Unconventional Warfare

LOCATION: The Giza Plains

PEOPLE: Maraxus, Zhgir, Ka'Len, Mordecai

TIME: Right Now.

"So there's I was, about to gut this moogle right? And he looks at me with those moogle eyes and I says to myself 'Fatback,' I says, 'Fatback, it might be wrong, but you have to eat and this tavern serves terrible food. So I bring my axe up and I carve into his bloo "

"Fatback!" shouts a gangly bangaa. He is a sickly green color, several large metal tubes stuck through the back of his skull and spine. He appears to prepetually have the shakes. "Hey, Fatback!"

"What?" The fat shirtless Seeq turns away from the bangaa, addressing a tree. He has two eyepatches on. He has a great deal of battlescars over his flabby torso. "I was just getting to the good part!" "The other way!" "I'm blind, not deaf." He spins around again, "What."

The sickly bangaa puts a hand on his nose. "You got something on your face. Right here."

The seeq puts his hand to his cheek. IT isn't a hand. It is an axe. The Seeq has axes instead of hands. He also has axes instead of feet. Kulgkar's gang is awful. The axe drags a bloody trail through his face. "No, higher!" "Here?" A bloody swath. "No, keep going, down... no left... no your other left!"

A second Bangaa turns around putting his finger to his lips. "Shhh. Will you two assholes shut up?" The three are in a sparsely wooded area, since monsters are attracted to trees. Archadean soldiers are hanging monster bait from various branches. One of the soldiers fires a bolt at a Giza Rabbit to scare it off. There are five wagons all strewn around the small clearing. Four are full covered with thick tarps. One is empty.

The second Bangaa is wrapped in thick fire proofing leathers. He has bandoliers across his chest, harnesses, and bags. The bombs in those harnesses and the goggles on his face are dead giveaways of an engineer. "These are very sensitive wagons."

Mordecai's new ship, the Redemption, has been quietly landed someways off... The older ex mercenary deciding this mission requires some measure of stealth at first, to safely get to the enemy's position and plan their subsequent action. Currently low crawled behind a fallen tree, he pauses there, pump action shotgun safely tucked against his body, and he glances back below the brim of his hat to see how the other two of his crew are faring, silently waiting for them to catch up to him... Having decided to take this job as his new crew's very first test, a baptism by fire of sorts, to hopefully start off a long string of succesful guerilla engagements against the forces threatening Emberstrand...

Ka'len keeps to cover not too far from where Mordecai has positioned himself. The young man shoots a look to the fellow before quietly drawing his blade with his right hand and in the other a small pistol. The young man tosses a quick nod towards Mordecai and sneaks a little closer before flicking a glance back towards their targets. Maraxus would of pointed out to the captain, that ammunition for the ship is also very limited. The Lunarian though is not built or even equiped for stealth, wearing a full set of plate and carrying a massive war hammer built for his seven foot frame. The look he offers explains everything when he is told stealth. Still he follows behind, well behind to keep the other two from noticeing as they make their through the woods, offering the occasional clank of metal and thud of a heavy boot.

"Why?" The question hangs in the air momentarily; mostly because it didn't from the trio. Not even from the archadian soldiers. No, it came from up one of the trees left unattented; a branch of which a dark clad strange was hanging and curiously staring towards the engineer. Few of the monster baits hang off Zhgir's polearm, held sideways behind his body for support, while one of his idle hands hold his hood atop his head. Some people take stealth too seriously.

Mordecai nods back at Ka'Len, even as he pushes himself up into a low crouch to peer across the downed tree he's taking cover behind, slinging his shotgun up to rest atop it, the stock pressed into his shoulder, the ring sights flipped up, ready to be put on a foe's center mass... And he waits like that, for the big, clunky, armored form of Maraxus to catch up, glancing back at the man once he does... And then motioning both of them a bit closer still, though lowering himself again and slipping back some as well, obviously wanting to discuss some strategy.

"Sensitive? Fatback's a very sensitive gent. I always talk to me mum every year on 'er birthday!" "Fatback, yer mum's /dead/." "Aye, I digs her up and drag her to the Jagd bone witch and she wakes her up and we has tea. Then I torture her spirit until she tells me where the damn gold is!" Fatback sighs wistfully. "Ah, my mum was a grand woman. Seven hundred pounds and she could kill a man at five hundred paces with her cleaver. Dad never saw it coming."

