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SKAL'DAJA WAR: Battle of the Bay

The Compact plans to engage the Eurusi forces in the Bay of Pieros, to attempt to pin the enemy and bring a decisive end to the long lingering war. Thousands of ships and tens of thousands of sailors meet to settle the fate of the Saffron Chain, and if they lose here, potentially Arvum is open for invasion.


April 30, 2021, 6 p.m.

Hosted By


GM'd By



Sebastian Lucrezia Veronica Margot Mabelle Kastelon Haakon Mikani Raven Ciaran Katarina Cirroch Antonio Liara Leola Pasquale Mirk Mihaly Eirene Lorenzo Deimos Raja Tython Acantha Rosalind Torian Vitalis Ari(RIP) Oskar Gwenna Valenzo Scylla Samira Sabriel Domonico Varosh Ivy Kalakh Aedric Hellfrog



Outside Arx - Saffron Chain near Pieros - Bay of Pieros

Largesse Level


Comments and Log


It is hard to properly put to words my feelings, and all that occurred, in the Bay of Pieros. I thought I was prepared, which tends to be something I excel at in ordinary things. This was not ordinary. Nothing about the battle was, to be quite frank, and I was naive in so many of my thoughts while we sailed to engage the Eurusi fleet.

There were so many moments of sheer dread and fear, when I thought my heart might beat right out of my chest. Yet those were almost as often tempered with brief allowances of elation when things would turn in our favor, due to one unexpected thing or another. The losses were great and heartrending, which we may all think we are prepared for, perhaps, but can never truly be.

We sail for home on a battered Elira's Stand, now seemingly so aptly named, and I am both humbled by and grateful for the rallying of the Compact to face this threat. Together.

Lorenzo has joined the Northlands Fleet.

Acantha wields Dawnflame, a rubicund arming sword.

Valdemar wields Widow's Lament.

Ivy has joined the Oathlands Fleet.

Galen has joined the Mourning Isles Fleet.

Lou gets a shadowy leather helm with the Grayson sigil upon the forehead from Rugged Backpack with Quick Release Straps.

Torian has joined the Crownlands Fleet.

Gwenna wields Elocution, an icelands diamondplate quill.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Torian before departing.

Tython has joined the Oathlands Fleet.

Tython has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Tython has joined the Crownlands Fleet.

Mirk wields Snowfall, a composite recurve bow in flame maple and rubicund.

Margot wields Ice, a diamondplate seax.

Tython wields an epic sword without a name.

Galen has left the Mourning Isles Fleet.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Raven before departing.

There's considerably more Eurusi vessels than the scouts reported. Notably, there's considerably more variety in flags beyond the Whip and Shackles flag of the Eurusi Dune Kingdom of Skal'daja, recognizable by any who are familiar with the kingdom of slavers. There's hundreds of small longships flying dozens of different flags of numerous Abandoned tribes, clans and houses in the Mourning Isles, Saffron Chain, and even from the Lyceum and Crownlands. It's an unexpected bolstering of the Eurusi numbers, but even with the hundreds of ships, the combined fleets of the Compact gives them a modest numerical edge, if not enough of one to be comfortable.

Still, from a far distance it seems like the plan to allow the Eurusi to enter the bay and entrap themselves is working, even if it's a larger force than anticipated. The wind is with the Compact today, which will allow a faster engagement time when the fleet comes in to spring the trap, and right now is just about trying to estimate the exact right time to sail in to close the trap without moving too quickly and causing the eurusi to fall back, or without moving too slow and allowing Pieros to be hit harder than they might hope. So it falls on the fleet commanders to prepare their forces and then make the right moment to engage.

((OOC: First check will be for fleet commanders and leaders. Anyone can check command + sailing, intellect + war, or command/charm + leadership to either position the vessels properly, rally troops to be ready for battle, or pick the right engagement time. Any success increases the force value, and failures/botches count against the forces overall, but no personal detriment. All with applicable skills can roll and pose in the battle prelude.))

Katarina checks command and sailing at normal. Katarina is successful.

Margot checks charm and leadership at normal. Margot is successful.

Eirene checks command and leadership at normal. Eirene is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at normal. Liara marginally fails.

Lorenzo checks charm and leadership at normal. Lorenzo is successful.

Victus checks command and sailing at normal. Victus is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at normal. Mihaly is successful.

Antonio checks command and sailing at normal. Antonio is successful.

Deimos checks command and sailing at normal. Deimos is successful.

Mabelle checks charm and leadership at normal. Mabelle is successful.

Sabriel checks command and sailing at normal. Sabriel marginally fails.

Mikani checks command and sailing at normal. Mikani marginally fails.

Ciaran checks command and leadership at normal. Ciaran is successful.

Sebastian checks charm and leadership at normal. Sebastian is successful.

Tython checks command and sailing at normal. Tython is successful.

Pasquale checks intellect and war at normal. Pasquale is successful.

Scylla checks command and sailing at normal. Scylla is successful.

Mirk checks command and leadership at normal. Mirk is successful.

Cirroch checks command and leadership at normal. Cirroch is successful.

Natasha checks composure and sailing at normal. Natasha is successful.

Raven checks command and war at normal. Botch! Raven fails completely.

Rosalind checks command and sailing at normal. Rosalind marginally fails.

Azova checks charm and leadership at normal. Azova is successful.

Veronica checks command and leadership at normal. Veronica fails.

Kastelon checks command and leadership at normal. Botch! Kastelon fails completely.

Valdemar checks intellect and war at normal. Valdemar is successful.

Torian checks command and leadership at normal. Torian is successful.

Raja checks command and sailing at normal. Critical Success! Raja is spectacularly successful.

Lucrezia checks command and sailing at normal. Lucrezia is successful.

Haakon checks command and sailing at normal. Haakon is successful.

Lou checks command and sailing at normal. Lou is successful.

Aedric checks command and sailing at normal. Aedric is successful.

Raven checks command and sailing at normal. Critical Success! Raven is spectacularly successful.

Valenzo checks command and sailing at normal. Valenzo is successful.

Oskar checks charm and leadership at normal. Oskar is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at normal. Acantha is successful.

Vitalis checks charm and empathy at normal. Vitalis is successful.

Domonico has joined the Lycene Fleet.

The mighty Black Fleet, under the command of the fierce Admiral Lucrezia Pravus, together with the Isles Canines, each bear a flag with House Pravus' sigil: an iron gauntlet clutching silk. It flutters in the breeze as the naval might of House Pravus waits. On board the flagship caravel the Deviant, Prince Sebastian Pravus is resplendent and unmistakable dressed in Pravosi colors in a mix of steelsilk and leathers. His stance is wide, that of someone inherently familiar with the motion of the sea. It's not great news that the Eurusi fleet have bolstered their numbers beyond what was reported some time back, but not surprising either. On the deck, Sebastian is a visible, calming presence, talking to the sailors of the Black Fleet as they move about, working to quell impatience as he looks towards the Wanton, seeking out Admiral Lucrezia's presence; waiting for her signal as the leader of the Black Fleet.

Domonico checks command and war at normal. Domonico is successful.

Lucrezia squints as she gazes over the ships arrayed against the Compact, the hungry curve of her lips tainted by a scowl as she listens to the intelligence of the makeup of opposing fleet. After a tightening of her jaw, she starts barking out various commands for the Wanton and the Black fleet following her. It didn't matter how many more there were every order she gave relayed that all of them would die and die in the most nightmarish ways her demented mind could imagine.

Veronica volunteered to serve with Katarina in the Valardin fleet, as a representative of House Keaton. She isn't much of a sailor but she is ready to lead marines in boarding combat nonetheless, though her attempts at stirring speech are hampered perhaps by awareness that she is in metal armor and on the ocean. Nonetheless, she keeps her brave face on, one hand resting upon the Heart of Oak, the other holding her helmet until the fleets become more closely engaged.

It's a pretty shocking thing, seeing the Mourning Isles fleet lead by a Tyde or a Woman let alone both, but Margot, while she may not be an experience admiral IS an experienced leader and she whips up her people into a frenzy of 'LETS KILL THESE ASSHOLES AND EJECT THEM FROM OUR WATERS' (and even curses, in public and on the record multiple times) in her working up the sailors on her Caraval and around. She knows the secret - War is in the blood of those born to the Mourning Isles and they've had to play nice too long, now it's time to bring thier true colors to the fore.

Upon Princess Katarina's ship, right at the back where the medical supplies are organized is Mabelle, fashionable even in armor but looking mighty pale as she is inhaling something to return to color to her cheeks. Once that is done, she calls out from the railings to the troops on the ships alongside them, winking at sailors and getting them all riled up for battle.

There's a look to Kastelon that says that this is -actually- not his first trip upon the waves. There's a mindful look across the water at the enemy fleet as they're making for Pieros, a steely resolve that finds him while they're pursuing them... and the shake of his head. In leather, rather than steel, he's not looking as concerned about going into the water, but that bow in his hands speaks more to how he's ready when they do finally get the scoundrels in range.

Haakon is aboard the foremost of the hundred Eswynd ships, placed as pickets in front of the rest of the Tydeland fleet beneath the serpent and bloody wake banner of Thrax. All the Prodigal warships have drawn in their sails, relying on the more dependable beat of oars to dance for position in the looming battle, their rowing drums thrumming in a warlike pulse. The reaver's blue eyes narrow on the more familiar banners among the Eurusi host. "Finally," is his solitary word.

The Crovane Armada stands ready with the rest of the Northlands Fleet. Mikani stands at the helm of the Swallow's Flight. The all black ship with dark gray sails stands out from the Crovane ships with blue sails. She sees the fleet before her, bowing her head she says a soft prayer to Gloria as they sail into position.

Raven has left the forboding silhouette that is the Blackwater to take her place at the front of the Black Crestent, a fleet of Dromonds following in the wakes of Flagship and the Wanton, hair secured in a braid and protected by steelsilk her gaze scans the multitude of ships before her chin tilts upwards towards the sky though she is mindful to keep an eye on the flagship, ready to lead the Dromonds to doing it's bidding.

Ciaran stands amidships, towards the fore of Westrock Reach's smallish deployment. It was not so long ago that archducal edict barred that House from maintaining any ships of war at all, but here the Farshaws are represented by their modest naval contingent, headed by a freshly-constructed caravel. Ciaran himself looks more at ease on the deck of a ship that he does on land, regarding the approaching enemy vessels with a stoic expression. He glances left and ride, one of the officers of the ship giving a single flag signal as their boats maneuver alongside the rest of the broader Valardin navy.

Princess Katarina leads the Valardin fleet from the centerpiece of her Eventide Flotilla, the caravel called the Unsullied. The normally coy and vivacious young woman has grown more and more solemn and given to prayer as the fleet nears its destination. It's only those close by who can see the way her veil shifts when she realizes the size of the Eurusi fleet -- she quietly gulps. And then, as though by reflex, starts issuing orders, refusing to allow fear into her golden eyes or her Eurusi-accented voice.

Marquis Cirroch might not know anything about sailing, though he knows the troops and how to rally them into a fierce snarling group that is ready for the boats to collide or side up upon the enemy. Beating his own chest, the ringing echoing out over the troops as rubicund steel rings out with an echo as his voice rises over top of the commands of ships to line up the boats. A small grin might be visible to those nearby, as he readies himself to take to another ship. Axe in hand, and helm placed upon his head. "Mountains never yeild, take their heads or step over them to remove their leaders heads!"

While the Lenosian fleet boasts two Caravals alone (not to mention all the other caravals they Lyceum's noble familys command) Antonio Velenosa is not aboard either of them, eschewing the larger ships for the smaller target of a dromand. It's from there that he coordinates signal flags and messenger birds, doing his best to ensure Lenosia's (and the Lyceum's) ships are positiioned to do their part in the overall plan of bottling up the opposing force.

Ari checks command and sailing at normal. Ari is successful.

