They will tolerate some cheekiness from the odd mere mortal - more to relieve the boredom than anything - but they get seriously bent when they perceive that things are being taken out of their hands...
The Yet-To-Be-Named Dragonfly sidled up to the Yet-To-Be-Named Tradesman so that the two crews could make plans without wasting potted plants. A day and a half had passed, and this apparently low-speed chase was beginning to fray a few nerves. A heated discussion ensued, and it was decided that Xeno and His Portable Arsenal would utilize Dave's powers of teleportation to transport Xeno and Iryien onto the Deathspider.
Salayashi attempted to part the veils of time by using an old psionic discipline - seemingly lost since his crystalline transformation. He looked up ahead to dot of light where the Deathspider was and... felt a sense of loss. "One of them is not coming back," he said to himself, but before he could speak, Xeno and Iryien blinked out of existence...
The next thought that popped into Xeno's head was "SHHHhiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiIIIIITTTTT!" as he and Iryien bobbed up and down in the Deathspider's gravity plane. But before thought could interfere too much with his reality, Xeno unleashed his Fire Finger at the cracked and exposed side of the ship. But an all-too-familiar 'ptwaang' sound let him know that his backpack had malfunctioned again. As he looked up at the crewmembers scurrying towards the dual ballista, he saw them freeze and turn to marble. "Ha! According to plan!" he cried triumphantly, as he turned to Iryien. He was hoping to see her readying her Shoulder Cannon to finish them off, but instead she was, quite worryingly, mumbling to herself.
"Wha- Wait a minute... what Ice? Back where?"
Xeno cursed under his breath and attempted to slap her back to reality, but she merely doubled in size whilst losing some of her precious opacity. He could see the stars through her limbs and face. He cursed once again and turned his attention back to the ship. He could see two large, hulking figures clambering up to the ballista deck - followed by a couple of the hairiest, leggiest creatures he's ever seen. He shuddered convulsively for some reason - and much to his own surprise decided that these vile things must burn forthwith.
Deciding that burning wasn't too good for them, Xeno shot off both his acid and fireball fingerwands at the same time.
The Gods chose this moment to 'get one back'.
BOOM.
Back on the ships, a flickering halo of blueish light whizzed away from the Deathspider and towards the crews. Saladin felt a tingle - akin to a potpourri-laced feather tickling his very soul - as the light raced past and headed back towards Ata'ri.
Ragnar spotted an orange object tumbling towards them, which turned out to be a spacesuit that contained the charred remains of a gnome. Everyone fell silent. I daresay a tear was shed. It was then that Xoe recalled that she was in the possession of a Ring Of Far Too Many Wishes, and took it out of her pouch , holding a slim hope that it could save the day and restore her brother to life.
As she held the ring over the tip of her finger, she whispered with a shrug of fatalistic pessimism, "Well, it could always get worse".
The Gods had a mighty chuckle over that one. And then suddenly, it did.
The crew was instantly thrust before Lord Mytzlplyk, deep in the recesses of his hellish castle. Saladin dropped to the ground in a frozen panic, Ragnar hit Mytzlplyk in eye with carp, and Aramis suddenly found himself encased in body armor made of his own flesh.
As the for-a-very-short-time-restored-to-life Xeno was plucked up by Mytzlplyk and dragged towards his slavering maw, Xoe found herself holding an ice cream cone. She took a lick and said "Next time I'll leave him dead". She rolled 20. The Gods stopped laughing.
Iryien returned to the ships as the drifted through space. There was a great net of hyperreality surrounding them, and she could see clearly that her former companions had gotten in over their heads this time. Her heart warmed for a moment as she thought of them. Some of them tried so hard to become something great, something immortal. She hadn't tried at all, and yet look what happened... Perhaps this latest catastrophe would be enough to convince them to slow down, to be a little more careful, to think before using an intelligent weapon of devilish origins to teleport a vastly under-researched arsenal into the depths of space in order to attack a quasi-living creature who is safely ensconced on a highly beweaponed battleship.
Or then again, maybe not.
Either way, she reasoned, they can't say I haven't repaid my debt to them...
Iryien inhaled, and although she no longer had lungs to speak of, she exhaled a sweet, invigorating air over the two ships. Gone was the spacesuit and the smell of rancid bacon. No more were the crystalline forms of Salayashi. And neither was there a transsexual priestess on tight-fitting monk's robes. There were just the members of Der Chelonian Mobile, Incorporated, intact and as whole as the day Iryien woke up on their porch, looking for a job.
And there were now two pairs of Pants.
