Connor gave a silent prayer the god of halflings, asking for cooperation of the shorter feathered brethren. And luck. Lots of luck. All good, unlike his usual roll of the dice.
Hmm, oh, it's you? You're asking for things now, but haven't talked to me in weeks? Oh, a ship.... hope it turns out well... try not to get my crystal destroyed if you get hit by a cannon. I'll talk to you tomorrow dear, if you survive. A somewhat testy voice echoes in Connor's head.
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"Actually, I like the idea of turning and closing. They're gaining and there's nothing we can do. We can either keep running, and let them board, but if we turn, they'll have less time to shoot at us.
And since we're not out-gunning them, we should at least count on out-fighting them."
Volita makes another construct.
Closer ever closer. Sniper fire.
One of the rounds hit people this time!
Seaman Orven winces and curses as the bullet creases her hip before slamming into the deck. The bullet doesn't do nearly as much damage to the deck as the others did. It just buries itself.
The other three rounds slam into the deck, ripping up bits of wood.
A Halvavian crewman stumbles out from below deck, alternately hopping and fluttering as he struggles to cram his foot into a boot. An unloaded, non-requisition rifle tumbles from his crooked arm and clatters to the deck. "I'm up! I'm up. Sorry! Vitalist Swallowtail at your service." The gun slides across the deck as the boat rocks, and Flann dives for it, coming up, more or less fit for duty. He glances around the deck. "Parver... parver... -are we in a combat drill?" With a yawn, Flann reaches out for the vitals of his crew, stringing together Parver (the one he was asked to heal), Volita (another injured soul), Connor(the one doing the asking), and Adraniel(a hearty body to strengthen the collective) mentally.
Each subject feels a mousey, apologetic presence in the back of their minds, quietly taking stock of their vitals. Volita especially gets a lot of attention. The nature of her wounds fascinates the little healer.
Connor handed Seaman Jerrick at the port cannon a tiny crystal on a leather strap from his wrist. "Power stone. Inevitable strike. Use it only when we get into range, say 800 feet. There's six powers in here, so address it now, then use, fire, use, fire. Try to save the last one - I don't know when I can make another!"
Above, the Aerial Fighter kept ascending.
Feeling the network in his mind, Connor shouted "Not me! Haddock, Melia, Parver, and Orven!" He made another small construct, setting it to perch near the cannon on the railing.
This silvery-transparent mannequin of a winged Humavian stands shorter than a Halvavian. It is ready to move by silent command from its master.
Craft (Sculpting) check:
A result of 10 to 19 creates a creature that is recognizably similar to the desired creature shape; a result of 20 to 29 creates a construct that looks like an accurate portrayal of that creature type; a result of 30 or higher creates a construct that looks like a specific individual.
N Small construct
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception -
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +5 natural, +1 size)
HP 15 (1d10+10)
Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0; Immune construct traits
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft., fly 20 ft. (Average)
(only if changed to attack) Melee slam +2 melee, 1d4+3 damage
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
STATISTICS
Str 15, Dex 15, Con —, Int —, Wis 11, Cha 10
BAB +1, CMB +2; CMD 14
Feats -
Skills: Can perform any simple task of DC 12 or less for its' duration.
SPECIAL ABILITIES (One option from Menu A; one option from Advanced Constructs Menu A, taken twice)
Fly (Ex)
Utility (Ex) (2x)
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Volita jumps little bit as if she's been goosed as Flann slides into her mind.
'What the-- Flann! I'm not wounded yet! And certainly not there!' she mind-talks back as the overly-friendly Collective is established.
In response, one of the flight-less combat constructs, an ugly thing currently called Enforcer, turns its head toward the erstwhile healer, but its quickly calmed by Volita, and turns its gaze back to the enemy ship, twin battle-fists clutching in anticipation of glorious combat.
'And no, this is not a drill. We've got a mega-armed combat-ship descending at flanking speeds and it's shooting our face with guns.
The plan is to live until tomorrow.
There is no plan B.'
Following Connor's lead, she grips a small power stone and creates a small construct, called Locust. It's flightless and hops about, eager to scout or harass.
The ship lumbers closer and closer. Another round of sniper fire.
