Orphiel watches as once more, the ever-in-the-moment Radago marks his next victim for death. Brynjarr broke right, vaulting over the counter to get to grips with the thug lurking there. A pistoleer himself, he wasn't keen on the idea of facing the twin bolt-pistols, and taking some inspiration from his comrades shrugged.
He concentrated, letting go of his weapon hilts. This was a pub brawl, he would treat it as one. Forcing his capacity for violent, dynamic action into his limbs, his now empty fist seized the chair immediately to his left, before making a madcap charge for the distant targets lurking behind the shield of revellers. His manic grin in accompaniment to the strange heavy beat still ringing in his ears.
Orphiel's Actions: (Plus Bolter Assault).
Avoiding the shallows of the shoal on the dancefloor, he was still forced to shoulder barge some of the minnows from his path, but he saw exactly what he was looking for, and as he ran, gathered pace as he reached the tables and overturned chairs, slamming down his foot to push him into the air, tucking his knees up to present a smaller target as he leapt, bringing the chair up above his head.
Charge Range 18 (Half = 9)
Ag Test for Running Horizontal Leap:
As he closed with his confused target, he was a dark missile, then crunching down onto the table in front of the thug, it toppled, pushing him forward so he skidded on, thumping the mortal into the wall and driving the breath from him. He brought the improvised weapon down in a thunderous blow, just as heard Brynjarr's voice over the Commbead;
"Attack pattern Alpha: Bolter Assault!"
The sheer force of the blow destroyed the chair. With a rich array of targets, Orphiel didn't waste time, leaving the man to take a clumsy swipe at him, he reached under his robe for a Krak Grenade, and hurried down the wall, keeping it to his left shoulder, moving towards Dex's nest, snatching up another weapon as he ran.
He was glad the chairs were so sturdy.
He held the chair in a fend-off position with his right hand and his left was filled with the bomb. The chair smashed into the man as he made contact, but just jostled him and no more. The grenade sailed off towards the second Pit Fighter as he got into close quarters.
A blinding flash sundered the darkness of the club, and tussling, Orphiel managed to get his back to it, just in time, squeezing his eyes to slits. It could only help to protect them from any serious reciprocation.
Toughness Test or Blind:
Edited by Mazer Rackham, 23 October 2021 - 10:06 PM.