They-- they really don't have much time. He's too worried, and with a last glance down, Esteban nods, ruffling through his pockets to pull out four of the five smokebombs he'd carried.
"Alright. You keep these for now--" It's not much, and he's a little afraid that the beast might pounce while he's busy with the other metallic fiend. But if they don't try, then they don't even know if it might work at all. At least the smokebombs should help slow them down. The last, Esteban keeps in his hand, switching it and the grav-con around, for his best aim possible.
"Click on the button t' activate it, an' it'll burst on next impact. It's got a bit of a kick to it, so try an' get some distance, kay?" It's the best he can do for his friend. As for the crawler.
"I'll get you a clear shot." And at this, Esteban leaps, swirling off the low wall that kept them in cover, his voice loud as he snarls again.
"HEY, TIN-HEAD!" the half-elf shouts, bouncing further from the wall and landing near the needle-thin legs of the monster beneath. This time, when he reaches a taloned wing, he is careful to tug the leg on his left, across towards the right-- and smirks when the creature spins around just to keep itself steady.
His wings tuck in through his back, melding in without a trace of their existence, the tail entirely gone. The leather now out of the way leaves a far clearer shot for his friend up on the rooftop, and Esteban sits still, eerily still, as the crawler spins, and turns, as it lifts its entire head up, mouth aglow with this odd redness that permeates the air like a stain. Even his lungs are still as he faces down the monster limbs taught and steadfast.
Just like a dance, he tells himself, poised. He is not. Allowed. To Move.
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"Alright. You keep these for now--" It's not much, and he's a little afraid that the beast might pounce while he's busy with the other metallic fiend. But if they don't try, then they don't even know if it might work at all. At least the smokebombs should help slow them down. The last, Esteban keeps in his hand, switching it and the grav-con around, for his best aim possible.
"Click on the button t' activate it, an' it'll burst on next impact. It's got a bit of a kick to it, so try an' get some distance, kay?" It's the best he can do for his friend. As for the crawler.
"I'll get you a clear shot." And at this, Esteban leaps, swirling off the low wall that kept them in cover, his voice loud as he snarls again.
"HEY, TIN-HEAD!" the half-elf shouts, bouncing further from the wall and landing near the needle-thin legs of the monster beneath. This time, when he reaches a taloned wing, he is careful to tug the leg on his left, across towards the right-- and smirks when the creature spins around just to keep itself steady.
His wings tuck in through his back, melding in without a trace of their existence, the tail entirely gone. The leather now out of the way leaves a far clearer shot for his friend up on the rooftop, and Esteban sits still, eerily still, as the crawler spins, and turns, as it lifts its entire head up, mouth aglow with this odd redness that permeates the air like a stain. Even his lungs are still as he faces down the monster limbs taught and steadfast.
Just like a dance, he tells himself, poised. He is not. Allowed. To Move.