Out of Character:
I've said it in pms, I'm saying it here, I'm the one at fault for the bomb thing because as I was writing I was working off an old draft of Lask's weapons. I couldn't edit it by the time I realized, so it's being amended now. Hopefully this will not bother people.





Over the white-hot pain in his shoulder and his aching side, Lask was dimly aware that words were being spoken. Archon who sounded very, very annoyed. Lask got the general gist of it; but he’d knocked over a few temples - inhabited and un-inhabited - before final exams while still studying. It was pretty much all the same, the only issue was that he’d been left out of the first conversation so the whole rant sounded, to his outer ear at least, pretty damn odd. The threats at least he was used to, but they didn’t mention him by name or were very imaginative which made it more of an afterthought than an actual desire.

So, while his conscious mind was processing all of this, his subconscious was trying to get his attention. It was more important than the ache in his ankles from the hard landing, or the horrible oozy-wet feeling having been shot.

Smoke

It was very much more important than the swirling of magic behind him and the fact his sword arm wasn’t as strong as it was a few minutes ago. It was-

Smoke. That was a smoke bomb.

- definitely more important than the boats, and the people and the -

I don’t carry smoke bombs!

His eyes widened to the soundtrack of Yuka’s melodious cry of “Suishoha!” At his waist, vibrating most insistently, were eleven bombs that were not his handiwork at all, soaking up the ambient magic like sponges and about to tear him in two.

Reeking of ozone, the air was rent apart as the magic took hold and created a pretty damn good wave right then and there in the arena to overturn the other boats. It took a moment to adjust, to dig his talons in and try and steady himself as he tried to gather his wits together as-

“Bugger.”

Another ‘spell’ was cast, this time from Archon’s direction. Yuka, holding yet more secrets as she weathered the rocking from the after-effects of her wave (girl never said she knew boats, she does it so well.) responded with something just as god-like as the conversation before. Only this time, there really was flaming torches.

Which were actually flaming boats, but they were on fire and that was what mattered.

But at this point Lask was not looking at this amazing light show of transformative magic and seductive beauty. He did not notice Yuka gracefully side-step him and spin that arrow out of thin air. No, this meaty lizard’s attention was taken up entirely by straps and buckles, wisps of energy flowing in the wake of his movements and his wounded arm – the throwing one no less – was not so good at this moment in time.

“Ooooarrrrrrshit!” He finally cried out, as buckles came loose, and he could toss the damn thing over hand at the still water behind them both. Maybe Yuka noticed, maybe she didn’t, but the crowd took great interest at this hurled strap of leather, and then lost interest when it decided to explode.

That bloody Nirvana! Masters of Chaos – god or otherwise if he believed her crazy story - should not be allowed to become so inebriated they can no longer control their natural field of power, it just wasn’t on. But, you know, celebrations at all. How was he supposed to know the stupid cow would mess with his equipment? Bloody hell!

So the belt flew in a splendidly crappy arc, only to explode in a spectacular fashion. The smoke remained the same, stinking and oddly thick, but this time, as it spread, it changed. As the crowd tried to get away, the leading edge of the spreading cloud and it’s rain of oddly shaped ash transformed itself into a myriad of emerald green butterflies. The center however became a light rain of miniature custard tarts (with a few reports of lemon ones as well, but that was blamed on the butterflies), which in turn lead to a rather amusing patter of splatting over those that weren’t quick enough to open their mouths for a free feed.

Lask, at this point in time, was trying to scrape his jaw off the bottom of the boat. He was also quietly thankful he had hurled it away from his opponents, because he wasn’t sure how they would have taken being covered in custard like that. Although it would be rather hilari-

Oh, hang on. He was fighting wasn’t he. Yes? Yes.

He spun around, hoping Yuka had left him at least one or two boats to get to the other side. Even if he had to row. He had one arm working properly and at tail, and he could flail like a mad thing if needs be. Hell, if he had to, he’d headbutt someone, he would. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

And that water nymph thing was too, but only because they were in a watery situation and it seemed like, you know, trouble. That and the allure effect was trying to kick in, except with the wrong species and while it did nudge the libido, common sense and generations of instinct rejected it as best it could. How the gunslinger was fairing was anyone's guess.

Enduring judgement, eh?

“Come over here and say it to our faces, you…you…” His flail of frustration was bad; his arm flared up again, making the poor creature cranky. “Just you try it!”