by

Yanick Champoux (38%)

Lee Watts (18%)

Josip Nað (17%)

Michel Lacombe (16%)

Dorian (4%)

goldkngt55 (3%)

Andrew Avila (2%)

Marten (1%)

Oliver (1%)

Part 7

Andrew Avila (28/10/2001)

Demuel turned around to tell the damned wench to stop screaming so damned much when he saw the vorox latched onto the back of their carriage. He let out a shivery, staggered breath and pulled out the Buedon .50 from it's belt holster. Demuel began firing away wildly, eyes neither on the attacker nor the street ahead of them.

He would only manage to fire twice. "Get the hell down!" he bellowed to the woman, before a greengrocer's awning hit him in the temple. Fruit and vegetables flew everywhere, crates were shattered under-hoof, and stands were trampled. Demuel fell back into the passenger compartment of the carriage, unconcious.

Magdalena was trying to scuttle away from the second uninvited guest to come aboard the coach, when she felt something heavy fall on her back-- it was that knave that had gotten her into all of this. His revolver slid backward, stopped by her hand against the seat of the carriage. Berserk, she grabbed the gun and let loose thunder upon the vorox. Even if the substantial recoil of the revolver hadn't caused her to send the third and forth bullets off into the evening sky, it wouldn't have mattered: her target, the vorox's head, didn't exist in any useful form after the second shot.

Even through her growing shock, Magdalena noticed that the carriage was slowing down. "Merciful Pancreator," she murmured. The gun slipped from her fingers...