Stroll

by re- Yamsmos

Digging

And for just a few seconds of her life, the world looked to be in a fit of slowly—maddeningly—crawling by.

She'd been in the process of simply turning about to face the music she was more than absolutely certain had already made its debut onboard the Scuttlebug proper, but, her eyes closed, she could only smell, and hear.

The roaring, and crashing, and tossing about of the churning waves violently colliding with all three ships, sending large swathes of cold, salty water over the top of the deck as the vessel rolled to and fro from the sea and the newly landing invaders coming in from either side. The aroma of smoking gunpowder and crackling fire still present and twirling about in the air around her head from their recent exercise, at once starting oddly anew in rapid volleys all about the deck. The body odor of pirates—bird and dog—mixing together in quite possibly one of the most frighteningly disgusting, gutwrenching, vomit-inducing combinations of things she'd ever lived to experience. The odd ringing of metal to metal, first scattered and unremarkable, and now at full capacity and with much greater force and intensity, marking scimitars, bayonets, knives, and whatever else she was sure a combatant could get their grasps on in the manic moment.

The wind blew vigorously, whipping and tussling her mane and sending it waving out to her right side, where it flapped like a nation's flag standing high and mighty over a bustling capital building. More than just a hoofful of locks stung at her face from what she now—hopefully—deduced to be an explosion of some kind, and, her breathing as calm as ever, Octavia finally opened her eyes.

Diamond Dogs, dressed in loose, rope-tightened shirts and tattered bandanas, swinging in on long brown ropes, wielding cutlasses, scimitars, flintlocks, and the widest, most mischievous smirks she'd ever seen in her entire life.

Griffons, grabbing whatever they could and already choosing their targets, part of some glory-driven hivemind that helped them brandish arms and defend each other with them to their last breath.

A wave was rushing over the top of the deck, turning inward and ready to soak the poor quartet of griffons to the bone in its wake.

A cannonball was soaring their way from the ship to her right, its previous housing still spitting fire from its muzzle due to the blast.

Sesame, lighting his horn and lowering himself into a less manipulative stance.

Valkyrie, pulling back a slide on her rather large-looking Magicarm and bringing it up to her eyes.

T, already aiming his own boxy Magicarm and standing completely still as if in contemplation of pulling the trigger.

Lavi, cranking hers as fast as she could muster with a bead of sweat trailing down her forehead.

Andy, crouched down and gritting his teeth with the force of a thousand channel-locks, trout in either claw and ready to smack.

And, sitting up but still clearly injured, W, pulling the hammer back on Candidate, raising it up to his eyesight, shutting one, and firing without a spoken word.

JOONK!

And, as if the depressed trigger was the world's as well, everything came rushing back to her in a mind-numbing blur.

The Dogs made contact with the deck, and were instantly met with roars, screams, and shouts that they made their primary goal to unmistakably replicate.

BOOM!

CLANG, CLANK, SHINK!

"Raaaaaaaaah!"

TFFFFFF!

Octavia's heart leapt from her chest, and before she could realize it, she was turning tail with the agility of a Wonderbolt and sprinting toward cover, lowering her head and ducking left and right as the floor beneath her hooves, the beams inches from her head, and the objects at the sides of her makeshift trail blasted apart and sent razor-sharp shards of wood almost into her rump. Her breathing now at a frantic pace, she continued on her way and looked quickly for an exit. The lower decks? The staircase, first! No, first the door leading to them!

She took a quick left and took the deck at an angle, finding her mark, until a pair of figures backpedaled in front of her, clashing swords and shouting obscenities at each other in languages she wasn't wholly accustomed to. The griffon, wielding his scimitar in his left claw, used his gold-plated pummel and metallically booped the Dog right in the nose, who recoiled, felt for blood, and—finding none—hissed like a feral beast and used his right hand to knock the scimitar out of the griffon's grasp. The weapon spun like a frisbee and lodged into a beam behind where Octavia's head had been just a second prior. Octavia, unable to bear looking at her six, about tripped over herself and went to her right toward the far corner of the Scuttlebug's top deck. Another gunshot, another peeling away of finely-carved wood that burst into pieces and caused her to quickly shield her eyes for safety.

