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!Q7t.srvWZ6 02/25/12(Sat)03:15 No.18091077
File: 1330157724.jpg-(73 KB, 600x840, sorceress120.jpg)
 >>18090908
>>18090889
>>18090893
(No matches on Called Shot - Head.)
(Not that it mattered, they both rolled great on defense. Just letting you know.)
You decide to drop the immediate threat first, and center the reticule dot of the Shard Rifle on the Necromancer's head. Then, two things happen. First, Red drops from the ceiling, flipping so she'll land feet first, approximately on top of Bathrobe here. Second, Darthfucker, as you have named him swivels to face you, pointing the eyes of the blood-red human skull on the staff, which glow with purple-black energy at you. You're not combat trained, all of that stuff is theoretical, pre-programmed. So, you don't maintain proper discipline and focus when you pull the trigger. The needle skims over his head, and hits his hood, tearing it off and pinning it to the wall.
He can't be older than his early twenties, with a terrible blond stubble of a neck-beard, bad acne, and huge BC glasses. You have no idea how he fit those under the hood. Then Red lands on him feet, first, flooring him. He smacks into the tile floor chest first, and stops moving, as sparks of red lighting radiate outward, cracking and breaking the floor in a short radius around the impact. "Miles, Miles, Miles." Says Red, mockingly, as the necromancer groans under her weight. "You're becoming more trouble than you're worth. Can't even pull off a cover-up right." She grinds her heel into his back, which makes uncomfortable creaking noises. "Useless." She picks up the staff from his limp hand, looks at it a second, then tosses it aside, like yesterday's trash. "Useless!" She says again, with more vigor, putting heel so hard into 'Miles' shoulder, you're pretty sure you hear it pop.
(cont) |
