Seeing his tormentor flying toward them, breathing fire, and shouting about how he will torture him again, Elrohir decides to take matters into his own hands.
Focusing all of his anger, torment and pain into his bow and takes a shot at Grimjowl.
Attack is 13 +5 via Wind Reader = 18 -8 for distance(should be correct) = +10 total bonus to attack.
The arrow fires out and slams into Grimjowl, but shatters on his scales.
The sound of laughter echoes back as Grimjowl pulls a flaming whip from his side and attacks one of the constructs, ripping through the already wounded one.
Finally with the ship down and in range, Adran takes aim at one of the snipers and attempts to make them take cover.
The arrow goes wide as he tries to hone in from the extreme range.
With his focus on aligning the crew's physiologies to manifest a Body Adjustment, Flann watches the Elfavian shoot, and has enough time to say "There's no way-" before Elrohir's arrow strikes home. The concious members of the collective are treated to a rush of envy as Flann bites his lip.
Connor saw his energy wall hit the enemy ship, but he was distracted by Grimjowl's demonlike presence on his own decks. "Repel boarder! Switch to cold attacks and rifles!" he yelled. Turning to the helm, moving behind it, Connor dropped his psionic focus as he told Seaman Krail "I've got your back, Helmsman - keep us evading! The Vitalist should be doing their work!" With a mental command, Connor set his astral constructs on Grimjowl, telling them to flank with the other constructs and any melee attackers.
Each putty-colored small construct leaped off of the railing , two on the left and one on the right, their bodies changing such that their hands lost their dexterous fingers, a sheen going over them.
Left: Astral Construct1;AC 18/13/16;15 hp
Astral Construct2;AC 18/13/16;15 hp
Right: Astral Construct3;AC 18/13/16;15 hp
Not Holding psionic focus (Energy type=); 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
And the second arrow misses the mark even further.
"Boss if we slow our pace and the close a bit, I may be able to take out some of the snipers."
Connor saw his energy wall hit the enemy ship, and the lack of ignition. Turning to the helm, moving behind it, Connor dropped his psionic focus as he told Seaman Krail "I've got your back, Helmsman - keep us evading! The Vitalist should be doing their work!" With a look to the crow's nest, Connor shouted "Adran! Did I forget to mention that Grimjowl swallowed a soulgem containing a demon and got some of its' powers?"
Not Holding psionic focus (Energy type=); 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
"I'd rather get out of range than let them hit the other engine!" Connor told the Halvavian.
"Right, ok I will try and take em out from this range then."
"You should've learned inevitable strike, Aegis!" Connor teased the Trailblazer in the crow's nest.
Sniper fire rains down again.
One hit confirms on
a PC
A bullet slams into Adraniel in the crows nest, punching through his armor and sending a blood splatter raining down on those below!
Griffin manages to hit once, but his claws are not doing as much damage as he'd expect.
Two more shots at snipers and still two more misses. Adran looks at his wound.
"I thought we were going to out run them not get torn apart trying."
Holding all the wounds in his collective together as if they were his own, Flann begins to lace them with his psychic thread. He can't draw it taut as he goes, the sustained shock would be too much. This technique requires one swift tug to kick-start clotting, and foreign body expulsion.
[dice=Arrow]1d20+11-8
[dice=Arrow]1d20+6-8Two more shots at snipers and still two more misses. Adran looks at his wound.
"I thought we were going to out run them not get torn apart trying."
"You all right, Adran?" Connor asked, concerned as he looked up. He told the helmsman next to him, "Now gain some altitude!" and called out "Healer look to the crow's nest!"
Connor regained his psionic focus, choosing electricity this time. He kept one eye on the ship behind them, in case he needed force screen in a hurry.
Not Holding psionic focus (Energy type=); 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
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Volita cocks an eyebrow at Connor. "Why are we gaining height now? Wouldn't we want a dead run, to try and out distance it?"
As she speaks she crafts another construct. It's an ugly thing that looks like a cross between a bird and an outhouse.
"I admit that this fight is not going to be ours. I have made...many mistakes. Had I but known that we faced a being such as that, I would have done as was first suggested and held leash until a great host was before me. Alas, I know no craft anymore this day that can overcome such a beast. I can but work my art...and meditate on the results after."
But when she's done the thing takes off faster than anything that large has any right to.
