fluffiest_archadian | [OOM] The Westersand, First Day, with Jay. (Prethreading.)

[OOM] The Westersand, First Day, with Jay. (Prethreading.)

The first hour or so out on the Westersand - an area more rock and clay than sand, but covered in a heavy layer of stuff nonetheless - is relatively uneventful. A few cactus-like creatures skitter across their path. Once or twice, something that looks like a burlap sack with a large, grinning tomato for a head gets too close and is shot down by an archer.

Sherral brings his chocobo alongside Jay's after a while, glancing over at him. "Are you dealing with the heat all right?"

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Sherral is a little slower to get up, but he's at the top of the cliff in good time, quickly brushing down his armour.

He takes a few steps forward, dropping into a crouch and peering down at the bandit camp nearby. Both sides are fortified, but the side they came from is noticeably more so. He can see cannons, but not many - two at the front, one at the back.

"What do you feel like trashing first? The men or the cannons?" Jay's voice is soft enough to be picked up by the comms but nothing more.

He pulls the scope from his rifle and examines the camp. "I've got a pretty clear shot from here but the next ridge would be better."

"The cannons," Sherral says. "They're magicite cannons, they pose the biggest threat to us here."

He pauses. "Let's head to the next ridge. Get you the best shot possible."

Jay nods and moves swiftly and silently across the rocks till he finds just the right spot. He lays flat on the ground with his rifle, taking aim with care and selecting the right ammo for the job. "Where's the best spot to hit them? The firing mechanism on top?"

"Firing mechanism, aye," Sherral says. "Take out the two at the front. I'm going to approach from the rear - I'll take the cannon out on my way."

He heads away along the ridge, moving towards the rear of the camp.

"No worries." He settles in, looking down the sight of his gun. "Give me a signal when you want them blown."

He rests his finger on the trigger, slowing his breathing, ready to take the shot.

Sherral makes his way down the cliff on the other side, and then circles the camp at an easy pace.

"I'm about to come into sight of their sentries," he murmurs, settling one hand on one of the magicite swords beneath his cloak. "Take out the front cannons now."

About seven seconds later, there was a yell from a sentry that he saw one, the sound through the earpiece of a sword being drawn - and then an extremely bright wave of lightning demolishes a chunk of the wall and continues into the camp until it collides with a watchtower and incinerates it.

Jay fired, pulled back the bolt and fired again, taking out both cannons in the space between three heartbeats. He shifted to follow to the source of the lighting, ready in case anyone took a run at Sherral.

The third cannon explodes shortly thereafter, and Sherral moves easily into the fray, blue magicite sword flashing about him, leaving trails of sparks behind him.

As soon as they see Jay, several bandits raise bows and start shooting at him. They are swiftly joined by a rifleman, although Ivalician guns are slow and woefully inaccurate.

Jay reloads and fires, worrying about the rifleman first and then the archers. He growls softly as an arrow skins across his shoulder, deflected by his armour but leaving a scratch on the smooth black surface. He shoots the archer in the head, taking him down in single messy shot.

Satisfied there are no more targets he can get from here, he fires his jump line across the ridge and draws a hand gun. "Bringing the fight to you."

"As you will," Sherral says calmly. "Try to leave any remaining infrastructure intact. We might yet have find purpose for it."

As several archers move into position to fire at Sherral, he sets a hand against the blade of his sword, and from its cutting edge comes a flurry of lightning blasts that tear through the archers in question.

"Are you telling me not to trash the place?" Jay's voice is light and laughing as he uses the jump line to slow his decent, surfing the loose gravel as he comes down the slope firing.

He jumps as he nears ground level, firing even as he flips through the air. He reaches back as he lets go of the line, pulling a sword from the sheath integral to his armour. Slashing with one hand and firing with the other, Jay hasn't had this much fun in years.

"More or less," Sherral replies cheerfully.

He decapitates a bandit, then frowns as the remaining ones start retreating up a nearby hill. One throws a shimmering shield up in their path, the other clutches a reddish-purple crystal to his chest and starts muttering.

Sherral growls, moving after them. Before he can reach them, a flash of reddish light illuminates the camp, and something large, winged and black pulls itself from the top of a mountain and swoops down towards them.

Jay swears and drops to a crouch. "Holy fuck! Okay, how do we kill that?"

But he also fires a bullet at the shield, wondering if his alternative world energy might give them an edge.

"The Paling will drop in a few minutes. Without a generator, it will just vanish," Sherral says, nodding at the shield as he drops to a crouch as well.

"As for that," he says, adjusting his grip on his sword and looking up as the monster swoops by. "My helmet display isn't homing in on any weak spots in that armour - so target the head. We break through the armour with brute force and take it out that way."

"Shit!" Jay mutters, stowing the blade. "I've got armour piercing rounds but I need the rifle." Which he left on the ridge for fear of damaging it on the way down. "Think you can keep it distracted till I get there?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Sherral says. "Go."

The dragon swoops around again, charging flames between its mandibles and firing a flurry of fireballs at them. Sherral moves between it and Jay, deflecting the flames away with a swing of his sword.

Jay scrambles up the ridge, racing towards the rifle. It takes him a moment to find the right ammo. These rounds are designed for putting holes in the side of armoured cars and denting tanks. He loads and aims for the dragon's head, trying to pick a gap between fireballs. He's only got two shot so he makes the most of them.

The dragon lets out a scream as the two rounds hit its head, and a spray of blackish-blue blood spurts out over the sands as it thrashes around, wailing and flapping.

As soon as its throes bring it down low enough, Sherral leaps up and drives his sword down through a gap in the armour left where the rounds went through, the point emerging beneath its jaw and pinning it to the ground. A lightning strike is summoned a second later.

After its faded, the dragon is still moving, it seems, flapping its wings and trying to gain altitude, even as its head is, between armoured rounds, sword and lightning, almost completely gone.

Jay jumps and slides, aiming to land on the dragon's back. He pulls a very sharp, wavy bladed knife, riding the dragon's thrashing to try to force the knife between the scales. He attacks the base of the wings, trying to cut muscles or tendons to stop the dragon's wings from flapping, trying to hamstring it.

Most of the armoured scales fit too tightly together, but there's one near the left wing that's slightly loose, leaving enough of a gap to get the knife in. It isn't long until the wing is useless and the dragon is lopsidedly crashing to the ground, claws raking at the sands.

Sherral moves in, charging lightning about his sword as he drives it up towards the dragon's chest. It hits armour at first with a crashing noise. "Obscura Dia Thundara Faram."

There's another flash, and the blade slides in, the dragon spraying blood.

Jay rolls out of the way as he and the dragon hit the dirt, ducking his head to avoid getting spraying with blood. "These things just don't know when to die!"

"They're rather stubborn, aye," Sherral says, pulling his sword free. The glow on it has faded now, so he tosses it aside. He'll pick it up later.

The dragon hauls itself onto its feet, crashing about.

"Your turn to be the decoy. Buy me two minutes," Sherral says, backing off a little.

"Got it. Come here ya big chicken!" He taunts, making a lot of noise to keep the dragon's attention on him as it thrashes. "Eyes on me, you ugly mook!" He pulls a throwing knife and aims it at the mangled remains of the monster's face, looking for tender bits between the broken scales. Anything to buy Sherral the time he needs.

The dragon bellows, crashing and flailing after Jay, letting out a few gouts of flame.

Sherral backs off until there's a little distance between them, and then takes a deep breath, drawing in the Mist around them. It appears as orange light tinged with green and gold at the edges, appearing from around him and being sucked into his body.

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