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Celsior takes a gamble with Saerthe's latest mix, chucking the thumbnail sized glass vial against the grain of the bullets. With a crisp metallic *ding* it strikes the fallen signal bell within the ship debris, but as a vicious black sphere starts to crackle and grow, the doppler effect stretches the pitch into a deepening *dong*.

The giff shift their stance as gravity is altered.

"Huh?" one of them grunts.

"...bastards using mind-flayer tech! We should get paid double for this..." the other laments. "...oh shit..."

Suddenly the cloud of rubble leaps into the air with a life of its own. A whirlwind of planks, ropes, portholes and space barnacles smashes together with the all the force of a collapsing star. The ship's mooring creaks, the ballistae twist to new coordinates in their turrets. One entire sail gets loose and is sucked up and gone instantly.

*SquawK* In a burst of feathers, a passing seagull discovers negative space as its unfortunate trajectory finds itself beyond Celsior's event horizon. Mr. Bigglesworth, who had been stealthily hunting said seagull, screeches and scrapes across the deck with all 4 paws 'n claws as the kitty attempts to avoid the same fate.

One of the commando's battle shirts is ripped clean off, revealing an embarrassing "No Regerts" tattoo on the hippo's manboob. They both get shredded by the swirling debris, but their shear inertia overpowers the pull of the light-eating nega-sphere.

Yahs and Lazuli use the distraction to dash forward, with the former being much more cautious than the latter. Yahs resembles a pool of mercury roiling across the waxed planks before puddling up behind the gyrocompass. Squishy resembles...well a big puff mushroom with bones in it.

"Cover me!" the bare-chested one shouts as it rips another grenade from his belt. The other lets loose a few shots until he can get into position to throw.

You've always heard of giff and their affinity for guns and explosives, but never really understood the pure destructive force these spacefaring militants have perfected. Until now. Another impossible shot careens off a metal hook, ricocheting directly into Celsior's throat.

As the Prince of Alfheim reaches his hand up to stop the artery overflow, *KERPLOW* another huge section of the deck is vaporized, tumbling into the ocean hundreds of feet below. At this rate, there soon won't be much of the main deck left...or the ship.

The rest of the Academy doesn't seem to be faring any better. A small explosion blows a hail of glass out a few levels above, releasing a thick plume of black smoke. The Academy's nautical alarm *AwoooGaaa*s, signaling an attack on what looks to be the brig...where Miken is (or was) being securely detained.

All, make a dexterity saving throw DC 15 to take half the 17 grenade (force) damage.

Yahs has both a +2 to the dex save from half cover and advantage on the save from Dodge.

Celsior takes 12 piercing from another lucky giff crit.

The sterncastle and main deck are highly damaged. The forecastle is still untouched, as is the cargo deck. You are on the main deck (what is left of it) near the spelljamming helm and chart room, which are now open to the sky (10 and 11). Despite the difficult terrain, everyone is now within a move of either giff.

giff 1: -22-7
giff 2: -22-7

Round 2:
Lazuli
Seal Team 6
Yahs, Celsior <--UP

Celsior takes a gamble with Saerthe's latest mix, chucking the thumbnail sized glass vial against the grain of the bullets. With a crisp metallic *ding* it strikes the fallen signal bell within the ship debris, but as a vicious black sphere starts to crackle and grow, the doppler effect stretches the pitch into a deepening *dong*.

The giff shift their stance as gravity is altered.

"Huh?" one of them grunts.

"...bastards using mind-flayer tech! We should get paid double for this..." the other laments. "...oh shit..."

Suddenly the cloud of rubble leaps into the air with a life of its own. A whirlwind of planks, ropes, portholes and space barnacles smashes together with the all the force of a collapsing star. The ship's mooring creaks, the ballistae twist to new coordinates in their turrets. One entire sail gets loose and is sucked up and gone instantly.

*SquawK* In a burst of feathers, a passing seagull discovers negative space as its unfortunate trajectory finds itself beyond Celsior's event horizon. Mr. Bigglesworth, who had been stealthily hunting said seagull, screeches and scrapes across the deck with all 4 paws 'n claws as the kitty attempts to avoid the same fate.

