[Oh, that's not bad. So Buggy's the kind who can handle himself. Probably. Against an actual human combatant, more likely. How do they deal with a decayed old man?
Buggy's knives shred through mummified flesh like papery jerky. Pieces of the corpse, the rotted clothing, even some of the insects do fall to the ground, and the attempt is far more effective than Rosinante's follow-up shots, which do little more than punch holes in the corpse. The flies continue to buzz forward and Rosinante pulls off his coat and ripples it in the air almost like a matador, trying to shoo the flies away hard enough to disrupt their flight.]
I have no idea! Maybe fire? I can't reach my lighter right now.
[It's in his pocket, but dropping the coat seems like a bad idea as wherever the flies touch it, it crumbles to dust, leaving little gaps in the fabric and feathers. One strafes across his cheek with a hum and leaves a blackened streak in the flesh that causes him to cry out sharply in pain.
While the flies wreak havoc, the old man with his ruined skull and tattered flesh ambles toward the throne and sits. With a pound of his staff on the ground, the other fallen bodies begin to rise.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-04-27 01:27 am (UTC)Buggy's knives shred through mummified flesh like papery jerky. Pieces of the corpse, the rotted clothing, even some of the insects do fall to the ground, and the attempt is far more effective than Rosinante's follow-up shots, which do little more than punch holes in the corpse. The flies continue to buzz forward and Rosinante pulls off his coat and ripples it in the air almost like a matador, trying to shoo the flies away hard enough to disrupt their flight.]
I have no idea! Maybe fire? I can't reach my lighter right now.
[It's in his pocket, but dropping the coat seems like a bad idea as wherever the flies touch it, it crumbles to dust, leaving little gaps in the fabric and feathers. One strafes across his cheek with a hum and leaves a blackened streak in the flesh that causes him to cry out sharply in pain.
While the flies wreak havoc, the old man with his ruined skull and tattered flesh ambles toward the throne and sits. With a pound of his staff on the ground, the other fallen bodies begin to rise.]