She lowered her foreleg for a second, just in time to help her stop the rest of her legs from continuing forward and right into the way of the bouncing barrel carrying a Diamond Dog across the floor, over another duo of griffon and Dog wrestling on the floor, and directly overboard and into the thundering sea. Another relentless wave crashed onto the deck right next to her, creating large puddles beneath her hooves and sending a few combatants nearby onto their arses. Octavia, having seen the water coming, lowered her head, her gaze, and tried to add her heart rate, fleeing a duo blocking her path through a hole in a large wooden crate adjacent to their position. She skittered backward and clenched her teeth as a few pirates practically flew past her, one carrying the other three in a Firemare's Carry and right into a wall that they promptly disappeared into, leaving a hole the exact shape of their form right down to the individual, freezing hairs. The pitter-patter of the soft rainstorm was beginning to pave the way for a low rolling, and she mulled on the matter to help her remember where exactly she had been headed.

Inside!

She turned to her right, a smile on her face from the revelation...

...and instantly fell to her stomach, dodging an airborne griffon who crumbled onto the floor behind her and waited for the Diamond Dog now in full view in front of her to approach. She looked up at the bipedal canine, who took one look at her and suddenly reached to his side. Octavia sucked in a breath as she noticed the leather holster.

Suddenly, the Dog whimpered and collapsed into a cold heap onto the ground.

Octavia looked over to find Lavi shaking her opening and closing fist and muttering something about pain. Lavi took notice of Octavia's presence and gave her a quick wave before cutting herself off, lowering her right shoulder, and taking the Dog right over her back with a soft, "Oof!" that turned into a "Hahahaha!" as her opponent landed face-first. She turned at the hip and reached for a barrel, ignoring the odd arrow that shot through the air and stuck itself right into the object's exterior. "Found 'em!" She yelled above the noise, slightly sidestepping to her right—taking the barrel with her in the process—as a pair of pirates headbutted the wooden beam on her left and sank to the floor with low groans. Octavia, sucking on her teeth and clenching both tightly, did as they and tried to hide herself on the ground.

Lavi reached into the barrel, pulled out what Octavia had the mind to note as a musket, and chucked it to someone nearby, who, after turning, Octavia was able to recognize as Valkyrie, who caught it with a smile on her face and, gripping the front end, swung the weapon probably as hard as she was earthly able to like a golf club, striking the charging Diamond Dog in front of her square across his jaw and sending a cloud of spittle into the air as he arched his back and flew back about a foot or so. The musket's butt now hanging over her left shoulder at the end of her flourish, Valkyrie let the rushing-by T take it, adjust it, and promptly slam its metallic buttplate directly into the gut of another Dog who, with the wind seriously knocked out of him, backpedaled in pain and was met with a roundhouse kick by Lavi, sending him to the ground impressively.

Valkyrie took a second to begin a laugh, but let out a sharp gasp as she was grabbed from behind by a pair of gloved claws and yanked toward them. Just as quickly, a pair of claws yanked the obvious Dog back, who released Valkyrie and was thus released himself. Distracted by the odd favour, the Dog heard the sound of a warcry and looked straight ahead just in time to at least see the fist collide with his face and send him stumbling backward, where a very annoyed T only gave him a kick right back, and, at the speed he had been given, easily tumbled over the now-crouching Valkyrie and landed right onto the patiently waiting Lavi's shoulder. His eyes grew wide, and he let out a little doggy whimper as Valkyrie grabbed his hindlegs and, together with Lavi, brought him up, jumped into the air, and slammed him back onto the deck like some kind of overly-exaggerated wrestling show.

Their happenstance now over, the three griffons smirked at each other before darting away to find a new target.

THUNK!

"Awooooooo!"

CLUNK!

"Woooooo!"

THUMP!

"Barooooooooo!"

Octavia looked toward the source of the noise and sucked in a breath.

His left breastplate sunken in from the swivel, his forehead practically bleeding sweat, but still very, very much kicking, W—having seemingly exhausted Candidate's ammunition for the time being—looked to be... dancing about the Scuttlebug's deck as a quartet of griffons used their muscles on the Dogs ballsy enough to rush them. Delicately maneuvering Candidate in his claws, W caught his foes in the side of the head, right in the gut, and straight into the elbow with moves like an old samurai wielding a bo staff. His Magicarm clicked and clacked as it cut through the air and sent its targets spinning, falling, and lying down. A Dog successfully knocked the griffon to W's rear and right to the ground and began to rush the old griffon, and Octavia brought up a foreleg to try and warn him. Instead, as if sensing it, W deftly bashed the Dog's side with the butt of his rifle, sent him clutching the growing bump, and wound up for a long cut that would have definitely been a hole-in-one had his golf ball been exactly that and not a poor, unfortunate pirate Dog.

