Chaos doesn't like people who talk more than him? And he pulled in Wash? Bless his overly dramatic heart.
To be fair, Wash has been a bit preoccupied, because one Tucker is hard enough (oh god dammit) but a dozen of them is way too many. He actually buckles down for this fight, and it goes well enough - especially when he disarms one of them and has a rifle of his own again - right up until the wave of memories and agony rolls over the battlefield again, staggering him enough for an opportunistic Tucker to put an energy sword in his shoulder and send him sprawling to the ground. He snaps back to reality on his back, in pain, and you know what, fuck that-
The great thing about Fireball and its easily defined radius is that he can cast it far enough up to roast every Tucker who's still on their illusory feet and only get enough heat himself to singe his eyebrows.
(And his mind, if he's going to be honest with himself. If he lives through all of this, he'll be seeing that in his nightmares, along with everything else that's taken a crack at him over his life. God damn.)
The sword deactivates when its wielder falls, and Wash gets back to his feet to see illusions starting to flicker, pieces of the world glitching in and out like a shitty Skyrim mod, and off-brand cosmic Tommy Wiseau still yelling above it all and you know what, fuck this guy.
"WE DESERVE TO GO HOME, ASSHOLE! WE HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN BE PART OF YOUR HALF-ASSED COMMUNITY THEATER BULLSHIT, AND THIS IS THE WORST PLAY EVER! OF ALL TIME!"
Though it looks like curtain call is coming up, and Wash braces himself for whatever fresh hell that'll bring.
no subject
To be fair, Wash has been a bit preoccupied, because one Tucker is hard enough (oh god dammit) but a dozen of them is way too many. He actually buckles down for this fight, and it goes well enough - especially when he disarms one of them and has a rifle of his own again - right up until the wave of memories and agony rolls over the battlefield again, staggering him enough for an opportunistic Tucker to put an energy sword in his shoulder and send him sprawling to the ground. He snaps back to reality on his back, in pain, and you know what, fuck that-
The great thing about Fireball and its easily defined radius is that he can cast it far enough up to roast every Tucker who's still on their illusory feet and only get enough heat himself to singe his eyebrows.
(And his mind, if he's going to be honest with himself. If he lives through all of this, he'll be seeing that in his nightmares, along with everything else that's taken a crack at him over his life. God damn.)
The sword deactivates when its wielder falls, and Wash gets back to his feet to see illusions starting to flicker, pieces of the world glitching in and out like a shitty Skyrim mod, and off-brand cosmic Tommy Wiseau still yelling above it all and you know what, fuck this guy.
"WE DESERVE TO GO HOME, ASSHOLE! WE HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN BE PART OF YOUR HALF-ASSED COMMUNITY THEATER BULLSHIT, AND THIS IS THE WORST PLAY EVER! OF ALL TIME!"
Though it looks like curtain call is coming up, and Wash braces himself for whatever fresh hell that'll bring.