Interlude 8: Basic Cagna (2/2)

Five out of six of them scrambled... and Cagna growled, glancing back at the half-orc, who was decidedly NOT moving fast. “Hurry up!”

Zuula waved. “She wait for you at de ship. Beast Shape One Owl.”

Oh. Right. Shamans could do that.

But that left five people to cover, most of whom weren't that great at stealth.

Fortunately, Cagna had gotten a lot of levels, leading her team over the Yelps for several months.

“Mass Camouflage,” she whispered as the rest of them moved.

And as they moved, they faded from view, taking on the hues and textures of the slope under them.

Just in time, too. There was a whump from the direction of the ship, a whistling noise, and a light burst high in the sky, illuminating the terrain for miles around. An alchemical load, what they called flares, Cagna knew.

“Stoker Feed Activated!” Celia shouted, as mechanical noises came from behind the rocks.

Cagna had heard of Steam Knights. They were mainly a northern thing. Definitely not stealthy, because the noise from the armor's mechanisms were carrying for miles up here, where there was nothing to block the sound.

Also she was shouting the skill activations and being really, really loud about it.

The light of the flare flickered and cast the slope in a yellowish hue, and the first rolling blasts echoed from the ship as the cannon came into play.

Cagna hunched her back and ran faster. The flare was ironically helping them navigate the slope. It was bad terrain, slick with icemelt from the colder part of the peak above, and strewn with plenty of rocks.

Most of them overshot the rocks by a country mile, but upslope a plume of dirt and rocks geysered up, and Cagna felt shards whistle over her head. Someone grunted in pain to her side, but she couldn't spare a look, just ran.

“Boiler Shunt is Go!” Celia screamed, and steam whistled from metal pipes. The skill had to amplify her voice somehow, they were a good ways away from her and she wasn't that loud normally.

When Madeline came to rescue them, when she'd attacked during the storm, Cagna had spent the fight counting the time between cannon volleys. And that time had been roughly forty seconds.

Things were hopefully different here. The Cotton Tale had lost a lot of crew, so the reloading would probably take longer. The ship was resting at a weird angle, so not all the cannon on the port side could target the rocks or the slope. And she was pretty sure some of the cannon had been damaged during the retreat from Cylvania City. All of that probably added time

Cagna looked ahead, to the ground they had to cover, judged the distance, and figured they had three minutes of running before they were out of the arc of the port side cannons.

PER+1

Normally a stat gain would have cheered her up. Especially for perception, it had been a very long time since that had risen. But this was one of those situations where it just drummed home how deep in the shit they'd gotten.

The cannon fired again and she cursed. She hadn't counted. Forty seconds? Fifty? Surely not more than a minute. She whipped her arm up to cover the right side of her face, and pressed on, focusing on the ground ahead of her, ignoring the WHUMP as the slope behind her exploded. Ignoring the flecks of pain as stone needles peppered her tail and backside.

These are my best pants, she thought, annoyed. Good thing we have an animator along for mending.

If said Animator didn't get herself killed. She cast a glance backward in the light of the dying flare, and saw that the rocks were about gone.

“Clockwork Engaged!” Celia shouted.

Sweet Nurph, how long did it take to start up one of those suits? The damned thing had better be able to carry the ship home by itself for all the trouble this had caused them.

And now they were close for her newly-sharpened ears to make out words in the enemy yelling. “Red numbers, captain!” she heard from the ship ahead. “Red numbers to the north by nor'west, three parts out!”

“Sneakers!” Ah yes, that was Anne. “Load cannister and give them what for!”

Cagna's blood ran cold.

The last two volleys had been cannonballs. They were made for range, and punching big things very hard. They caused shrapnel damage too, when launched into stone or some other unyielding surface, but the main effect was a solid strike at distance.

Cannister was different.

Cannister was a lot of little balls the size of a fat grape tucked into a load of powder, then set off in vaguely the right direction of the thing you wanted to turn into pasta sauce. Cannister covered an area, you really didn't have to aim it, just get in the neighborhood. And with enough cannon firing in synch, there wouldn't BE a neighborhood for long

Cannister would scour the slope like the hand of an angry God, and Cagna and Thomasi and Bastien would die.

Thomasi, no great loss. He could come back if he had to.

Bastien not so much.

She snapped her head to the front of the ship, measured the angle and how far her friends probably had to go.

She thought over the cannon from the brief look she'd got at the gunnery deck inside the ship. Weighed how long it would take to swap out shot loads, how long it would probably add to the reloading time for this cycle.

And with a sinking heart, she knew it wouldn't be long enough for her people to reach safety.

“Linkages Aligned!” shouted Celia, and for a split-second, just a flicker, Cagna hated her. Hated her for jumping the gun, hated her for putting them in this situation...

