Monday, November 22, 2010

[RP] Moving, Part IV

So the saga continues, with a post written by Fenniel aka Hammy. This will, I’m afraid, be the last idyllic post for a long while.

Enjoy! D:

(PS, Doodle-arts by me. But maybe you knew that already.)


This cave had been the perfect choice for a workshop, Fenniel decided. Engineering parts were already strewn over the floor, a prototype sidecar rested against one wall, and a near-overflowing bucket of bolts was placed in one corner. A mechanical squirrel was hopping around the cave in a semi-circle, chirping noisily to itself. Cuddles was lying on her back in the sun outside the cave mouth, emitting the occasional grunt as she slept and dreamed.

Fenniel was building a gun.

And not just any gun; this would be a special gun for Libby. He had decided it wouldn’t do to make her the kind of gun that he used for work, with a scope that required careful aim. Libby’s gun would have multiple chambers, a rapid fire trigger, and an obscenely large ammo clip. Libby had never used a gun and in the event that she would need one, he decided it should be lightweight, and have the capability to shower anyone that came after her with bullets. He’d chosen star wood for the stock and forestock, sanded and stained with a violet lacquer, her favorite color. For the trigger, best quality Truesilver, spring loaded. If Libby simply held the trigger down, the gun would spray ammunition. He’d crafted four barrels out of adamantite, stacked two on top of two. The gun would hold up to ten rounds of four bullets each. Last, but not least, he’d set a huge emerald into the stock. Just so it would be nice to look at.

It had taken Fenniel the better part of two days to build. Libby had of course wanted to know what he was spending all that time on in his “workshop”. He explained to her that he was getting things set up the way that he liked it (and she would probably clean it up anyways).

He popped a bullet into each chamber, and walked out of the cave opening. The sun barely filtered down through the trees of Feralas. Even though it was late summer, Fenn couldn’t feel the heat. He smiled, humming contentedly to himself. He cocked the gun back, and Cuddles opened one sleepy eye up at him. She grunted and rolled onto her right side.


Cuddles’ head jerked up, and she crankily roared at Fenn. Smoke rose up in wisps from the gun. A tree ten feet away was sporting a brand new and rather large hole through its middle. The wood around it was black, and splinters were sprayed out around the roots of the tree.

Fenn grinned from ear to ear.


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