The bomb laden Bangaa glares. He points a gloved finger that is covered in flint claws at the other two. "Fatback. Jitters. Shut the hell up. I'll tell you WHY. It's because w "

Everyone in the clearing stops and turns towards the tree.

Except Fatback who is looking the other way.

The engineer bangaa nods casually. "Well, you see, we are going to take these wagons an KILL THAT SON OF A BRAINDEAD GOAT!" He picks up an iron sphere from one of his belts. The soldiers in the clearing take their crossbows. The bangaa strikes his flint claw harshly across the iron. Sparks fly, lighting the fuse. Crossbow bolts fly up at Zhgir with well trained precision. The bangaa waits for the spider kin to react to the bolts first before hurling the explosive.

Fatback holds up his axe, stopping 'Jitters' from moving. "Hold on, lassy. I smells a noise." The sickly bangaa looks like he is going to protest about being called female and the absurdity of Fatback 'smelling a noise', but he turns towards where Fatback is smelling and where Maraxus is coming.

Mordecai nods back at Ka'Len, even as he pushes himself up into a low crouch to peer across the downed tree he's taking cover behind, slinging his shotgun up to rest atop it, the stock pressed into his shoulder, the ring sights flipped up, ready to be put on a foe's center mass... And he waits like that, for the big, clunky, armored form of Maraxus to catch up, glancing back at the man once he does... And then motioning both of them a bit closer still, starting to slip back a bit again to meet them... But then, he's forced to pause, his gaze snapping forward again as he hears the shouting up ahead, together with the movements visible through the tree line... The man frowning, before he motions at the both of them, and then starts moving forward in a low crouch, his shotgun held at the ready as he angles away from that group of heavies, towards one of the carts instead Pointing Ka'Len the opposite way as he does, indicating a flanking position, but then pointing Maraxus forward, straight at the group... Knowing the man is built for direct engagements.

As the quesiton is asked Len looks at the tree and his brow shoots up. Stifling an amused snort Ka'len takes it as a queue to move while they're distracted. He circles around to the otherside where he was motionsed and after slipping behind another tree he sticks his head out long enough to locate a target. And while 'Fatback' is smelling his noise the young man takes aim at 'Jitters' with the pistol before he fires off a volley, his hand pulling to the side so that the high only is likely to wing the guy.

Maraxus smiles to himself, the need for stealth over. He glances to Mordecai and shakes his head, "Now ye be remember how I fight, cover me." He hefts his heavy war hammer and starts straight towards the group. There is no attempt at stealth on his part, uncaring if they know he is charging in. As he clears into the clearing he swings his hammer in a wide arc towards the nearest enemy.

"Whoops." Zhgir lets out as the first of the bolts whirl past him; the anarchid quickly rolling atop the branch. And then around the tree, to another branch, casually peeking around the bark. For a while, it literally looks like he thought being used as target practise was a casual thing for the day. He points at one of the arrows embedded in the tree, jerking it out with a bit of a twist and waving it at the soldiers. "Did you want these back? Maybe they aRGH !" And then he takes a bolt square to his shoulder; the force of which knocks the arachnid off the branch, and down onto grass below with a surprisingly satisfying thud. " malfunctioning..." Faint groan. [Annoy]

There are quite a few soldiers here. A good dozen in addition to the three 'heavies'. They seem to be giving orders. One could conclude they are the big deal. Or that they are idiots.

Or both.

Jitters wheels as he is hit with the shot across his shoulder. He never saw it coming. It spins him around a full revolution, blood blossoming from the flesh wound. He grabs it with one free hand. "Trigger! TRIGGER! It's a set up! TRIGGER!" Jitters reaches down, sticking his hands into a pair of punching daggers. He lifts them up slightly and staggers back, seeing only the big man. He holds the cestusescestises? Cesti? in front of him like he barely knows how to use them.

Mordecai gets to one of the covered carts. It feels a bit warm. There's a rough snoring growl coming from it.

Fatback, meanwhile, hears Maraxus coming. He turns his blind eyes towards him with a... well okay, not a gleam, a smell? His bulk twists out of the way, catching a glancing blow across his torso. "Ha hah! Ol' Fatback doesn't need any tin can to fight! Come on, ya son of a spider infested moogle!" He bellows a berserker's shout, hurling himself with both great axe hands at Maraxus, slamming them fiercely into his armor. He is strong.