"I call it--Shtuka."
"Your flyers are good - keep making them! But altitude means more room to maneuver!" Connor called back.
Three minutes of Sniper fire!
--Last Anti-Construct
Construct goes BLOOEY
The snipers reap a bitter harvest among the constructs, blowing them away. Mr. Pippens takes a hit to the leg, and so does Volita.
Three minutes of Sniper fire!
A single round slices in and rips through Volita again, bursting blood and bits of bone over the deck.
One round grazes Seaman Stroud, the rest hit the PCs!
Adran
Connor
Connor
Connor
Volita
Flick
Three minutes of Sniper fire!
Seaman Teath doesn't even have a chance to scream as her head explodes, leaving the halfavians body standing for a second or two, before the nerves begin to twitch and the corpse falls over, spewing blood over the deck.
One round grazes Seaman Stroud, the rest hit the PCs!
Adran
Volita
Volita
Two crew are hit and bloodied hard, including the Navigator, who cries out as yet another round slams into his back.
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 heavily leaks smoke, but the armor and reinforcements seems to have done it's job and kept the damage from affecting the ship's speed.
As the ship finally slips out of range, a booming laugh echoes through the night. The laugh rolls out over the air, like a prophecy dropping from the lips of a deranged godling.
Round 1
Round 2
Round 3
Round 4+
Round 5+
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After all her constructs are shredded, giving the ultimate sacrifice for the good of the many, then no matter where Volita stands, it the enemy guns hone in on her lithe, nubile form. The mighty Vigor that was artfully given and, so she thought, not needed, is rent asunder under what seems to be a never-ending hail. Many times she retreats to Flann's healing aura, many times returning to health only to be cruelly struck down again.
As they finally carve away, seeing thick smoke billowing from the engines, she uses the last of her power to create one last construct. An ugly, squat thing, with a domed head and stubby legs, but from every inch it seems to have a hidden door from out of which spring a tendril or tool of every form imaginable. It flies over to the engine and begins repairs. Such a good little droid construct.
"What does he mean by that, Conner? When did eating you grant deification?"
Adran hops down to the deck surveying the scene.
"Well that was, well it was something. What's our next move boss? You know besides fixing up the ship. That guy is no joke."
Connor did his best to help Seaman Krail at the helm - he launched his astral constructs into the air; he manifested force screen; he gave almost non-stop orders to help dodge the bullets flying their way. Nothing worked - the Wandering Elephant and its' crew were like a bale of hay in an archery tournament.
Connor felt the bullets hitting him, draining his vigor and then shredding his arms and back. The death of Seaman Teath was worse. "Healer! Manifesting body adjustment - share it!" Connor bellowed. His flesh re-knit itself under the Vitalist's influence.
Hey big guy, if you die, does that make me the Captain? Hero opined from Connor's necklace. Connor growled a wordless response.
The lizardman's shout came as a surprise. Connor bared his teeth at the arrogance of the voice. "I'm going to see you crystallized, you balor in a lizard's skin." he vowed.
"Helm!" he ordered Seaman Krail. "Rise to the cloud layer. Find us a jet-stream going south-by-southwest, to the westmost Feld Ranges." Turning back to the main deck, Connor bellowed "Shapers to the engines! Start repairs! Priority is starboard engine - prepare both for shutdown! Crew, as soon as we get a favorable wind, prepare to unfurl the sails!" Connor mentally added his remaining astral constructs to the help.
Connor got out a healer's kit and tried to stop the bleeding on Seaman Krail.
-------------------------------------------
Looking up at Adran, Connor answered, "Keep an eye on that lizard's ship! I don't want them approaching us again! We're going to repair and regroup! We don't have to worry about finding Grimjowl - he'll find us." Connor added, looking at the corpse on the main deck, "And bury our dead."
Looking over at Volita, finished with Seaman Krail, Connor made his way over to her. Keeping his voice low enough so that he wasn't telling the whole crew, Connor told the woman "When we were first on the Surface we got trapped in an ancient underground city. Some of us had to make...promises to get out. We were stuck between a dragon and certain death at the time." Making a weak joke, Connor reassured Volita with "Eating me wouldn't get Grimjowl anything but indigestion, I hope. The painful, fatal kind." Connor looked over the damage on the Elephant's railings and sides. "Let's get to work." he said.
"Aye Aye boss."