The fleet of the Crownlands has, at its centre, a substantial number of ships bearing the flags of House Grayson itself and, an unusual sight, the Princess of Bastion, Liara Grayson, who stands on the quarterdeck of a caravel, the Rising Dawn, situated in the fleet's third line. Adjutants and aides mill about the deck, and Liara issues direction as information comes, with nimble longships moving between ships, else signal flags being used to convey information. Mistakes are made, however - something of an over-insistence from Liara on the line of hulking dromonds that form the core of the fleet being properly formed, which likely results in the formation starting to lag behind somewhat.

Leola stood on the deck of the Malvici flagship. The hedge knight of southport, more concerned with watching the sea than trying to command, trying to order, she listens to the orders as the ships jockey, shift for position. Half of her mouth lifts up to a smile as she shifts in her uncomfortably elaborate armor, but the thin gloves pluck the alaricite string of her hunting bow with a reassuring sound. She lets out a breath, giving a small smile to those around her and nodding. no words, just a quiet reassurance as she stands guard, stands watch.

The Isles Canines flagship stands out amongst all the shiny new Caravels mostly because it isn't one. Stood on the flagships deck, side by side with the Porcine's captain, is Pasquale Malespero, Mercenary Admiral. For today at least. A guard in Malespero colours stands closeby with Pasquale's ready-loaded crossbow nestled in his arms whilst Pasquale himself has an eyeglass to hand as he scans the scenery and occasionally states some order or another to the sailors around him. He looks calm and collected. Just like people always hope a leader looks.

Mirk stands aboard the Elira's Stand, a Redrain caravel. He is not here as a leader of navies, but he lends his presence of his voice to those efforts, rallying people and directing them to the attentions of those more expert in sailing. It's a quiet process, one that involves drifting across the deck of the ship dressed in his steelsilk and his fireweave. He's armed for war, with his dagger and bow and, for the first time that any of the Redrains have ever seen from him, a sword at his belt.

Being apart of the fleet with the Faith wasn't what Mihaly was expecting, but then again, he had planned on going wherever Eirene happened to be. That was the ship, so here is, issuing commands to a group of soldiers a higher ranking Templar happened to allow Mihaly to command over. Being old and carrying a military rank of Knight Commander suppose accounts for something. At least suggests that he knows what he's doing. Better to keep the soldiers at arms occupied than keep looking at the coming fleet on the horizon. Not that he doesn't see it. He totally sees it. Nothing to be done now, everyone's committed.

With the Fleet of the Faith is the floating hospital ship. Mercies and medics aren't used to war or the imposing sight of enemy ships of all banners. But Eirene is, and her sheer presence and determination seems to reassure them this is all part of the plan. The Faith are praying, and the Physicians are watching nervously. Clad all in black leathers, the Master Physician looks more like a mercenary sailor than a doctor but everyone knows what she's here to do. "Here is the plan. We do our damn jobs and make sure people make it home for a pint of ale and a cuddle with someone they love. If we can fish them out of the drink, we do the sailor's kiss and try to save 'em. Doesn't matter whose flag they fly under, the goal here is to save lives because we're better than they are. And THAT is what we will prove today!" She's met with a healthy cheer with her reassuring words.

On the caravel Elira's Stand, Lorenzo directs the Northern fleet. He watches the approaching enemy fleet and tests the wind, instructing the assistant at his elbow to signal to his ships when needed to bring them all into position. Whatever nervousness he had been feeling before the battle is gone now, replaced with confidence and care, knowing how many people are trusting them to succeed here. Once in a while, though, he does cast a glance over his shoulder at Gwenna, committed to keeping her safe.

Dire times called for dour men. Near the helm of his flagship, The Red Witch, and surrounded by other ships of the Inverno fleet that were nicely pocketed within the rest of the Pravus vessels, Deimos turned that one serious eye to the horizon. It was difficult to tell whether or not the failed expectations--and specifically the increase of numbers--even registered. He gazed toward the horizon and did his best to count the masts of the invaders. Whatever words were shared with his crew were not some boisterous call for valor, but mechanical, rote instructions on taking all precautions that would increase their chances for victory.

Upon the Unsullies, Raja has been working the sails! She is up a bit, working on a bit of the rigging, tightening the ropes just so. There is a moment where she just pauses and looks out over the waters to the fleet. She scans, eyes narrowing. "Your highness!" She calls to KAtarina, "There!" She points out to where she feels is a weakness in the formation of the other fleet.

There are Culler ships to sail and Tython is in command of one of their Caravels, his crew consists of various sailors he's been working with in the past couple of years, and though he's worked as captain more than a few times, the thrill of approaching combat always makes him excited. He starts pacing, slowly, while calling a few commands to his sailors, keeping them on their toes and encouraging them.

Countess Acantha had sailed out with the Redrain Fleet and it was something that had made her anxious really. Full scale wars were something that she was used to, but, she hadn't left Arx since she'd gotten there. Benny is with her as well, because that beaver squirreled himself away before she could tell him no. As beavers are want to do. She's dressed in her armor and hoping that she won't have to use her sword or lose any of her friends today.

Rosalind is a bit of sailor. Not a great one like most in her family. Joining the Elira's Stand with the northlands, the redhead stands tall and ready, bow slung across her back. The Ravenseye is prepared for something she never thought she'd see, but she's watching. Closely.

Torian walks the rail of one of the Culler Merchantile's Three Caravels. Acacia is on the command deck, managing the sailing of that vessel, and Torian paces back and forth, giving commands and encouragment to his people. The assumbled Cullers are no strangers to violence, nor battle, but they are not professional soldiers either. He encourages them to fight dirty, and hard.

Vitalis has never sailed on a ship to war before. The Unsullied is a glorious thing -- snapping sails, and fluttering flags, creaking, shouted commands, footfalls and the bustle and thrum of readiness and nerves. Nerves sing a steady song of alertness and he'd pace, but the crew is hustling about with competent indifference. All save one. Vitalis hears a sniff, a muffled sob. He turns and reaches for the source, a hand on a shoulder offered. Low words of query, encouragement. He squeezes the young man's shoulder, returns to his own reflections.

Ari stands on the deck of Revenge, the flagship of the Black Fleet's galleys. No flask. If things go poorly, he's going to go sober, and fighting. Drawing his sword, he points at the sky, and barks an order. "Make sure the men are ready. When the we go, we must have all speed", an order shouted then from ship to ship.

Oskar has always seemed more comfortable looming over a battlemap than clutching an actual axe in his hand. Still, the former reaver king has felt the call of the wind, and stands beside Haakon with his shoulders back and head held high. "To battle, Eswynd! Let's show these Eurusi how it's done!" He barks. A little more verbose than his cousin, perhaps, but not by much. Still, it seems to serve. He glances back over his shoulder at the fleet arrayed behind them one last time, and by the time he turns forward again his jaw is set firmly. Their course is set.

Gwenna is aboard Elira's Stand, one of House Redrain's caravels, which is positioned with the other naval forces the Northlands has brought to Pieros. She is not leading the vessel, however, as that duty is Lorenzo's. There's a quick smile when her husband peers back to check on her, but otherwise she allows the Admiral to what he does so well at. She is not too far from him, but far enough so as not to be much more of a distraction than that. Instead, she lingers a bit closer to where Mirk stands, the Halfshav noble adding his own voice to the rallying. Quite, for now, she keeps her chin tilted slightly up and remains at the ready for what might come.

The rolling surf is a whitewash of flotsam and thumping swell over the deck of the Terrapin, the mainsail taught a few points of her starboard side as she tacks with the prevailing coastal crosswinds. The men stay alee of the currents, moving fore and aft, men amidships watching the sheets and rigging as she canters a little in the pull. "Steady on," Valenzo calls from the aftcastle, watching the helmsman gripping the tiller-oar like it were his lifeline. "Bear away from those oars, watch her wake!" The two galleys beside her kept their rhythmical rolling of oars, and from within, the drumming sound of the boatswain could be heard. The Terrapin couldn't manoeuvre to the likes of those war galleys, but her draught was high to help repel boarders, and she was a good rammer. The coast ahead loomed before them, a cold horizon of anticipation. He could see the tension across the men, the white-knuckled grip as they held fast. "Steady on, Marcus." Valenzo, called. "Keep that right cliff three points off."

Scylla momentarily lifts her silvery eyes to Blackshore's sigil as it flaps in the favorable wind. She stands at the helm of the Black Tide, the flagship of the 2nd Fleet to which she's still entrusted to command until such time as the war is over. Today may be that day. Lord Aedric flanks her right side, and the pair of them stand grim and observant, waiting for the appropriate signal. After passing an encouraging nod to him, the admiral steps out from behind the wheel and begins to raise commands to her crew and the oarsmen below deck. "Blackshore!" she shouts, "We spill Eurusi blood upon the shore this day! For The Compact!"

In matters of war, Samira Culler is not much of a tactician or a leader of troops. She's not a sailor either, but has spent enough time aboard Culler vessels to be able to recognize which responsibilities of the crew are vital in keeping things functioning smoothly. Having found her place aboard Princess Katarina Valardin's caravel, she removes out of the way as much as possible, resolved to lending a hand wherever one appears to be needed.

The pounding in Sabriel's chest is a heady narcotic that sets the tips of her fingers to tingling and pries her aureate tinted eyes to their widest point. Her pupils dilate with manic energy, greedily consuming all the detail their mortal gelatin could glean from reflected light. The brine splashing in to her face as the hull of the ship clumsily parts the waves, the wind at her back, and the promise of plunder and glory is all she needs to justify the risk to her mortal coil. Aboard a flagship from the Migrant Fleet of Tremorus, one hand is wound in the rigging of the main mast, the other tightly grips the Blood Price. The blade is heavy despite its medium length - the weight of legacy.
"Wash yourselves of your fear!" Sabriel calls, her gruff voice, as powerful as it is, struggling to pierce through the din of the waves, gulls, and wind. "There is nothing but glory to be found here, whatever the outcome. Show these Eurusi just who was truly born to the sea and who is to be consigned to the deep to feed her hunger!"

Onboard the Tempest, Admiral Domonico flies the Malvici flag as well as the Wave of Mangata, the likeness of the Goddess being the figurehead of the caraval. He sweepshis serious gaze around, checking the positions of the Malvici Dromonds and the assorted Saik and Magnotta fleets escorting the siege weapon armed heavy vessels. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, listening to the wind and the sea before barking out orders, signalling to the ships under his command to get into formation. He spies the Terrapin and raises a hand in salute to it before turning to Leola on board with him. "Are you ready?"

Raven's hand swings out to clasp the Captain of the dromond she's aboard, gaze distant as she anchors herself by her broad stance and hand on the Dromond captain's shoulders. She blink-blinks owlishly and looks around with a frown, signalling for the flagship's attention and then making exaggerated gestures to indicate 'favorable conditions' and hoisting both thumbs up. It's not every day someone gets to see a Blackheart do interpertative dance!

Varosh has joined the Pravus Fleet.

It's well timed. The fleet responds well to the rallying cry of its leaders, and while not perfect, the Eurusi fleet has pulled fully into the bay and began to disembark its ground forces as the Compact fleet circles the Island to pull into the mouth of the bay. The Skal'dajans have left a reserve near the mouth of the bay made up of Abandoned flying a banner of Crimson Crosses, a particularly warlike group of Mourning Isle shavs who had suffered brutal losses by disease during the time of Prince Abbas Thrax, and swore vengeance and destruction of the Compact. Thirty longships blocks entry to the bay, and as the Compact fleet nears, archers begin to line the decks of the shav ships, while the front dozen shav ships begin to dump oil on their decks and set their ships ablaze and in motion towards the Compact fleet, with very obvious intent to ram.