Zhgir falls out of the tree. Trigger's bomb lands next to him with a 'thunk'.

It explodes.

Maraxus is a old man when it comes to combat, a hundred or so years will do that. He doesn't seem to really pay attention to the blind guy at the moment. he charges right past him, and spins around keeping the arc of hammer flowing. The axes will slam into his armor and leave some nice marks, but will not cut all the way through. The armor is old, but the metal and durability are the reason Maraxus keeps it and repairs it. He continues the swing of his hammer, twisting it around to arc at Trigger! Leaving Fatback alone for the moment, and a very potential target for somebody to shoot him with a clear shoot.

Mordecai doesn't pause long at the cart, only briefly taking note of that snoring before he takes one hand away from the front of his shotgun, and digs it into a leather satchel at his side instead... Soon pulling it back out again, tightly clutching a ceramic sphere of sorts, a small cord sticking out of it... Which is promptly clenched between his teeth, and yanked out. Causing a low fizzing sound to emit from that sphere, even as he rolls it right below the cart, and without skipping a beat, moves on and away from it, passing the other carts, and manuevering to emerge in a more target rich enviroment once his little surprise goes off... [Grenade]

Ka'len ducks back behind the tree he'd selected to hide behind as the explosion goes off. Biting off a curse the young man slips both his weapons away and his hands lift, motes of white energy beginning to swirl about his fingers as he grumbles quietly to himself, "healing spiders now.. what's this world coming to.." A shake of the head is given and then Len turns sharply and steps out of cover long enough to get direct line of sight with Zhgir's fallen form and launch off the healing spell towards him [Cure].

Zhgir's only saving grace was that he landed flat onto the ground. Which meant that much of the shrapnel from the bomb just flew past his head. It still didn't mean it didn't hurt. Or that his already ragged clothing didn't catch flames. Which is all the more reason why he grabs one of the baits off his polearm, and tosses it back at Trigger, slowly getting back up to his feet. "For miss !" He gasps out, mouth full of grass, blood and bit of the monster bait. [Annoy]

"TRIGGER!"

"WHAT YOU WHINY PIECE OF " Trigger turns, thoroughly distracted by Zhgir. He sees Maraxus coming. The hammer blow twists around with a mighty heave and hammers into the engineer's side. There's a thorough crunching of bone as he goes down. He spits up a bit of blood, "Who the fuck."

Then the cart explodes. Trigger's eyes widen. He starts scrambling back. He drops a bomb behind him as he staggers up to his feet, hoping to distract Maraxus from another swing. And distract him from the Seeq leaping at his back, both axes coming down at his armor. "Ah hah! Ya can't get away from Fatback! I was an expert tracker when I had both me eyes! I could track a fairy by her farts for forty leagues!"

Trigger sees Zhgir and turns his staggering run towards him. "'Ey! ey! I need those! Get back here." He pulls out an autocrossbow that appears to be made to shoot tiny bombs and runs after the spider man. Jitters continues to back up into a tree. "Triiiiggeeeeer!" he practically whines out.

With Zhgir's...skills elsewhere, the other soldiers in the clearing are starting to get their bearings. With explosives going around, half of them start slapping chocobos attached to wagons, getting them going. The other half are well trained in situations like this. TWo crossbowmen begin reloading their crossbows. The other four swordsmen immediately charge at Len with swords drawn. Always take out the healer first.

Meanwhile, the cart's debris and flames slowly part. And the wild eyed split mawed gape of a red orb is bearing quickly down on Mordecai. It is a bomb. And it looks /royally/ pissed.

Mordecai rounds around one of the other carts, and pauses to lean against it, tugging that shotgun sharply into his shoulder as he plants the sights squarely on the group of running swordsmen, hoping to cut down at least a couple of them with a good blast of buckshot... But before his finger can squeeze all the way through on that trigger, he can't help but be distracted by the creature emerging behind him... Briefly glancing over his shoulder at that gaping maw coming right at him, followed right after by his entire body whipping around, swiveling the barrel of that shotgun right towards that evil face, and without a second thought starting to rapid fire right one it, his hand a blur as he works the pump action after every shot... [Fanning]

The thing about Len? He's not just a healer. The blade is once again drawn and he flashes a quick grin towards the quartet rushing towards him. The young man steps out of cover so that his attackers need do the same and then he starts to spar with the closest one while the other hand draws out the gun and he starts to aim it at the others, not pulling the trigger just yet, but attemping to keep them from leaping in too quickly.

