Lou pleads with the unreasonable, untrusting spear-wielding sidewinder one last time but his goblin squeaks fall on either deaf or uncaring ears. The civil mistreatment fuels the archer's aim, Opal turning her head in surprise moments before as if instinctually anticipating the amazing shot. *Gr?* as the cat-gut sinew of the bow twangs.
Fiery barbs in flight, they soar,
Each arrow finds its mark, no more
Shall invaders tread upon this deck,
For the goblin's aim, they'll soon respect.
The rider stops, drops, and rolls...but the predictable patterns of movement are no match for the heart-seeking arcano death darts delivered from the dainty fingers of the Prince of Alfheim. Wump! Wump! Wump! Wump! A quadruple tap of pain visibly dents the once gallant metal armor of the space invader, blood soon soaking into her white tunic, turning it to a soggy crimson.
Yahs is right then atop her, flailing wildly with a thousand mop strikes and pseudopods. Just as she is about to get back on her feet, a cold clocking hit to the face flattens her smoldering, wrecked form out on the deck.
Tarto hovers across the gravity plane silently. She plants her feet soundly on the hollow deck near the automata remains. Musing through her cigar clenching teeth "Oh, interlopers eh?" before igniting her musket with said stogie.
*BBLAaM*
*SCreeeaARRR*
Some crazy sound like a mixed eagle cry and whale bellowing comes from the flying shark creature, Tarto landing a direct hit. It sniffs at the fallen rider in a panic before leaping out the giant maw of the tyrant, back from whence it came. In a sparkle of glitterdust, the form is soon lost in the blackness of wildspace.
OOC: Yahs, your strike brought the rider to exactly 0 hp. You can decide fatal or KO please.
Celsior recognizes the star lancer's disappearance as a magical invisibility effect.
Combat essentially over.