Gilly grabs her BIG wrench and sets to work fiddling with the bolts and nuts that regulate the flow of aerum through the engines. She's grinning rather gleefully.
Steam hisses and the engines growl like a dog, but it'll take a bit more doing to really work up some power. Gilly doesn't mind that a bit.
Zedd quickly spins up the Bingo’s systems. Her engines give a throaty growl as they flare to life, and she lifts off the cargo bay floor.
Gizmo goes to work on the already-taxed engines, not quite able to tease any more power from them.
In the front half of the ship, the airborne fight continues. Zedd holds his concentration despite the jarring of the Kestrel’s movements and the jabbering of alien beings in his mind. And in the Roost, Callum tries to unleash some bound energy to bring his opponents into perfect clarity.
As the three smaller ships begin their turns to make another strafing pass, Ambrose cuts the Kestrel into a dangerously-aggressive path, lining her nose up with Snubnose’s approach and white-knuckling his autocannon trigger.
Snubnose’s pilot is caught off-guard for a second time ... which turns out to be the last time. Ambrose’s tracers light up a trail directly to and around his cockpit, illuminating the look of surprise on his face seconds before the Kestrel smashes into the smaller aership dead-on.
The explosion lights up the night over the Lope as the scraps of Snubnose explode around the Kestrel’s hull … which shrugs off the impact of the collision. The other two pilots try to form up to make a unified attack run, but—either because of Ambrose’s unexpected tactics or because of a sudden faltering of their nerve—the best they can summon is a pair of errant sprays of gunfire … neither of which come near the Kestrel.
_________
_________
Zedd momentarily closes his eyes and takes in the quiet solitude of the cockpit. If his crewmates could see him, they would think he is about to enjoy a cup of tea and a soak in a tub, rather than a dogfight to the death.
His eyes snap open and he checks his gauges, gunning the throttle and tearing out of the cargo-hold.
The Bingo leaps out into the night, easily clearing the rear cargo exit without clipping the Kestrel. The lines of the tracers from the two remaining bogeys' nose-cannons light them up easily in the night.
The shock of impact wrenches Callum's mind back into reality. He bites off an oath as the world collapses in on itself, then rebounds back, wobbling into normalcy.
"What's he doing down there‽ I'll have his head, if he wrecks my ship!"
We'll likely all be dead, if he crashes the ship...
With a growl, he mashes down on the cannon's triggers, sending a spray of hot lead at the enemy spitfire.
The deep thoom-thoom-thoom-thoom of the top-side heavy gatling gun is answered by the shredding of Spitfire's lower port side. The smaller interceptor spirals uncontrollably from of its flight path for a few moments—spraying the night with leaking aerum and bits of ripped-up armor—before being brought back under control ... still in the fight.
Zedd veers into the fight, trying to finish what the captain started. He unleashes a hail of bullets at Spitfire.
Zedd quickly establishes an attack angle and unleashes a spray from his triple-linked nose cannon. The Spitfire peels off quickly, avoiding a definitive shot but losing more than just some of his bright orange paint to Tiny's assault.
Doc finishes his spell, trying to send the nearest pilot into the arms of Morpheus and spraying the craft with shells for good measure.
[ooc]Not sure if I'm allowed to target and shoot in addition to finishing my spell... so DM as needed.
Doc releases the building daemonic power on the first fighter to cross his gunner's bubble .. which is the garishly-colored and suddenly-limping Spitfire. The plane wobbles for a second, easing on his turn radius ever-so-slightly before snapping back onto its intended flight path. Annoyed, Doc unleashes a salvo from his gun. The resilient Spitfire flies on ... Zedd on his tail.
Ambrose yells into the com: Captain, what do you want us to do?
Then, seeing that Zedd is chasing Spitfire, Ambrose swings the Kestrel wide, trying to approach Scrap Heap from above to fire upon it.
Callum calls out through the horn back to Ambrose on the bridge.
"Take out that spitfire, then book it. Zedd and I can dissuade that last guy. I don't want to give Geirnig time to get more ships in the air!"
Gilly continues to do things beyond the ken of men with gears, sprockets, springs, pumps, pistons, and concentrated air flow. Outside the ship is everyone else's problem, but Gilly is in her own little universe, humming to herself tonelessly as she rests a hand on the bulkhead to feel the vibrations, then adjusts the wrench a quarter-turn in compensation for whatever it is she feels.
Ambrose scores Scrapheap’s flank with a burst of fire, but the tough old warbird mostly ignores it.
Then Gizmo’s handiwork registers. A spike of additional engine power flares on the pilot and copilot’s dials, meters, and readouts. More importantly, Ambrose can feel the familiar growl of the Kestrel’s engines enjoying added compression at the miniature mechanic’s experienced touch.
