[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/250324/b71cf5ab5cebec9b4e857200f7c42a8b.png[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/250324/dc185f5e06aa08f3af9fbb79b4040da5.png[/img]

[color=EBA536][b]Location:[/b][/color] [color=E579FF]Cargo Hold[/color]
[color=E579FF][b]Race:[/b][/color] [color=EBA536]Dark Elf[/color] & [color=E579FF]Human[/color]
[color=E579FF][b]Class:[/b][/color] [color=EBA536]Artificer[/color] & [color=E579FF]Rogue[/color]
[color=EBA536][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] [@Helo] Ezekiel
[color=E579FF][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] [@Oso] The Two 他妈的混蛋
[color=EBA536][b]Equipment:[/b][/color]
[hider]
[color=EBA536][b]Scratch[/b][/color]
Medical bag
Tinkerer's kit
Arcane spindlelock (shortened) musket
Spindlelock pistols x2
Hand axes x2
[color=E579FF][b]Val[/b][/color]
First-aid bag
Tinkerer's kit
Spindlelock pistols x2
Steel daggers x2[/hider][color=E579FF][b]Attire:[/b][/color]
[hider]
[color=EBA536][b]Scratch[/b][/color]
Dark brown, knee-length coat
Black waistbelt
Grey button-up shirt
Dark brown trousers
Heavy leather boots
[color=E579FF][b]Val[/b][/color]
Off-white shirt
Red ribbon tied around left arm
Brown hooded coat
Brown trousers
Leather boots
Goggles on her head[/hider][color=EBA536][b]Gold:[/b][/color] 101
[color=E579FF][b]Injuries:[/b][/color]
[hider]
[color=EBA536][b]Scratch[/b][/color]
NA
[color=E579FF][b]Val[/b][/color]
Shallow cut on her right side, just below the ribs[/hider]
[/center]

A faint smirk tugged the corners of [color=EBA536][b]Scaerthrynne[/b][/color]’s lips as he watched Sparkler stagger and falter beneath the weight of Ezekiel’s powerful strike. Blood arced from the red menace’s wounds, spattering across bent and warped floor plates in wet, dotted trails. Scant justice, but perhaps a poetic one, for how they and their fellows had bled [i]Stormrider[/i] and the elemental that powered it. The dark elf’s smirk quickly morphed into a muted, scornful laugh—drowned out by the din of battle and the cries of a stricken airship—when Sparkler finally collapsed in a heap of torn metal and tattered rags. 

Scaerthrynne’s mirth lasted only the merest of moments, however. The sight of the sickle falling apart, and practically melting into a mass of dark, wriggling serpentine creatures gave him cause to frown. A curious, perplexed frown, rather than a worried or dismayed one, but a frown, nonetheless. Had that sickle been an arcane, living weapon? It’d been a long time since he’d last come across one, and as far as he knew, they were rarely ever good news. 

He cleared his mind with a quick shake of his head.

One problem at a time.

Tucking the butt of his musket tight into his shoulder, Scaerthrynne took careful aim at Furnace. The turret had done, and was doing, an excellent job of keeping the spellcaster occupied. A few shots had managed to graze them, but to little effect as far as Scaerthrynne could see. That would have to change soon—even from afar, and with no small amount of debris between them, he could see Furnace’s hands move, and the glyphs on their arms glow, as they started to cast something. 

Scaerthrynne clenched his jaw. His brow furrowed. He curled his finger around the trigger. 

[color=E579FF]“Scratch! The runes stopped glowing!”[/color]

He sighed.

Well, maybe he had to handle [i]two[/i] problems at a time, this time. One was easier to resolve than the other, and far more pertinent to the main task at hand, and so he decided to see to it first. He ducked behind the girder, the muzzle of his weapon pointed to the ceiling. 

[color=EBA536]“Now remove the arcane battery!”[/color] He shouted back and peeked over the girder. There was a strange force building in the air, and a chill—not the sort caused by wind or altitude—started to set in. Furnace was up to something big, no doubt, but as far as Scaerthrynne could tell, they were still focused on the turret. Good.

The dark elf reached across and gave the turret a firm slap on the back. [color=EBA536]“I gave you that arcane battery for a reason.”[/color] He spoke like a stern parent telling off their child for not following instructions. [color=EBA536]“If you don’t plan on using it, can I have it back?”[/color]

A loud, warbling whirr came from the arcane device. It sounded almost sheepish.

