Grok Gork, seizing the moment, rushed forward and took Robert in his arms.
No, this isn’t a bad fanfiction.
He then flung both of themselves onto the crude beast. Robert, terrified, did his best to calm the beast. Which entailed
holding on for dear god and going please stop please stop reaching down into it’s very soul. The two had engaged in mounted combat, much to the Bulettes (now named Princess) dismay.
Jayson started being useless and shimmied up onto a crate. He attempted a shot using his own pistol, but only managed to blow a hole in the crate beneath him. But as the Gods would have it, a delicate beam of sunlight filtered through the train’s windows, illuminating the crate’s vacuous and mysterious inner-workings.
All Zark had to do was look down.
What greeted him was a new, yet familiar sight. A cache of cowboy hats. Suddenly, the floodgates of genetic memory were opened to him, as Zark felt the desert sun beat hot against his neck. The howling winds grieve for those he had slain. His gun felt hot, and light. His eyes narrowed. And in a fraction of a second, Zark had drawn his second pistol and fired. The bullet pierced the air around it, flying straight and true. The monk stood no chance.
The bullet impacted his shoulder, sending him flying back into the wall. Zark, the gunslinger, blew the smoke from his barrel. His eyes, cold and dead, met the monk’s. So full of fire and hate, a waste of energy.
Adiós, hombre muerto.
Meanwhile, Jayson discovered some Hemp and attempted to smoke it.
Galloping forward with ever increasing speed,
Grok Gork and Robert were upon the wounded Monk in seconds.As Grok Gork raised his 10-inch, a burning sensation in the back of his head that he had felt for a while, began to amplify.
I think this guy is important so I don’t want to kill him, but I feel
Grok Gork totally would…
Augh! The pain loosened the Orc’s concentration, as his axe sailed downwards at the crucial moment. Cleaving through the monk’s leg like butter. Thus, began the interrogation.
Oh, and Zark kept going around speaking Spanish and adopted the exhausted Orc as his Native American sidekick, “Dances with Nalgenes”.
But, returning to the more critical matter, the group gathered around their downed enemy. Robert held a rapier to the man’s throat, and Jayson kept a gun trained to his head. Robert demanded more information about IronEater, and nervously the monk spilled the beans.
IronEater planned on reaching the badlands and finding the Orc God, Macuilxochitl, who recently had made a small appearance. Staring into the sky for an entire week, the being stated, “The Seed is calling.” before returning to his cave. A strange show, since Macuilxochitl hadn’t left his cave in centuries. IronEater somehow planned on gaining the item of yore, a Seed of Being, and using it to ascend to godhood to combat a “scaly menance”. The monk did not specify what the scaly menace was, as he took a chance to poke fun at Robert’s half-elf-ness.
I hope your mother squealed when she had you.
Losing his cool, Robert thrust the rapier forward. But alas, our party overlooked the capabilities of a monk. Grabbing the rapier, the monk warned the half-elf not to be hasty. Jayson boasted some mighty words about bringing
Grok Gork over there, but the monk did not take kindly to it. Using his other hand, the monk seized and crushed Jayson’s leg. He fell over with a loud yelp, and shot the monk in the head. Grok Gork mentioned his disappointment that he wasn’t the one to kill him.
Just then, the party noticed a large rising hill of water outside the window.