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As the roof starts caving in, Hamish starts flying underneath the Seaward Gull, using the ship like some kind of protective umbrella. Unfortunately, whoever is manning the helm seems to be steering on instinct, and the ship keeps tacking to port or to starboard, with little warning, but surprising skill, to avoid the boulders falling from above. (evasion) It manages to avoid all the debris, though you're not sure how. Unfortunately, it quite often leaves Hamish in the lurch, having to dodge on his own as his cover keeps moving.
He spends most of the time throwing out a vast array of colorful curses, as he suddenly has to work twice as hard to avoid them himself. "It's those bloody haddock, all over again." He bemoans, panting from all the exertion. "If they were all made of stone, and ten times larger!" "Who's steering that damn ship? Pete, is that you! Ya blaggard!"
Hamish will keep the Gull large for the escape, in case the deck space is needed... though he himself flies just above it. "Leavin' a corpse in this place?" Hamish says, with a surprised look at Marta. "That's how you end up one those unlucky bastards." He points towards the undead pouring out of the fissures. He yells at the men to return to their posts, indicating the beleaguered medical staff. "Get those sailors out of the water!" The Seaward Gull goes in, cannons firing on all sides at any undead that get to close, while the crew on deck start tossing grapnels over the sides to the medics, in an attempt to pull them clear.
Hamish waves Arnaut off, scowling. "Bah! Take more'n a look and a pointed finger, to take down ol' Hamish O'Toole!" He says, though judging by the wan look to his skin, it was probably a near thing. "Now I did know a lass once, what could tighten my heart with naught but a sultry glance..." He adds, with a grin. "But it weren't just me heart what was getting tight then." He turns back towards the Gull, the ship still recovering from its mistimed ramming attempt. "The rest o' you scallywags, stop gawkin' and get on those cannons, or its comin' out of yer rum rations!" That seems to be motivation enough, as the sailors quickly go on the offensive. Cannons fire from all sides as the ship deftly tacks from side to side. The harpoons soar through the intervening space as well... all aimed at the huge dark figure.
Sucks to be me! I have no issues with borrowing a reroll... since the GM isn't likely to use theirs anyway. Already rolled a second save in the same post (spoilered), as there seemed so many ways it might come up... most of which were nixed due to init timing or [death] effects. (just add 4 if it turns out to be the merchandise type, for the GM Stars) At least this way Arnaut gets to keep his gloves intact, anyway.
Graci!
Unconscious danger zone isn't the problem... its just getting there. With a con of 14, and at -53... that means the first aid gloves would have to heal 40 hp's to get me to unconscious at -13.
edit: Oh, wait... Arnaut already rolled it, and got 41. Egads... Hamish luck appears to be intact. I'm a whole 2 rounds from dead then. =)
"Hands off your charms and on the wheel!" Hamish yells, as the Seaward Gull steers wide on its attempt to ram! "Who put Poxie Pete on the helm!?" As he yells at the men though, the nightwing's shadowy finger points his way...
Suddenly, his words are cut off, with a pained "Urk", one hand going to his chest... the intrepid captains heart starting to seize!
But if so::
"More enemy sails!" one of the lookouts cries, as the shadowy creature flies into the room from the northeast. Hamish curses, having hoped they were done with all this business. "Alright men, it would appear we need to fight for our booty!" He cries. "To stations!" He casts a spell, as he reaches out to brush the side of the ship, as dozens of sailors rush about the deck, taking up position for another attack.
The Seaward Gull immediately sails into the adjoining room, carefully maneuvering through the narrow doorway, and around to the far side of Marta, but well over her head, and attempts to ram the creature, though the crew doesn't seem overly enthused by the idea, judging by the number of them making nervous warding gestures as it approaches.
"Clearly you've not studied them too closely then!" Hamish replies with a chuckle. "A few coins can buy you anything in some places... Trollheim's admittedly a little tame, but you should see some of the stuff you can find in Magnimar... not to mention Ilizmagorti... its shame we didn't get to stay there longer. Either way, some people like 'em old! I say, as long as they're spry, have at 'er!"
Hamish looks at Marta oddly, when she seems to not realize the honor she was being offered... "Some folks just ain't meant for the captain's chair." He finally says, taking back his hat. "Or acting captain's chair." He takes up his position on the Seaward Gull, and the boat circles around and makes its way to the top of the ravine. When Jack points out the flagstone, the captain looks thoughtful. "Might be pressure... but might be booty!" He says. "Perhaps something hidden underneath?" "Either way, not going to learn anything hiding over here!" "Mr. Phips, prepare the grapnels for salvage!" He calls to the ship. He doesn't seem to be paying any attention at all to possible dangers.