((OOC: The intent of the shav skirmishers is to inflict losses while withdrawing and giving time for the Eurusi fleet to raise anchor and return to battle. Characters have a few options, and can choose one. Those sailing ships can roll dexterity + sailing at easy to evade a burning ship, and steer clear of initial engagements. Ship captains can roll dexterity + sailing at hard to evade the fireships and move close to the enemy ships to board and attack. Leaders can use charm + leadership at normal to reduce panic at the fireships. Anyone that's in a same place with forces moving to engage can attack next round if it's successful.

Margot checks charm and leadership at normal. Margot is successful.

Lucrezia checks charm and leadership at normal. Lucrezia is successful.

Haakon checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Haakon is successful.

Deimos checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Deimos is successful.

Eirene checks charm and leadership at normal. Eirene is successful.

Liara checks charm and leadership at normal. Liara is successful.

Valenzo checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Valenzo fails.

Tython checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Tython is successful.

Cirroch checks charm and leadership at normal. Cirroch is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at normal. Acantha is successful.

Antonio checks dexterity and sailing at normal. Antonio is successful.

Ciaran checks charm and leadership at normal. Ciaran is successful.

Lorenzo checks charm and leadership at normal. Lorenzo is successful.

Mabelle checks charm and leadership at normal. Mabelle is successful.

Veronica checks command and leadership at normal. Veronica fails.

Scylla checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Scylla is successful.

Oskar checks charm and leadership at normal. Oskar fails.

Mikani checks dexterity and sailing at normal. Mikani is successful.

Antonio checks dexterity and sailing at easy. Antonio is successful.

Victus checks command and war at normal. Victus is successful.

Ari checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Ari is successful.

Gwenna checks charm and leadership at normal. Gwenna is successful.

Varosh checks dexterity and sailing at easy. Varosh is successful.

Sebastian checks dexterity and sailing at easy. Sebastian is successful.

Mihaly checks charm and leadership at normal. Mihaly is successful.

Raven checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Botch! Raven fails completely.

Pasquale checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Pasquale is successful.

Mirk checks command and leadership at normal. Mirk is successful.

Katarina checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Katarina fails.

Raja checks dexterity and sailing at easy. Botch! Raja fails badly.

Sabriel checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Sabriel marginally fails.

Aedric checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Aedric is successful.

Domonico checks command and sailing at hard. Domonico is successful.

Vitalis checks charm and empathy at normal. Vitalis marginally fails.

Torian checks charm and leadership at normal. Torian is successful.

Welp. Fire-- it's scary. Despite his best efforts, Vitalis manages to be only mildly disquieting to those he tries to reassure. Maybe it's the scars.

Mikani checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Mikani is successful.

Tython frowns at the fireships, those are best avoided, he starts shouting to his crew to encourage them, whipping them up into a killing frenzy, but directing them to avoid the fireships completely. "Let tha' bastards burn'em'selves up!" He calls.

First there's a gigantic enemy fleet, and now they're launching pieces of it at them that are on fire?! This is a bit much. Veronica can feel her tension rising as one of the blazing ships chucks towards them while they try to maneuver around it and get at the fleet behind. She puts on her helmet to mask the nervousness in her eyes and tries to call encouragement to the sailors laboring nearby, but it rewarded only with fearful looks.

Haakon's exhortation is more visceral than that of his cousin. As the initial maneuvers play out, and the trap is sprung, Haakon's rough voice booms loud enough for several adjacent longships to hear: "No ship returns home without a slaver's head on the prow!" Wordless shouts of acclaim answer the reaver, who shouts again, "WHO WILL THEY FEAR?" he is answered from hundreds of throats: "ESWYND." The foremost Eswynd longship banks and ships oars at the ideal moment to bypass a burning Crimson Cross fireship, hurling grappling irons at the first Shav fighting ship, bringing the boarding action to a vicious start. Hefting his harpoon, the Prodigal warrior is among the first to charge over the rails.

Margot's a creature of ice and water and isn't scared of a little fire, steady hands and steady directions are called out with the clear underpinning of 'Hey if a woman do this calmly you reavers should be able to'. Right? "Forward! Are we scared of a few flames? Ha!" Her sky blue gaze turns critically to watch and make sure no one is getting too close to the fire though, cautious under the bravo.

Mirk lingers near Gwenna, now, providing a visible symbol of absolute calm in the face of the coming fireships. There's some tension in the way his hand rests on the hilt of his dagger, but all but impossible to see from a distance. "Steady," he calls out, his voice echoing loudly. "The North doesn't flinch." Whether that's something he's heard before or something that merely sounds good is all but impossible to tell from his manner. That said, he exchanges a few quiet words with Gwenna, his eyes still locked the horizon.

"Steady, steady," shouts Eirene, her rough voice level and calm as ever. "Trust the sailors," she says to the healers and their guardians to keep them from getting disturbed. "They know their shit. Be ready to receive patients, we're going to have wounded incoming soon enough." Years of command give her a sharp voice which cuts over the din of the ship but it's clear why she's got such a gravely tone to it. Barking commands does not lead to dulcet tones.

Mikani calls out, "We fear no storm!" She calls out as she steers the ship to the line of fire ships. "CROVANE." They cheer as they scream as they charge at the line of ships and brandish their weapons to board.

The skirmershers seem like bait.. and Antonio (and the Lenosian fleet he commands) doesn't seem keen to take it. After steering his own ship clear, the sailor prince signals the rest of the ships under his direct command to avoid the fireships as well as avoid engagments with the Shavs- the enemies main fleet is the target.

Little heed is paid by Kastelon to the fireships when he's noticing them - they're a distraction, truly, at least where his own skills are settled. His hazel eyes set instead on the larger prizes, the ships that are closer in, where the bow he's carrying will be more necessary to combat.

Those burning skirmishers are absolutely a threat and one that Pasquale soon starts arranging a response to. Various ships within the Isles Canine fleet split and change their heading until the skirmishing ships are nothing but floating pyres on the water behind them and the main fleet looms large in the waters ahead. Skirmishing vessels try to shelter the main troop carriers as the distance closes and the marines make their preparations to board. There isn't much shouting, not on Pasquale's ship at least. Its all rather business as usual.

Mihaly says, "I don’t want to get any messages saying, ‘I am holding my position.’ We are not holding a godsdamned thing. Let the Eurusi do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy’s balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all of the time. Our allies on the other ships, their basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy." Mihaly states aloud, not barks, but with the steady tone of a father figure, an old knight. To the soldiers of the Faith that he leads on the hospital ship when some start to get jostled by that fire. "That is our goal, and that is our aim. We will protect these Mercies and these healers by doing just that. There is no bravado here, no exultation. We need no cries of rage. I need you all cool, and collected. Keep your head, keep your wits, and you'll go home to see your loved ones again. There is little honor in war, but there is honor in keeping those you love protected and safe. That is honor. That is duty, and above all else, that is why we are here. So I need you all to hold. Stand and hold with me.""

Sabriel has left the Pravus Fleet.

Ciaran narrows his eyes as he sees the fire taking hold amongst the enemy vessels ahead. A murmur of disquiet goes up amongst the crew. "Steady," is his single shouted command, moving slowly up towards the bow of the vessel. Much as always, he needs the aid of a cane to get there. The attempt at calming his men is easy enough to understand: if their half-cobbled captain is willing to face the danger at the front of the ship, they're challenged to match his valor. Who knows if he's really feeling as brave as he postures. "Steady as she goes," he hollers are the first mate. "Follow the lead of the fleet. It won't be long before contact."

Mabelle calls toward the other ships, trying to soothe the sailors as she remains perfectly calm. Outside. She calls the crews and directs them to soothe the flames and press forward while making sure no one is injured.

Communication flags raise over the sails of the Stormborn and Silver Storm Cogs; requesting an escort from Raven's longships as they begin to make J turns around the fire ships.

Torian didn't go from orphan to head of the Cullers by not understanding how to talk to the common folk, and that's the force he's commanding now. Fire is scary, sure, but he tells the tale of the day he climbed an aquaduct to direct water down to a fire in the city. It's several years old by now, and the fire has grown to the size of an entire ward in those years, but it's well known to the Culler clan, connected with nights of drinking and laughter, good times and success... not burning to death. It seems to count for something.

Fire. It had to be fire. Fortunately, the Deviant and her allies are well prepared for this: even before Sebastian gives the command to steer the caravel to avide one of the burning ships, sailors are readying with buckets of water as the caravel navigates in to begin the blockade -- and close the trap on the Skal'dajan forces. "Time to show them what it means to challenge the Chainbreaker!" the Sin yells.

Cirroch turns to watch the ships on fire coming towards the fleet and starts shouting over the troops, watching for any that may look to be questioning their direction. With a single breath, spitting as he yells. "MOUNTAINS DON'T YIELD REDRAIN DIDN'T SEND YOU HERE TO RUN AWAY." He turns back to look at the trap heading towards them, pointing his axe at them, "WE'RE HERE TO TAKE THEIR HEADS, FIRE WON'T STOP US. THEY THREATEN YOU WITH FIRE? THEN SMASH THE SHIP, SINK IT, AND KEEP PRESSING."

Lorenzo watches the enemy set their fires, his jaw tightening with determination. He stands at the bow of the ship as the Admiral of Redrain's fleet, calling and gestures to his sailors, a beacon of confidence to the Northerners. "Steady on! Archers ready!" He trusts in the other ships' captains to manage their own.

Well. Flaming ships. A brow arches a bit on Gwenna's forehead and the time to stand on the deck in her armor quietly has clearly passed, or so her expression might suggest. She gives a little nod toward Lorenzo first, then one to Mirk. "Steady." She echoes Mirk's words and then listens to his quieter ones before replying. The Redrain then moves to make her way along the deck to speak with some of the crew in an attempt to keep everyone calm despite this new, unexpected challenge. Quick tales of all they have faced and overcome in the North, the great enemies they've faced across over so many years - these are the things she speaks about. Moving from group to group, she adds a proud, "To the last," after each pep talk.

Ari is gradually turning into a responsble leader as he gets older. But sometimes, in the head of the moment, one leads with action. "Battle speed! We move, we board! Drop the flags! For Setarco! For the Chainbreaker!" He then walks personally to the prow of the galley, sword out, ready to be the first to swing and board. The sailors will hopefully be calmed by having something to do, and someone to follow.

Liara Grayson paces towards the front of the Rising Dawn's quarterdeck at the sight of the fireships approaching the fleet, steel-gauntleted hands - a far cry from the silk she's known for - coming to rest against the rail, fingers curled. There's a pensive moment as she takes stock of what she sees, then a brisk call towards nearby officers to relay instructions further along the fleet, her voice perhaps audible to nearby vessels too: "Keep steady, maintain the line! We bring their ruin - let us not be late about it!"

Despite his passion for this fight in particular, it's here that Oskar's inexperience causes him to falter slightly, eyes growing wide as the flaming ships bear down on them. He raises his axe in the air and bellows as the experienced sailors around him scatter to their stations under Haakon's demands, but if he's managed to bolster anyone's terror aside from his own is doubtful. Still, when the hooks bite into the wood and Eswynd men and women clamber aboard the first catch of the day, he's not far behind them, cloak flaring dramatically as he takes the leap.

Raja looks to the burning ships. "Clever." She says as the fiery ships sail their way. In spite of her earlier show of prowess, it would seem that she fails in her duties to help avoid the coming vessel. Her teeth grit and curses escape her. There is no fear, just anger.

Vessels under command of Haakon, Deimos, Tython, Scylla, Pasquale and Aedric managed to weave out of the way of the attacking fire ship ramming attempts and still pull close enough to engage the longbow line, and board. ((Anyone in the same +place as those players can engage next turn)). Unfortunately, vessels under the command of Raja, Katarina, Sabriel, Raven and Valenzo weren't able to clear out of the way of the fireships while trying to engage and were struck.