One hit confirms on Seaman Parver!
Parver screams as the heavy round slams into their thigh, sending them crashing to the deck in pain!
And then it flicks sideways, and there's a sequences of light blooms from the side of the ship again as the cannons fire.
The whistles of the balls increase as the approach, and then two of them sail over the deck, missing the rigging and ship completely, smashing into trees beyond, sending up clouds of splinters from the hard wood skybroom trees.
However, the third smashes into the Elephant's deck, sending wood splinters and chunks like rockets all over the deck.
Miraculously, nobody is hit by shrapnel larger than a splinter, although a board does bury itself into the wall next to Connor's head, dusting his cheek with wooden splinters that leave a bloody but ultimately superficial wound.
You're welcome...
They stopped closing. We can't outrun them. We could get bellow the canopy and try an ambush
From the crows nest.
"Boss make a run to get under the canopy for cover. If we are aiming to fight we need to lure them in closer. We can get cover and prepare to ambush them as they enter under the canopy. I don't see another way besides trying to fly up at them and get picked off out of the sky. Looks like they are content on this distance and blowing us out of the sky."
~Sorry! Sorry. I'll fix that in a sec. Parver's been hurt again, I should really focus on that. -uh, sir-ma'am. Sorry...~ There's a nervous tension in the parts of your minds that Flann has taken roost in, but that seems to iron itself out as he begins a body adjustment on Parver.
Physically, Flann perches on a pile of rope with his rifle across his knees, making subtle sewing motions with his hand. "Real combat, no kidding... Explains the turbulence- and the bits of flying wood..."
Parver groans as the wounds seal over, and gasps. "Thanks..."
Well, we can talk later, I wasn't criticizing, I was just commenting. But thanks. Connor said to the other presence in his head after the latest attack.
Face bloody, Connor shouted up to the helmsman "You've almost got it, helm! Now find the wind and get some speed for us. But keep dodging!" Up at the crow's nest, he replied "That cover's as thin as feathers. We need speed and altitude! Keep watch, Adran! They hit the engines, and we're dead! Look for a storm, clouds, anything!"
Connor looked at the other ship, doing the mental calculations. The other ship was 800 feet away...he could make energy walls at 150 feet...could they stay active long enough to drift into the other ship's hull? No, they'd be still hundreds of feet short before fading. Just like his astral construct about to disappear.
Realizing his own vulnerability, Connor grabbed Hero hanging from his neck and manifested vigor in case he was really hit. "Rigging crew!" Connor called out. "Man the sails! Prepare for full sail, on command! Healer! Good work!"
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=27/27 (15 temp); Power Points=26-5=21; AC=18/14/14; light crossbow slung; Active Powers=three Astral Constructs active, IA active, vigor active
"Captain! I'm running into the wind now! If I turn with the wind, or even at angles, they'll keep up with us! They've got five times the sail we do!" The helmsman yells back. "They're tacking now with all that sail, they're only getting a fraction of the wind power! Altitude I can do though! You want speed or evasion? I can pour on the speed but we'll be easier to hit. Or I can evade more, and we'll be harder to hit but they'll keep us in range longer!"
"This is crap, we are just sitting getting shot at. If I'm going ot die I wanna do it fighting. Come on boss turn and charge them why we have enough ship left."
He yells down from the nest.
"He's got a point, er- Captain... I can't knit dead wood like I can knit flesh, and if things keep up, we'll be a very healthy crew falling to our deaths in a burning wreck... Not that I'm not curious to see how many of you I could save -uh... Sir."
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Volita laughs, lightly and gaily, as if Flann said something very witty. "Hahaha! Well said, Flann. There, you see Connor? With Flann to aid and keep us together we shall live long enough to slay everyone on that ship. So long as we are trading strokes, we shall have more life than them."
She smiles at Flann, and nods.
Everybody wants to fight and lose the ship but me. Why did I have to be Captain? Connor thought to himself. You told them, seniority by living longest... Hero reminded him. Connor snorted. Five times the sails. Blast. If only they could close to the range of his energy walls, he'd set them all on fire.
