The roar that follows is of a deathly anguish. A bear stumbles and slides to a halt, bewildered, fading fast. A dainty pair of metal handles play tip of the iceberg, scissors sunk to the hilt in the dying bear's eye. Who knows how far the blades went?]
Oh me oh my! Home already?!
[Geez, weren't they still sitting at eight hundred and something? Gloomy must have snatched a band of orphans from the jaws of death. Except — hang on.
There's more metallic swishes, more roars and growls and hard-swung paws. And with it, more blood. She lops a paw off and her face is speckled in the spray, she sweeps her blades through another's throat and her front takes the brunt thereafter. Jill isn't phased. She's got that look in her eye, madcap grin on, scissors threaded over her knuckles: two pairs per hand like she's fitted with claws.
Look, she's used to waking up neck deep in shit. That's par for the course, and once she might have been stunned by the literal bears, but at this point why question it? That dumpy mine town gave her lots of practice dissecting beasties, and before that she was slicing through steel, lean mean killing machines turned sparking wrecks at her feet.
No no no, the real problem is standing tall to the left, deflecting laser beams with a jumbo glowstick. Jill hurls herself into a charging bear and jabs it swift in the throat, one-two-three times for safety. She's still crouched against it as it falls, a carnivorous creature in her own right, but her eyes are all on him.]
2/2
SCHHPT!
The roar that follows is of a deathly anguish. A bear stumbles and slides to a halt, bewildered, fading fast. A dainty pair of metal handles play tip of the iceberg, scissors sunk to the hilt in the dying bear's eye. Who knows how far the blades went?]
Oh me oh my! Home already?!
[Geez, weren't they still sitting at eight hundred and something? Gloomy must have snatched a band of orphans from the jaws of death. Except — hang on.
There's more metallic swishes, more roars and growls and hard-swung paws. And with it, more blood. She lops a paw off and her face is speckled in the spray, she sweeps her blades through another's throat and her front takes the brunt thereafter. Jill isn't phased. She's got that look in her eye, madcap grin on, scissors threaded over her knuckles: two pairs per hand like she's fitted with claws.
Look, she's used to waking up neck deep in shit. That's par for the course, and once she might have been stunned by the literal bears, but at this point why question it? That dumpy mine town gave her lots of practice dissecting beasties, and before that she was slicing through steel, lean mean killing machines turned sparking wrecks at her feet.
No no no, the real problem is standing tall to the left, deflecting laser beams with a jumbo glowstick. Jill hurls herself into a charging bear and jabs it swift in the throat, one-two-three times for safety. She's still crouched against it as it falls, a carnivorous creature in her own right, but her eyes are all on him.]
Just who the fuck are you?
[He doesn't belong here. That much is for sure.]