The old girl lurches like a race horse in the gate.
Out in the darkness, the two fighters split their loose formation. Spitfire’s pilot yanks her into a lurching, tight turn, bringing her guns around on the Kestrel’s portside rudder and opens fire. It’s a close thing, but Ambrose can’t feel any appreciable damage. Meanwhile, Scrapheap is able to momentarily outmaneuver Zedd, pulling his own stream of fire across the Bingo’s tail section.
_________
_________
Doc watches the Spitfire peel away with an outraged grunt, taking it personally. Some slack-jawed flyboy yokel resisted MY power - no way, no f~+~ing way.
Doc growls encouragement to Ambrose from the swivel turret, "Stay on that bastard! I'm gonna give him something to remember." He waits for the right moment, anticipating the Spitfire's flight path, and walks a set explosive shells across the fighter's canopy.
HP Strain: 12 / 12
HP Injury: 12 / 12
Potential (3): xx
Laughing Touch (7):
Arch's Luck (8): xxx
BI (1): x
Spell Effects:
Pilot Aership +3 for 4 min
Cal covers Bingo with the Roost's massive gun, popping off shots as the targets present themselves.
[dice=Pilot "Dodge" Roll]1d20+11[/dice]
Tiny, too focused on attack rather than defense, executes an evasive maneuver, but does so too hastily. Then he banks hard, trying to bring "Scrapheap" into his sights to return the favor.
The Bingo loses some paint before Zedd can get her out of the fire lane. It’s only a moment of disadvantage, though. His return fire punctures one of Scrapheap’s dorsal aerum tanks, putting her in a momentary stall … just long enough for Callum to cut her in half with his booming cannon. Ambrose banks to avoid the brilliant explosion, which brings Spitfire back into Doc’s eager crosshairs.
The garish craft falters then plummets as the archaeologist’s bullets rip a line across the cockpit. It’s impossible to tell if Doc hit the pilot himself or simply some critical flight component, but the results are the same. The Spitfire careens off into the night, a moments later slamming into a sheer mountain-wall below the Lope. When the rolling, rising flame gout of her impact dissipates, all that's left is the thunder of the explosion echoing between the peaks into the distance.
Engine sounds compete with that of adrenaline rushing in the ears of the crew members as they all strain to catch sight of any more threats in the moonlit sky, but nothing manifests. The crew controls the Badger Lope airspace.
Doc sounds from the swivel turret, below the pilot's feet. "I'm a fan of delivering a decisive message once and only once... Ambrose, why don't you wheel this beast around towards that house for a fly-by? I say we hose it with everything we've got." If the pilot was entertaining a 'kindly old man' impression of Doc, it has been dispelled once and for all.
Boots on the sides of the ladder, Callum zips down to the main deck, joining Ambrose and Doc on the bridge. "Signal Tiny to dock, if he hasn't already. We need to regroup and plan our next move."
Glaring down at the gaping maw marking out Geirnig's office, Callum mulls their options.
We just wanted to be left in peace, but he had to push us.
They always have to push. It's their nature. He's still down there, somewhere. This isn't over.
This isn't over.
Doc's words stir Callum from his dark thoughts. "I'm inclined to agree, Doc. But I won't sleep easy until I see Geirnig's corpse, myself. A rat like him probably had a tunnel running out of that expensive office of his. I suppose we can at least shoot holes through all of his oh-so-pretty things, if it makes you feel better."
Doc pops his head from below the deck. "I'd like to make a point we never have to repeat for him or anyone else in that town. Maybe we'll kill him or maybe we'll just level his lair... Either way we demonstrate how far we're willing to escalate the violence when some dumb-rat-f@!%-sum-b*%!* tries to force our hand. I think that's a message worth sending. But it's your call, Callum."
Cal shakes his head, "I'd rather the crew vote on this one. We'll probably all end up with bounties on our heads regardless - but now we have a choice to bolt, or hunt him down. I won't make a decision like that for the rest of you."
Turning again to the ruined building, he adds "Either way, Doc - I will have Geirnig's head for this."
I agree with the Doc,
Ambrose says, maneuvering the ship with the docking bay pointed toward Zedd's approach. He decelerates and tries to keep the ship steady.
Even if he's long gone, let's make the "Boss" plan his revenge from an outhouse instead of those fancy accommodations
Zedd brings Bingo into the bay in a smooth landing, and eventually joins the discussion with the others in the cockpit. He winces, still quite visibly wounded despite Ambrose's miracle potion, as he chips in his two cents with a smirk.
"Don't reckon I need to even voice my vote aloud. But just to make it official-like: let's pepper the bastard."