"Riggers, belay that last and keep defensive but prepare for attack! Helm, keep evading - but look for an opening to turn and broadside them!" Connor shouted. "If everyone wants to fight, do what you can to protect those engines first! Otherwise that ship will just tear us to pieces and land on top of us! Healer, keep healing!" Maybe they could turn up and corkscrew next to the larger ship.
Connor made another construct, setting it to the starboard rail.
Above, the Aerial Fighter kept closing.
This silvery-transparent mannequin of a winged Humavian stands shorter than a Halvavian. It is ready to move by silent command from its master.
A result of 10 to 19 creates a creature that is recognizably similar to the desired creature shape; a result of 20 to 29 creates a construct that looks like an accurate portrayal of that creature type; a result of 30 or higher creates a construct that looks like a specific individual.
N Small construct
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception -
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +5 natural, +1 size)
HP 15 (1d10+10)
Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0; Immune construct traits
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft., fly 20 ft. (Average)
(only if changed to attack) Melee slam +2 melee, 1d4+3 damage
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
STATISTICS
Str 15, Dex 15, Con —, Int —, Wis 11, Cha 10
BAB +1, CMB +2; CMD 14
Feats -
Skills: Can perform any simple task of DC 12 or less for its' duration.
SPECIAL ABILITIES (One option from Menu A; one option from Advanced Constructs Menu A, taken twice)
Fly (Ex)
Utility (Ex) (2x)
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=27/27 (15 temp); Power Points=21-1=20; AC=18/14/14; light crossbow slung; Active Powers=four Astral Constructs active, IA active, vigor active
When the construct gets within 80ft of the ship, a flurry of arrows shred it.
"Uh, wh- who's gonna be on the boarding party? It would be best if five of us could take all the hits. I mean... it would make things easier to manage from my end."
When the construct pops, Flann makes a note of the range, and sends the manifester a canned dose of compassion. It may be wishful thinking, but the Swallowtail hoped he’d get a chance to squeeze off a round or two.
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"Can we turn and broadside them now? How about now? Now? Are you expecting a different flavored wind to suddenly come up? If we're going to turn and shoot things, we should turn and shoot things.
We've been trying to do the not-shoot-and-run thing. It hasn't been working.
Flann, I'm not sure there -is- a boarding party. But if there were, it'd be Adraniel and Elrohir. I think. Along with whatever I could throw out.
Mind you, we 'could' just start flying towards them, but if we're gonna do that, we should bring the ship with us to help."
Volita creates another small construct as the others fly on, taking note of the destroyed flyer in front of them.
"You get the damn weapons re-oriented and I'll turn for a broadside!" The helmsman yells at Volita in annoyance, the man's leathery black wings booming in annoyance.
Crew scramble up to put the sails up, then scramble back down to not put them up, trying to dodge bullets the entire time.
Another volley of sniper rifle fire comes in.
One hit confirms on Seaman Darivan!
Darivan curses as a bullet creases his shoulder, leaving a bloody line along his shoulder before it thuds into the main mast.
We won't have a ship much longer, at this rate. Connor thought to himself. Still, better the deck than the engines... "Portside would be best, but our weapons face forward!" he told Volita. Time for a new plan.
Connor manifested another astral construct for the portside as he ran across to go up and to the helmsman on the aft deck.
This silvery-transparent mannequin of a winged Humavian stands shorter than a Halvavian. It is ready to move by silent command from its master.
[dice=Craft (Sculpting) check: 1d20 + 14[/dice]
A result of 10 to 19 creates a creature that is recognizably similar to the desired creature shape; a result of 20 to 29 creates a construct that looks like an accurate portrayal of that creature type; a result of 30 or higher creates a construct that looks like a specific individual.
N Small construct
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception -
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +5 natural, +1 size)
HP 15 (1d10+10)
Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0; Immune construct traits
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft., fly 20 ft. (Average)
(only if changed to attack) Melee slam +2 melee, 1d4+3 damage
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
STATISTICS
Str 15, Dex 15, Con —, Int —, Wis 11, Cha 10
BAB +1, CMB +2; CMD 14
Feats -
Skills: Can perform any simple task of DC 12 or less for its' duration.
