Chapter Text
He didn’t know how he and Prowl became close enough friends to adventure together. He was a paladin of Liege Maximo and (probably) his god’s current favorite, and Prowl was a theif and a bard who followed no god (and only believed in them because there was proof they existed.) They both liked music, that was true, but Jazz was sneaky and improvisational where Prowl was a calm planner.
Actually, once he said it like that, their friendship kinda started making sense. Prowl balanced his more impulsive side, and he balanced Prowl’s seriousness.
And it was a good thing he did, because Jazz was going to have to think fast to get Prowl out of his current predicament. The Praxian was currently slung over the shoulder of a cyberwere (wolf, he thought, but it could be hard to tell when they were in half-animal form and the light was bad,) unconscious and being carried away to… he didn’t know where. And it didn’t really matter, because he had to save his friend long before they got there.
Jazz scooped up Prowl’s guitar almost absently as he sprinted after the cyberwere and their captive. Prowl would be very hindered without it, and sometimes his songs were the difference between defeat and victory when they found themselves in a fight. (If it had been in reach, Jazz’s traitorous prcessor pointed out, Prowl might not have even been taken captive.) He slung it across his back as he ran and then pulled out his sword.
He’d rather use his hammer, but it would be too easy to accidentally hit Prowl and do way too much damage to his friend.
The cyberwere seemed unconceerned as Jazz ran up behind them, and a moment later he realized why. A trio of howls echoed through the trees around them, at least he thought it was only three, and Prowl’s captor answered in kind. They must be a pack, and that shifted his odds from “decent” to “really bad” immediately.
“Aw frag me,” he muttered to himself. Then he raised his voice, “Hey! Put him down!”
The cyberwere turned just enough to give Jazz a chilling smile that was all teeth. “Mine now.”
“Like the Pit he is!” Jazz swug out with his blade, putting just a little bit of Maximo’s power behind the swing, and the cyberwere yelped as the weapon burned through fur and flesh. “I said put him down!”
The cyberwere obliged, dumping Prowl onto the ground in a tangle of limbs and plating before turning to face him. Their lips drew back fromtheir teeth and they snarled in anger, then they launched theirself at him before Jazz really had a chance to even stop moving.
Jazz shrieked as teeth latched onto his sword arm and he dropped the weapon as he felt cables and tubing shred. A moment later and his lower arm was numb and the cyberwere was trying to shake him like a prey animal.
The other cyberweres howled again, sounding angrier this time.
Jazz cried out again as his damaged arm was wrenched. But the attempted shake had turned him just enough that he could reach into his subspace and grab one of the dozen daggers he kept there.
The cyberwere shook him again, hard enough to bash the back of his head into Prowl’s guitar, and gave him the opening he needed. As soon as his head was steady-ish again, Jazz swung the dagger upward, asked Max for a little holy smite, and plunged it into the cyberwere’s throat with a flash of green light.
The cyberwere let go immediately, hands flying to the wound–bleeding and probably fatal–and pulling away from Jazz as quickly as they could. The other wolves howled again as Jazz staggered to Prowl’s side, head spinning slightly and sword arm still numb and dripping blood.
Prowl didn’t even twitch as Jazz got his good arm under the Praxian and lifted him enough to start dragging him away. He didn’t know if they’d get very far before the pack caught up to them, but he had to try.