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The Domo blinked . . . and then sighed. If he had a nickel for every time this had happened . . . he'd have one dollar and 42 1/2 cents. The extra 2 1/2 were due to an old man who'd suffered sudden cardiac arrest before he could get the third 'ha' out.

The Domo puffed his chest up a bit, and took a couple of steps closer so he only stood four feet away. "Rawr rah rah rah rawr?" he asked sardonically, which translated to, "Are you quite done yet?" Unfortunately, the probability of him understanding the subtle nuances of the Domo language were quite low.

He shifted his grip on the guitar as he spoke, reversing it so the neck pointed toward the ground and the body up into the air. His left hand paw gripped (mysteriously, since he apparently lacked fingers) just beneath the head, and his right held the midpoint of the neck.

The little Domo was no fool. Even though he wasn't so unchivalrous as to smack the man while he was experiencing a laughing fit, he'd be "rawr"ed if he was going to let this butt-pirate point a gun at him.

The body of the guitar hummed through the air, moving with surprising speed for an object brandished by a creature of this size. It cut through the air in a horizontal arc, aimed at the man's hand to knock the weapon free, or at least away from the Domo's direction, before he had it all the way up.

The experience of having the instrument strike his hand would not be unlike having it hit with a small mallet for the man. There was definitely enough force and mass behind the swing to provide quite a blow. A fractured bone or a sprained wrist was not out of the question. If his hand was unprotected, anyway, but even if it were, it was still gonna hurt.

remain unharmed.

As the guitar made contact with the armor, lines of blue and yellow light flashed briefly across its surface, tracing out a number of tiny symbols that weren't visible otherwise. The guitar didn't even suffer a scratch. And since it didn't give way as the man had anticipated . . . well, one could probably puzzle out the rest.

The Domo was sufficiently intelligent to realize that one did not use an electric guitar as a blunt weapon unless said guitar had sufficient reinforcement of some sort. In this case, magical.

But the arc of the guitar continued onwards, and the Domo turned with it as he leaned back on his heels and let his little elbows straighten out to turn it into a mighty, all-out swing. He also pulled the body of the instrument down, so that it swung almost touching the ground. As such, when the gunslinger brought his hand back to knock the guitar away, it would already have moved on.

Of course, this wouldn't stop him from planting those lightning bullets around the Domo, and if he was fast enough, then he might be able to shoot all three off before that guitar came all the way around. If that were the case, and he still chose to raise his foot to stomp on the Domo . . . well, the guitar's body was coming around at ankle level, having built some momentum, and would knock the foot he stood on to accomplish this clean out from under him. If he chose to do otherwise, then (providing he didn't do something to prevent this) the guitar would clock his left ankle and seriously disturb his balance.

In either of these outcomes, the man with the gun would probably suffer a broken ankle, since armor, even leather, is usually relatively non-existent at joints to allow mobility. Of course, there might be an exception in this case.

Following this action (assuming no mishaps occurred), the Domo would stop turning, planting his stumpy little feet wide apart, facing Mr. butt-pirate, and drawing the guitar inward to end the swing at his left side, looking like a samurai about to draw his sword.

What he did from there would be determined by whatever his opponent chose to do next.

Oops. Well, this certainly qualified as a mishap. As his guitar was firmly grounded and the barrel of the gun swung towards him, it seemed the instrument-wielding Domo was royally and certifiably screwed.

But this man underestimated the little Domo's strength.

As his opponent brought the weapon to bear, the Domo gave his Stratocaster a mighty yank with both paws, allowing the butt pirate to discover that the furry little creature possessed the strength of a grown man as his foot, since it was resting on top of the guitar, was pulled out from under him. It was similar to placing one foot on a skateboard and suddenly having it shoot away. Thus, the Domo's original plan of putting him off balance would be accomplished, not to mention his aim would be wildly thrown off.

And as he did this, the little kitten-eater's somewhat mischievous nature incited him to cry "Rawr!" ( "Yoink!" )

Of course, this didn't guarantee that a gunshot wound would be avoided, since it was equally likely that the yank might not throw off his aim in time. This was left to chance . . .

[Result depends on Random Number Generator in HoH Q and A thread, since the one here isn't working.

Result: Hit]

The bullet still managed to strike the Domo in the shoulder, unfortunately, knocking him backwards on to his rear. It remained to be seen what else the bullet should be doing to him, but at least he had a moment to try and counter or overcome it before the man could get back to his feet . . . if the yank had been successful.

Considering the anatomical arrangement of a Domo, the area surrounding the shoulder included the face and a fair portion of the body. The small creature sat there, his left arm flailing wildly, and half of his face passing through dozens of strange expressions as the electricity played with his muscles like a puppeteer yanking randomly on the strings.

The effect, as it so often was with Domos, was a comical one. You try imagining a little furry brown person making half-faces at you without smiling.

At least he could still maneuver his legs and his right arm, though it's hard to provide the focus to do so when it feels like hundred of Fire Ants are munching on the inside of your skin. Still, the Domo could manage, and he used his right hand, which still held the guitar at the base of its neck, to drag his trusty instrument in front of him and wedge the bottom of the body against the ground. From there, he pulled himself forward from a sitting position into a kneeling one while he tried to remaster muscle control.

The added advantage of his positioning was the fact that the guitar (mostly) protected his body from any additional bullets that the gunslinger might send his way in the meantime.

But the Domo was angry now. Being shot in the shoulder with an electric bullet that made his face all twitchy by a man dressed like a gay buccaneer ranked fairly high on his list of pet peeves, and if there's one thing that anyone should remember, its avoiding putting anything vital near an angry Domo. Including your leg.

The Domo watched (through the eye that wasn't twitching and blinking in an epileptic manner) Mr. butt pirate approach and direct a sweeping kick at his instrument. In a slightly ironic reversal of what had happened earlier, the Domo raised his instrument off the ground a bit . . . and then smashed the base down again to catch his opponent's ankle between the hard wood and the ground with intent to sprain, at least.

Owwie.

But the hairy little ball of anger wasn't done yet. Willing his spastic left arm to reach out, he grabbed hold of his opponent's trapped foot. Now the electric current from his own bullet would pulse into the man's leg and force it to start twitching painfully, and adding insult to injury.

Don't mess wit da Domo, foo'.