Boss Attacks: Laguna - clowning around - 562 words

1. Fight! This person manipulated you to get you here, and that’s reason enough in your mind to throw hands. Draw or write your character fighting this mysterious merwoman.

 

---

 

Frustrated and furious, Laguna howled - or whatever one could've called the sound she made. The mermaid inspected her fresh wound on her upper arm, neatly cauterized by the weaponized tool that had caused it.

 

Varick pulled back the oversized sewing needle. The string attached to it sang and hissed in the water like a choir of street cats, surprisingly in tune.

 

"Nice," Arcus encouraged the flaxen stallion. She sounded genuine.

 

The Clydesdale's ears twitched in surprise. He turned to the wyfex next to him. "Was that a compliment?"

 

"Ha!" Arcus corrected her grip around the cherry-wood-stocked shotgun in her hands. The flame engulfing her mane seemed to grow in size and intensity. "You wish, pony boy!"

 

"What is that?"

 

An unfamiliar voice drew her attention. Arcus turned to it, towards the opposite side from Varick.

 

It took a second for her to make sense of what she was looking at. Two pairs of goggles on top of one another reflected back her own image. The excitedly grinning face underneath them was...

 

Arcus tilted her head ever so slightly.

 

...sewn in half? Wait, no, that didn't make any sense.

 

The wyfex would've blinked if she had eyes. She glanced downwards at her firearm, and then looked at Screwloose again. "It's a gun," she stated flatly, "it shoots bullets."

 

"Can I try?" The demon inquired very much not carefully, leaning in towards the machine-thing with a still widening grin. Arcus backed up away from him, and in turn, Varick lazily swam out of her way.

 

"No," the wyfex answered, her tone sporting a vexed edge with a tinge of electronic static.

 

"Okay." Screwloose pulled his hands behind his back, and leaned back. He waited approximately four seconds, before asking again: "How about now?"

 

A growl emanated from her nonexistent throat. Arcus tossed the weapon upwards so it flipped, and grabbed it from its double barrel. She wound the firearm back, ready and willing to swing it like a wooden bat.

 

The action yielded an outcome she hoped, as the wyfex watched the demon scramble away from her, incoherently half-screaming something along the lines of okayokayokayokay. He cowered behind a tall figure in between the walking torch and Laguna.

 

Arcus' whole body flinched violently when her vision sensor reached the pale clown's face. She wasn't a stranger to faceless, emotionless creatures - she was one herself - but things that mimicked the organic ones too much, but wrong... she didn't like them. At all. People were enough trouble as is.

 

Marvo brought all of his hands together, tilting his head eerily - not that he meant it that way. The construct didn't utter a single word.

 

"You don't get any say in this, beanpole," Arcus replied loudly to the silence. The clown spread his upper pair of arms for a moment, before bringing them back together again.

 

Her whole frame tensed up like a wound metal spring. The wyfex flipped the shotgun in her hands, and aimed it straight at Marvo's face. The clown construct ducked out of the way, and pulled Screwloose with him.

 

Slightly too slow to halt her trigger finger, Arcus fired at Laguna. The woman blocked the attack with a swift spin of her staff. She wasn't pleased with the situation, and it showed.

 

"Now you've done it," Varick mused at Arcus. The wyfex turned to him in one, snappy movement.

 

"Oh, shut up!"