Baz snatches up his shotgun and stands, nodding to Chiro. He pumps it and unfolds the skeleton stock, bracing himself on the ground with his tail. Taking aim at the devil's head, Baz lets fly a shell. The recoil of the "standard-size" weapon is ferrocious on the tiny rodent's frame, sliding him back a good two feet, and lifting his feet from the ground. He pumps it again.<br/><br/>"Heretic! Get yae ass outtae there! I'mma gonna fill this son-of-a-bitch fullae slugs- whether you're in the way or no!"<br/><br/>Five loud reports in succession herald him attempting to hold to his word, trying to keep his aim off Heretic.  Then he begins to slip shells into the weapon, his hands moving as fast as he can. This time he's loading buckshot into it, coated in one of the nastier toxins of the Highlands. "Move yae silly Southern wanker! Imma gonnae take this fucker doon!"