Doc gets on the horn to the engine-room. "Gilly? You up for ventilating that bastard's house or do you wanna let him go with just a landscaping problem?"
Gilly wrinkles her nose at the comm horn and shrugs, not that it can be seen by the others. She is less personally offended by Geirnig-- to her, this is just the way of the world; he wouldn't be the first port boss (or equivalent) that tried to extort some extra work or otherwise from a ship and crew. At this point she figures they're damned any which flight path they go... after Callum's invocation of daemons back in the building.
"Don't care. Boom if you want, then we need to vape. More'n three ships in this mudpatch."
"Alright, seems it's unanimous, more-or-less. Level Geirnig's HQ, and then make trails for Raventon."
Making his way back to the Roost, Cal puts Geirnig's corner office in his sights.
Ambrose obliges, guiding the nimble Kestrel back down to Giernig’s already-in-shambles house. The light in the room they were in moments ago flickers weakly, adding to the ramshackle appearance. If the trullkin is in there, he’s hiding.
Ambrose simultaneously bleeds aerum out of the forward ballast tanks as he fills those in the rear, and the Kestrel pitches forward, bringing both forward weapons and the Roost cannon into firing position. Everyone interested finds their way to the bridge or whatever porthole they wish … then the fireworks begin.
The air-to-air weapon bombardment begins in the form of three constant, brilliant streams of lead. If nothing else, it’s a cathartic minute of loud, destructive, vindictive fun. The house’s facade is shredded. Then the attacks eats its way down into the beams and supports. In short order, sections of the forward half of the house are collapsing in … not completely, but enough to render the structure uninhabitable. You almost feel sorry for anyone left inside.
… naaaah!
Perception 20; Know: Engineering 15
Zedd and Gizmo point something out amidst the rubble of Giernig's house.
Doc trains his gun on the base of the 'bolt hole' and opens up on it with the cannon, shouting over the roar of the gun. "We may not kill him, but he'll have a hell of a headache."
"Ha! The weasel has a safe room! Shoulda figured he would."
Looks like it was money well spent.
Ambrose sends a few more bullets at the safe room for good measure.
Nothing like a nice, peaceful job, huh girls? the big man asks, scratching the dogs' heads.
Callum sends salvos of hot lead raining down on the office, reducing walls and fine furniture to a mound of rubble and splinters.
Gilly frowns wordlessly at the sight of the safe-room. 'Bout as good as a broken spanner, that. Course ain't none of this any good, not with Geirnig having heard Callum's words about daemons.
As soon as the staccato chatter of bullet-hail ends and the ship starts rising, Gilly leans into the comms horn again.
"So we all know we're 'bout to have a daemonist's bounty laid on us, right? Cap'n..." Gilly pauses warily, "...you wanna tell us that was just smoke an' mirrors for Geirnig's men?"
Personally, she'd like to believe it was. But either way, Callum did a very good impression of a daemonist, and that's what the rumor will be now... and the consequences thereof.
Cal leans back in the gunner's seat with a sigh. "Ambrose, set course for Raventon. Gill... we can discuss it on the way." With that, he climbs out of the Roost, and makes his way to the common area.
A few more seconds of concentrated fire go into the base of the tall, reinforced corner of Giernig’s house. Other than some personal satisfaction, there is no obvious effects of the continued attacks.
"Where's my head at? Make for the rendezvous, first - then we can make for Raventon."
Cal gives Ambrose the coordinates provided by Grage Hawker.
The captain, Doc, and Ambrose confer briefly about the pickup spot in Grage’s job jacket. According to Doc’s maps, it’s a small stretch of mountain valley farmland tucked away a fair bit northeast of the Lope. The details of the pickup and drop-off also make it clear that ole Biggs was as bad a smuggler as he was a pirate. Grage’s job details give you five more days to get the goods into Raventon, but—after a few quick map references and a little head math—Doc is confident that the Kestrel can make it in three even if they stick to an out-of-the-way (and likely unpatrolled) flight path.
As Ambrose swings the Kestrel around to Doc’s suggested heading—and they leave the quiet town of Bader Lope and the smoking ruin of Giernig's house behind—Callum makes his way back down into the galley.
Gilly wipes her hands slowly and thoughtfully on a greasy rag as she stumps her way to the common area, her small mouth drawn into a little scowl. She's lost the fine edge of impossible swift and accurate movement, now, but that just means her long-term brain has kicked back in again. She hoists herself into one of the human-sized chairs and kicks her feet back and forth a few times, side-eying Callum.
She doesn't say much, though. She lets everyone get there, and she figures she'll let Cap say his piece before throwin' questions at him; he deserves that much.