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Re: Praise the Sun. (Mind Flayer)
No, he hasn't. a voice called from behind Ichiro, before a bullet slashed through the side of the bystander's head. An old man who was dead before he hit the ground.
Turning, Ichiro would see an okami, his tail and ears black, and his eyes slitted as he aimed a second pistol at Ichiro while people all around screamed and started running in every direction, the second pistol turning to kill another human, a woman as she fled. He didn't need to reload after every shot.
His next shot buzzed so close to Ichiro's ear he could feel the breeze and actual pain from the snap as he lost some fur. It really is cathartic you know, Shooting these fools down like animals like they did to us. They'll even pay me to do it for them. Why don't you run along "Champion" before I add you to the bodycount. Don't really want to shoot a brother, but I'm gonna... he said, still aiming the other pistol as he shot down another person. His pistols were... Odd, compared to the flint and wheel locks Ichiro was used to seeing. The weapons themselves were long, and made of a dull metal, and whenever he pulled the trigger, a crystal backing flashed before the gunshot sounded, while a wheel set in the center of the weapon turned. Maybe a foot long in total, they were etched in runes from Ichiro's homeland and burned with every bullet he fired. Wilding Shaman magics fused into the weapons. He'd been away from home a little too long it seemed, because his people had figured out something insane. Or perhaps it was just this one man. Behind the heavy long coat he wore, across his back, was a leather bundle, and familiar crystal bullets hung from his belt, his neck, and his chest, while much longer ones, the ones he recognized from Kuna's collection of shinies, hung from only his right wrist, the back of each one carefully wrapped in paper.
No, he hasn't. a voice called from behind Ichiro, before a bullet slashed through the side of the bystander's head. An old man who was dead before he hit the ground.
Turning, Ichiro would see an okami, his tail and ears black, and his eyes slitted as he aimed a second pistol at Ichiro while people all around screamed and started running in every direction, the second pistol turning to kill another human, a woman as she fled. He didn't need to reload after every shot.
His next shot buzzed so close to Ichiro's ear he could feel the breeze and actual pain from the snap as he lost some fur. It really is cathartic you know, Shooting these fools down like animals like they did to us. They'll even pay me to do it for them. Why don't you run along "Champion" before I add you to the bodycount. Don't really want to shoot a brother, but I'm gonna... he said, still aiming the other pistol as he shot down another person. His pistols were... Odd, compared to the flint and wheel locks Ichiro was used to seeing. The weapons themselves were long, and made of a dull metal, and whenever he pulled the trigger, a crystal backing flashed before the gunshot sounded, while a wheel set in the center of the weapon turned. Maybe a foot long in total, they were etched in runes from Ichiro's homeland and burned with every bullet he fired. Wilding Shaman magics fused into the weapons. He'd been away from home a little too long it seemed, because his people had figured out something insane. Or perhaps it was just this one man. Behind the heavy long coat he wore, across his back, was a leather bundle, and familiar crystal bullets hung from his belt, his neck, and his chest, while much longer ones, the ones he recognized from Kuna's collection of shinies, hung from only his right wrist, the back of each one carefully wrapped in paper.