Samael stared out to the completely flat horizon as the dull rumbling continued ominously. By the time he had actually started to move backwards, away from the big-bad-scary-something, everybody else had already sprinted off. It was another minute before he finally turned around and full-out ran, and despite his load and the robes threatening to tangle up his long, loping legs, he caught up. At least caught up to the slowest runner. Zimmer (clothes – valuable, weapons – good quality) was still struggling to keep up with those more well-built for running. Rollo was just about running beside him. Tactfully deciding that a stumpy cartoon character was not well-equipped to carry a teenage girl, he turned towards Zimmer.
“Yes?” the man panted in response. Samael stared for a while at his rather red face before sprinting on, still stumbling a bit in his robes.
“Hey,” he said again, this time to a guy who looked more able to carry a girl. (Implants, implants and more implants, so valuable it’s mindboggling how valuable it is freaking amazing.) This one didn’t exactly turn towards him but at least acknowledged him with some sort of grunt or something. “Can you—“ oh look he has only one arm oh wow huh. “Never mind.”
The taller guy was laughing. He had a lot of greed for information. Not that that was a bad thing, but Samael wasn’t certain he wanted to leave the girl with him. He slowed down again and grinned sheepishly at Zimmer again as his headband started sliding down his face. Again. “So. I have this girl. Mind carrying her for me?”
“What?” Zimmer spluttered back as something loud and big made a loud and big sound right behind them.
“I need to, ah, that thing back there, I think we can all socialize a bit easier,” Samael blabbered, trying to hide his eyes and run at the same time but ultimately deciding to forget about hiding them, “You know, if it was gone, so I believe it’s a good idea to get rid of it. I’m going to try to get rid of it.” And then he managed to shrug Dorin into Zimmer’s arms. The alchemist staggered and slowed down even more.
“I don’t think,” he panted, “I don’t, I think,”
“You might have to separate from the group to get to somewhere safer,” Samael interrupted. “Like, hide or something. Somewhere. Although if things go right, maybe you won’t have to…though they probably won’t go right…” Samael continued running as he appeared to mull this over. Zimmer ran-waddled nervously beside him and muffled an unmanly yelp when something possibly licked him. Rollo was already getting ahead of him. “Welp, good luck!” And on a cheerful note, Samael turned and ran back, leaving Zimmer to get nipped at by godly snouts.
Although really there was no rush to get anywhere at all. The giant thing-gummy-though-he-suspected-it-to-be-something-like-a-giant-soccer-player was coming his way, it seemed, and he doubted this world, though three-dimensional, was round. He should be able to see the whatever over the horizon very soon. He slowed down to a trot and retied the headband before just throwing it away. It didn’t work well anyways.
If the situation was a little different and his robe less liable to trip him, he might have enjoyed a little jog here. Just something nice and soothing and relaxing. Not even the traps were too troublesome.
But the constant rumbling reminded him that he had a job to do and he paused to squint at the horizon and kick away several annoying pencils. He could actually see the threat now and almost laughed when he did. It wasn’t finished.
Albeit a giant and supposedly a soccer player, right now, it was a bunch of legs. The Tormentor could draw a giant, but not very fast. Especially with the legs already running ‘round.
Right. So. How many rotten bananas would it take to slip up a giant soccer player of yet indeterminable size?
Probably a lot. And there would probably be a lot of ground to cover. Considering the surface area of the foot and all. Maybe he could make a giant, rotten banana.
Actually, which way would it fall if he slipped it up? It could go either backwards or forwards. And slipping forwards would be unfortunate for everybody involved, while slipping backwards would only be unfortunate for the giant soccer player legs, so backwards would be preferable.
He really didn’t think this through.
He really wished he had his clothes back.