That wasn't going to fly for you. You looked right again, you had a lot of room to turn with before reaching a canyon wall. You took another deep breath, readying yourself, and cranked the yoke right, jamming your leg hard against the heavy pedal to work the tail ailerons and turn. Every movement with this beast felt like hours of exertion in a scout. Once you started banking, you pulled the yoke back, leveraging both your legs' strength to pull up in and turn hard. Almost immediately you readied yourself to push forward and left to even out and turn a clean one-eighty, waited for the halfway point, and slowly pushed back into neutral, feeling your lower back and belly throbbing with heat. You weren't sure now long you could keep this up. The raiding plane passed into view as you flipped around, listening to panicked chatter over the radio, before hearing the harpoons go taut again with a loud snap. You turned around, and saw one of the harpoons be torn clean out of your plane, and the other twisting and straining, remaining in place.
For your next trick on your wild ride of whiplash, you cranked the nose of your aircraft down with tremendous effort into a steep dive. You dove somewhere around four hundred meters, again, no way to be sure, though the increase from seventy-ish to around a hundred ninety kilometers per hour gave you that estimate. In the rear view mirror they were diving right after you. Flipping your head around, you saw that the harpoon was still attached.
Oh well. Time for your signature move. You raised a hand towards the sky again, and brought it down, imagining a torrent of water falling onto the enemy. Your gusts of wind always seemed to be effective in sending people into spins. It was the one spell you never seemed to fuck up. You watched through the rear view mirror as the plane was hit by that familiar invisible rock and started to spin out. After a moment, the nose of your plane was forced up from the fact you were now being dragged towards the earth by a tumbling hunk of metal and wood. You reflexively leaned into the yoke to keep stable, managing to keep purchase by burning just a little speed from the extra drag.
"
THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING FRAULEIN! SURRENDER OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON!" The raiding plane was now some hundred meters or so below you, catching up and accelerating beneath you. The glint of what looked like a gun sight flashed your eyes from one of the open crew positions on the top of the aircraft.
Current Altitude: 40/59
Current Speed: 19/20
Toughness: 33/41
Strain: 32/32
Fuel: 1/12
RPM 1: 2/7
Wear 1: 1/5(7)
RPM 2: 2/7
Wear 2: 3/5(7)
RPM 3: 2/7
Wear 3: 0/5(7)
RPM 4: 4/7
Wear 4: 3/5(7)
Your Infamy Generator
Status Effect: Pooned!
BIGGER FISH: 1/8
[ ] Write in the next round.