Adran heads back up the crows nest to keep watch.
Flann slumps over the railing, pale, but keeping it contained. It would seem from an outsider's perspective that the Vitalist is overly squeamish, but the collective is vaguely aware that he's mentally running through the 'what if's and 'should have's. Replaying, quite impersonally, Teath's final moments in brutal detail. "I don't think that was avoidable. I'm sorry." He spins his wheels for another few seconds before shutting it away. Noticing the sympathy spirals his thoughts have been causing, he sets to work adjusting neurotransmitters.
Krail takes the ship up, hard, sending everyone scuttling across the rails. Several people go flying off the rail...
...but fortunately, the crew can fly, so eventually they will catch up to the rapidly rising ship. Eventually, the ship hits the clouds like a rock thrown out of a volcano, trailing a thick trail of smoke. There's no need to shut down the starboard engine, the poor thing gives a loud grinding sound like a mountain made of metal toppling over and seizes up. The port engine sends the ship into a hard right turn, still at full thrust...
...Krail recovers the ship and gets it back under control.
The winds are strong here, and the crew rapidly begins to lower sails, which open with a BOOM as they catch the wind and surge ahead. Krail ties off the wheel with a rope, wipes blood and grime from his face, and then stalks toward the door to below decks. His stalk is marred by the heavy limp from the leg that took a round earlier.
Connor fairly danced from one side of the main deck to the other, then had to practically drop to all fours as the Elephant first went up, then lurched starboard. "Vitalist - I'm fine, drop me from your net, and see to the wounded!" he called out.
Connor saw Krail leave the steering wheel and go belowdecks. "And that includes the helmsman!" he added to Swallowtail. Connor retrieved his power stone from the cannon gunner. "Priority is repairs! We've got cargo to deliver, so let's not look like a beggar by the time we reach port!" Connor said, giving direction to the Mates onboard.
Connor felt the psionic power inside himself, and found only a waning feeling. Not enough to get either a sextant or a spyglass with his call item. Connor judged the path of the Elephant from looking at the sun and feeling the wind in his feathers, trying to gauge how long it would take to reach Durchmirde in the Feld Ranges, their destination.
And Connor's mind couldn't make the estimation. There was too much blood on the deck, too much shouting, too much still going on. Connor sighed, going to the starboard engine to see just how bad the damage was.
The Vitalist whispers into the tearing wind. "Add you, drop you, resuscitating healed men, how about I do my job and you-"
Flann is unceremoniously hurled over the side of the boat.
He catches himself with one hand and the strap of his rifle in his other hand.
The ship heaves as the halfavian scambles over the rail, launching him across the deck.
Flann hits the rigging and spins off into a dense cloud.
Adran falls out the first rough go, but makes his way back to the nest.
"Watch the big sways down there."
He shouts down as he continues to keep watch.
"Overwatch filers! Halvavian overboard!" Connor called out, seeing Flann go tumbling. "Sting! Are you available?" he asked.
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As the tossing ship starts to move less like a ship and more like an epileptic wombat with a balloon tied to its tail, Volita takes to the air, flying along the ship briefly, waiting for the deck to become more horizontal and less vertical.
As Flann tumbles down past her, she flies over and grabs his hand. "I got ya. We can't have you leaving us now, can we? We're not through with you...yet."
As the winds pick up and Krail regains control of the ship, she returns to the deck, briefly checking to make sure her last construct is being helpful in the engines. Or, at least, not making things worse.
"Oh, thank you. I can fly too, though. Not that I don't appreciate- I've already thanked you. Sorry." There's a moment of panic before Flann locates his rifle. "You’re not, uh, through with me? I’ll have to make sure you aren’t displaying any hallmarks of addictive tendencies before I can recommend any more Vigor… and I'll need some rest soon. That volley took more healing than I’ve performed through my whole residency- not that I’m complaining."
When they touch down, Flann stops to adjust the plates of his wooden armor before kicking into a clumsy salute in Connor’s direction. It is, in every conceivable way, the wrong salute. “Are we in any immediate danger, sir? If not, it may be prudent for me to hold on to what energy I have left until we rest. No telling what might happen with the engine all busted up. I’d be glad to connect with anyone you’d like, and you may leave the network at any time… sir. I am also really quite good at manual healing arts.” There’s another pause as the halvavian considers speaking further.