((Will need Raja, Kat, Sabriel, Raven and Valenzo to check for potential damage, as their ships were rammed. @check dexterity + dodge, or if you have no dodge skill, @check luck only. Raven, check at daunting due to the level of botch, Raja and Valenzo check at hard, Katarina at normal, Sabriel at easy. ))

While the Compact forces were forbidden the use of Arvani fire, fire was the normal part of a naval battle. The silent crew of the Wanton doesn't change at all as they continue hastening about the Wanton in their various tasks to keep the ship sailing in battle. The black sailed ship is a relentless, steadying presence for the Black Fleet. The rest of the Black Fleet knew better than to break under Lucrezia's watch. None of them wanted *her* turning on them.

Katarina checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Katarina is successful.

Listening to the others, Rosa stays close to the others--for now. Her large eyes focus on the fire ahead. For now. Rosa bides her time however.

Valenzo checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Valenzo marginally fails.

Sabriel checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Sabriel marginally fails.

Raven has seen the vunerability of the disembarking troops, she eagerly calls the captain to make ready to board but in rapidly congested waters the Lead Dromond sheep sacrifices it's advantage too soon and Raven sees the danger too late, cries of alarm and frantic grunting and straining against oars mark the attempt to avoid collision course with fire ships and hostile crews.

Sailors aboard the Witch had seen tactics like these before and the flames did nothing but give them a good solid target to sail toward. There was no fearful shouting, no cries of battle to boost adrenaline. No, only the cold stares of colder men accompanied the Witch's crew as it bore down on one of the immolated ships. Aside from the essential crew aboard that kept it moving at just the right vector, Deimos' attackers aboard were motionless, conserving every ounce of energy they might need. And with the helmsman's deft dodge, they were safe from the flames and ready to board.

Katarina sees no choice for herself, really: if she leads, she leads by example, with bravery. So she pushes the Unsullied in, attempting to steer past the fireships to get at the enemy. It would be easier, of course, if she was not captaining a giant caravel. The small woman raises her voice as she sees that impact is imminent: "No matter what name you carry -- on this ship, today, you are Valardin -- and to be a Valardin is to be brave--!" She hopes, hopes, hopes bravery is enough.

Raven checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Raven marginally fails.

Domonico doesn't flinch at the fire and can hear the yells of defiance from the Compact ships and he hmms softly before continuing to call out orders both for his ship... and to relay to the Malvici fealty fleet. His eyes widen as he spies the Terrapin get rammed by a fireship and his eyes sweep across Valenzo's cog, searching for the captain.

Raja checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Raja is successful.

Leola shakes her head, pressing her lips together a moment before she begins a silent prayer, nocking, not drawing, an arrow, as Domonico delivers them into the battle. Then her voice lifts, carrying her lilting tones "Not the worst we've faced. Stand; be ready."

The fire ships are easily out-maneuvered by the Black Tide, and once past their scorched hulls, it's all a matter of selecting a vulnerable target - which Scylla swiftly does - aiming for its starboard side, and crushing it beneath the metal ram adorning the Tide's prow. It's a success; the decks splinter and crack under the applied pressure, and the armed and armored crew aboard the Blackshore flagship brandish their weapons and engage, with Scylla falling in step wielding Balefire. "Archers!" she calls over the din of roaring and metal clattering. "Archers first!"

The cog climbs over some swell before dropping into a wave pit, a spray of white crashing over her bow and rolling into the decks below. "Don't you break that shell now," Valenzo grumbles, before a cry comes aloft. "Longships, dead ahead!" Valenzo moves across the aftcastle, peering over the swell. They dotted the bay's mouth, like black floating devils, and like devils, fire sprouted from their mouths. "Fire ships!" comes a cry from an archer, stating the obvious. "To the abyss with them!" cries another. "We should go around," comes the call from the coxswain, but Valenzo shakes his head, gritting his teeth. "Give your cries to Mangata, we're going straight at 'em!" In the heat of the moment and billow of oil smoke, he did not see the signal from the Lycene fleet, and the old clinker moved as best she could. Arrows peppered the deck, men shouted, the helmsman veered off, leaving her caught in a dangerous jibe, her deck cantering dangerously. Mere moments passed, before the oncoming prow of a galley swarmed upon her beam like a swordfish hunting it's prey. "BRACE!" It was all Valenzo could shout.

Sabriel recognizes a delaying tactic when she sees one and is disinterested in giving up the initiative. The former freebooter calls out to the crew, calling with a great burst of air worthy of her namesake. "Prepare to gybe!" The crew scrambles to one side, easing the jibs of the sails. "Now!" The command is given and the ship turns hard in to a tack run but comes up short and collides with one of the fireships.
The groan of twisting wood and the scent of smolders is the least of Sabriel's worries as momentum sends her arse over tea kettle and careening in to the masses of rigging and pulleys at the fore of the ship. Leather armor cushions the blow but the crushing force breaks capillaries and bruises flesh with equal voracity. Coughing as she recovers, her straining breaths soon turn in to a growl as she rights herself and surveys the situation.

Even with the sounds of shouting and yelling as the fleets advance, it's hard for Sebastian not to look, not to try and find the ships he knows manned by family, friends and vassals, and worry. But there's no time for that: thanks to the breaking of the Isles Canines and Truesworn fleets cutting a path, there's a way through to the main Eurusi force. "All ahead!" he yells, gripping the hilt of his sword, eyes narrowing as he turns his gaze and attention to their enemies.

Raven pivots and takes a few sprinting steps and leaps over the frames of other men scrambling to hunter down or dive overboard. Raven's walloped by a bit of falling debris but her steelsilk protects her from a fate that could have been much worse leaving her fit enough to take up an oar herself and try to help the dromond manuver OUT of the hazardous zone, grimacing in pain with each stroke of the massive oar.

Hellfrog has joined the Nightstar Deployment.

The Compact lines and order holds as the ramming ship comes in. There are several collisions and ships ablaze, with the familiar screams of battle and bellows of order now starting in earnest. From the longships of the Crimson Crosses, howls of rage and defiance are heard over the whistling sounds of volleys of arrows being traded now between ships, even as the clash of steel begins from boarding actions as the Compact tries to overpower the delaying forces before the Eurusi can fully array themselves for battle. In particular, the Crimson Crosses are focusing their fire on ships flying Mourning Isles flags of their hated Thraxian enemies, though at least some are wildly pointing towards the Grayson flag, or even to the distant figure of highlord Liara Grayson- who, unless the battle goes poorly, is frustratingly out of reach for them.

((OOC: The damaged ships of Raja, Raven and Valenzo are starting to sink due to damage. Anyone can help try to board and stabilize the ships with intellect + sailing at daunting, but could risk going down in a capsize on a failure. Otherwise, Raja, Raven and Valenzo can abandon with a dexterity check at easy to reach another ship in their fleet. Anyone boarding can roll a dexterity + melee check at hard to try to fight through the ships and neutralize it, risking life and limb. Any archers can now roll dexterity + archery at normal, and leaders can help inspire/move the fleet into better positions with command + leadership or war checks at hard. Getting more difficult.))

Raven checks dexterity at easy. Raven is successful.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at normal. Botch! Kastelon fails badly.

Leola checks dexterity and archery at normal. Critical Success! Leola is spectacularly successful.

Rosalind checks dexterity and archery at normal. Rosalind is marginally successful.

Antonio checks command and war at hard. Antonio fails.

Margot checks command and leadership at normal. Margot is successful.

Ciaran checks command and war at hard. Ciaran is successful.

Deimos checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Deimos is successful.

Pasquale checks command and leadership at hard. Pasquale is successful.

Lucrezia checks command and war at hard. Lucrezia fails.

Mabelle checks command and leadership at hard. Mabelle fails.

Valenzo checks dexterity at normal. Valenzo is successful.

Haakon checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Haakon is successful.

Domonico checks command and war at hard. Domonico is successful.

Sebastian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Sebastian marginally fails.

Mirk checks command and leadership at hard. Mirk is successful.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at hard. Lorenzo is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at hard. Acantha is marginally successful.

Haakon checks command and war at hard. Haakon is successful.

Oskar checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Oskar fails.

Eirene checks command and war at hard. Eirene marginally fails.

Mikani moves her ship into boarding. The Crovane sailors jump on board and ready their attacks.

Cirroch checks command and leadership at hard. Critical Success! Cirroch is spectacularly successful.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Scylla is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Aedric checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Aedric fails.

Katarina checks intellect and sailing at normal. Katarina is successful.

Ari checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Ari fails.

Veronica checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Veronica is successful.

Torian checks charm and leadership at hard. Torian fails.

Raja checks intellect and sailing at normal. Raja is successful.

Sabriel checks command and war at hard. Sabriel fails.

Varosh checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Varosh fails.

Ari checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Ari is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Ari does not take a permanent wound.

Raven notices the rate at which the Dromond she's on is taking on water and gives an ill tempered cuss, "Abandon ship! Find friendlies and make yourself at home!" She hefts an oar with her for a few minutes making sure those crew who survived the collision are able to abandon the ship before she herself chucks an oar into the water and grasps an oar from one of the other Dromonds which is not immeniently sinking, grunting and swinging herself aboard, "Much obliged! Let's not do that again, shall we?!"

Aedric checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Aedric marginally fails.

Aedric checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Aedric is successful.

Aedric remains capable of fighting.

"Pick off their leaders" Leola instructs the other archers nearby, before she whispers a moments prayer and brings the bow up; the ribboned and curlicued armor shining in the spray as her arrows begin to sing, aimed for those bellowing orders on the other side.

The Silver Storm cogs circle around the Blackwater dromond fleet, pushing through to clear a way for their allies to retreat. The Stormborn, a white and massive caravel crashes into the enemy fleet, its captain, Varosh howling a single command, "BOARD!". Hoping to cause enough damage to draw the attention of the enemy to them.

Oskar checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Oskar fails.

Oskar has suffered a serious wound!

Oskar checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Oskar is successful.

Oskar remains capable of fighting.

Mabelle is starting to panic a little bit, going back and forth to try to help, but lets face it, navy strategy is not exactly her area of expertise. Instead she focuses her attention at the water, calling out to Raja and trying to help her aboard another ship.

Vitalis checks charm and empathy at daunting. Vitalis is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at hard. Mihaly is successful.

Eirene is trying to order the Lady's Jewels into a better position to help prepare for the wounded and retrieve those on the sinking ships, but she's not a naval commander. Nor is she in charge of the ship, just its' crew of medics. It's unsurprising she's not really able to communicate what she's wants the ship to do. Her specialty is command on land, not sea.

Margot isn't overly ambicious, she's more keeping her fleet together and doing her best to keep her fleet together and move them inot a good position while protecting her flank just in ca... well fortunately she hasn't noticed yet that the Marquis is down.

Antonio has a fairly good idea on how he wants to position his ships to take advantage of bottled up fleet situation. Unfortunatly, the chaos of battle sometimes makes communicating those plans difficult- his shouted orders to his signal man are miss heard- and so his fleet isn't given the correct positioning. They are, perhaps, not too far off, but they are certainly not where the Lenosian admiral wants them.

Gwenna winces briefly as some of the ships get hit and take on water. She glances to where Lorenzo and Mirk continue what it is they are so good at, and then turns to gauge how the rest of the Compact fleet seems to be doing. Besides that quick wrinkle of her lips, the Redrain keeps her features schooled as she attempts takes in all that is happening around them.

It was almost as if this crew was used to these exact tactics and with a careful turn, the starboard side of his ship came alongside another other the Crimson Cross and still, without a word, Deimos raced to the edge with sword in hand and so began the melee from the sailors of the Red Witch to the invaders. Steel rang out and shouts of wounds and exertion were the first sounds coming from the Inverno ship.

Is this a bad moment for Lucrezia to be drinking the rum? Hello. It is *never* a bad time to drink the rum. Nevertheless, her commands are delayed a few seconds due to the necessity to swallow. They know what to do anyway? KILL STUFF IN REVENGE!

