#but i couldn't get the idea of artair scooping him up and running like a scooby doo gag out of my mind lol

[townofcadence]

@gunslinginnhogtyin continued from here!

Quite used to cries for cover in the midst of a misadventure as an outlaw, the demon blooded cowboy ducks and rolls just in time to avoid being blasted at by a familiar enemy’s musket.

A red headed woman with a face adorned in scars; her bandana covers one eye and the grin she wears is full of sharp jagged teeth and malice. She looks as though she could be a pirate based off of the clothes she wears, an old school one at that.

“ARGH!!! Don’t warn him!” The tall woman growls. “It spoils the fun!” She stamps a heavy boot.

A look of shock crosses Butch’s features upon realizing just how close of a call it was and he quickly looks over at the one who had brought the danger to his attention before darting over in their direction.

“Thanks fer th’ warnin’! Now let’s get th’ hell outta here!” Exclaims the cowboy, grabbing Artairs wrist to tug them in the direction he’s running before letting go once he’s sure they’re following. The maniacal looking woman isn’t far behind them, taking shots as she gives chase, cackling all the while.

Butch reaches for either or the twin revolvers at his hips and removes them from their holsters, preparing his shots.

Artair isn't--- exactly sure where he is, or how he ended up here. Well-- the last part isn't all true, he had utilized his ley-line to get here. The thing had a propensity to spit him out anywhere at any time, too, so it wasn't such a shock he'd end up-- wherever this was. Such was the nature of magic and multiplanar hopping. He could get home too, if he found the right place, and that was something he had both gear to find and a natural sort of intuition for.

But even knowing how he'd ended up in this world, he'd hardly been here an hour, hardly had time to get his bearings, before things went sideways. And this situation had certainly thrown him for a loop. A surprise shoot-out wasn't on his bingo card for the day, but when the musket came out, it was kind of an imperative to adapt.

He's grateful at least that the guy (was that a tail he saw as he rolled?) wasn't blasted to oblivion with buckshot. He can feel the ill intentions oozing from the woman with the shark's grin, and while he isn't too sure what their beef with each other was, the last thing he'd do was let someone die to avoid getting involved.

"Pretty sure dying spoils a lot more things--." He can't help the quip at her-- almost childishly sadistic agitation. Before more can be said or done though, the cowboy guy is sprinting his way, zipping along the track of road towards the building he stood outside. A gloved hand snatches his wrist and Artair blinks, before the realization that yes actually, this is a much better idea than standing around and getting shot, manages to click in his brain. The first few steps he drags behind Butch like a burdensome kite, before his feet move as well, and the two begin to sprint. "R-right!"

Every time a shot goes off, Artair cringes internally, feeling his heart pounding in his ears. This lady was determined, and enjoying this way too much. They definitely needed to get the fuck out of here before she got lucky; her aim was reckless abandon right now, but if she settled and let herself take a few seconds to aim, they were definitely easy targets out in the open like this.

Then, the guy with the tail is reaching for his own guns, readying them to fire, and his brain kicks into overdrive. If the guy was shooting, he'd slow down-- he'd have to, to not run into something, and while twisting his body to look behind him and aim. If he sacrificed speed for aim, she could catch up if she was single-minded enough to ignore the shots, too.

Meanwhile, he didn't have a gun, nor was he inclined for one really. They were at least running away, which meant hitting them would be difficult-- but it wasn't impossible, and again, while aiming back might slow the pirate looking lady down if she was smart and allergic to bullets like at the very least he was, they would have to slow down to do the firing. If there was a chance she wouldn't care, she could close the distance in that time. So maybe the solution was--

"Really Sorry in advance for this, but keep shooting!" Artair called out, before his hands found the guy's waist quickly, hoisting him and throwing him over his shoulder. The arm he was holding him with wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady, braced against his back in a wide splay, while the other kept firm hold of his leg to even out some of the bouncing he'd do up there. He tore down the road all the faster, boots pounding and kicking up dust.