One of the commando's battle shirts is ripped clean off, revealing an embarrassing "No Regerts" tattoo on the hippo's manboob. They both get shredded by the swirling debris, but their shear inertia overpowers the pull of the light-eating nega-sphere.

Yahs and Lazuli use the distraction to dash forward, with the former being much more cautious than the latter. Yahs resembles a pool of mercury roiling across the waxed planks before puddling up behind the gyrocompass. Squishy resembles...well a big puff mushroom with bones in it.

"Cover me!" the bare-chested one shouts as it rips another grenade from his belt. The other lets loose a few shots until he can get into position to throw.

You've always heard of giff and their affinity for guns and explosives, but never really understood the pure destructive force these spacefaring militants have perfected. Until now. Another impossible shot careens off a metal hook, ricocheting directly into Celsior's throat.

As the Prince of Alfheim reaches his hand up to stop the artery overflow, *KERPLOW* another huge section of the deck is vaporized, tumbling into the ocean hundreds of feet below. At this rate, there soon won't be much of the main deck left...or the ship.

The rest of the Academy doesn't seem to be faring any better. A small explosion blows a hail of glass out a few levels above, releasing a thick plume of black smoke. The Academy's nautical alarm *AwoooGaaa*s, signaling an attack on what looks to be the brig...where Miken is (or was) being securely detained.

All, make a dexterity saving throw DC 15 to take half the 17 grenade (force) damage.

Yahs has both a +2 to the dex save from cover and advantage on the save from Dodge.

Celsior takes 12 piercing from another lucky giff crit.

The sterncastle and main deck are highly damaged. The forecastle is still untouched, as is the cargo deck. You are on the main deck (what is left of it) near the spelljamming helm and chart room, which are now open to the sky (10 and 11). Despite the difficult terrain, everyone is now within a move of either giff.

giff 1: -22-7
giff 2: -22-7

Round 2:
Lazuli
Seal Team 6
Yahs, Celsior <--UP

Celsior takes a gamble with Saerthe's latest mix, chucking the thumbnail sized glass vial against the grain of the bullets. With a crisp metallic *ding* it strikes the fallen signal bell within the ship debris, but as a vicious black sphere starts to crackle and grow, the doppler effect stretches the pitch into a deepening *dong*.

The giff shift their stance as gravity is altered.

"Huh?" one of them grunts.

"...bastards using mind-flayer tech! We should get paid double for this..." the other laments. "...oh shit..."

Suddenly the cloud of rubble leaps into the air with a life of its own. A whirlwind of planks, ropes, portholes and space barnacles smashes together with the all the force of a collapsing star. The ship's mooring creaks, the ballistae twist to new coordinates in their turrets. One entire sail gets loose and is sucked up and gone instantly.

*SquawK* In a burst of feathers, a passing seagull discovers negative space as its unfortunate trajectory finds itself beyond Celsior's event horizon. Mr. Bigglesworth, who had been stealthily hunting said seagull, screeches and scrapes across the deck with all 4 paws 'n claws as the kitty attempts to avoid the same fate.

One of the commando's battle shirts is ripped clean off, revealing a embarrassing "No Regerts" tattoo on the hippo's manboob. They both get shredded by the swirling debris, but their shear inertia overpowers the pull of the light-eating nega-sphere.

Yahs and Lazuli use the distraction to dash forward, with the former being much more cautious than the latter. Yahs resembles a pool of mercury roiling across the waxed planks before puddling up behind the gyrocompass. Squishy resembles...well a big puff mushroom with bones in it.

"Cover me!" the bare-chested one shouts as it rips another grenade from his belt. The other lets loose a few shots until he can get into position to throw.

You've always heard of giff and their affinity for guns and explosives, but never really understood the pure destructive force these spacefaring militants have perfected. Until now. Another impossible shot careens off a metal hook, ricocheting directly into Celsior's throat.

