[His effort is appreciated, if nothing else. The Drifter rolls across the ground in an awkward skid-tumble, leaving behind a streak of hot pink that dribbles down their cloak and stains the ground. They roll to their feet just as swiftly, undeterred; if the injury hampers them, they make no indication of it.]
[Another monkey's looming up behind the pair of them. They have a few shots left in their rifle, and so they snap it upright and send a round cracking through its skull.]
[It drops soundlessly to the ground.]
[The Drifter half-sags, one arm wrapped about their middle, but the rifle slips back within the folds of their cloak and their blade is once again drawn. A little blood spilled isn't about to stop them from raising a little hell.]
no subject
[Another monkey's looming up behind the pair of them. They have a few shots left in their rifle, and so they snap it upright and send a round cracking through its skull.]
[It drops soundlessly to the ground.]
[The Drifter half-sags, one arm wrapped about their middle, but the rifle slips back within the folds of their cloak and their blade is once again drawn. A little blood spilled isn't about to stop them from raising a little hell.]