Octavia had read enough books and heard enough stories about Magicarms to know how devastatingly useful they were. The large magic-powered weapon shot certain kinds of spells like projectiles from a large glass casing that housed them, which itself was attached to a long wooden structure that had an area for ponies—and other species she now realized—to hold and grip firmly so as to get the best aim possible. Like the fictional automatic rifles that had plagued popular culture for years now, a Magicarm had a large, rectangular end that faced the user, and was placed on the offending shoulder to help with recoil. A trigger used to fire the magic—which were usually knockout spells or pacification spells—sat at the front of the rectangle, guarded by a circular piece of steel so there would be less chance of misfires.
Sitting inside a glass casing, just like playing in a concert Octavia knew, the spells eventually tired, and needed something to kickstart them so they could be propelled at the fastest speed when necessary. A large crank, situated on the left or right side of the glass casing and infused with magic, would be operated after every shot, just like a Unicorn needing to take a break after a few sustained spells. A lot more effective than crossbows, Magicarms would be seeing widespread use in the near future... or so it had been told, last time Octavia had remembered reading about it. And, searching for said memory, she realized that that had been about three years ago.
And still, to this day, all manners of law-enforcing ponies used either magical spells from their horns, spears, or crossbows to dish out their punishment. Unicorns still reigned supreme as being perfect for being guards or police officers, seeing as how they neither required guncasts to shoot crossbows nor other methods to use spears. Octavia had seen only a hoofful of guncasts in her time, and she knew how oddly crude but effective they were. Seeing as how she was currently prone behind a fallen tree, with a rather burly Griffon protecting her with his own Magicarm, Octavia saw fit to think back to how they worked.
She was exposed to gunfights now, as they were called in the books. Sooner or later, she realized, she'd have to learn how to use one herself. Not that she was expecting to take another hike like this, of course. It would... prove useful eventually, one way or the other. Guncasts, guncasts. She had only seen them a few times, and even less in action. The weapon that was being used, mostly always a crossbow, was placed on a mount that was strapped to the user's body like a harness. Securely fastened in with a mixture of magic and magnets, its long end was placed parallel on a likewise long steel beam that ended in an L shape that extended in front of the user's face, fitted with a soft rubber that was able to be bit down with little to no force. This beam allowed the user to aim, and, with a laser sight and a scope, could prove invaluable for their winning.
To fire the gun—as the users of Guncasts were either Pegasi or Earth Ponies and had none of a Unicorn's magic—a small, cylindrical rod was placed horizontally in the confines of the trigger guard, with stretchy elastic on each end that had no way of being torn apart thanks to rigorous testing. This elastic stretched down to the user's left or right hindleg, depending on preference, where it was attached to a special wrapping that looked vaguely like a helpful wrapping of gauze. The elastic itself lay on the bottom part of the attached hoof, and to fire, the pony using it simply needed to kick their hindleg at a certain angle. Especially effective on the ground, as kicking it into the dirt provided a faster way to ensure a shot, Guncasts were, as Octavia had remembered, crude but effective.
It was about that exact moment, exiting her thoughts, that the Griffon still standing guard over her ducked back behind the fallen oak with a grunt, his Magicarm grasped in a pair of gloved claws. His teeth bore in a white embrace, he growled from down in his throat somewhere and muttered something that Octavia couldn't quite hear above the other sounds emerging from the rest of the wooded area. Raising an eyebrow his way, the mare watched as he glared over at her, obviously caught in an admittedly annoyed mood. The Griffon sneered at her for a second of his time, then let it go and sighed.
Were it not for his being a Griffon, Octavia swore he could have made an amazing conductor for the Canterlot Symphony. His current attitude toward her sure matched up with her maestro back home. She had been roused out of reading her book or daydreaming over her stand enough by the Unicorn to know full well what he thought of her.
Crouching low to the dirt, the Griffon—who Octavia remembered as being called W—leaned toward her, a claw to her chest.
"All right, ma'am," he began, looking her in the eyes, "I want you to listen to me when I tell you this, no matter how crazy it sounds."
Octavia craned her neck back, a puzzled look on her face, "I'm currently sloshing around in a lot more than old dirt behind a broken oak tree. I think it's safe to assume that whatever you have is infinitely better than where I currently am."