Maraxus offers no show of emotion as his hammer connects with Trigger. Letting the hammer continue to swing wide as he steps foward towards the bomb on the ground. Where most people with a lot of battle experiance would duck, cover, and get away as quickly as possible he is getting close. Those who know Maraxus, knows he tends to fight like he has nothing to lose. Keeping one hand on the hammer letting is still swing and land into the ground with a thud, the other picks up the bomb. Leaving him open as the axes land into his armor, one scrapes off leaving only a scratch, the other gets into a exposed section under his shoulder and meets flesh. Blood starts to flow out, but the Lunarian shows no reaction to the pain at all, like he doesn't feel it. Turning he thrust the bomb into Fatback's face, "Smell this."

Zhgir brushes off the dirt from his persona, his clothing still simmering from fire in an utterly defeated fashion. He turns his head towards the charging bangaa, tilting his head like a doe caught in headlights. "Zhgir?" He asks, as his eyes try to catch up with the events unfolding. Then all he can see is the Bomb. "Here, take this!" He quips to Trigger as he throws the rest of his pilfered baits at the man's face, before shouting towards the Bomb, waving his hands as he keeps tossing things, all the things, at the creature. "Ker'blang, here! Over here, biiig shiny...!" [Annoy]

Bullets pound into the strange fiery flesh of the bomb. Spurts of fiery fluid pour out of the wounds. The soldiers trying to get the cart moving suddenly turn and bolt when they see Mordecai and the bomb get near it. It is struggling to get to Mordecai fast enough to chomp into his delicious gunslinger flesh. Zhgir draws its attention, but its wounds are heavy from Mordecai and the beating it took to capture the thing. It shortly decides it cannot get there. So it explodes in a great combustion of itself, flesh tearing open and the fiery core of its magical being exploding out. The chocobos are struggling at the brakes of the cart. The blast of the explosion rocks the cart and blows off the tarp.

It reveals another Bomb.

That Bomb explodes in rage.

Ka'Len gets a good dueling ground going. The first soldier is using both hands on his longsword, hammering at Ka'Len's parries while the others spread out, trying to surround Ka'len on all sides. This could get ugly in a minute. And it does. When the second cart explodes, the whole side of it rips towards the five, smashing and scattering them about. Ka'Len goes down under a slightly fiery beam while the others look dazed.

"That's a bomb that is," Fatback comments. Then he headbutts it into Maraxus. The explosion drives the Seeq back a good twenty feet.

Only three more covered carts are left, the chocobos struggling to get away from the souds of battle. "Hurry!" Trigger bellows! "Get 'em out of here before they all go up!" He mutters, pulling into one of his bags. "Now, where did I put that mist thingam " He takes an armful of bloody meat to the face, staggering him back. "Wh " He points the crossbow at Zhgir, firing little explosive balls at him. "Stop jumping around you stupid bastard!"

Jitters is hiding behind a tree a little.

Maraxus gets thrown back a good ten feet himself, the heavier armor keeping him from being thrown as far. Getting back to his feet, he still shows no signs of being in pain. His left hand hanging at his side for the moment, blood dripping off it and the gauntlet tattered in pieces. The metal is still solid, but the leather that was holding it together is shredded. His face is covered in cuts and several trickles of blood. Starting to walk forward, one hand reaching up brush the blood out of a eye, the other reaching into a bag at his side. Casually throwing it at Fatback. [grease]

Mordecai goes flying when both Bombs go off near him, throwing the man at least fifteen feet, back towards the nearby tree line, where he lands among some bushes and rotting leaves in a somewhat smoldering heap... His oilskin hat lost somewhere in the underbrush, his tan coat ripped, ragged, and burned, his shotgun cracked, its barrel slightly bent, rendered useless... And he remains like that for several moments, blood dripping from cuts, scrapes and punctures, staining his clothes and the forest floor below... Before he suddenly stirs again, and starts to push himself up. Old leaves clinging to the side he landed on as he wobbles for a moment, muttering between clenched teeth, "... Son of a whore." Even as his hands throw that damaged coat open, and promptly yank out the two sixguns holstered below each armpit, crossdrawing them and thumbing the hammers back, while he begins moving again, pushing the many pains and aches he feels to the back of his mind, focused on rejoining the battle... Those twin revolvers going up as soon as targets present themselves to him past the flaming wreckage of those carts.

