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Pathfinder-ish Campaign...

Feeling the ship lurch and a sudden scream above Tarkaz turns his head, "Something is wrong..." strapping the Mimmoth to his back, wiith the mimmoth facing outwards, Tarkaz runs to the main deck to see the crew scrambling, "Captain?" He yells loudly as he begins to move to the ballista

"To battle little one" Tarkaz whispers to the Mimmoth, *a little trumpet sounds*, and a mad smile appears etched into Tarkaz'd waterbuffalo gaze
 
Shoving a bolt into his crossbow Ohmen quickly rushes past the other crew members who had now desperately assembled on the deck, scrambling to their different stations and posts. With a coldness in his eyes the changeling casts fear and stress aside, All he could do now was hope, prepare and position.

Swallowing Ohmen, or the creature that was now him quickly notions to the hulking Tarkaz, letting the minotaur past before following up the steps and setting up a good distance behind those arming the ballista. Strategically the changeling places himself between several strewn ob objects that would hopefully provide some cover if the ballista was to be targeted by some spell or suffer steel bolts in return. Whilst also finding a spot which would allow easy means of escape if one were to reach him.

Meanwhile, Wisdom flutters into the ship's riggings, staying high and out of reach, wings ready to lift off at any moment.
 
As your pursuer draws closer, it grows to the (apparent) size of a bird. The... thing... is more readily apparently now. Those blobs on the sides appear to be some kind of weapon, and that pointy thing that isn't a mast on top is some kind of weapon platform! It is still well out of firing range, but if you wanted to lob a pot-shot in their direction you probably could...
 
Not knowing what is going on Tarkaz only feels the danger in the atmosphere, and then sees Ohmen motioning to him. Sprinting as fast as possible Tarkaz reaches the Ballista and arms it with one of its large bolts, long strong ropes stretching back the arms, "No ill sounds, good!" The minotaur says to himself.

Looking back at the mimmoth strapped to his back Tarkaz gently says to it, "We shall step into the fires of battle together little one! Today you learn how to defend against boarding it looks like". Looking out into the distance Tarkaz sees what all others had seen now, a distant object trailing them, "Perhaps it is nothing though..." he says hopefully.

He waits to fire
 
Time passes. The scorpion ship creeps closer and closer, faster than you feel it should. It is fairly obvious that whoever is on that ship's helm is more skilled than Drakk is. While another crewman takes the wheel, Captain Naresh sends Drew down into the hold with Seek to bring out the contents of the weapons' locker. Most crew are given spears, one halfling has a bow, the other an odd sling-on-a-stick weapon and a bag full of odd clay pots. Seek equips himself with a pair of metal-capped, wooden rods.

Standing at the stern of the ship, Captain Naresh keeps staring back at the approaching ship. She breaks her gaze just long enough to accept a scimitar and round shield from Seek, and buckle on a shimmering steel suit of half-plate armor. Her turban is swapped for a different turban, this one wrapped around a conical, spike-topped helmet. She pauses periodically to gauge the distance between Moonsister and the approaching ship. "Mister Tarkaz," she says after a while, "prime the ballista and prepare to fire!"
 
Rasmus thinks for a moment and passes the question up to Captain Naresh. She considers the query for a time, then shakes her head. "We cannot outrun them, can we Rasmus?" she asks.

"No, Captain," he calls back, "we cannot. I am prepping spells and scrolls for our defense as we speak."

"Mister Drakk!" the Captain calls down the pipe. "Turn the ship starboard sixty degrees! Mister Tarkaz, prepare to fire!" Holding out a hand, she takes the spyglass from Seek and sights down it. "Range, eight-hundred feet! Three degrees up! Fire on my mark!"
 
Before she can order you to fire though, Rasmus asks her to hold fire for a moment. He appears up on deck a half-minute later, spell-scroll in hand. Taking a place next to the ballista, he unfurls the scroll and begins to read the contents. As the scroll turns to ash, Rasmus plants his hands on the ballista bolt and finishes the spell. An eerie glow surrounds his hands, before transferring to the ballista bolt.

"There," he says as he finishes his casting. "That should give you a much better chance to hit at this range!"
 
His form twisting and distorting with his anger Ohmen tucks himself defensively between several crates before reaching into the bag covered in reams of black cloak. His hand returning after racing seconds Ohmen retrieves his deer skull mask, gently fitting it onto his face. Burning black eyes and distorted facial features highlighted and covered with bone.

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Hammering his staff on the floor the changeling’s gaze follows the distant ship as Tarkaz to his side reels back the ballista preparing to aim and fire. Gritted teeth the shapeshifter notions some mutterings to Wisdom.

One eye holds a ruby gem (Fire damage), The other holds a Topaz (Lightning Damage)
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The frustration, The Anger, THE FURY of being LOCKED up in this PRISON of a ship for days. TRAPPED with his own thoughts. The consequence of HIS OWN FOOLISHNESS.

One hand places itself on the trigger of the crossbow. The bolt within dripping with Tarkaz’s Ork specialised poison. Whilst the other grips the staff so hard that its wooden engravings are pressed into his pale red skin. He was ready.
 
Following the captain's orders, Tarkaz carefully sights the ballista. The energy Rasmus cast into the bolt seems to make the corded ropes hum as he aims it. Hoping he's sighted it true, the minotaur takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then pulls the lock-release. With a loud ka-CHUNK that makes the deck shake, the ballista bolt launches from the siege engine! About five feet past the machine, Rasmus' spell kicks in and the bolt suddenly picks up speed, somehow twisting in mid-air! Captain Naresh follows its flight with the spyglass, and makes a satisfied growl as it approaches the enemy ship. "A hit!" she finally says. "A good hit!" An oddly vindictive smile comes over her face as she watches the mayhem through the spyglass. "I don't know how you did it, Mister Tarkaz, but you put that bolt right though the capstan on their catapult!"
 
It takes a few rounds for Tarkaz to re-load the enormous siege weapon, even with his strength. You can only crank the arms on a ballista back so fast, and by the time another bolt has been loaded into the firing chute the scorpion-ship has closed to about six hundred feet. "Ready, Mister Tarkaz?"
 
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