"Move out, ladies. This netherworld isn't going to conquer itself," orders our gruff sergeant, massive gatling gun in one hand, cigar in the other.
Me and the other fellas sigh and reluctantly file out of the doghouse. Seeing as our sergeant is female, hard to miss with her skimpy military fatigues, we know she means us, while the real ladies (witch, priestess, and thief) get to hang back and launch their attacks from a distance. Well, the thief isn't technically a woman, but that UFO floating over his head, he sure seems fruity to me.
At least we have a medic with us, replacing the guy who got turned into a building, though the giant drill he's toting is hardly reassuring. Banana, we can him that 'cause of his bandana, only cares about his new mace he's aching to smash someone with. Then there's Green, dressed as usual in army green, who's wielding a giant spear twice his own height, making us mutter "compensation" behind his back. Me? I'm just a pumpkin head who was a rock until about half an hour ago, when some crazy talking book came along, and shoved this shotgun in my hands...after giving me hands. My name is Jack.
We can already see the enemy in the distance. The cat boys and their demonic allies. Nasty bunch. They just stand there waiting for our approach, and we know that as soon as we're done with our actions, they're going to pounce. Banana screams out "Combo attack!" as we all fan out around the closest enemy, only for his first strike to send that cat boy flying right off the world and into oblivion. Great mace, Ban. Next time, read the instructions.
Me and the other men need time to catch our breath before taking another step, leaving the enemies out of the range of most of our weapons, though Green manages to snag a nearby tree and slip it into his pocket. Don't ask me how it fits. I've got to take another of these cat boys out of the picture before he turns me into pumpkin pie, so I focus my mana on my trusty shotgun and fire my trademark special slow motion bullet of doom...instant cat litter.