Zhgir covers his face when the bomb explodes; then snarls as the other bomb go up; half leaping, half blasted away from the scene. And he was still smoking. "Zhg'tang!" He hisses, as things continue to explode around him, the arachnid continuing to roll away from the Trigger and his exploding ways. "I'm done, I'm done!" He shouts, as he continues to hiss every now and then as more of the blasts burn his skin. "Can't we just discuss this like rational people?" He asks as he continues to run; to try and catch onto one of the intact carts.

Fatback's face is pretty bad. It's scarred and bloody because this is Final Fantasy and people don't get up with all their flesh flayed from their face by explosions. His entire upper body is burned. But he still stands up with a great bellow of laughter. "Ah, you muck filled son of a motherless viera! You fight like a real man! All Fatback usually gets are the baby gunslingers and all de summoners! Fatback joined this gang for de blood and guts. And I am going to kills ya if my name ain't Fatback J Fatback!" He flourishes his axes in front of him, before he charges towards Maraxus. "Come on, ya big bastard, I WILL TREAT YAS TO A PINT IN THE EMBRACE OF HAD "

The grease bag explodes. Fatback slips back onto his back. Axe feet are not the most well concieved limb replacements. A bullet rips open his side.

The soldiers on Ka'Len turn. Mordecai's pistols find two in the chest, dropping them into gasping crouches. The other two duck behind the tree, taking a moment to clear their heads before they go after the gunslinger. Ka'Len is left under the pinning beam. The soldiers trying to push carts away stagger and scatter as bullets start to fill the clearing wildly. This place is rapidly turning into a mad house.

And what is a madhouse without Zhgir. The chocobos driving the cart ignore Zhgir. The man driving the cart looks back at him as they start to pull away from the clearing. In his eyes is a look of pleading, begging Zhgir not to do anything stupid. Maraxus still offers no emotion on his face. The solid grimm expression telling it all, at least to those who can see. He continues forward while listening to Fatback's rant. His hands grabbing his hammer as he steps past it. "The moons shadow take you." Is all he offers, a prayer of sorts. The hammer coming up in a wide overhead arc. There is no mercy in the Lunarian, only doing what needs to be done. The hammer attempting to come down with full force onto the Seeq while he is on the ground covered in grease.

Mordecai rounds the flaming wreckage of those exploded carts, one of his revolvers trained on the swordsmen as they still continue to be a threat to Ka'Len, while the other tracks for alternate targets, perhaps one of the crossbow men still at large... Leaving Fatback for Maraxus' warhammer for now. And with two of the swordfighters already down, he promptly fires at the two who fell back to take cover, hoping to at least make them retreat even more, if not outright killing or wounding them. The man shouting towards Maraxus as he does, "Plant your hammer in that fat fuck's skull and be done with it." Only to watch him swing the weapon down to do just that...

Zhgir hoists himself atop the cart, and then he looks back at the driver. There is a momentary pause, as some sort of understanding develops between the two men but the arachnid tilts his head, a grim expression on his face. "Not today." He says and spits blood out of his mouth before leaping at the driver, swining his polearm in an arc in an effort to knock the man off the chocobo so he can turn the cart towards the others. Or at least make him rear up. Or well, truth to be told, just because.

Fatback groans from his back. But he isn't out. He reaches his axe arms up and grabs at the Hammer as it comes down on him, directing it into his prodigious beer gut. It hammers into muscle with a meaty thunk and Fatback coughs up a great gout of blood. It didn't break his spine. But it might have broken everything else. He groans, grabbing at his gut, staggering. "Trigger! Aye, where are ya. I can't see ya... the pale of death is clouding my eyes."

"You are blind, you fat fuck!" Trigger bellows. He turns to watch Zhgir is mild horror.

