DOWN BY THE DOCKS | EARLY MORNING
They both cleared the alley in time to see the rider closing in on the now-dragging wagon full of Hawke's own goods, and he immediately took aim once he saw the man lift a clay jar from his satchel, firing not once, but twice: the first time at the jar as it was tossed in order to either shatter it or push it away from its intended destination inside the wagon and the second, once again, in hopes of crippling the horse in order to this time get a hold of the rider.
Muse: 2d6 = (4+2) = 6
4 = Success. Tristaan hits the clay jar and either shatters it or sends it careening from the wagon's interior. Up to you, Sho.
2 = Minor success. Tristaan manages to land a bullet in the horse, but it may or may not throw the rider.
2 bullets left.
There was no verbal communication between Corwynn and his passive companion, the two far too focused on the task at hand to waste words. The Bad Brother noticed the addition of another of his kind—Kit, a galdor like himself, and not a stranger, thank those of the Circle who'd bothered to pay a bit of attention to his person today. The older galdor was no longer prepared to shoot strangers on a whim, having no time to reload his firearm while giving chase, but true to himself, he managed to catch a glimpse at the other man and offer a smirk.
Tristaan's gunshots rang out in the icy air and his crystalline blue gaze followed the motion of the jar when the passive's accurate shot launched it in an opposite direction, the Taxman gathering his field with reflexive familiarity and raising a hand in a swift motion, Monite already on his chapped lips. The spells were comfortable, a mixture of Static and Physical mona moving together with his words and his well-executed leybridge, the air around the clay pot becoming heavy and thick, dragging it downward to the cobblestones as if suddenly under the influence of a gravity far stronger than Vita possessed and then enveloping it in a barrier of solid force to dampen the explosion.
Muse: 2d6 = (5+3) = 8
5 = Gravity successful.
3 = Barrier is a minor success.
"Stay with the wagon!" Growled the dark-haired passive as he turned toward the results of his second shot, hoping to stop the rider so long and his horse if necessary, ready to leap into combat in the hopes of keeping one of their attackers alive for questioning.
The blond gunman snickered at being told what to do, wary to be separated from his charge, but also wary to let the cargo out of his sight. Glancing toward Kit as if Tristaan had been talking to him, the Bad Brother hooked a thumb toward the passive, "Keep an eye on that one. Or lend a hand, would you?"
And then he was off.