it was only the years of practice that let her avoid falling on her face, using the push instead to roll forward on the ground and regain her footing. But though she had not fallen, she could feel her limbs were heavier now — the spell, or whatever it had been, had Slowed her down. Running was no longer an option. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out Fat Lord and Serendipity and turned to face her attacker. If it was vulnerable to Sleep or Poison, she may still make a getaway. If not —
Loch felt the ground rumble underneath her feet, but the monster was no longer running, but pacing in front of her, calculating its attack. Her pulse quickened, and the tremors increased, but she pushed back against the unspoken imperative. The sounds of battle barely reached the clearing where she now found herself; if the dead Sage's pet broke the horizon and anyone came to investigate, it would be obvious who had called it forth. And she did not need the big jerk, if she could put the smaller one to sleep. She Blinked, reappearing behind her enemy, and slashed its side. In retaliation, it roared and attacked her, rather than focusing on the copy. She fell back, and the beast rounded to face her, gathering electricity for a spell — still very much awake.
This was what she fucking got for leaving the Faram-damned city. All she’d wanted to do was find Loch, bitch about getting shot, maybe grab some ice cream once the machinist had finished gathering whatever poison herbs she’d needed, and crash out. Instead, she was running from a fucking dinosaur. How the fuck did an Archeosaur even manage to get to this part of the world? She jumped over the tail that wanted to take her out - again and fuck if that shit didn’t hurt the first time - and kept going, keeping an eye on her surroundings for either a place to wait the damn thing out or for someone she could pair off with.
There was no way in Faram’s green earth she could take on a dinosaur on her own.
A flash of movement caught her eye and she focused on it, shifting courses. If it was another monster, she’d be fucked, but hell, who knew? Maybe the Archeosaur would decide she wasn’t worth it and play with whatever she ran into. If it was another hume, well, she fucking hoped they had some decent attacks. Or spells. Spells would be a hell of a lot better right now.
She burst through the trees to find Loch facing off with a Bandercouerl. “You really know how to pick ‘em,” she said in greeting, withdrawing the gun she’d decided to carry and firing two shots at the Bandercouerl, which yowled just as the Archeosaur caught up to her.