to catch up, Drallic hurried off like the charging bull he was, with Yalnic in hand, and Gellya likely on the minotaur's large back if she wanted to try and patch up the half-orc. The ship shouldn't be far now, provided it was still in one piece. And hopefully the rest of the crew already arrived or was about to arrive. Where's their carpenter, anyway?

As you run through the ever crowded street, fighting on all sides of you, Gellya is working hard to get Yalnic patched up. As you pass by the next square, with the gate in sight, she finally finishes, allowing Yalnic to move on his own, increasing your speed by a bit. When you arrived at the gate, you see a massive battle ensuing. The wall ballistae and cannons firing near non-stop at the mass of cultists fighting the largest group of city guards. The clash of metal, magic and firearms is something that blasts against your head, sending pulses of pain through it and your neck. It is a somewhat familiar feeling, but what you have felt before was a tiny breeze compared to what is happening now.

Good news for you, though, is that not many of the combatants are paying attention to you. Plus, the guards are working on clearing a path. The path, you can see, was made for people living in the few small settlements outside of the city so they can get inside the walls safely. However, you can see that you can use the path to get to your ships in an indirect but safe path. Or, you can take the risk and go through the battlefield in a direct shot toward your ship.

This wasn't the best position to consider a risky trek. Drallic's crew had just got Yalnic back on his feet, and preferably away from receiving another blade's point. Marching through a battlefield was... not unfamiliar to the minotaur; sometimes one must recklessly charge to save an ally in distress. But to do so with another captain, and five crewmates, in tow, would incite risk to all of them. Nevermind the painful flare of sounds coming from the battle.

And yet, they couldn't dawdle; Argenta's dome wouldn't hold for much longer. There was no sense to trying to save something if they were taking the slow route. It was just a straight path to the ship... with a bunch of magic, clashing steel, heavy arrows and ballistae, and heavy cannons firing across the way.

Drallic took another look up at the sky, seeing the cracked and beaten up dome against the flurry of air storms. "We're runnin' outta time on this," he notes with a gruff heave. He pointed one of his large, muscled fingers over to a small gap amidst the battle. "There's a path there we can take right to the ship. Best plan I got be me chargin' through an' clearin' as much as I can for ye all. Bet I could carry most 'o ye as well, if we wanna be a big, chargin' machine." His bovine-shaped head creaked uncomfortably over at the eidolon, "Er, 'cept maybe you. But at least ye can fly!"

"Any o' ye object?" Was this a sound plan? Probably not. But if Argenta would be saved, some risks had to be taken. Hopefully the crew may have their own suggestions on the plan, unless the other captain had a very different opinion on this matter.

As you turn to talk with the group, you can see that El'lans is looking around as well, his dull eyes darting back and forth trying to figure something out. Yet, with the fact that you have been around him for so long, you can see that he is very antsy, ready to just leap wherever the group goes. His eidolon is motionless, simply waiting for his master's command.

"Well, fuck." Chucker mutters, "This isn't gonna be good no matter which way we go."

Geylla, meanwhile, is taking the chance to tighten the bandages and check on Yalnic some more, "I don't think he will last the long way." A tug on the cloth causes a sigh of pain to come from Yalnic, "He's barely conscious as it is."

El'lans looks to the injured man and nods, "Then let's go."

"Alright, I suggest ye hang on right," Drallic said with a boisterous, commanding tone to his fellow captain and shipmates. He'd completely lost track of Yalnic's state which, ironically, prioritized the most dangerous path to save him. But between the blades, arrows and magic, it'd be easy for the wounded half-orc to take a fatal wound unless Drallic kept him safe during the trek.

And this wouldn't be the first time the large, muscular minotaur used his body to defend a crewmate.