SPECIAL ABILITIES (One option from Menu A; one option from Advanced Constructs Menu A, taken twice)
Fly (Ex)
Utility (Ex) (2x)
Up on deck, he told the helmsman "It's a long shot, but I'm going to try energy wall, fire as far out as I can, as long as I can! With enough concentration, it might reach their ship - and set it on fire! Let's make them dodge for a change!"
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=27/27 (15 temp); Power Points=21-1=20; AC=18/14/14; light crossbow slung; Active Powers=three Astral Constructs active, IA active, vigor active
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'I, what? Ah, um....Oh! Oh! But but but mmmmmmm,' Volita blushes up to her eyebrows as her body seems to simultaneously surge like a volcano of power and find it hard to remain standing. She puts a steadying hand on nearby Vindicator while she tries, and fails, to understand exactly what happened.
She eventually decides that the experience was odd, but not altogether unwelcome.
Standing straighter, her eyes dart between Connor and Flann, eventually seeming to come to a mental decision.
"Du musst hamer oder amboss sein," she breathes, reciting an old saying in an odd language.
She makes another construct, this one as large and wing-christened as the first.
Farther ahead, Phoenix Hawk and Hunchback veer to the side, sacrificing the straightest line so they can pass under the enemy ship, approaching from the bottom and poping up on the opposite side.
Griffin continues directly, playing the anvil to their hammer.
"So we are waiting to die? If we don't turn and run toward them they will continue to shred us."
Another volley of sniper rifle fire comes in.
One hit confirms on Seaman Cardus! Two rounds actually don't come in this round.
Cardus flips the other ship the finger after she's creased in the wing by a round.
"Good work dodging, helm. One is better than four." Connor complimented the man beside him. He stared at the air inbetween the two ships, and manifested energy wall at his farthest range . A roaring ribbon of ectoplasmic fire, a hundred feet long, appeared in mid-air, Connor carefully placing it to the other ship's port side so it would have to move to starboard. "I'm going to have to stay here and concentrate to get the energy wall to them! I'm aiming for their port side!" Connor told the helmsman and the others. As the energy wall floated, Connor knew it was immobile but at a hundred feet wide diagonally, the other ship would have to either turn or take the chance of its hull or sails touching the fiery mass. Concentrating long enough to make the energy wall a threat would be the hard part.
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=27/27 (15 temp); Power Points=20-5=15; AC=18/14/14; light crossbow slung; Active Powers=three Astral Constructs active, IA active, vigor active, energy wall active
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"Is...is that your double-whammy? I mean, it's impressive an all, but..." Volita trails of as she can see the dots of her fliers enact attack protocol 23.
Phoenix Hawk and Hunchback have completed their circumnavigation of the enemy ship and are now approaching it from under the enemy's belly, while Griffin continues pulls up short, taking a calm before the storm.
AC: 22/12/20
HP: 47
F: +1 R: +3 W: +1
Speed: 40
Size: M
Flann takes a moment between tasks to clear his mind and draw out a thread of psionic power.
"Like I said, I have to concentrate to make sure the energy wall touches their ship! Unless someone else has a long-range power!" Connor repeated.
Sniper fire rains down again.
One hit confirms on Seaman Krail!
Krail cries out as a bullet slams into his thigh, and tries to keep ahold of the wheel of the ship.
The ship lurches, out of control as Krail loses control!
Then the other ship flickers sideways again, and the deadly whistles fill the air.
The whistles of the balls increase as they approach, and then one of them sail over the deck, missing the rigging and ship completely, smashing into trees beyond, sending up clouds of splinters from the hard wood skybroom trees.
The second one however slams into the suddenly fully visible starboard engine!
The third smashes into the Elephant's side, sending wood splinters and chunks like rockets all over the interior and up through the deck.
Miraculously, nobody is hit by shrapnel larger than a splinter. The engine begins leaking smoke, but the armor and reinforcements seems to have done it's job and kept the damage from affecting the ship's speed.
Volita sees a creature leave the deck of the attacking ship, and drop down through the air to beneath the ship, and then the sky is lit up by a cone of fire as it breaths out from it's mouth. The fire sweeps over her constructs and lights the ship and the creature. A booming voice echoes through the night.