W flinched, ducking down as a beam of magic flew over the top of his head. Sucking on his teeth, he stared at the ground and shook his head. His head swiveling to his left, he admired what he saw for a brief second and looked back at Octavia, who raised a foreleg up in preparation for whatever he was planning.
He stuck out a claw and pointed at something in the distance.
Octavia turned to it.
His claw went down a path that led even further into the woods. Octavia frowned.
"Now," W said, prompting Octavia to look his way once more, "I'm gonna cover you. And while I–" he cursed under his breath, a red blast suddenly embedding itself into a nearby tree, "–while I do so, I want you to head that way. And whatever you do, don't stop running–"
"Oh no you don't."
W flinched, his beak scrunching up.
"I've been running since last night." Octavia's glare hardened. "I'm not doing it again."
The Griffon lifted his chin, staring down at her. Octavia immediately realized how much it reminded her of the posh aristocrats from Canterlot, and found herself hating W on the spot. Fueled by this, with nothing but the sounds of magic being fired off past their makeshift cover, her eyes darted over to his Magicarm and stayed there. She spoke, not moving a muscle, "Give me your gun."
"I'm not giving you my gun, ma'am–"
"Give it to me." She stomped a hoof.
Hearing a loud pitter-patter increase in volume nearby, Octavia's ears perked up, catching the attention of W. Grasping his Magicarm tightly, he pressed his back against the log, peered over the top of it, and promptly rose to his back paws and threw his right claw out, grabbing the robed pony standing on the other side of it. A crossbow levitated in a green aura next to him, the pony's previously curious look shifted to utter surprise as he found a claw wrap around his neck, flinging him over the oak log and barely missing Octavia. Dazed, he groaned in pain as W's claw found refuge around his head, keeping him down on the dirt so he couldn't rise. W looked at the mare, an unimpressed look on his face.
He looked down, finding the stallion's crossbow on the floor between them.
Octavia knew what was coming, and gave her response instantly once W spoke.
"Pick it up."
"No."
W, placing his Magicarm under his left wing, retrieved the crossbow, pulling the string back and picking up the quiver of bolts the stallion had worn around his body. Shoving one into place and ensuring that it locked in its proper position, he twirled it on a claw and presented it to the mare. She raised a foreleg almost dismissively, screwing up her face in an attempt to show a lack of wanting.
"You said you wanted a gun," W claimed, his gruff voice beginning to grate on her ears. She began to wonder why they were able to make such small talk when they were currently in the middle of a war zone. She deduced that W's comrades had something to do about that, most likely drawing their fire from the Griffon and mare.
Octavia's ears flattened against her head, then rose up in an instant. "I said a gun, not some..." she shook a hoof, "medieval executor."
W rolled his eyes, grabbing the crossbow in its small grip and ducking as a stallion flew over his head, turning around in the dirt and churning up a flurry of grass in the process. Not even looking his way, W raised his firing arm and shot the bolt into the stallion's neck, causing him to slump to the floor in a cold heap.
Octavia gasped, slowly looking up at W with a pleading look.
"He's not dead, r-right?"
"No," W replied, the sounds of the now-sleeping stallion's snores reaching them, "now, if you would be so kind, I think they might've finally realized there's someone back here. I think it'd be best if you did as I told you– hey, what are you doing?"
"Well, if you must ask, you featherbrain," Octavia spat, turning to him with a frown on her face as she leaned against the log, "I think that your companions have induced a bit of a surrender in these brutish ponies attacking us." Smirking at the Griffon's slacking jaw, she turned her head back to the open field and found the (assumed) ponies raising their hooves up from their seats on their haunches, the armored Griffons walking up to them with their Magicarms fully sparking.
Finally letting go of the pony at his feet, W snorted, "I'll be damned..."
The pony, rising to his hooves with a pair of grit teeth, cracked open an eye and began looking around for something. Octavia, realizing what it was he was looking for, immediately pressed a hoof on his crossbow just as he noticed it and grabbed for it. Sliding her hoof underneath it, she tossed it over the log with a simple hum and stared at the pony.
"Not this time, I'm afraid." She secretly cracked a smile.
That sounded awesome in her head.
The pony, not even looking up at her, spoke up.
"Sorry Ms. Philharmonica," and fell to the ground.
Octavia froze, a foreleg in the air and a frown on her face as she bugged her eyes out in response.