Drallic, using his large arms like a shield, gently tightened his grip on Yalnic. The minotaur bent over forward, head pointed downward and toward the gap on the other end of the battlefield. He brushed his hoof across the stone ground twice. While he never tried carrying a bunch of his crew before, he had discussed the potential necessity and positions everyone would take in such a situation: crossbowmen and gunners ride on his back, wrapped around his horns and fired at any nearby or incoming targets; a good spot for El'lans and Chucker. More lethe or agile crewmates, like Geylla, could either run just behind him or ride upon or hang onto his large shoulders or arms. And the eidolon... maybe could fly just above or behind him. In reality, Drallic had no idea what to do about the eidolon. He'd just trust El'lans on whatever happened.

He let everyone hang on according to this formation, or follow however they wish otherwise, before brushing the ground once more with his hoof. "And 'ere, we, GO!" the minotaur shouted as he gave off a powerful bovine roar and charged toward and into the massive battleground. Magic, blade, bullets, and arrows be damned, he's going to make it over to the other end of this place and to the ship. And if this made him the biggest target for stray attacks... As a more zealous warrior would say: so be it.

You add your thunderous hooves to the din of battle, deciding to charge right through it rather than go around it. Your crew follow behind you as close as they may, El'lans and Chucker firing their weapons at any target that decides to give any attention to you. Those that manage to get physically close to you meet Geylla's blade, the metal flicking out, in, and around in duelist's parries and counters.

However, they cannot defend you from all of the cultists that attack. The dark blur that descends upon you is barely visible before its spiked mace comes down toward your head.4dF was rolled to get 3 ([0, 1, 1, 1] + 0)

It felt like a bad idea before his hoof first pounded onto the battlefield. It quickly revealed to be bad once Drallic saw the dark blur coming at him. He was, after all, a minotaur charging at his fastest, holding a wounded half-orc in his large hands, with his crew either right behind him or riding on him. He didn't have time to change or stop his momentum in the midst of a warzone.

"Hang on!" he quickly snorted out as he turned his head leftward and kicked his right hoof diagonally, leaping his body leftward in a brief, quick hop. The landing sent his left leg stumbling slightly, rendering him Unbalanced, but otherwise kept his head barely out of the way of the mace and past his shoulder.

And this gave him a chance to strike back, albeit unconventionally, by forcefully tackling4dF+3 was rolled to get 4 ([0, 0, 0, 1] + 3) the cultist with his shoulder!

With a shoulder slam, your Awesome Blow, sends the cultist flying, crashing into another cultist who was in the middle of locking blades with one of the guards of the city. The guard had no chance to even acknowledge you before they were beset by two more cultists diving down.

And the same could be said for you. While your blow was strong, the attack against you set you off balance, and the foes around you noticed. While most were preoccupied with their own fights, one cultist darted toward you, hovering just above the ground to strike at your Unbalanced legs.4dF was rolled to get 0 ([-1, 1, 1, -1] + 0)

As everything else with his reckless charge, Drallic didn't have a plan in mind when avoiding attacks. He was concerned more with Yalnic in his arms, and his fellow captain and crew on him or behind him. The minotaur never quite fought at his best when he couldn't run or move wherever he wanted. And with his shaky legs, he didn't have a choice but to swing his right leg forward in a heavy leap and bring the knee forward to forcefully take blade's sharp edge.

He had the cultist's poor form and accuracy to thank for the blade merely scraping around the knee instead of cutting directly into the muscle. Drallic kept his footing and found a Strengthened Momentum in his step as he slammed his bent-over, horns-straight head at and forcefully into the cultist's robed chest.

Those without self-preservation, like most cultists, fail to realize that you never, ever attack a charging bull right in front of one.

You do not feel anything as your horns pierce deep into the cultist's robes. The only reason you know that you killed it as you continue moving is the sudden whirlwind that seems to envelop you with its deathcry. But it does not otherwise affect you or your allies. In fact, behind you are the sounds of their weapons and spells, taking out the cultists that are trying to get at your sides and rear.