"Find the Annointed! Slay them! Your Chainbreaker commands you!" Sebastian's voice rings out as the Deviant comes alongside one of the enemy ships, a small group of First Legion Centurions jump over and begins fighting hand to hand with the enemy soldiers. Amongst their number, probably standing out in his colors, is one Prince Sebastian Pravus, having drawn his sword, moving into the fray alongside the soliders of Pravus.

"What are you waiting for?" Mirk calls to the soldiers. "The enemy is ahead of you." He still has not so much as drawn a weapon, whether as a gesture of confidence in Redrain's soldiers or whether it's for some other reason...That remains to be seen. He steps back from his position after that, however, looking towards the horizon once more.

Boarding is not for Pasquale. A few words from him see the Porcine, and a few other chosen vessels, shifting into a position from which the vessels and the bowmen on board can cover the vulnerable boarding vessels of the isles canine fleet as they anchor onto the Eurasi ships and start disgorging marines up onto the enemy vessels. Pasquale still has that look of calculating calm on his face and whilst his hand is resting lightly on the pommel of his cutlass he is yet to draw it. Every once in a while he casts his eyes back towards the rest of the Pravus, and compact, fleets - Just in case.

Tython is commanding his vessel to begin skirting around the fighting, making his ship available to pick up any who need rescue, and to halt any enemies escape or manuevers, using his Caravel for support for the time being.

A profanity can be heard from where Kastelon's taking aim, his arrow veering well off course, though there's a look of concern on his face, as if there's a sense that this has happened before. And then a shake of his head as he's looking back to the rest of the Keaton archers, gesturing for them to keep firing, as he's stringing another arrow...

Margot isn't overly ambicious, she's more keeping her fleet together and doing her best to keep her fleet together and move them inot a good position while protecting her flank just in ca... well fortunately she hasn't noticed yet that the Marquis is down.

Be it far from Mihaly to countermand his own wife, but he he does hear what Eirene is trying to say in the dim of all the chaos that's starting to unfold. Catching her word and seeing her rather preoccuipied already with what she's trying to contend with in regards to the healers, he translates what she was trying to suggest as best as he can up to the captain of the ship. Manuever the Lady's Jewels into a better position to help and prepare for the wounded and try to retrieve anyone escaping a sinking ship.

Rosalind is quick, already climbing to a better part of the ship. She starts nocking an arrow and aims for one of the leaders from the enemy ships, watching her arrow fly. Rosa shifts a little, the boat rocking her stance just a bit.

Haakon impales the first Crimson Cross warrior who meets him on the rails, bounding onto the Abandoned longship and drawing his sword. Pushing with shield's painted face and sword's unforgiving edge, the reaver and the warriors nearest him claim more bloodied deck, those following behind the front line finishing off the enemy wounded, and dumping them over the rails into the water. A battle needs clear decks. He incites his warriors again: "WHO WILL THEY FEAR?" answered in a roar between spear thrusts, "ESWYND."

Haakon wields old-fashioned broadsword.

Now the action is getting serious. As the ships close and engage, Veronica is right at the rail, Heart of Oak in hand as she yells out "For the Compact! For Gloria!" The ship is just a little bit on fire behind her, but rather than get in the way of the frantically dousing sailors, Veronica goes onto the assault, leaping over the rail onto the nearest ship to the attack, sword raised.

"SHIELDS!" Cirroch cries out to those on the ships as the volley of arrows are excahnged. Standing tall, and watching without fear as the ships come closer, fire behind them. "Fire the volley and be ready to board!" He barks out again, taking to beating upon his chest again, the ringing fo the pounding carrying over the battle.

The Tempest, as well as most of the Malvici and Magnotta fleets, have a sizable contingent of archers aboard now that follow Leola's command. Domonico, via signals and horns, instructs his ships to turn towards a better position for their archers and significant siege weaponry to begin to fire. He notices the issues that the Velenosan ships are having and he keeps an eye on them while ordering the Malvici fleet to prepare to engage.

Ciaran guides his detachment to where Katarina's ship is laying into the enemy -- he seems keen to follow her lead, seizing upon an open space left in the fire-ships' wake. Coming up alongside, he draws a battered steel saber and points in the direction of the opposing ships. "Archers," he cries out, as the caravel presents its side. "Loose!" The crackling of the fire behind them casts their flotilla in burning relief.

There's an ear splitting /crack/ followed by a /crrunch/ as the galley rams home, splitting through her lower deck. The Terrapin groans with split wood as if in pain, as she careens to port and rolls. Archers fall from the yards with screams, one hits the starboard rail, the other falls into the depths. Water, already gathered in the lower deck from the swell, pools in geysers and floods out through the aftcastle. Her bow breaks and drops, her main mast collapsing with a crash. Valanezo is distraught, eyes wide, misfortunes upon him in a moment of hasty choices. "Val! VAL we have to go!" "No!" he struggles. "My rutter! My logs, there's trinkets below I need to--" He's hauled back by his second, men falling and throwing themselves into the drink. Then the main decks gives out, and men find themselves submerged. Kicking, Val surfaces, struggling as men pull from the cog slipping below the depths. Arrows pepper them abroad, a few of the crew crying out in agony before succumbing to the fell of quarrels and arrows. Pulled, Val finally relents, kicking his way toward the fleet, arrows still peppering aroudn them.

Lorenzo's orders sound sharper, rising above the clamor of the fray, directing the Northern fleet's ships to safety and into position for battle where he spots opportunity. "Archers, to starboard! Ready boarders!" He squints to look out over the water, watching for what ships are foundering and where damage has been taken, trying to thwart the enemy's plans to damage and flee.

Sabriel steadies herself on the shifting deck of the damage but intact craft, the point of her blade stuck in to the planks to act as a makeshift crutch. Once her inner ear stops spinning, she goes to call out new orders but finds her voice stuck in her throat. Her lungs itch. The soreness of her fall rising up from a dull hum on the edge of her awareness to drive needles in to her breast. A coughing fit takes her and she peppers the deck and one of her gauntlets in crimson.
"Of all the luck," Sabriel grumbles in a rasp, working her way forward toward the starboard harpoons.

Samira checks charm and empathy at daunting. Samira fails.

The Unsullied has caught fire, Vitalis can feel the flames, and more -- he can feel the fear choking the air like roiling smoke. Vitalis helps usher those injured further away from the flames. Calm temper and kind intensity go a long way. He eventually, likewise, takes himself below as the fighting intensifies.

In the thick of it now, Oskar's axe rises and falls and the glittering bronze blade comes back with a spatter of blood more often than not. But his forward momentum is arrested when a sword's stray edge hisses into the space beneath his guard and bites deep across his ribs, parting flesh and armor and freeing a wave of crimson. The Marquis stumbles and cries out, one hand instinctively going to the wound and coming back wet -- but he does not fall. Instead, when Haakon roars ahead of them again, his hoarse shout is among those who answer him. "ESWYND!!"

When the Unsullied strikes a fireship, it catches fire. These things happen all the time. Katarina has what feels like a dozen sailors around her, in her ears, reporting this development or that, but the pressing one is her caravel burning. "Messere Cul-- Raja!" Katarina says. "Stick with them as they douse the fire -- aid them if you must but stay ready for boarders! Samira! You must be Lord Vitalis's shadow -- keep him safe from peril. Lady Veron--" Oh, but Lady Veronica's already gone fighting. At least, in the heat of battle, Katarina can still find things that make her smile a little behind her veil.

A very very loud expletive erupts from Raja's mouth as the ship becomes ablaze. Immediately, she is moving to catch buckets of water to toss onto the fire in an effort to save the ship from sinking. "I'mma kill some slavers today.. they gonna regret messing with us.." She continues on her rant with curses sprinkled generously into her grammar.

There's a subtle purse to Liara's lips as she observes the fire ships make contact in some places, and thereafter a fairly stern direction forthcoming to be relayed among the Crownlands fleet. "Hold the line and press; do not be distracted. Others will rescue them." Not exactly inspiring stuff, nor is it meant to be - it's an order rather than a speech, and the intent is clear: that the formation be maintained and that the advance continue. The same matter of nimbler boats or flags to relay instructions continues, the Rising Dawn in the third line something of a nexus for the comings and goings of longships, moving between the other, larger ships of the fleet.

Just as she commanded to her sailors prior, Scylla rushes the first archer knocking an arrow aboard the shav ship. Her diamondplate cutlass is wielded deftly in her grasp for the commencement of battle, and not a single arrow others let fly manage to strike true, or else they ricochet off the steel plates she's donning for the occasion. The archer's body falls lip to the deck, his severed head rolling overboard to feed the sharks below. A loud grunt alerts Scylla to Aedric's plight, so she retreats to cover him long enough to stand to his feet and resume combat. From here out, she opts to remain well-within his reach so they can watch each other's backs.

"Benny, I'll have them fell a dozen trees for you if you will assist in helping others get out of the water if they go in." Acantha has crouched down to have a word with the overly large beaver that follows her around. He gets a twig from her pouch before he scuttles off to watch for wayward sailors that might be in need of rescuing. Acantha herself is helping with the guidance of ships, but if it comes to fighting she'll try her best.

Flames. In the chaos that begins to unfold, Samira tries to focus her attentions upon what little she might do to help. "They think we'll go down so easily? Ha! Show them how strong we are!" she hollers toward the others aboard the Unsullied, attempting to sound brave as she projects her words above the din. Perhaps it's the slight waver in her voice or the mention of going down while the ship happens to be on fire, but her words don't seem to do much to boost the morale of those around her. Katarina's instructions seize her full attention; thus provided a duty to focus upon, the short Culler nods sharply. "I will!" That promise given, she turns abruptly to seek out Vitalis amongst the caravel's crew, intent upon keeping the blind man safe as requested.

Ivy checks intellect and alchemy at hard. Ivy is successful.

With the Unsullied aflame, Ivy moves away from the barrel on which she'd been perched, trying to stay as much out of the way as possible. She rushes down through the decks of the caravel to the... galley? Yep, its the galley she goes to, grabbing up a small barrel and stabbing the cork out of it as she rushes back topside. Moving here and there, she flashes Raja a brief smile and starts shaking the powder within across the flaming parts of the ship. Its surprisingly effective at smothering the flames and starving them of the air they need to spread and grow. Working with the other sailors to help stomp out the worst of the flames that attack the Unsullied.

There's a beaver in the water. Even if it's fairly large for a beaver, that's not something to be noticed in the midst of hundreds of ships, some on fire, some cracking apart, many being boarded or boarding others. Who cares about a beaver?

Well, the first sailor he reaches ends up caring quite a bit. The man is dragged out of the water, flailing and screaming, by a house sized creature that's trundling along in a manner that's far, far too casual given the circumstances. The sailor is dropped off on the first ship the beaver finds. Fortunately, it's a friendly ship. And the next. And the next. There's a giant rescue beaver in the water and who can even deal with that.

The shavs on the longships were just a precautionary reserve, and probably held there because the Eurusi did not fully trust their newfound allies, and certainly never meant to stand alone against the might of the Compact. The northlanders rally around Marquis Cirroch's words and quickly board and take a ship cleared by volleys, while Haakon's and Oskar's Eswynders manage to clear another ship. The fighting is particularly fierce around the vessels of the Mourning Isles boarding the shavs, with the shavs fighting with true hatred against the banners of Blackshore, Redreef, Eswynd, Thrax, Tyde, and many others. The bloody fighting is relatively brief as the Compact numbers tell, with some shavs throwing up their arms in surrender in the face of Haakon, fighting to the bitter end, or jumping into the Bay in a questionable choice of trying to reach the shore.

Through it all, the Compact fleet presses on, with most keeping formation under the highlord of the Crownland's orders and steadily advancing on the preparing Eurusi. The shavs are mopped up as the Compact outnumbers them many, many times over, while the true enemy is slowly starting to set sail towards them, and the Compact tries to get into an advantageous position to engage and if possible catch any still anchored with their troops in the middle of disembarking.