As the Prince of Alfheim reaches his hand up to stop the artery overflow, *KERPLOW* another huge section of the deck is vaporized, tumbling into the ocean hundreds of feet below. At this rate, there soon won't be much of the main deck left...or the ship.

The rest of the Academy doesn't seem to be faring any better. A small explosion blows a hail of glass out a few levels above, releasing a thick plume of black smoke. The Academy's nautical alarm *AwoooGaaa*s, signaling an attack on what looks to be the brig...where Miken is (or was) being securely detained.

All, make a dexterity saving throw DC 15 to take half the 17 grenade (force) damage.

Yahs has both a +2 to the dex save from cover and advantage on the save from Dodge.

Celsior takes 12 piercing from another lucky giff crit.

The sterncastle and main deck are highly damaged. The forecastle is still untouched, as is the cargo deck. You are on the main deck (what is left of it) near the spelljamming helm and chart room, which are now open to the sky (10 and 11). Despite the difficult terrain, everyone is now within a move of either giff.

giff 1: -22-7
giff 2: -22-7

Round 2:
Lazuli
Seal Team 6
Yahs, Celsior <--UP

Celsior takes a gamble with Saerthe's latest mix, chucking the thumbnail sized glass vial against the grain of the bullets. With a crisp metallic *ding* it strikes the fallen signal bell within the ship debris, but as a vicious black sphere starts to crackle and grow, the doppler effect stretches the pitch into a deepening *dong*.

The giff shift their stance as gravity is altered.

"Huh?" one of them grunts.

"...bastards using mind-flayer tech! We should get paid double for this..." the other laments. "...oh shit..."

Suddenly the cloud of rubble leaps into the air with a life of its own. A whirlwind of planks, ropes, portholes and space barnacles smashes together with the all the force of a collapsing star. The ship's mooring creaks, the ballistae twist to new coordinates in their turrets. One entire sail gets loose and is sucked up and gone instantly.

*SquawK* In a burst of feathers, a passing seagull discovers negative space as its unfortunate trajectory finds itself beyond Celsior's event horizon. Mr. Bigglesworth, who had been stealthily hunting said seagull, screeches and scrapes across the deck with all 4 paws of claws as the kitty attempts to avoid the same fate.

One of the commando's battle shirts is ripped clean off, revealing a embarrassing "No Regerts" tattoo on the hippo's manboob. They both get shredded by the swirling debris, but their shear inertia overpowers the pull of the light-eating nega-sphere.

Yahs and Lazuli use the distraction to dash forward, with the former being much more cautious than the latter. Yahs resembles a pool of mercury roiling across the waxed planks before puddling up behind the gyrocompass. Squishy resembles...well a big puff mushroom with bones in it.

"Cover me!" the bare-chested one shouts as it rips another grenade from his belt. The other lets loose a few shots until he can get into position to throw.

You've always heard of giff and their affinity for guns and explosives, but never really understood the pure destructive force these spacefaring militants have perfected. Until now. Another impossible shot careens off a metal hook, ricocheting directly into Celsior's throat.

As he reaches his hand up to stop the artery overflow, *KERPLOW* another huge section of the deck is vaporized, tumbling into the ocean hundreds of feet below. At this rate, there soon won't be much of the main deck left...or the ship.

The rest of the Academy doesn't seem to be faring any better. A small explosion blows a hail of glass out a few levels above, releasing a thick plume of black smoke. The Academy's nautical alarm *AwoooGaaa*s, signaling an attack on what looks to be the brig...where Miken is (or was) being securely detained.

All, make a dexterity saving throw DC 15 to take half the 17 grenade (force) damage.

Celsior takes 12 piercing from another lucky giff crit.

The sterncastle and main deck are highly damaged. The forecastle is still untouched, as is the cargo deck. You are on the main deck (what is left of it) near the spelljamming helm and chart room, which are now open to the sky (10 and 11). Despite the difficult terrain, everyone is now within a move of either giff.

giff 1: -22-7
giff 2: -22-7

Round 2:
Lazuli
Seal Team 6
Yahs, Celsior <--UP