Zhgir comes down. The man pitches from the cart and lands on the ground with a pair of thumps, bouncing with bone cracking noises. He lands heavily and groans. Zhgir grabs the reins of the chocobos and brings them towards the other cart. The man driving that one turns. The chocobos panic. He leaps from the back of the cart as the carts crash heavily into each other, wood splintering. Wheels rip and fly apart. The carts hit the ground.

Then they both go up in a great explosion.

Trigger grunts, "Balls. Gonna have to save that fat ass." He turns around, pulling out a grenade. He hurls it over towards Maraxus as he runs for Fatback. The cannister hits the ground and starts to billow out smoke.

The crossbowman sees the gun on him and decides to take his chances with some cover rather than try to outshoot a gunslinger. Most people who take up the gun are quite accurate. It's really not fair. Shots rip bark off the sparse trees. The two swordsmen duck out into the trees, trying to bob and weave away from Mordecai. Jitters is nowhere to be seen.

Mordecai switches his aim again as each previous target retreats... The man smoothly bringing both guns together, right next to eachother, even as his gaze turns towards Trigger... The man briefly watching that thick smoke billow, about to obscure the running figure, and forced to act quick in response. Those two sixguns swiveling right towards the man, both front sights centered on the moving target, aimed center mass... And promptly pulling those hair triggers then, twice on the left gun, once on the right, spitting out that heavy grain lead. [Fanning]

Maraxus grunts as his hammer is misdirected from landing squarely on Fatback's face. A look of pity crosses his face, "Why take the slow death?" yet he is not hesitating or slowing down really. The smoke has not detured him in the least, in face he leaves his hammer sitting on top of Fatback's gut. He knows where the gut is from that. His heavy plated boot coming up, then slaming down in a attempt to crush in the man's face. "Die with some dignity." His hands still on the hammer and keeping it there for now, a few coughs from the smoke as it gets up to his face.

Zhgir, for his own part, attempts to leap off the carts before they collide and worse, explode. They end up doing so while he is midair, sending the arachnid flying even further than intented, causing the man roll and tumble, and finally end up face first with a plop. "Hngh. Zhg'tang." He mutters as he attempts to crawl towards the shelter of burning wreckage. He wasn't hiding, not really. Just taking a tactical pause. While trying to fan out the flames that were burning off his fur.

Trigger keeps running towards Fatback. He looks like he might actually care. Then a bullet slams into his side. He staggers as the blood sprouts from his leather. Then another bullet rips into his shoulder, forcing a blaze of fire through his brain. He twists in his charge, lobbing another smoke bomb ahead of him and racing into it, juking as he runs into it to one side, then running in the opposite direction.

As the clearing clears, Fatback lies there. "Oy, you stupid fucker. Fatback J Fatback ain't need no DIGNITY." He spits blood at Maraxus.

But because he's blind and he spits far to the left. The smoke covers the sight of Fatback's head being driven to the ground, but not the sound.

Only one cart makes it out of the clearing, men rushing out from the trees to escape the utter chaos.

Maraxus pulls out his axe, and steps backwards to get himself out of the smoke. The axe being dragged as he does so, the man clearly spent after that fight. The blood still drips from his hand, his face, and from the side where the axe got into the opening. He spits out a bit of blood, "He can take that thought to Hades." His boots offering thuds along the ground, not even bothered to be scrapped off and leaving a trail of blood, bone fragment, and grey matter.

Mordecai sees that he scored at least one hit before the smoke obscures his view of Trigger entirely... And then he's on the move, sprinting forward, right into that smoke, towards where he last saw the man. Squinting his eyes against the irritating smoke as he passes right by Maraxus and the fallen Fatback, exclaiming as he passes, "See if you can get any stragglers!" And then continues his hunt, sweeping his weapons this way and that, keeping his senses alert to the best of his ability as he moves in the general direction of where he last saw Trigger running off to, the blinding smoke doing nothing to stop his pursuit, his skills having been forged in worse, more confusing battles than this.

Zhgir continues to creep along the wreckage, using his polearm to poke at the bodies. Just in case they decided to get up and suddenly leap at him. Or worse, explode. Eventually, he winds up behind Maraxus. "Zhgir thought Hades wasn't interested in thoughts." He asks from the man, whilst slapping his simmering hood at the bloodied armored hide. It was appropriate solid surface to try and snuff out the flames from the cloth. Slap, slap.

