Reflex: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Varkata feels herself lifting from the deck, cursing herself, Starting to fly in a panick isn't going to help things...
|Karethas ibn Faradin|
The bow dives downward as the ship hits the edge tossing Amir, Karethas and Varkata up toward the misty twilight of winking stars and roiling clouds above. As they reach the zenith of their parabola and begin to fall, Karethas casts a spell to halt your acceleration and you descend at a rate that barely ruffles your clothes. Meanwhile, the ship plummets with the cataract and quickly disappears into the obscuring fog below taking Kzrira with it. The archer is last seen somehow still standing on the deck with bow at the ready and eyes darting about for less obvious threats than being dashed to smithereens somewhere below.
Seeing her companions tossed off the boat, Kzrira is more than a little concerned. Not knowing where they are, she is not really paying attention as the boat begins to appear to slow. When the ship crashes into the strange not-water substance, she holds her bow up, despite being unable to see anything. When the ship, and herself, apparently not dead, she immediately shouts for her companions, hoping that one or more of them somehow survived the fall.
Amir, Karethas, Varkata. Where are you? Are you alive?
As she shouts this, she flips her bow back over her shoulder and grabs her rope hoping against hope that someone else is still with her and will respond.