[color=EBA536]“Then use it,”[/color] Scaerthrynne said.

The turret aimed towards the ceiling, then towards the floor a few times, reminiscent of a series of nods. It chirped and pulled itself closer—its gun, and its legs tucking into its body—and squatted on its legs until it was almost flush against the floor. Had it been a person, it would’ve almost certainly been standing on the balls of its feet, and hunching its shoulders, preparing for a powerful strike. The arcane battery on its back hummed and glowed. Lines lit up all over the turret, all of them converging on its rails. A loud, high-pitched whine filled the air.

When it opened fire again, it was no longer a rapid chatter, but slow, steady barks. And its shots no longer simply pierced and dented debris—they now landed in small explosions of arcane energy. Not powerful, or large enough to shower enemies with lethal shrapnel, but certainly enough to throw up clouds of dust and smoke, and enough to blast a clear path towards Furnace. 

Scaerthrynne patted the turret on its ‘head’. [color=EBA536]“Much better.”[/color]

[color=E579FF]“The arcane battery’s out!”[/color] Vallena’s voice called for his attention.

[color=EBA536]“Now remove the panel covering its manual locking mechanism,”[/color] the dark elf shouted back. [color=EBA536]“It’s located in the same place as any other door on this ship, and secured in exactly the same way!”[/color] As he spoke, he felt around his rifle’s forestock for a sliding switch located just above the arcane battery which he’d slotted into the weapon earlier. He pushed it as far forward as he could, each click sending a slight shiver through the solid, wooden stock. 

Scaerthrynne looked towards Ezekiel. [color=EBA536]“Eyepatch,”[/color] he shouted to him. [color=EBA536]“Get to Val! There’re three levers we need to pull to manually unlock the door! Val can get maybe one or two of them, but she’s not strong or tall enough to get all of them! Go help her, push the door open, and get her through! I’ll get Venn!”[/color]

[color=E579FF]“I got the panel out, Scratch!”[/color]

[color=EBA536]“You’re doing great, Val! Let Eyepatch help with the rest!”[/color]

Without another word, Scaerthrynne gripped his musket tightly, pushed himself away from the girder, and retreated towards where he’d seen Ezekiel place Callandra. He slid into cover behind a stack of crates, his shoulders heaving with exertion. The turret was still laying down an intense barrage of fire, by the sound of things, but Scaerthrynne knew that it wouldn’t be enough to take out Furnace. The spellcaster’s attention was focused on it—they would surely be able to bring up a shield to deflect any shot heading their way.

It was down to Scaerthrynne to take them out.

Drawing in a deep breath, he flicked a switch near the lock of his weapon. 

Then, he [color=EBA536][b]infused[/b][/color] it. But rather than feeding the musket his own, innate arcane energy, he used himself as a conduit to channel the condensed, concentrated energy found within the battery into the weapon. Bright lines lit up along its barrel—arcane circuits, carved into the metal—and a hum emanated from its lock and firing chamber. The muzzle glowed blue, then purple, and then white. Vague, ghostly circles, each of them etched with runic glyphs, hovered around the length of the weapon like diabolical halos. 

He leaned out of cover and took aim at Furnace. The turret’s blasts had cleared the way for him; had given him a perfect lane to shoot at his target. It was almost like firing at a range. 

Scaerthrynne breathed out halfway, held his breath, then pulled the trigger.

The weapon kicked hard into his shoulder, and its crack seemed to shatter the very air itself. A bolt, akin to lightning during a terrible thunderstorm, lanced into Furnace, punching them with a resounding boom, and an incandescent flash. Scaerthrynne didn’t stay out of cover long enough to know the effects of his shot; a glance to know that he’d hit his mark had been all he’d allowed himself.

Smoke curled from his musket’s muzzle, and vapour curled from its lock. It would be a while before it was cool enough to be used again, and so he slung it across his back, and pulled out his pistol. [color=EBA536]“Get that door open quick,”[/color] he said, peeking out of cover again. A shudder rippled through the floor, as if the airship was reminding him of what was truly important. [color=EBA536]“We’ve to get to the engine room, and soon.”[/color]