The griffon that had failed to defend W finally rose to his feet and grabbed hold of the still cringing Dog with a claw, then threw him to the ground and tried to make up for last time by blocking the next rusher while W reached into a pouch on his chest and placed three cases into Candidate's cylinder. Flicking his wrist and causing the cylinder to shut back into place, W struck another Dog with the main body of Candidate, watched as he stumbled back, and quickly fired a shot that sent him a few feet back.

JOONK!

W fell to a crouch, taking the Dog over his shoulder much like Lavi before him, and, rising, fired a shot into the downed doggy's gut that caused him to aroo in pain.

Octavia struggled to regulate her breathing, and looked around for Sesame to make sure he was okay, assuming that his orange coat and green flannel would make him a quick find.

Glass shattered deafeningly next to her head, and she watched as the remnants of a beer bottle spilled out in front of her... including a particularly jagged shard. Before the paw in her peripherals could grab it, she reached a foreleg over and kicked it across the deck as far as she could, heard a growly voice curse, "Bowl-damned pony!" and listened as the sound of a Diamond Dog hitting the floor came to her ears. The griffon she'd just saved barely got out a thank you before being tackled by another Dog. The two began to roll around in a cloud of dust and stars.

She rose to her hooves to try and find a much better position to take cover, then grit her teeth and craned her neck back as a griffon charged a Dog carrying an entire, whole, untarnished barrel over his head, shouting a warcry all the while. The Dog, wielding a rod Octavia had seen the Scuttlebug's crew use to push cannon balls down a cannon's muzzle, simply swung and caught the griffon in the stomach. Noticing the sinking griffon's gaze, he swiftly reared around and gave Octavia a pair of hungry eyes and a side-exposed tongue, then clutched at his head—dropping his rod in the process—as a griffon, gripping a fishing pole, began lightly thwacking him like a grandmother would a pervy stallion with her purse on the street.

Octavia's jaw hit the floor as a literal, entire cannon whoooshed through the air and made hard contact with the griffon, who crumpled into a little ball. The thrower, a Dog, revealed himself and began to join his adversary in approaching Octavia, until two cannon balls flew like baseballs and caught them each on the side of the cheek, sending them directly onto the poor fisher in a fur-on-feather pile.

She flinched and let out a cry as a fist crunched into the wooden beam now over her head, pulled at the structure underneath, and began swinging around a newly detached, probably very important, weapon at its opponent, the species of which Octavia wasn't able to see behind the chaotic crowd.

To her right, a griffon was choking out a Dog with what appeared to be a yellow knit-sweater.

To her left, a Dog, paws over her head, sunk a large boot directly over the eyes of her opponent, who, his voice muffled, began asking who turned out the lights, and received an answer in the form of a swift kick to the groin.

Behind her, a griffon screaming and roaring at the top of his lungs, using all of his strength to stop the Dog atop him from scooping his right eye out with the spoon in its paws.

In front of her, a Dog charged a griffon, who, casually, and with one hand, brought out a short shovel and claaaaanged the Dog across the bandana.

To their left, a griffon was doing a piledriver onto a living room couch.

To their left, a Dog was in the process of folding a lawn chair, which it raised over its head and used like some kind of snare, trapping his target who popped out through the thin fabric with his forelegs now stuck to his sides. The griffon gave a sheepish grin, realizing his position, and let out a comedic yelp as the Dog tackled him to the ground.

There!

Octavia rushed the door to the Scuttlebug's interior, now finding it unoccupied. Now was her chance! She could get down and... do whatever she was planning to when she got down there!

She screeched to a halt for what seemed like the umpteenth time and watched as a Dog sailed peacefully into the door and disappeared inside.

Her heart beat twice.

The Dog came soaring back out, tried to catch himself, tripped over first one barrel, then two, then a pair of pirates still wrestling on the floor, then the lip of the Scuttlebug, finally finding the definition of the word "overboard". A griffon, nonchalantly exiting the door with bags under his eyes (who in the bloody hell could have been sleeping at this point in time?!) swung a fist into an approaching Dog on his left flank, minded the door he'd just made use of, crouched, grabbed hold of both sides of it, and very naturally ripped the door from its hinges just because he could. He used it like a shield, letting a Dog's cutlass sink into its surface, then began using it like Lavi had the baking sheet back in Tall Tale and battered his opponent brutally.