Hamish digs into his bag, and pulls out the somewhat crumpled hat from earlier. He tosses it to Marta. "Get on." At the same time, the Seaward Gull sails up beside her, Mr. Phips giving a salute.
The captain then flies up to the top of the chasm, after Jack. The ship soon to follow, once Marta is onboard.
Oh, and another question... re: the afor mentioned wall of thorns. If they can't get out, getting to them is going to be equally annoying. Would pulling one closer be an option? With lunge, the Gull could technically reach one of them with the harpoons... and possibly pull one 5' closer. (Hell, with haste, I could technically fire the harpoons twice, and get two tries) Just not sure how it would all interact.
The wave of acid shoots out of the thorns, and the crew instantly duck behind the gunwales, or the mast, or dive below decks. The acid splashes up against the metal reinforced sides of the ship, doing little more than making those same metal plates just a little bit shinier.
High above, Hamish waves his cutlass around with gusto, his slightly demented mind not quite fully grasping the danger of the beast his ship attacks. You realize he's holding the blade backwards... he does too eventually, and casually flips it about, as if nothing were amiss. He utters a quick spell, hastening the attacks of those down below!
Despite the creatures fearful appearance, the crew don't seem to care either! The jaunty tunes of inspiration and the one touting their greatness, seem to have taken hold quite well, and the tiny sailors seem highly motivated! A brace of harpoons fire off from the forward guns, and you see cannons firing both starboard and forward, though the aft and port-side cannons are strangely silent. "Man the hooks!" Mr. Phips yells, as you find out why! Crews of sailors sporting small grapnels rush out, both fore and aft, lobbing their spiked weapons at the behemoth. You suddenly realize that the winches, normally attached to the harpoons, are now hooked up to the grappling hooks, and running around the masts at the front and back of the ship. More crewman start winding both sets, suddenly pulling in opposite directions, as if trying to split the creature in two. , for damage plus sonic.
, for an additional damage.
"Cap'n! Some sort of unholy behemoth ahead!" Mr. Phips yells, as the lookouts up the crows next start shouting and pointing towards the strange tower of undulating flesh. "I see 'er!" Hamish responds. "Tell the men to gird their loins! Well... perhaps don't tell Pete that... but the rest of 'em!" He casts a spell, and the Gull immediately grows to its larger size, and you think even more cannon ports appear along the sides.
"Full sheets! Have at 'er!" He cries. The crew give a cheer, as the ship lurches forward, sailing directly at the gargantuan monstrosity, raising slowly as it goes, intent on ramming right into it.
Hamish then, starts going upwards, away from the uncomfortable looking river of blood, hoping to get out of reach of the foes ahead.
"Relic hunting?" Hamish muses, scratching his bearded chin. "Usually they give you a map with some cryptic clues and a big X for this sort of thing." Still a treasure hunt is a treasure hunt to the captain and his crew, and they sail off with the Lastwall Venture-Captain. As they approach the cavern, he frowns slightly. "Well, that can't be good..." He observes, before adding. "Well, for anything but atmosphere." He quickly pulls out a scroll, and reads the contents, laying one hand on the deck of the Seaward Gull, now back to its five foot long form.
Hamish sniffs the cookie for a moment, then tosses it to the crew, along with the others they received. The tiny sailors descend on the offered treats like a pack of vultures, the vestiges of the undead creatures hunger aura still lingering. The hold is opened up, and more food is brought up from below, and pretty soon, there's an entire feast going on on the deck.
Hamish leaves them to it, trying to feign interest in the search of the various tomes, but grows bored of it fairly quickly, taking up a perch on the deck of the Seaward Gull, and tapping on the rail with a small wooden wand for a moment.
He tosses out a few random comments from time to time
Hamish eyes the elderly woman with an surprised smile. "Why, I do believe the Marquess of Zimar used to call me Hamfist... though that was nigh on thirty years ago." "I seem to recall her being very... dexterous." He adds with an impish grin. The crew of the Seaward Gull appears to have been paying attention, as many of them rush to the rail, and start calling out for things themselves. Eventually, they start to consult with each other, then come to a consensus. They push Mr. Phips forward to speak their demands. "Uh... Captain sir. Ma'am." He seems a little nervous as he glances back at the rest, only to be encouraged to continue. "The lads believe they deserve an advance on their reward as well. Ignoring Noodly Jim's request for an extra uh... appendage... the rest would all be content with a single keg of fine rum. To help buoy spirits in this dark place." Hamish glances back, frowning slightly at their interuption. "No prey. No pay." He reminds them, with a stern look. "Though I do admit to feeling a bit parched." He concedes.
