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Whirrrr…

Despite the utter and absolute chaos that the ship and its passengers were being subjected to, Éliane was having the time of her life as she cackled with glee, aiming at the flying very human skeet targets as she peppered them with a hail of bullets with each press of her minigun’s trigger. The sound of rounds leaving the multi-barreled weapon was music to her ears, a symphony to match Ciradyl’s opera. 

The Valheimian losers fell to her might, scythed down by a weapon of their own making. 

The battle itself wasn’t going too great, but at the rate Éliane was reducing their targets, it might not have mattered…

Whirrrr… klunk. 

Until the last of the ammunition belt was fed into the gun and ran dry. Éliane gaped as she pointed the weapon, its barrels already spinning down. 

It was empty. 

Immediately a wave of depression hit her as she reluctantly released her hands from the trigger… and then immediately grabbed it again, hanging onto it for dear life as… the battle developed not necessarily to the Kirin’s favor. Izayoi had literally split the sea.

That was a terrifying feat to behold on a normal day, but on a wooden barbarian pirate ship out at sea in the middle of a battle, the sensation of their only lifeline being knocked about was a contrast to the high that she had just experienced. She lurched forward as the ship rocked, tripping as she did so and landing on her gun as a result. The back end of the weapon smashed into her gut, making her retch as she keeled over in pain.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to rise. They were still in battle, and even as the ship was knocked about, the Valheimian airship had closed and was continuing to fire on them. She was in no position to immediately help the others, but she could still shoot.

Still coughing as bile threatened to rise up from within her, she switched to the rifle she still had, unslinging it from her back. From this distance, the engines and sensitive bits of the ship were all but exposed to any talented shooter. Steadying herself to the best of her ability, she braced herself and lined up her gun at the ship. Even with the unsteady platform, shooting through the windows of the bridge was child’s play for any member of the Household Guards, let alone herself. Slamming the bolt back in place after briefly checking her weapon, she aimed, and put several rounds through the bridge windows, shooting at the Valheimian officer still at the helm. She then switched targets, finishing off the remainder of the ammunition in her rifle on the optical rangefinders of the airship, shattering its glass construction. 

Then she reloaded—this time with her favorite explosive ammunition. How nice would it be if she could get a golden BB and blow apart the engines from those exposed intakes?

She shot again.