Octavia instinctively ducked as a beer bottle was flung over her head, shattering next to the now eternally open entryway marking her escape. She raised a hoof to continue fleeing, then took notice of Cheers quietly walking across the deck toward her desination as well.

"Cheers!"

Cheers turned at her voice, then saw the Dog she'd seen charging him. Clicking his beak and adjusting his chef's hat, he went low, opened a fist, and palmed the Dog's chest, sending him stumbling backward and hacking out a lung. Cheers approached, yanked the Dog by one shoulder, turned him around, clutched his two forelegs around the Dog's chest, sucked in a breath, and very aptly suplexed him with a dead glare on his face. As the Dog—eyes wide—twitched on the floor and made noises reminiscent of someone who'd just experienced a mind-screw, Cheers got back to all fours, wiped his apron, and barely told Octavia, "Gonn' go make soom tea," before disappearing inside.

"Ahhhhhh-ya-ya-ya-ya-yaaaaaa!"

Octavia looked up to search for the noise and found a Diamond Dog swinging in on a rope whooping and hollering, before getting instantly clocked upside the head and knocked out of the air by a baseball.

Baseball.

Her hooves went up to shift her hat back around, finding its back-face quite uncomfortable and, as if on cue—or always on the watch—W appeared before her, loading Candidate once more. Huffing and puffing and clearly out of breath for the moment, he regarded Octavia with a wheezy, "H-Hey."

Octavia scratched her throat. "H-Hello."

W reached to his side and pulled out a frying pan.

Octavia made a face.

"Couldn't find you a broom. Sorry."

With that, he turned about at the hip, cocked Candidate's hammer back, and fired at a Dog who'd been on the verge of beating T's head open. T, not even noticing the Dog until he'd hit the floor, looked at W and nodded quietly.

Running her hoof along the edge of what she now realized to be her new method of defense apart from prayer, she looked up at the sound of a metallic click and found a Diamond Dog staring her down...

...the business end of a flintlock doing the same.

Octavia didn't even have time to gasp or watch her life flash before her eyes.

She flinched as a loud PFFFFF rocked her world...

...and noticed she wasn't hurting all over, or waking up to the gates of the heavens.

She opened her eyes and noticed her pan was in front of her face.

She turned it over and looked at it. And looked at the dent right in the middle of its cast-iron surface.

She flicked her chin and faced the Dog who'd just made the mistake of shooting at her.

She glared.

The Dog gulped.

Jumping to her four legs, she extended her right one and CLAAAAANGED her opponent's flintlock out of his grasp. The Dog, clutching his hand, gave her a painful grimace before getting caught up in a white blur that sent him right over the side of the ship and into the water. A Dog on the other ship, seemingly attempting to take his friend's place by boarding, slipped on the rain-soaked lip of the Scuttlebug and tumbled into the water as well.

The blur became a griffon, who flashed her a grin.

Octavia returned the gesture.

The griffon was shoved overboard by a blue blur and, if the amount of voices was any indication, became part of a whole group of griffons now swimming in the rapid waters.

The blur became a Diamond Dog. A big one, who patted the end of a pool cue against an open paw and smirked at her as he stepped forward.

Octavia sneered, something the Dog apparently didn't find too nice. He wound up, raising an arm, and threw the cue down with the intent of clonking her skull. She lowered herself to the ground and sidestepped just in time then, raising her right hindleg, easily snapped the pool cue in half before the Dog could bring it back up again. Gripping her frying pan much harder, she stretched her foreleg as far to her left as she could, popped a few bones that she inwardly cringed at hearing, and pushed all her weight into sinking her weapon into the Dog's now much closer face.

BONK!

The Dog shrank back, clutching his cheek with a grunt and a whine, then simply collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

Octavia about tripped as the Scuttlebug tiiipped over to its right from a massive wave, sending a large collection of crates and barrels her way, still strapped down for the voyage they'd been prior peacefully partaking in. Waving her forelegs frantically about to try and maintain her balance, she grit her teeth, turned at the rising volume of some ungodsly scream, and suddenly fell to her stomach as a griffon soared over her head as if from an explosion of some sort. Her pan clattered onto the floor much too far away from her. She scrambled onto her hooves to try and reach for it, but flinched and let out a shrill cry as a loud CHFFFFF burst into her eardrums. A few pieces of wood falling onto her mane let her know that she'd just been shot at by another Dog's flintlock. Hugging her new bit of cover tightly, she dared a look over the top of it to find a rather bulky Dog stomping her way... an entire shoulder strap of flintlocks across his clothed chest. She widened her eyes and sank to the ground as another ball screamed through the air and buried itself in the crate right next to her rump. Had it been an inch thinner, she would have been looking at a puncture wound.