Aboard the Seaward Gull, the sailors start passing out what appears to be some sort of dried fish. The crew ravenously devours the food, as they go about preparing the Gull for another broadside on the newest enemy. Though it didn't appear like much, it seems to be enough to curb their hunger, as they continue their assault!
Sails billow, and the ship heels over... coming about and heading straight for the giant skeletal creature. A brace of harpoons fire as it approaches, followed by the deafening roar of cannons from all sides!
, for an additional damage.
Hamish's tummy rumbles a bit, but he ignores it. "Enemy sails men!" He shouts. "Hard to starboard!" He immediately casts a spell, and the Seaward Gull begins to grow in size, now reaching nearly ten feet from stem to stern.
Unfortunately, the sailors seem to be having some issues of their own. Though normally quite small, they appear even more gaunt then usual, with sunken cheekbones on their featureless faces. Many of them lean exhausted against the rails, their hands over their bellies moaning. A few gnaw futilely on the end of tar-covered ropes. "If you want to fill those bellies, you'll need to win the booty, ya dogs!" Hamish cries, trying to browbeat them back into action. "To yer stations!" It seems to work, as many of them stumble to their posts, a little listless, but functional enough. Though ship lists to port for a moment, when some of the crew lose their grasp on a spar rope in weakened hands. But others come in to help, and they quickly recover. The ship rams the large undead creature nearby with a thunderous cracking sound, then the now familiar retort of cannons firing reverberates through the room... perhaps even louder than normal. A loud cry goes up from the crew as they rush to the rails, weapons in hand, eager for the distraction from their starving bellies!
, for damage plus sonic.
Hamish plops down in one of the moldering chairs, pulling a battered metal canteen, and taking a few sips. From his sigh of contentment, you highly doubt it contains water. Using the starboard rail of the Seaward Gull as a foot rest, he leans back and casually glances around the room. "Ain't much for decor, for certain." "Still," He amends, a moment later. "The chairs are surprisingly comfortable." He stops suddenly, as he says that last, frowning, then reaches underneath him for a moment, feeling around. Eventually he comes up with a jagged piece of bone from some unidentifiable creature. "And still better than Emir of Shadun's place." He adds, holding up the bone. "At least these ones don't have the flesh still on them." He tosses the bone to the side. "Nasty piece of work, that Emir." He continues to sip from his flask, being entirely unhelpful in the search of the room, as he goes on about some incident involving cannibals, strange golden idols, and a pair of haunted manacles.
"Alright, you blaggards! Stand ready!" Hamish calls, waving his fiery sword around dramaticaly. The Seaward Gull turns in the air, facing the churning orb of water holding the remaining oozes. The sailors all hold themselves ready... the sails fluttering slightly from some unfelt breeze, as if waiting to billow out at a moments notice.
Its in the same post as those other saves... I just included it in the text, so it ended up being easy to miss. Only realized that now, when I tried to find it myself! =P My bad!
Hamish winces as the harmonics increase, Rokgurn's watery orb bringing them closer, as it rolls about. "And I thought the siren's at Grole's Bluff was bad." He manages to say, as he pulls his hat down a little further over his ears. "At least those ones had pleasantly soft bits to make it worthwhile." "Mr. Phips, get those men back on sails. You lot, man those winches." He starts calling out orders to the Gull, apparently ignoring the fact it appears to be melting like wax under a flame.
Whatever he's saying though, seems to be working. Slowly, some of the tiny crew start to get back to their feet, others staggering across the deck to their posts. Even the masts and spars seem to straighten back out, as the ship seems to pull itself back into proper shape quickly. "That's better. Now fire at that bloody thing!" He yells. In response, the sound of miniature cannons firing echos through the room, leaving small puffs of smoke to rise from the sides. The men once more manage to take up arms, and re-engage the nearby ooze. The sailors seem particularly motivated, the battle once more afoot!
As the harmonics around the oozes starts up, the Seaward Gull seems to list hard to the left, and their is a low mournful wail. Suddenly, it seems like the entire ship is starting to melt. The mast starts to droop to the side and the rails collapse in on themselves. Sailors start dropping out of the rigging like flies, others falling to the deck where they stand, all of their bodies writhing on the suddenly undulating deck.
Hamish sees what's happening and curses in surprise. "What witchery be this! On your feet, you scurvy dogs!" He yells. He seems about to say more, but suddenly seems to get distracted, as images start forming in his addled mind.
But the intrepid captain has had insane images in his head most of his life, and these new ones prove little more than a momentary distraction, as his attention turns back to his ship, under siege! He instinctively moves closer, only to hit the strange harmonic aura himself... ... though he fares much better than his ship. "They ain't got no eyes." He reminds Arnaut as the later casts his spell. He scowls at the sudden turn of events, trying to decide whether to pull the ship out.
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