As the ship rocks, Flann fumbles and nearly falls into the looped deck rope. Steadying himself with a few flutters of his wings, he sets down on his feet, slinging his gun over his shoulder. "So, uh... Is that, more or less, expected? -the loud fire-y thing, I mean. I only ask because that totally caught me by surprise, and I don't really have a frame of reference, per se, for just where a development such as that, uh... how that falls on the fight or flight- sort of- scale. -nottosayIhaven'tseenfeildactionbut, I never put too much stock in mother's stories, and this seems like something out of- well, out of romantic fiction. -or scripture... nottodrawanyuncomfortablecomparisons..."
~You may experience a slight emptiness as I release you, but it certainly has nothing to do with any superficial insecurities it may bring up. By which I mean to say, this is nothing personal.~ Eyes alight, Flann changes focus. Something like the slight mental adjustment a multilingual uses to shift between vocabularies in differing social settings. He loops ShadowHawk, Locust, Spider, and Wasp into his collective.
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Both PhoenixHawk and Hunchback, concentrating their dog-brains on getting through the wooden underbelly, are taken completly by surprise! The fire feeds hungrily on their forms and they remain, but mere shadows of their former vigor.
Griffin flies in at an angle, joining her two comrades as the trio shift to engage the nearest and most dangerous foe!
The three peaceable forms change. Round softness turns to hardened armor, and moist lumps turn to iron battle-fists and spiked claws! The utility scripts burn off, replaced by an analyzing A-TAC, searching for a weakness!
PH: 3/47
HB: 3/47
G: 47/47
Volita shakes her head at Flann's inquiry. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nope. No...that, that would be a new thing. Flick? This anyone you care to tell us about?"
Adran continues to watch above as hell rains down upon them.
"Um boss is that a dragon. They have a Dragon. What the hell Sting. You failed to mention they have a f$&%ing dragon."
"He can control his soulgem? As if he wasn't a demon already." Connor said, amazed. Still holding his concentration, Connor can only yell "Shapers add fire protection! Cold focus on powers on that boarder! Adran, here's a target for you!"
To the helmsman beside him, Connor said "Good work recovering, Seaman Krail , but let's keep the firebreathing outsider off of the ship!" as he kept his eyes on the enemy vessel.
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=27/27 (15 temp); Power Points=15; AC=18/14/14; light crossbow slung; Active Powers=three Astral Constructs active, IA active, vigor active, energy wall active (2 rounds ongoing)
"I mean if we would have closed distance sure. It is still out of range of my bow."
"No crud, Captain. They're almost out of height, if you can keep them off the engines another minute, we'll start making distance on them!" The wounded man says, cursing under his breath as blood slicked hands slip on the wheel for a second before he hauls the ship back around on an escape path again.
Flann makes his way over to Helmsman Krail. "On a scale from zero to ten, how would you gauge the pain, mista' Krail? I'm doing what I can to give our boarding party a little more substance at the moment, but you let me know if it gets to be too much."
The vitalist does what he can to interpose himself between the opposing ship and the wounded helmsman, then he focuses on reinforcing one of the constructs that is still near their ship.
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As Flann begins looking for a construct to buff, Volita narrows her eyes. "So we are committed to this running idea? I did not think meat of it, but now that they have a daemon, I am more on board.
Hence, if we need not conserve our strength for defense, we canst take a more forward approach."
She nods to Flann...and ShadowHawk starts its wings.
Sniper fire rains down again.
Four hits confirms on
Seaman Krail
Seaman Cardus
PC!
Seaman Darivan
Krail cries out as another bullet slams into his side, just under the arm! He tries to hold onto the wheel.
"By the Damned Gods, keep them off me!" Krail screams, blood at his lips.
The ship lurches, out of control as Krail loses control again...
Darivan doesn't scream, just slumps in a pool of blood.
Cardus at least curses again thanks to a crease on the shoulder.
Sticking out his tongue, Flann turns in the air, stringing together Parver, Krail, Cardus, and Darivan. With silent focus, he takes stock of their inner torment. He's not sadistic, per se, but he's quite comfortable in the flush of prostaglandins and anguish. He knows what his purpose is here.