The thought scaring the absolute shit out of her, Octavia could only bring her forelegs close to her head as ball after ball was shot her way, each time impacting her cover and diminishing its purpose little by little. She flinched and juttered to her left. A hole the size of a bit lay in the crate right by her ear.

A hole that allowed her to take notice of what exactly lay inside the crate as well.

Her eyes hungrily went over the stencil on the side of it.

Cooking Supplies

Octavia, without even thinking about the consequences, pulled a foreleg back and punched the crate as hard as she could. Rewarded with the entire thing caving in, she pried the newly cracked boards open and pulled out a cooking pot. This would do.

Yet again, her brain apparently ceasing every function it had prior utilized, Octavia upturned the cooking pot and put it on her head.

She rose from her cover and was immediately rewarded with two shots that rang her eardrums and caused her to shake her head, feeling a migraine suddenly coming on. Bringing up a foreleg, she tilted the front of the pot upward so she could see and found her opponent now flintlock-less.

She gave him a cocky grin.

Which was quickly replaced by a cheeky frown and a shout as the Dog rushed her, unfazed, and tackled her to the ground without letting her recuperate from her blinding headache.

Her desperate headgear rolled away once she hit the ground, and she cracked open an eyelid and then the other to see the Dog now straddling her reaching for his right side.

Octavia actually hissed.

She pulled her left hindleg out, kicked the Dog's right hindleg back, then twisted about to her left, pulled her right hindleg out, and bucked the Dog's right arm with a hopefully bone-shattering impact. The knife he'd been taking out spilled onto the floor, where someone else scooped it up, tried to make use of it as well, and was promptly chucked overboard before helping it taste blood.

Octavia reached around for her cooking pot and, finding it, coiled a hoof around it as the Dog still above her felt his arm, teeth grit.

WEEEET! she whistled.

The Dog looked at her.

She caught him square in the face and put a nice bit of shade over his world. As he stumbled backward from the force and panickingly tried to wrench the pot off his head, Octavia adjusted her ballcap's bill, harumphed, and turned around, presented her ass to the Dog, and swiftly bucked him right in the gut. He fell without a sound.

As nobody else rose up to present her a temporary problem, Octavia's mind went to one thing.

She voiced it.

"I'm so Godsdamned pumped up right now!"

She raised her frying pan in triumph... which slammed a prior stumbling Diamond Dog across the chin and sent him onto the floor as well. She smirked, then let out a gasp as who she'd missed all this time finally appeared in her peripherals.

Sesame shot his head forward in tandem with the projectile from his horn, which splashed across the face of the Diamond Dog in front of him and sent them spinning. Gritting his teeth, he dodged a baseball bat aimed for his skull, magicked it, and sent both it and its stunned owner to his left and directly into the next one in line. Both fell. Sesame grinned, not noticing the Dog approaching him from behind.

Octavia slid a foreleg in a sweeping motion, then held her other high into the air, sucked in a breath, and launched her frying pan clear across the Scuttlebug's deck like a javelin.

"Hyaaaaaah!"

BRAAAAAANG!

THUMP!

Sesame jumped back, in the process of looking for Octavia, as Andy suddenly came into frame from within the crowd, toothily grinning.

"Thanks, lad!" He yelled above the noise. Grabbing hold of the pan before it hit the ground, he chucked one of his floppy trouts onto the top of it, tossed it into the air like one would an omelette, and suddenly flung it like a trebuchet. The Dog that it connected with was knocked out cold from the impact.

Octavia's jaw went slack.

Andy fled back into the crowd after catching his trout and tossing Sesame "his" frying pan. The Unicorn looked up after noticing the bullet markings on the pan's surface and began to say something to Octavia as she sprinted toward him, but was halted in time with her and the rest of the Scuttlebug as a sudden surge threw the entire ship—and from what she could tell—the boarding ships hard to the right. The storm, having picked up during the tremendous scuffle, increased its aggression and began tossing the vessels around like playthings. It shifted back to normal, causing Octavia to shake her head and try once again to reach Sesame's position, but a colossal wave instantaneously rocked the Scuttlebug and sent it at an almost sixty-degree angle.