...but that wasn't fair, was it? She was saving her loved one. And she had weighed the risks. And decided the course quickly. Celia was a leader, and Cagna had put herself in a subordinate position. There was no point in doing anything but following, and trying to help the pack succeed.

And that made her realize what she had to do; the risk she'd have to take.

“Party Whisper,” Cagna said, wincing as fifty sanity drained from her.

Cagna: Get to the front. I'll try to draw fire to the rear.

Bastien: What? No! Don't get dumb! Just run!

There was no more time for discussion. Cagna skidded to a stop, then wheeled around and ran, skinning her pistol from its holster.

Without looking she fired a shot at the ship, then ran southwards, curving around as fast as possible.

And while she still had breath,she gasped “Wind's whisper Threadbare. They're going to shoot cannon at me in a moment. Stop that if you can.”

It was a longshot and she didn't expect him to be able to do anything. If he did, great. But there were a few other things to try first.

“Always in Uniform, Shield Friend,” she chanted, reaching behind her and drawing a small buckler out from her cloak.

Your Shield Friend skill is now level 31!

The metal must have caught the almost-faded light of the flare, because there was a feeling like a punch against it that caused her to spin halfway, followed immediately by the CRACK of a gun. Her hand ached, and she couldn't spare the time to check to see if she had all her fingers.

At this distance that shot had to be from Anne, and Cagna grinned, cheeks flapping a bit in the wind as she ran. If she had Anne's attention, then her plan was working.

“Aim ta the red, me hearties! Load and fire at will!” Anne bellowed cheerfully.

Then the flare faded, guttering away to darkness and nothing, and the night was heavy despite the white moon overhead. The slope grew trickier without light to see the rocks and divots and potentially ankle-breaking obstacles, but Cagna was nimble, and she managed to stay on her feet as she ate up the distance with loping strides.

It wouldn't be enough. She could hear the grinding of metal wood as the cannons shifted to face her. She was mostly in the dark now, the flare about out, but rabbit beastkin had ludicrously good perception. They knew her general direction, and she knew what was coming next.

And that was when Celia exploded out of the rubble that had been the rock formations.

“Boosters!”screamed the little doll, voice amplified through the suit, as twin jets of flame appeared out of nowhere behind her armor and propelled the compact but heavy suit straight toward the ship.

In this, Cagna saw her salvation.

She angled her dash, angled and slowed, trying to time it right, knowing there was no way to get it done perfectly, watching Celia roar past her, slightly off the ground, the mechanical and magical suit screaming by and streaming fire and steam...

And when she heard Anne yell “Fire!” Cagna judged the angle and leaped, tucking herself into a ball, keeping Celia between her and the ship.

The cannons roared their fury.

And after a heartbeat, Cagna knew she was alive. If you heard the sound this close, and still drew breath, then you had been spared. But oh did her head hurt, and oh was her hearing gone, replaced by a whine that wouldn't stop.

Then the ground shook near her, and she saw Celia's armor, the jets of fire gone, staggering and dropping, releasing its blade to steady itself as it fell to one knee. There was a gash on its helmet, twisted metal flapping in the moonlight. The rest of it seemed intact?

Then she realized why.

The airship was moving. Off the ground and rising, shifting in the moonlight as surprised crewbunnies ran back and forth, battening the hatches, securing the rigging, and whatever hell else pirates did on pirate ships.

It had moved at exactly the right time to throw the cannon off. The bulk of the shot had passed over Cagna, and just caught the side of Celia's helm.

The bear had come through.

LUCK+1

Still, looking at Celia's suit, if she hadn't gone to ground for cover there were pretty good odds she might have lost her head.

“No!” Celia yelled, and her armor chugged to its feet, pistons pumping, gears ratcheting, as she charged the ship, charged and leaped...

...but too late.

A couple of guns fired at her from the railing as she came in, but they pinged off her leaving red '1's and '0's popping out of her head. But they needn't have bothered. Cagna saw that she was going to fall short of the ship by a country mile.

And beyond her, she also saw a lone owl silhouetted against the moon, going in for a dive.

The others were still out of position, she knew. She also knew she still had party whisper up.

Cagna: Let them go. You too, Celia. You and Zuula are the only ones who can get on the ship at the minute, and they'll overwhelm you if you do.

The owl flared its wings and swooped away.

The Steam Knight fell, hitting the slope hard, with a clang and a rattle.

And the aiship lurched east, gaining speed and altitude as it went.

Cagna breathed hard, sitting there on the ground as the sparking flare finally died.

For now, it was over. But only for now.

Cecelia: Dammit.

Bastien: Now what?

Cecelia: We pursue. And we coordinate with Madeline. Next time we hit them, I want a dragon to help even the odds...