Before you can get a few more steps forward, there is a loud crash from above you. Looking up, you can see that the dome has finally collapsed. It seems like the pieces of the dome, like shards of glass, would fall down upon the battle and deal major damage to the combatants, but as they fall they dissipate into magical swirls then disappear completely only a few dozen feet later. But, with the dome broken through, everything from the outside started to burst on through. It is hard to tell what exactly they are, as they essentially are just concentrated areas of air, but you watch as they start rushing toward the Repository, very few of them even noticing the battle outside the city gates.

Their appearance, however, has raised the morale of the cultists around you, and three of them charge right for your group, aiming their weapons4dF was rolled to get -1 ([1, -1, -1, 0] + 0) right for your head4dF was rolled to get 0 ([0, 0, -1, 1] + 0) ready to kill4dF was rolled to get -2 ([1, -1, -1, -1] + 0).

Damn it, he thought he had more time. Drallic's bovine head jerked upward to witness the never-before-seen moment of a shattering dome. Watching the magical shards break off from a solid force and dissipate was almost like a light show; an ocean of swirls flailing in the air. It would've been incredible to watch had it not been the only thing protecting Argenta from a storm. And there's little stopping sudden concentration of air, now hurling around and toward the Repository, from commencing its disastrous ruin.

Not that Drallic could afford to look up for long, as the three cultists came at him about as quickly as his hooves were leading him. With little way to halt his momentum, he didn't have a chance to stop himself from colliding right into the various blades. Nor could he simply rely on his body to take the blow with the sharp edges and points aimed right at his head; with Yalnic in his arms, the minotaur couldn't spare blocking with his limbs. He couldn't even try sidestepping around when he's charging into several attacks. So there was only one thing to do and, to his regret, it wasn't going to be pretty.

With all the momentum of his hooves, Drallic deliberately threw his already-hunched and forward-leaning body outward, catapulting his legs off the ground, ducking downward to lower his height, and turned his head away from his front with his back faced outward. Clutching Yalnic to protect the wounded half-orc, the bovine captain's body ducked under the cultists' weapons, making them Disoriented, Caught Off-Guard, and unable to catch the Maneuverable minotaur. But all this had a cost, namely Drallic's deliberate dive into the ground at his thunderous running speed, sending his back, legs and arms tumbling across the battlefield and forcefully rolled out through some of the remaining cultists.

By the time Drallic's furred body stops rolling, he was able to get up, quickly check Yalnic's condition, then shout "C'mon! We're almost there!" He hadn't... actually checked how far he made it to the other side. But surely it had to be close. It... HAD to be; there was no time left for Argenta or Yalnic. They had to get to the ship, if the air storm hadn't destroyed it already.

With a quick look back, you can see your allies, with stunned looks upon their faces, struggle to follow you. Their eyes occasionally glance back up toward the hole in the dome, which is spreading further and further as its structure continues to weaken. However, they continue to fight, knowing it is their only chance to escape.

Your successful charge has put a large target on your back, though, and when you look forward again, you watch as one of the transparent, formless creatures pouring in from the outside lance right for you. It does not attempt to stop before crashing into and through you4dF+3 was rolled to get 1 ([-1, 0, -1, 0] + 3), its material becoming as sharp as blades.

Rolling like a fool wasn't ever Drallic's best plan; tumbling ahead of his crew was just one particular downside. Was there a better strategy? Almost certainly, but he hadn't thought of it at the time. And with the dome falling all around him, even the most quick-witted of his crew didn't have time to think hard about strategy.

And with the reigns of war and the anarchy of wind all around it, it wasn't a surprise that the minotaur left himself open for a cultist to rush at him. Drallic barely had time to drop Yalnic on the muddy and dirty ground, a poor idea in hindsight, and adjust his body by inches before his chest struck against the sharp, airy material. A booming swarm of stab wounds and blades tore into his heavy muscles and out of his back; his brown fur splattered