As an entire unit, every living body aboard the Scuttlebug slid, floundered, flailed, and rolled across one side toward the other and piled up there, increasing the portside weight by at least ten times. The ship to the Scuttlebug's left, bearing the brunt impact of the practical missile of it, snapped in half with a guttural, monstrous CHOOK, and began to sink in the shape of a big, brown V.

The wave having taken its toll, the Scuttlebug shuddered back to its right, quickly colliding with the last boarding ship that was in the middle of taking its turn on the seas. The two ships neatly folded in on each other, their masts and poles being barely inches away from hitting each other, but on the way out, the various sails and other pieces of fabric caught on each other from the wind and the stress, and, with both ships now at a permanent angle, the fighting onboard the Scuttlebug began to—albeit arthritically—take form once more.

If they kept up like this, the Scuttlebug was doomed to capsize.

Octavia sucked a breath in through her nostrils—the fight being much less active due to the number of combatants newly overboard and newly out for the count—and pushed it out of her lips. She turned about to look for the Scuttlebug's wheel, found it, and instantly sprinted for it with all her remaining strength.

Ascending the staircase as quickly as she could manage, she stepped up onto the little podium, reared onto her hindlegs, and clutched the two of the Scuttlebug's steering wheel's pegs. Her heart beating out of her chest, she looked up at the interlocked, interweaved masts and sails, looked back down at the instrument in her grasp, back up, back down, then, hissing like a snake at the weight, cranked the wheel hard.

She was promptly rewarded with the sounds of straining wood and tearing canvas. She cranked the wheel just a single degree more.

SNAP!

WEEOO WEOO WEOO WEOO WEOO!

Octavia cracked open an eyelid, and was barely able to make out the other boarding pirate ship bobbing back into a rightful position... mast-less.

But that meant...

She looked back down as what she recognized to be Andy's whistle cried out.

Every single griffon still onboard ducked at once. Sesame as well.

The Diamond Dogs looked around quizically, wondering what their enemy was doing...

...and were all of a sudden wrapped around the newly-freed mast of their own ship, which rolled like a pivoting log across the Scuttlebug's deck and threw them all into the water.

KER-SPLUNK!

The thunderstorm bellowed overhead, still unable to match Andy's approaching footsteps as he speedily ascended the staircase to Octavia's right. The Scuttlebug parted ways with the two Diamond Dog pirate ships, which lagged behind, unable to propel themselves any longer.

Oh Gods she was seeing stars now.

Her head was giving her one hell of a blur at the moment.

The figure of Andy rolled up to her.

She fell back onto all fours, but raised one to ask, "Andy, what's your–"

"Hold up gonna shite," he told her, reaching for something in front of the wheel, pulling out a roll of toilet paper, and quickly disappearing down the stair again. The sound of the remaining door thunking told Octavia that she was now alone... in a storm... on a damaged ship... near the wheel...

She felt her heart catch in her throat.

Those griffons who weren't pulling in their comrades from the ocean's surface were looking up expectantly, silently, at her, rubbing at their injuries, or scratching their heads, or stretching their muscles, or grimacing in pain.

She looked back at all the salty faces staring her way, taking in each and every single feature on every single one of them. A black eye here. A swollen beak there. Lavi nursing a cut on the side of Valkyrie's neck. T stopping the blood flowing from his beak's nostrils. W uneasily supporting himself with Candidate as a cane. Sesame sucking in breaths like they were constantly his last.

They were all depending on her.

Their lives were in her hooves.

She tried to steady her breathing.

The thunder boomed overhead, lighting up the entire deck of the Scuttlebug.

Octavia lifted her chin...

...and raised a hoof up to touch the wheel once more.

She reared up on her hindlegs and grabbed a tight hold.

She puffed out her cheeks.

How hard could it be?

Comments

[the other sans]

Pretty sure this was a Pan-demic moment for Octavia as those dogs really tried to take some Pot shots at her with those flintlocks but seems like things turned to a shite moment as she had to now practically wheel the others to safety. After she did some mast destruction to the dogs ship of course. I would have also said that the griffons really barreled through the dogs but... not sure if cannon moment or not.

[ibeachu]

I'm feeling so much yes right now, I could explode.

[re- Yamsmos]

8736988
Four hours of non-stop writing! You can thank the Yakuza series and my general love for the silly for the fun fight.

[ibeachu]

8737055
Well, thanks Yakuza and Yamsmos's silliness. 😙