((OOC: As the Compact sails to try to catch the Eurusi, this round there's no potential for damage directly, but just significant impact on how the following rounds play in difficulty. Anyone can check command + leadership at normal or any social skill at hard to steel the troops for the true battle to come, while positioning the fleet for a favorable engagement is more difficult. Intellect + War at hard for all checking.))

Pasquale checks intellect and war at hard. Pasquale is successful.

Deimos checks command and leadership at normal. Deimos is successful.

Katarina checks command and leadership at normal. Critical Success! Katarina is spectacularly successful.

Ciaran checks command and sailing at hard. Ciaran marginally fails.

Liara checks command and leadership at normal. Liara is successful.

Tython checks command and leadership at normal. Tython fails.

Margot checks command and leadership at normal. Margot is successful.

Torian checks command and leadership at normal. Torian is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at normal. Acantha is successful.

Haakon checks intellect and sailing at hard. Haakon fails.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at normal. Lorenzo is successful.

Veronica checks command and leadership at normal. Veronica is successful.

Antonio checks dexterity and sailing at hard. Antonio is successful.

Scylla checks intellect and war at hard. Scylla fails.

Mabelle checks intellect and medicine at normal. Mabelle is marginally successful.

Eirene checks command and medicine at normal. Eirene is successful.

Kastelon checks command and leadership at normal. Kastelon is successful.

Valenzo checks charm at hard. Valenzo is successful.

Sebastian checks command and leadership at normal. Sebastian is marginally successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at normal. Mihaly is successful.

Cirroch checks command and leadership at hard. Cirroch is successful.

Ivy checks intellect and medicine at normal. Critical Success! Ivy is spectacularly successful.

Aedric checks command and leadership at normal. Aedric is successful.

Raven checks command and leadership at normal. Raven is successful.

Samira checks command and empathy at hard. Samira is successful.

Ari checks command and leadership at normal. Ari is successful.

Mirk checks command and leadership at normal. Mirk is marginally successful.

Lucrezia checks command and seduction at hard. Lucrezia is successful.

Sabriel checks command and leadership at normal. Sabriel is successful.

Oskar checks command and leadership at normal. Critical Success! Oskar is spectacularly successful.

Raja has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Domonico checks intellect and war at hard. Botch! Domonico fails completely.

Leola checks command and animal ken at normal. Leola is successful.

Varosh and the Siver Storm aren't sailing to meet the Eurusi. No, they have other ideas, ideas which come to light (quite literally) when the first of the cogs they're towing toward the mouth of the bay catches fire. And the second. And the third.

Rosalind checks command and empathy at hard. Rosalind fails.

And the fourth and the fifth...

Ari checks command and sailing at hard. Ari marginally fails.

There was a misscommunication before- Antonio is determined to not let that happen again. "Have the fleet follow our lead," he barks at his signalman, before taking control of his Drommand's helm personally, his eyes closing slightly as he gets a feel for the ship- before opening them and moving into position, hoping his movements are obvious enough for the rest of the Lenosian (and Lycene fleets that are sans their own commanders) to follow.

Raven calls out to the ship she's just settled on with all the confidence and swagger of someone who /certainly/ didn't just sink the LAST ship she was standing ohn, "Put your backs into it! The troublesome bastards offend our Duchess with every damned breath they're allowed to take! Go forward and PAINT THEIR DECKS RED!!" she bellows

Veronica fought her way onto the deck of an enemy ship to help clear it, cutting down a foe or two before all the Crimson Crosses were cleared away and the ship is taken. Then she'll race back and leap headlong back onto the deck of the Unsullied, raising her sword triumphantly for a moment as they begin wheeling towards the main enemy fleet, the real obstacle.

Haakon shouts above the dwindling din of the dying around him, "This ship is ours! Take down the fucking flag, and ready to cast off irons-" grappling irons that bind them to the Eswynd longship, "If you're hale, back to ours!" Seeing his badly wounded cousin, Haakon voices, lower, "Your axe is bloody, near-brother. Take command of the prize-" the Crimson Cross longship, "With our wounded back to the healers and see them treated." It's not phrased as being for Oskar's own sake. Returning to the Eswynd longship he'd begun aboard, Haakon orders a signal horn sounded to gather and reorder the Eswynd ships. Yet, while the Prodigals had fared well in the initial battle, the many small vessels are scattered, and take longer than desired to draw back into an ordered battle line. His eloquent and incisive analysis of the tactical situation is thusly given voice: "..fuck."

Eirene points to the men in the water and the... beaver? She rolls her eyes a little and mutters a name, but it's a good kind of annoyance. She looks amused in a way but it fades to her commander's expression of stern authority. "Get lines out to bring the drowning in! Get the rowboats out there and retrieve the ones you can! Be ready for burns for those who weren't as lucky," she commands the hospital ship. "Sailor's kiss if necessary, but no damned tongues" she reminds them. Her healers, deployed as they are around the fleet. do what they were ordered to do previously, which is see to their crews and help those who manage to make it onto their ships.

The waters are already churning. After all, it's full of ships that are sinking, ships that are on fire, ships that are sinking and on fire, and ships which very well might have that happen very soon, and there's a big beaver for some reason rescuing sailors. And then there's more than Benny the Beaver in the water. Shiny fins bob near the surface, there's a chitter of delight - no, several - and several of the sailors that Benny hasn't reached yet are pushed up to the surface, a few tugged along by eager dolphin beaks. These are a little better about telling which ships the sailors belong to, but they're not particularly particular about which sailors they're pushing to safety.

Where Kastelon's apparently not having the best of luck with his chosen art for the moment, he -does- take seriously the matter of having been given a role for this by his cousin. He's taking very seriously the matter of having the Keaton archers ready for the ships ahead, shouting out bearings for them to be readying themselves for the next volley to be loosed upon the enemy.

As Cirroch beats his chest the Redrain warriors take to pounding their shields, the echo from the ships beats out over the ensuing battle. He draws his axe up, ready to lead the warriors upon the ships that they are seeking to board.

Pasquale seems to be standing straighter, his movements more energetic, and once or twice his voice is raised up loud enough for the sailors to hear. Those orders keep the Isles Canines positioned so that they can support each other where necessary whilst still giving each other the space to maneuver as they pull away from the line of shav vessels and turn towards the real prey. For a moment Pasquale's head snaps to the side as a beaver swims past and his mind briefly stumbles all over the strangeness of that sight but he pulls himself back together again within moments. Not a right-now problem. Even if it is big as a house.

Margot would under normal circomstances probably try and treat with those shavs they're murdering right now, cause you know she wasn't the biggest fan either, but right now is not diplomacy time it's killing time, and getting a splatter of blood and sea water on her face Margot smiles. It's the sort of broad, care free smile that's really never seen on the woman, a loud, savage, cry leaves her as she thrusts her axe up in the air. "The seas our ours! Show them! We are the people of salt and sea and they should NEVER have left their sand!" A laugh leaves her, a light sound for someone drifting closer to fire, and possible death. "Her axe tilts forwards to point in the direction she expects the fleet to be moving, free hand tapping the railing in time with the rower's pulling on the oars.

Was that a gigantic beaver? Lucrezia doesn't even blink, but she does finish off the rum and chucks the bottle at the nearest enemy that thinks she's distracted. Like the madman she is, she continues belting out commands according to the plan and the fluid changes of the battle. As the tide turns to the Eurusi fleet finally getting involved, she grins all cruel angles, a feral light in her eyes.

"Good job Benny! Now be careful not to get hurt!" Acantha calls to her companion who is being a rescue beaver currently. Yep. House sized beaver. Who knew that was a thing? Only a few people really. It's the middle of a naval fight, no one has time to look at her oddly. Or maybe they do, she's not anyones supervisor. She's just trying to make sure that people are directed at what they need to be and not setting themselves on fire.

Rosalind looks out over the water and grins at the beaver. "That beaver looks familiar,"she calls out. Was that--wait? THAT'S NOT HOW IT SOUNDED! But then there's dolphins! "Aella would be loving this,"Rosa mentions to no one in particular, hopping down from her spot, rushing to find a new one.

Mabelle moves along the railing to try to rescue and aide those who have been pulled out of the water. She does notice the beaver and stands there, in complete astonishment, grinning as she watches him before realizing she is at war, quickly shaking her head and returning to help those injured, trying to push the water out of the lungs of an Oathlanders sailor. But now there are dolphins. Jasher promised her he'll take her see dolphins.. no... concentrate!.

Leola grins at the sight of the beaver. She even waves! Then she mutters, gripping the rail, lips moving - and gives a breath of relief, wiping seaspray from the rail and brushing it over her lips. Her attention entirely down at those being saved, and calling out "All of them. Please. *This is not their fault*" because apparently, her goal involves saving lives. And shooting people. And there's no one in range to shoot.

Leaping back into the deck of the Deviant after the brief skirmish, Sebastian's brilliant gaze is full of something indefinable. Joy, maybe -- delight? Anger? All of it? "Press on! Time to meet these slavers and send them to the bottom of the ocean!" The caravel, along with the ships accompanying her, turn towards the Skal'dajan fleet.

Katarina slides a stiletto out of its holster on her thigh. She looks down at the handle for a long moment. Between her hat with its enormous feather, and her aeterna veil, Katarina's golden eyes are all that can be seen of her face. She stares at the dagger, then calls to her crew: "In my hands -- I hold a weapon forged by Cobalt herself! Cobalt, who forged these weapons to slay the Gyre -- and slay the Gyre, the Compact did! These foes are many -- but they are no Gyre! Onward -- for the Oathlands -- for Arvum -- for freedom across Aion--! We will not shirk our duty... and we will not let evil's boot-heel so much as graze our neck, in the name of the gods--!"

The direction to the Crownlands fleet remains the same, the general plan straightforward: advance. At a query from one of her officers, Liara gives a small duck of her chin in acquiescence, and a fresh order is relayed. The dromonds in the front of the fleet start to draw a little closer together than they had been at open sea, sails being drawn up as oars are instead relied on wholly for propulsion, almost a wall of wood bearing steadily down on the bay's entrance. Liara's attention turns towards a few of the captured Crimson Cross ships from her distant vantage, then back to her own fleet, and she offers a few words of encouragement to the people aboard. "We press on. Do not let them ready themselves." She's too far out to spot the beaver.

Sending teams out with the healers, Mihaly makes sure that none of the Mercies are left defenseless when they go to pick out survivors from the sinking ships. "Man the rails and the sides, keep a look out for anyone of our forces that need to be picked up. Do not become lax! I need everyone to steel yourself for what is to come. Keep to your task, keep to your training." But he does have to do a mild double-take at the beaver. "Don't look at the damn beaver, you've seen plenty. You! Keep your eyes to the horizon, I do not want anyone coming up our flank or rearside!"

Mirk calls out to the Redrain soldiers, "Don't get confident now. The real battle is ahead. Steel yourselves, and show Eurus what you're made of." His words ring with the confidence of a man without a weapon drawn on a Redrain caravel, his expression utterly unruffled. Untouched by the battle so far. It's as much presentation as reality, though, playing to the symbolism of a leader in his own unique fashion. Of all things, he seems less surprised by the beaver, more amused.

Sabriel has no time for aquatically adapted rats, nor does she have time for whatever blood is setting her skin awash in a rainbow of colors beneath the Cardian hide of her armor. With a spring-like twang, the point of her blade is pulled from the deck as she holds herself under her own weight. A swipe of a gauntleted hand against the nearest rail leaves it smeared in her own blood. Her eyes gaze forward at the next wave of the assault. Ragged breaths grow stronger with each pull from the air before she manages to find her voice again.
"Stop swinging the lead and get those fires out you guppies!" Sabriel motivates in her own way, bullying those aboard the Tremorus craft in to gear, "We've got at least one more show and I'm not going to have any of you getting cup-shot until we've scuttled the lot!"

Mikani checks charm and sailing at hard. Mikani is successful.