Trigger runs.

The Gunslinger follows.

Running through the trees at a full lope, Trigger turns his goggled face back towards the sound of footsteps coming after him. He turns his head forward. He needs to get out of here and get out of here bad. He grabs the bandolier from his chest and removes the line of bombs off the buckle with a tug. He scrapes the flint hard against the iron spheres and sparks fly. With fuses lit, he hurls the last of his bombs back behind him into the trees, running for his life.

Mordecai emerges from the smoke, covered by its soot, only to see that loping figure weaving through the trees ahead of him... The man skidding to a halt, and putting one arm up, bent at the elbow, before he props up one of his revolvers across his forearm. The hammer cocked back, and one eye closing as he squints along the sights, subtly shifting that weapon as he centers on his aim on the escaping Trigger... And after just a moment, pulls the man's namesake, sending a single, accurate shot to hopefully thud in the man's back. [Long Shot] ... But it's then, just a moment afterwards, that his gaze is drawn to the object thudding into the forest floor near him... The man just having enough time to peer at it, before he forces himself to move... Sprinting briefly, followed by hurling himself forward, as that bandoleer explodes behind him, sending dirt and wood splinters right across his prone form as he lands, and curls himself up protectively, gritting his teeth at the pain of being caught in yet another explosion the story of his life, it seems.

Maraxus grunts to Mordecai, and finishes making his way out of the smoke. Looking around for anybody else to smash his hammer into and finding very little in the way of targets. So instead he finds himself a tree, turns his back against it, and lands with a thud resting for the moment. Looking to his hand to see the damage, still not seeming to really be bothered by the pain. "Glove will take some work to repair, all the pieces are there at least." Glancing to the spider and smiling faintly, "Oh just a expression, a man's last thoughts are his own. In death you take them with you as you travel to the death realm. Hades doesn't care, but the person carrying them does."

Zhgir holds his hood up from one of the frayed ends, the heavy bells at the ends long lost into the frey. He then firmly prods the bigger man into the forehead. "Zhgir thinks you are too grave." He chides, before raising his hands all four of them with flexoring fingers. "Do you need help?" He eyes the heavily armored man. Pointedly looking down at any more potential pouches with bacon grease.

Trigger doesn't look at bullets. This is, unfortunately, not as epic as not looking at explosions. Or as helpful. It rips into his back and the bangaa goes down onto his knees in the long distance before hitting the ground hard.

The clearing has several corpses. It is also on fire. But at least everyone is mostly alive. And the Archadeans got away with only one Bomb! And the party took down two of Kulgkar's gang.

Maraxus smiles to the spider, "Me and death, are old friends. Still we should move before we become closer friends." Looking at the fire, and pushing hismelf back up to his feet. The pouch on his side is very easy to get to, but all it is filled is with grease. It is not bacon grease, it is the kind you use to oil machines with. The lunarian starting his way back towards the Redemption. Kupor has given Maraxus a vote.

Mordecai pushes himself up again, gruntingly, and in pain a few wood splinters visibly sticking from his back... And as he finishes clambering back to his feet, slightly unsteady, he first glances back towards the clearing, to see how Maraxus, the spider, and even Ka'Len are faring, before he looks towards where Trigger fell... And then starts heading that way, thumbing the hammer back on one of his revolvers again as he goes, and his expression set slightly grim as he moves to the task of putting one last bullet in the man's head, to make sure he meets King Tonberry and Hades appropiately, and won't come back to cause problems later... Only moving back to the clearing to check on his crew, as well as the mysterious present Zhgir, once that task is done.

Zhgir lifts his greasy hand and wrinkles his nose at the smell. Nope... Not today. He wipes the grease off onto the tree before hopping after Maraxus. "Hey! Listen!" He shouts out after the lunarian, "What about that hunter with all the pretty colors? And the bombs? And the chocobos, won't you please think about the chocobos?"

Maraxus glances back to the spider, "Ye be mad? Dah carts destroyed, dah chocobo's canna be runnin on der own. Dah soldiers be deserven to ba burned. Nuff said." Letting the subject drop just like that. His hammer lifted and put over his shoulder and humpfs, "Captain, dah task bein done. Needa ta be restin, took a wee bit o damage der."