@infernaliscor did not ask for a starter
a crack, a booming rip in the air like dry thunder against the impossibly cloudless sky foretells the arrival of a timeless vessel of heroes. a chariot, carrying its champion through thick and thin, war and peace, ferrying the enemy of evil through time itself that he may face it on any battlefield it chose.
a 1973 oldsmobile delta 88 royal.
said chariot crashes fender-first into the earth below, creaking and groaning under the strains of gravity as it falls back into place on its wheels. soon after a man also crashes fender-first into the earth below, creaking and groaning under the strains of gravity as he lays stiff against the unforgiving dirt.
he curses his god, his devils and a few mothers as he slowly rises to his feet. clearly, he's seen better days; his shirt is torn near to ribbons, and bleed, dirt and dried sweat cake his body where whatever ripped his clothing tried to do the same to his flesh. it wouldn't take a perception check to notice that he could use a break.
said break, which he was trying to take, is interrupted when ash locks eyes with the noticeably big, noticeably red person staring at him.
" woah, sssshhhhhii.. " he jumps immediately into a defense posture, hand raised, like he's trying to keep an animal at bay. anyone could tell by the wide-eyed, gawking expression on his face that he's never seen.. whatever it was he was looking at.
" take it easy, big fella, or i'll, ahh.. " he reaches, a few times too many, for something on his back that isn't there, then holds up his other hand, which is fixed with some kind of strange bladed contraption. he knows it as a chainsaw, but it probably looks like the most impractical axe to any onlookers.
" yeah, huh? that's right -- i'm not playin' around, so you just.. stay over there, got it? "