Lorenzo orders the ships of the Northern fleet safely around the burning wrecks, directing them into position to take strikes at the enemy's vulnerable flank. He stands visible from afar on the caravel Elira's Stand, his bright red hat showing his confidence and presence to the Northerners. With a moment free, he gives half a look over his shoulder to Gwenna and Mirk, making strong contributions to rallying the troops as well.

With the worst of the fires tended to, Ivy turns towards those injured in the process. She sets a rather hefty roll of cotton/silk blend bandage on a tie of leather and begins tending. Prayers to Lagoma, to Mangata, are offered as she staunches bloodflow, salves and wraps burns. Those needing to remain out of the fight are gathered up to be taken belowdecks where they can be tended more closely. A few times she has to get creative with fixes to keep a sailor fighting fit, using a mixture of alchemical and medical knowledge, along with a few tricks she learned from tending animals to get the men patched and quickly back into the fight.

The waves beat the men hard, but a good two-thirds of a Terrapin's crew manage to make it to their respective fleet, thanks to some hardy swimming and the agile work of one seafaring Castoridae. Some seem shocked and bewildered at a creature usually used to building freshwater dams is now rescuing folk, but they don't complain, either. Grabbing the runged rope tossed to them, the crew scramble up the steep slopes of the Tempest, no mean feat on a caravel rolling at sea. One by one they scramble over, the men looking lost, and he notes the their apprehension. "That might have been foolhardy, but we're here and whole, and this fight's not done! Do you lads want to sing Skal'daja songs?" "No," a few reply. "Do you want to be slaves to a bunch of sand crawlers?!" "No!" A few cry louder. "Want to be dragged around by desert beasts and worship serpents and all sorts of horrible things? Do you want to be chattel to those Eurusi bastards?!" "NO!" comes the cry. "Then hold fast, we're not done yet!" He makes his way to the forecastle, nodding towards Domonico. "Looks like we're back to the old days, Lord Dom! My men are with you."

As others onboard fight the flames - Ivy's sand no doubt a great help - Samira sticks close to Vitalis's side as commanded, quietly narrating important bits to him. To her credit, she informs him about the beaver with a straight face and a steady voice. Taking a deep breath, she peers around the ship and raises her voice to those near her, attempting once more to bolster spirits. "We'll not cave to the tyranny and oppression of those who seek to crush us. We will show them our strength, our courage, our refusal to be cowed! Now is the time!"

As the Eswynders mop up the last sorry rhreds of resistance and take the ship, Oskar staggers over to Haakon and stands straight once more; despite the rough hand he presses to his side an an attempt to staunch the flow, his blue eyes are bright with pride as their sailors make the captured ship ready. When his cousin directs him to the healers, the Marquis stiffens slightly, perhaps about to say something foolish about going on to the bitter end -- but then his gaze falls on the wounded around him. He grunts and nods, claps his bloodied hand to Haakon's shoulder for a moment, and then moves swiftly to take command. And that's when he spots the beaver. And the dolphins. "We gave them our blood and our iron, and the GODS ARE WITH US!" He bellows. Perhaps it's the sight of their leige lord freely bleeding and brandishing his axe, but their House's answering cry shakes the timbers of the ship.

Gwenna watches the beaver with a briefly surprised look and then her lips wrinkle. "I know I've seen that before..." There's no time to riffle through memories for that exact moment. She allows some relief to dance across her features before she catches Lorenzo's look and manages a smile. A grateful dip of her head goes to Mirk next as Elira's Stand and the accompanying ships of the fleet forge forward.

From the decks of the Silver Storms lines shoot from the deck of each cog, tightening and forming towing lines to circle around the fire ships in a maneuver to corral the burning ships and drag them to the mouth of the bay with the intent of obstructing the retreat of the enemy beyond the rear groups the Compact has situated back there. The banging of drums deliver the message across the fleet of cogs.

Behind the helm of the Stormborn, its Captain, Varosh yells out his commands in a mix of his native tongue and a common one, "Now you are trapped in here with us!" He shouts, shifting to issue maneuvering orders to the sailors, "Brace for a turn and cut the lines! We are blocking the mouth of the bay." Then, full sails straight ahead to catch up.

With burning wreckage and blood-soaked captured shav longships behind them, the Compact fleet advances and makes better time than it has any right to. The Eurusi fleet is -not- ready for battle, and some of the lead ships can be approached and boarded before they pull up anchor, though under the fire of archers rallying and even robed, whip-holding figures pulling others in golden manacles- the so-called Anointed Taskmasters that had been such a scourge at the Battle of Sungreet. Fortunately, much of the crews have are caught in between ship and landing, making them intensely vulnerable, but it still is likely to not be an easy fight.

((OOC: Due to the success of last round, these rolls will be at hard rather than daunting, and boarding is automatic rather than a result of a sailing roll. Any combatant can roll dexterity + weaponskill at hard, leaders can roll command + leadership, intellect + war at hard, or any social skill that's applicable at daunting. Healers can roll intellect + medicine at hard.))

Domonico was distracted from his command and planning for a short while by the Admiral looking at the sinking form of the Tasty Terrapin with worry and... any plans to get the Malvici fleet into a good position are hindered considerably by the rescuing and picking up of Valenzo's crew. Domonico himself helps pull Valenzo up onto the deck before he claps the Southport veteran on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Tempest. I'll need to to help relay commands and manage your men while I sort our fleet out." He looks to Leola and then the dolphins and beaver before asking, "Your doing?"

With a final, depressing creak of boards, the Tasty Terrapin vanishes below the waves, fire flickering briefly on the surface before it, too, is snuffed out. But the survivors are rallying aboard their new ship, already shouting to continue the fight.

The Crimson Crosses aboard Scylla's boarded ship have been eliminated, but neither she nor her crew are cheering. It's a somber scene, and there's little time to spare processing it. "To the Tide, let's go!" A quick check in on Aedric later, and the pair return to the Black Tide to prepare for the next, more egregious round of battle: between the Compact and the Eurusi proper. It takes a bit of maneuvering to withdraw her ship's ram from the side of the other. Unfortunately, it takes far too long for them to turn her, so she and her crew lag behind.

Haakon checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Haakon fails.

Pasquale checks command and war at hard. Pasquale is successful.

Deimos checks command and leadership at hard. Deimos marginally fails.

Sebastian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Sebastian fails.

Rosalind checks dexterity and archery at hard. Rosalind is successful.

Veronica checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Veronica is successful.

Ivy checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ivy is successful.

Mabelle checks intellect and medicine at hard. Mabelle marginally fails.

Leola checks dexterity and archery at hard. Leola fails.

Haakon checks command and leadership at hard. Haakon is successful.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at hard. Lorenzo marginally fails.

Eirene checks intellect and medicine at hard. Eirene is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at hard. Acantha is successful.

Mikani checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Critical Success! Mikani is spectacularly successful.

Sabriel checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Sabriel fails completely.

Cirroch checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Cirroch marginally fails.

Tython checks command and leadership at hard. Tython fails.

Ari checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Ari fails completely.

Margot checks command and leadership at hard. Margot is successful.

Samira checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Samira is successful.

Mirk checks command and leadership at hard. Mirk is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara fails.

Domonico checks command and war at hard. Domonico is successful.

Aedric checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Critical Success! Aedric is spectacularly successful.

Katarina checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Katarina fails completely.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Scylla is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at hard. Mihaly is successful.

Valenzo checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Valenzo marginally fails.

Lucrezia checks command and leadership at hard. Lucrezia fails.

Oskar checks command and leadership at hard. Oskar is successful.

Antonio checks intellect and war at hard. Antonio marginally fails.

Raven checks command and leadership at hard. Critical Success! Raven is spectacularly successful.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at hard. Kastelon is successful.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven is successful.

Tython, commanding the "Prosperity of Gild", had already been less than prosperous this fight, in fact the Caravel had fallen behind the others. When there's a good opening into the harbor, Tython encourages the crew. "Trim that sail! Tow in that line boys!" He calls out, somewhat red in the face at this point, spitting as he shouts. He guides his vessel onward to hit the enemy as quickly as possible, but they can't get into a good position and end up akwardly pressing the bow against an enemy ship without getting in line for a good attack. "C'mon! on yer feet wit't let's pull them lines in!" He hollars and moves down from the aftcastle to get into the frey of work and fight.

Torian checks command and leadership at hard. Torian is successful.

Too focused on the dolphins - too closely watching the rescue operations - Leola's fire as the fleets close once more is lacklustre, sporadic, even as she grins a little back to Dominico "The Mangatan Finflips, my lord! Not sure about the beaver. But I definitely want to meet him when we're all done!"

Ari checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Ari is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Ari does not take a permanent wound.

Ari checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Ari is successful.

Ari remains capable of fighting.

Sabriel checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Sabriel is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Sabriel does not take a permanent wound.

Sabriel checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Sabriel is successful.

Sabriel remains capable of fighting.

Cirroch checks composure at hard. Cirroch fails.

Mikani catches up with one of the ships and boards with her sailors. They start slashing and attacking with their weapons. "For Crovane!" She screams as they enter the gray.

Sebastian is practically leaning forward, his entire body language radiating anticipation as the Deviant comes alongside the Eurusi fleet at speed. There's a last glance spared for the position of the rest of the Black Fleet -- the rest of the Compact fleet -- and then he's leaping over to the other ship to engage them directly. "FOR THE CHAINBREAKER! DEATH TO THE ANNOINTED!" Almost immediately -- and perhaps unsurprisingly, his yelling, together with his dress, draws direct attention. One of the Eurusi fighters strikes a solid blow down his left shoulder, the worst of it staved off by the steelsilk, but there's some blood trickling down his left arm, now.

Ari is NOT having the best of days, but such as it is when you're almost fantatically loyal to Belladonna Pravus. You rush in, you take risks, and sometimes you just get hammered. In Ari's case, now twice. But he believes Mangata must be with him, because despite the blows he takes, he still stands. He still fights.

Lorenzo's calls and directions are lost in the chaos for a moment, a wave of smoke from burning, sinking ships upwind drifting across the Elira's Stand. "Steady on! Let's get them while they're still putting on their boots!" If there is even a smidge of advantage to be had, the Redrain admiral wants to scratch that out for his men.

There are rescue beavers and dolphins in the water, and friendly ships afire. This day has already had its complications, and the full battle is only just now being joined. Still, Veronica Keaton is at the ready for the second boarding action of her life now. Her eyes are stinging with smoke, the cacophany of the fight is deafening, but she adds to it nonetheless: "For Keaton!" This time, as she lunges over the rail once more, sinking her blade into fight to take the first Eurusi ship they encounter, fighters lunging over behind her.

Margot is not at the front of the charge, but she's directing it and the axe weilding Duchess is yelling orders in that higher pitch, feminine timber that cuts through a lot of the grunting and groaning and clash of metal and leather and wood. "100,000 silver to whom ever gets me the best head for my hall!" She's at the back of the boarding party, finding a high spot where she can see better, taking a couple of swings here any there at any foes who get closer to her though admittedly they're more to desuade and buy time for the other sailors to deal with said threats then actually kill. Still, by the time she secures a new vantage the white head and skin of the polar bear wrapped around her is splattered with red.

As much as Antonio wants to draw his blade and wade into the fray- that's not his job. His job is to guide his fleet- sadly, he's not doing as good a job as he should- his commands perhaps not as well thought or efficient as they should be, given the distractions of live battle. Still, the Lycene fleet engages the enemy.

There's quite an error in judgment on Liara's part, a certain stubbornness of manner, and she insists on the line being maintained - the Crownlanders who stay in line miss an opportunity to make good on the space they had covered, at best, or at worst some might do so and cause a fracture in that first line. Certainly, the general consistency seen hitherto is lost to some extent. Liara grips tighter at the quarterdeck's rail, chin lifting as she looks on ahead, helpless to do much about it for now.

Alive with the thrill of battle, Lucrezia continues commanding the Black Fleet as engagement with the Eurus begins. Time to smash them against the land. Soon, soon time to fight herself.

