“Oh I hate when you do that.” The other woman was suddenly very put out. When Ms. Thyme glanced at her in inquiry the sultry shootist merely pointed to the west with one gun. Ms. Parsley wore quite the pout. Some device, which looked like a locomotive, was racing across and open field in their direction. There were no tracks out there, only acre upon acre of farmland being torn up by its passage. The way the engine moved would remind one of a centipede in both the way attached limbs moved and vile countenance. This train did not need tracks thanks to the multitude of insect like legs fashioned from hardened steel that never ceased moving. Nor did it need steam for the crimson glow of hellstones spilled from grating in such a manner which gave it leering and malign ‘face’. This too, along with having several attached cars slithering gracefully, lent to the idea of some great predator bug moving in for the kill.
What bothered the Thistle Sisters was that they were part of the prey.
As the Vermin Engine sped closer a great plum of sanguine tainted steam blew from its pines that ran across its spine. A host of cultists and no doubt patchworks and fairies were ready to be expelled onto the supply train. What would follow would be a quick harvesting – or it would have been so if the crown’s own droids had not be dispatched. Warning shouts in the guttural yet lovely tongue of the space men could barely be heard. Two saber-like arms, for lack of better description, detached from the sides of the engine and with a groaning of metal, hiss of steam rose. The insect analogy was complete. It was a motif that the fomorians did adore.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Ms. Parsley’s expression sank but she still leveled both barrels at the oncoming maelstrom of metal and brass. There were cheers rising from the turncoats on their pilfered locomotive.
In turn Ms. Sage started to study the Vermin Engine for weakness. She tried not to imagine it coiling around this train she stood on like a common centipede and crushing the life out of. “My sentiments exactly. I do pray that Harper and your Captain have a plan to aid us.”
“I’m not sure anyone can.” The response was grim and the gunslinger’s doe-brown eyes lifted to the shadow looming over them even now.