[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qSXKgkY.png[/img]
[sub][@Nanaya][@AThousandCurses][@Psyker Landshark][/sub][/center]
Back and forth the scales swung, always tilting in one direction or the other, but the tilt now...

The dragon's contagion leaked in through the holes that Otis had made in the carriage's window. Alto, their best chance to actually fell these Ethos-wielding bandits, was thwarted nonetheless, a grievous injury inflicted in a split-second exchange. Could Iraleth, Chunji, and Rio hold them off long enough?

Probably not.

Ok.

[b]"Kann, get Davil out. Fianchetto, you leave as well. Michael, wake up and follow them. Or stay behind, if you're still confident."[/b] Otis holstered his firearm and retrieved his sewing equipment, slotting the unfinished embroidery into various pouches around his belt. Popping out of the door soon after, the Strigidae swung right on over to the seat once occupied by the driver-mannekins, brushing aside the wooden debris that littered the area. Throughout all this chaos, the horses remained untouched, unharmed, unbothered, no doubt under a similar sort of brain-altering spell that he had once applied upon his own Adapa. It made them entirely obedient and wholly fearless; it also meant that they were easy to control, even for someone whose encounters with horses could be counted with only his fingers. At least, that was what Otis decided would be the case.

The student seized the reins, having given the occupants of the carriage only a few seconds to vacate before he put his plan into action. With a wild cry, the horses entered into a trot before speeding up into a gallop, heading straight for the headless tower. Otis grit his teeth together, a free hand slapping his goggles down over his eyes as his mind burned with calculations. Calculations on inertia and momentum, on angles of approach and the construction of the skeletal tower, on how much maneuverability the carriage actually had. Too much of it was a gamble, too much of it reliant on quick calculations dependent on too much rounding. There was a wriggling thought in the back of his mind, about how much easier this entire thing would have been if they weren't forced to wear that essence-nullifying ring. If [i]Alto[/i], at least, hadn't been forced to wear that ring.

Oh well.

The horses frothed at the mouth from the physical exertion as they stampeded faster and faster towards the skeletal tower. Its warding blows had been weakened, and what could cause men to falter would be light work for a burdenbeast to withstand anyways; the vehicle powered on over perilous terrain, Otis almost flying off his seat with every bump and hole in the earth. And, at the last moment, Otis drew out his firearm once more, pulling both reins with one hand to the side while aiming the barrel at the carriage shaft.

The horses turned. The carriage followed.

A crack of the bullet sounded, accompanied by the splintering of wood as the structure could no longer bear the strain and snapped apart, sending the side of the carriage smashing right into the skeletal tower. If his calculations were correct, it would be enough force applied to the poorly-constructed 'undead' to send it falling down upon the bandits.

And Rio. And Iraleth. And Chunji. And Alto.

But Otis didn't have the time to think about them. He, after all, was far more airborne than he'd like to be, having been launched during the initial jackknifing of the blue carriage.