He had expected her to strike and retreat, not hitch a ride. This changed things, but not enough... Patience... The jerking was constant, eratic at best, bewildered at worst. He needed a clean shot. Limited ammo, he had yet to check if it bore more then only the chambered shell. it thrashed, blood painting the rocks, mingling with dust in teh air before crashing down like miss directed rain drops. And laughter filled the air, it's own maddening song of revelry and death. He wasn't getting his clean shot, it wouldn't turn. No, instead it reached for her with it's right claw, one massive arm, able to rend metal and crush stone lifted over it's own head. Yes! It was turning, but not enough, not fast enough! He would grab her, Jynx would die if it got a hold.<br/><br/>The rifle was a fixer upper, or so he reasoned, damage would be minimal, at best. He needed to goad it with pain, cripple. It's right flank was exposed, the scaly hide about it's armpit noticably softer in hue. A weakspot? No time, he had to focus, had to aim... The channel changed... As if the Maker had heard his prayers for peace...<i>Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me.</i>Peace, taking time to listen, as he aimed. Let things progress, and they will progress all the slower...<i>Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.</i>A brightly, unmottled section of scales... A jointed area below the arm, hidden by it normally... A whisper<i>"You prepair a table for me, in the presence of my enemies..."<br/>
</i><br/><b><i>CRA~BAM!</i></b><br/><br/>The shot rang out, flesh tore and blood was ushured out anew! The arm flinching, and recoiling with the damage, the shell lodging itself somewhere in teh beast's chest. A casing discharged from teh side of the rifle. "Feed me," he ordered the guns owner, his hand releasing the weapon's barrel, palm up in offering for the ammo. Would not trust it's magazine, if any.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>