S A F F R O N . S T I R P E S
Gets Up His Ass For Once
The older Dragnan honestly expected Grim to put the ride on auto, but when she only shouted back, Saff replied with sticking out his tongue. The appearance of the other rival party seemed to create an unspoken truce between the two, however, Rhein's added permission only getting him a little more motivated. Honestly, the best thing to do was just go with the motions and pretend to be helping out, but overall outputting the least amount of energy as possible. Pulling out his throwing dagger, he pet Squeaky gently, the hubbub of the situation seeming not to affect the ugly boar even in the slightest. Almost as if he'd been drugged which, ha ha, totally didn't
happen, because as stated many times before, he and Saff were Tight Bros.
The crystal embedded throwing dagger was a glitchy magic imbued blade that Saffron got for a great deal in the Southern Deserts. It was supposed to be a transporter blade that could cut through the time-space fabric and teleport people, but whoever did work on it did a piss poor job. It ended up not being able to do any of that cool shit, and instead it had only like, two handy uses. The first was-- Saffron took hold of the stab dagger in Squeaky's side, both blades in his hands vibrating as they flickered and switched out. If you held another blade of the same brand-- even accidentally, it would switch out. It was handy for cases such as so, when he meant to stab the boar with the throwing knife instead of the stabby one. Most of the time it was a headache to deal with though, just like Saffron as a person.
Pocketing the stab dagger, Saffron reached once more for the throwing blade, ripping it out of the boar, an excess of blood coating it to the hilt, the stave handcuffed to his wrist warming hot. Leaning out the window and muttering a quick spell he aimed as far away from the rival group as possible, hoping that is poor aim would luck out and he'd somehow hit th- “Better hold on to something guys!”
Just as the dagger left the tips of his fingers, Grímhilðr did her fucking thing, Saffron grabbing the sides as he hissed a, "Little Shit!"
to express his chagrin. Squeaky slid down, leaving a trail of blood, which released another curse from the tall Dragnan. The dagger seemed to have taken Saffron's piss poor aim along with Grímhilðr's wild driving as two negatives that equaled to a positive, hitting true towards one of the rides and exploding with blood on impact. Not damaging, but blinding and gross as fuck. As soon as the Prowler landed back on all eight wheels with a grunt, the hand that last held the throwing knife was suddenly full of it again. That was it's second decent ability-- returning to it's official owner after being away for too long. See, that didn't come with the receipt though, Saff had a solid month of leaving his knives in their containers only to have a fist full of knife while trying to have a decent conversation.
Everything went to shit pretty quickly, and Saffron straightened himself, pocketing his knife as he made his way to Squeaky, the blood trail it'd left behind latching onto his stave-- truly, a handy housekeeper in cases of murder. He should do that instead of Hunting-- probably a way
less stressful job. Digging the end of his stave inside the boar's open wound, the stave turned a dark crimson and continued to get warm, the pig itself shriveling dry. It was gross and graphic, but it came with the title. Picking up the carcass with ease, Saffron headed out the Prowler as well, a thin layer of blood left over laced with explosive spell, blood already starting to boil.
Glancing to his side, he caught sight of some Horvin's casting device, brow furrowing instantly. Casting Devices tended to mean mages that went to school, and Saffron didn't really have a good history with the guys. Okay, at least he had a reason to outdo these guys now. Pig bomb on his shoulder, he alerted Rhein, "Uh, this one's hot-- mind drop kicking it towards Jumbo."
It was a more reasonable option than wasting a big explosion the other guys, and Rhein had a much more solid control of Ki and general physical strength than he did. It was necessary given the thing was threatening to blow in two turns-- which was probably in world slang for any fucking second
. Just as the second wave started to sweep over, Saffron's stave went back to it's wooden state, blood gushing from below in hazy squiggle shapes that arched over a side of the Prowler, not stopping the attack but enough to redirect the attack but at least getting away with just tipping them a little over, whole thing coming down in a crash, Saffron stumbling as he realized he probably didn't think that through whoops. That's what he gets for trying, unbelievable.