That son of a Dalarkian was going to die, and if he could help it, he was going to die painfully. The hunter raised his remaining 9KMG -the other had been kicked to the opposite end of the ship- and fired, the bullet pinging off of the nearby view port as his target, Al-rec, hastily ducked out of the way. The reptilian creature was frantic, scurrying left and right between various consoles in an attempt to not only stabilize the ship, but to avoid Artorias' far from accurate shots. Not that he could be blamed, a Slyhtherian cruiser was a rocky ride at the best of times, and hurtling towards the surface of a planet without gyro-stabilizers was a far cry from 'the best of times.'
"You're crazy!" Al-rec screamed, frantically pushing at levers with his tail and claws as yet another bullet ricocheted off of the wall to his right. There was no response from the hunter, who instead let go of the nearby door frame to drop deeper into the cockpit as the G-forces tossed the pair around like rag dolls. The lizard finally stopped his desperate attempt, and turned around with a loud hiss as his enemy drew nearer; though neither one could hear each other anymore as the wind roared around them; they were getting close enough to make out bits and pieces of the planet's surface.
As 'Lucky' raised his gun for another shot, the Slyhtherian gurgled, collecting his saliva into a small pouch in his right cheek, before suddenly spitting out a viscous blob of bright green goop. The hunter hastily moved to the side, the stream streaking past him harmlessly to land on a nearby computer console, which abruptly began to smoke as the acidic traits of the lizard's body fluids went to work.
The gun flashed this time, and a high-velocity nine milometer subralite round streaked through the air with a visible green flare. It burrowed it's way into the lizard's forehead, the spiked grooves along the side of the bullet working alongside with it's spinning motion to spread bits and pieces of scale, bone, and eventual brain matter all over the back of the cockpit. The lizard's body abruptly dropped, his clawed feet no longer fastening him to the soft ground of his ship, and Artorias struggled the holster his gun with a large smile beneath his mask. The ship continued to fall, bringing the ground ever close as the seconds ticked by, but such things were trivial and no longer mattered; he'd avenged the wrongs that had been committed against him.
There was less than a minute left before impact as he slowly made his way through the ship. The damned vessel was falling almost completely vertical, forcing him to quite literally climb upwards in order to reach the escape hatch. Being roughly the size of an earth football field, the ship was capable of handling anywhere between one and one hundred and sixty pilots, though the first would require an AI's assistance, and the latter would need a helluva small race. Bits and pieces of the late-crew were scattered here and there, blown apart or blasted away from his absolutely overkill rounds. That said, was there a better way?
If one were incredibly observant, they would notice that all total there were about seventeen corpses, and as such, it would come as little surprise that there were exactly seventeen escape pods. Arty clamored into one such pod, still holding on to his gun, and hastily reached out to shut the hatch before quickly running his fingers across a highly complex, alien keyboard. Seven seconds before impact, the pod launched... A loud boom filled the still air of the forest as the ship seemingly disintegrated against the ground, thousands of pounds of duranium absolutely liquefying any trees that got in it's way before settling into a massive, smoking creator.
Unfortunately for the man in the pod, he had only seconds to see his handiwork before he too found himself disappearing into the trees... Only, an escape pod was much smaller, and as such, it was the far more likely candidate for being shoved around. It impacted against a tree, hard; slamming it's occupant into the closest wall and denting a good portion of the pod inwards. The tree shook, violently, but held, sending the pod careening onto the forest floor below, where it impacted against the dirt floor with another loud crash -sending it's occupant straight into the metal floor of his 'vessel'-. It seemed, however, that it had landed on a rather steep hill, overlooking on of the few clearings in the massive, primordial forest.
By the time the hill/mountain had deposited the ruined mass of metal at the parking lot of the tavern, it's inhabitant had unleashed a massive vocabulary of expletives that would put even a sailor to shame. By the time he managed to forcefully kick open the warped door, and painfully drag himself out, however, Lucky had decided that the entire experience was entirely 'worth it'. Capture him, sure. Interrogation, sure. Strip him of his gear, fine. Throw away his ammo pouch simply because it contained a massive quantity of smarties?! UNACCEPTABLE.
Victorious, the heavily wounded stranger raised his fist to the sky, before blacking out.
[[Anyways, sorry it's not so great. I've lost the humour I used to have with this guy, and this is a fairly lame attempt at getting it back. Cheers.]]
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