The Unsullied is a big ol' target. Big targets have a lot of opportunities for boarding. Katarina has her dagger in hand as she prepares to bark out more orders -- but the opportunity to lead is lost, as before she can get a word out, an enemy ship sideswipes the Unsullied hard enough to make the deck rock. Katarina falls, and by some miracle doesn't stab herself... but with her legs still recovering from injuries suffered months ago, it takes her a moment to get back up.

Once returned to the Black Tide, Aedric employs the assistance of a sailor in wrenching a handaxe from his breastplate. The serrated prongs had punctured clean through the ribcage and left him both lightheaded and short of breath, though these symptoms would not preclude him from seeing the engagement through. For a moment, he stands idle at the edge of the ship, cold cerulean gaze observing fresh trails of crimson as they slither down his left forearm and are carried by the wind into the sea. Time stands still. He's been here before, perhaps in a dream, and a disquieting sense of deja vu renders him momentarily disoriented. The surface of the water stirs, his blood runs cold, and then something materializes. A dolphin. Better, the mariner supposed, than the alternative. More shouting, more orders. He shakes his head to rid himself of these paralyzing thoughts and prepares for a second boarding.

Eirene has a reputation as a woman who knows her shit. Her plans to deploy medics through the fleet has been successful as the wounded don't have to go far to be seen to, saving lives and ensuring some limbs may not be entirely lost. Sexy scars and missing fingers versus more serious wounds and lifelong injuries. Even as some of the wounded are started to be rowed back towards the medic's flagship hospital, she barks orders to the Mercies and Medics to ensure the triage is begun. She points to the finflaps and shouts, "Proof the Gods are with us! Mangata's children come to our aid!" Nothing like a little propeganda to boost morale when you're surrounded by religious types. "I'll take whatever fucking help we can get," she says, with a look at Mihaly. "Fish, beavers, even a fucking seagull shitting on the enemy would be great."

Raven draws Requiem and bellows again, her unarmed arm pinwheeling as she spiritedly the crew of the ship she's on but her bellow carries across the water to nearby dromonds closing in on their targets, "WELL IT'S ABOUT DAMNED TIME WE SPILL SOME SKAL'DAJA BLOOD! Board! Claim the vessel, and FIND THE ANNOINTED ONES! If you FIND ONE SEND THE SIGNAL! No man or woman fights alone! C'mon hop to! DON'T DIE FOR YOUR KINGDOM! Make the poor bastards die for theirs!" There's a clamour of whoops, hollars and whistles as men and women practically chomping at the bit to engage flood forward, eager to make the Black Cresent a household name.

"The Eurusi are here. Show them the fury of the North," Mirk roars to the Redrain soldiers, stepping back to let their individual commanders and officers lead them from there. He steps towards Gwenna, after that, and speaks a few quiet words, a note of worry in his voice.

Haakon orders the Eswynd fleet forward again, making for the larger ships of the allied Eurusi fleet, the smaller longships moving in packs to attack the larger vessels still at anchor. Grappling irons are thrown, and a reckless ascent of iron clad warriors climbing up to assail the higher decks begins. It goes better than it should have, owing wholly to the advantage of their swift advance, but even so wounds are taken. Haakon- still leading his warriors in storming the foemen's decks, takes a first wound in gaining a foothold on the enemy deck. "Ye have sailed so far to die!" he shouts to the enemy, completely unaware of whether any of them can understand him. Blue eyes glint at the sight of a foe grasping gold chains. "YOU. NOINTY BASTARD." No one ever corrected him on the pronunciation of Anointed master.

Domonico gives Leola nod at her answer to his question and he raises the charm of Mangata to his lips and gets back to the task at hand and he strides back to his position where he can see the unfolding battle and gets horns to give commands to the Malvici, Magnotta and Saik fleets to form up behind a wedge of heavy warships, the dromonds and caravels launching ballistae bolts into enemy ships and ranks at point blank range.

Cirroch finds himself face to face, to face, nearly surrounded by the enemy. Swinging the heavy axe at them though each are too fast and stepping out of the way as he swings. "If you're going to step out of the way, get off the boat!" He keeps pushing forwards, yelling to the warriors, "Toss them from that boats, and rip their sails." Yelling back to Mirk, "Cousin I'm trying!"

Rosalind hurries to her new spot, arrow locked and loaded. She releases her arrow far smoother than the last, a nod of satisfaction appearing on her lips.

Ivy is still on the move, the tall Blackram woman surprisingly agile as she maneuvers the shifting, sliding, slick decks of the Unsullied, rushing here and there to drag injured away from the fight or to wrap a wound or salve a burn. More and more are having to be sent below or sent back towards the medical ship, praying the beaver and dolphins will keep the men safe until they can get the aid they need. When Katarina goes down, Ivy is rushing forward and hauling the smaller woman up and away, checking her over for wounds before murmuring, "Careful now or I'll put you on my shoulders. Doctor's orders." She flashes a grin and hurries off to head for the next injury, the next wound.

Back near the hospital ship, Mihaly is doing his best to keep the inflow of wounded organized while Eirene does all the real work in making sure the triage is according to her specifications. But he does forget the soldiers also on the hospital ship. "Eyes to the horizon, soldiers. Eyes out for wounded, those adrift, and any sails coming in our direction. I do *not* want to be taken by surprise. Not here, and not now." Leave it to the pair of life-long military soldiers, both of which are Too Old For This Shit by this point. It is, however, coming in as reflex and instinct than it is training. He glances back to Eirene once he realizes he has a free moment. "I wouldn't say no to a very large orca deciding it looking at an Erusi ship for it's next meal." he agrees with a nod.

Tyrus has joined the Nightstar Deployment.

Gwenna's fingers toy with the small diamondplate piece on her belt, though the weapon remains sheathed once she apparently feels sure enough it's there. As Lorenzo and Mirk continue to inspire and direct the fleet, she walks where their views might be blocked. Watching, perhaps, for something, or for any surprise that might soon emerge to put them off guard. Catching sight of the Anointed Taskmasters, she studies them for about half a minute before making her way back toward Lorenzo and Mirk. "Unpleasant company, those," she calls to them, even as Mirk closes the distance to offer quieter words. To Lorenzo she adds, "Be careful!" Then there's a nod to the Halfshav noble and a quiet reply.

Pasquale maintains the battle lines as the Isles Canines come up to the Eurasi ships hard and fast. The sailors know what they are doing, so he doesn't try to micromanage the boarding actions, but instead focuses on the overall gaming board of the battle. Ensuring the canines ships cover each other properly and that nobody gets any ideas of running away. He still looks mostly unfazed by the battle going on around him although there is a faint hint of a smile trying to break its way onto his lips and his eyes do, once or twice, drift to the dolphins and beaver. At one point he calls for some volunteers to take a small boat out to save some of the neaby allies and prisoners from a watery grave.

The crew of the Black Tide watches intensely from the deck as their allied ships begin to strike the enemies lines, and their anxiety permeable. They should be there beside them, fighting, roaring, dying with the Compact. In this surreal moment, as their ship draws ever nearer their target, Scylla observes the gash in Aedric's breastplate, the droplets of blood staining the boards at his feet. Concern creases her brow, but they've been here before, right? This is nothing new. The battle rages on. As their target looms in the distance, Scylla shouts, "Brace for impact! We're bringing her in!" Seconds later, with hands gripping tight the wheel of the Tide, or any surface one can find, the ram smashes into the hull of a Eurusi ship. Boarding commences, and Balefire glints in the sunlight as Scylla descends the aftcastle and begins to engage the enemy boarding party with a deft swing of the curved blade. "For Blackshore! For freedom! Bring me the Annointed Masters' heads!"

Valenzo rallies his men, sending the two archers to follow the commands of the Tempest's officers. Alongside, a waylaid shav longship pulls aside the Tempest's portside aft. Ropes and hooks are thrown, some bouncing off. "Repel boarders," Val calls out along with shouts of the ship's commanders. "Tempest dogs! Rally! Different deck, but same drill! Press up and-" A javelin is thrown aloft, and it glances off the side of Val's crimson helm with a thin smattering of sparks, and the man is knocked back by the blow, his axe falling short of his original mark of one of the boarders. The deck spins and tumbles, voices hiss and echo, before one of his crew mates shake him from his daze, and he joins in the fray, though back from the fight. The men are sapped of strength from their swim to safety, but fight along with the rest. Val himself moves back, heading for the aftcastle, aiming to help the crew manning the whipstaff and tiller.

Vitalis has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Valdemar has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Oskar moves swiftly among the wounded, rallying those who are still capable of moving with a swift encouraging clap of his hand or a rough barked order, and his simple inertia seems to be a source of inspiration; it's not long at all before the captured longship is under way towards the nearest concentration of healers. Stubbornly, the former king stands aside and refuses to be among the first treated, directing attention to the others as he leans on the haft of his axe and stares back towards the fray, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

Samira has been quietly relaying updated information to Vitalis so he can be kept abreast of exactly what unfolds around them. Murmuring her intentions to him, she tries not to stray far -- but it's clear her intention is to leap into the fray, and leap she does. Her blade may be small, but she wields it fiercely, no battle cry upon her lips as she faces off against the enemy.

The swoop of a harpoon rope overhead and the satisfying crunch of barbed metal sinking its fangs in to the hull of one of the ships at the fore is all the signal Sabriel needs. With a wolfish grin and a burst of energy from coiled leg muscles, she leaps with reckless abandon up to the rope and slides its length down on to the opposing ship. She can still feel the heat of the rope's friction on her palms as the clang of sabers and shouts both deep and shrill blot out her senses and she begins to react on muscle memory alone. No dervish, her quickness against so many potential opponents is found lacking and opposing steel finds its bite in her flesh through Cardian hide. Pain seizes up her leg and the connection between her mind and muscle gives way to gravity. Through gritted teeth she deflects a lethal blow, barking expletives and snarling like a starving hound until her eyes alight on one of the Taskmasters with their gilded chains.
Transfixed, the Taskmaster points at Sabriel and it's barely a heartbeat before she doubles over with her arms instinctively wrapping around her body. It's a foolhardy effort to keep her organs inside of the canvas of her skin as something Delphic with insatiable hunger gnaws at her from within. She can do nothing but scream in the face of a blinding pain beyond anything that she had felt up until that point, still strangely unable to look away. Then suddenly, it stops, her assailant becoming anonymous viscera. She is left kneeling then with eyes wide and mouth silently agape, her blade having clattered to the deck, still clutching her midsection as the pain recedes.

Victus checks mana and war at hard. Victus fails.

Something is definitely wrong with some of the Anointed Taskmasters. One near Sabriel just seemed to vanish, which could be chalked up to battlefield confusion to most, but some others are suddenly doubling over in pain or acting confused as the battle rages around them. Still, as the Compact soldiers swarm on the vulnerable ships, it's a much harder fight than expected considering the undermanned state the ships are in. The Eurusi sailors and reserve soldiers fight with suicidal intensity- battlehardened and disciplined, they aren't breaking despite the conditions, and some ships find the boarders pushed off despite their best efforts with brutal losses. One ship is suddenly engulfed in flame out of nowhere, causing a panic as both sides quickly abandon the rapidly sinking ship. Arrows rain down on the boarders, and some Eurusi ships are getting underway, and sailors are managing to reboard and array themselves for battle. One wedge of Eurusi ships is trying to maneuver around to get at the Grayson flag, and bringing siege weapons on deck to bear before launching. The Compact still has an edge, and there is more losses on the Eurusi side, but it's not as one sided as could be hoped.

((OOC: Hard difficulty for this round for combat. Anyone wishing to try to engage the Eurusi ship moving against the Grayson flag would have to do a sailing check (dex or command) at daunting to get access, as its well escorted.))

Varosh checks command and sailing at daunting. Critical Success! Varosh is spectacularly successful.

Sorrel checks mana and performance at hard. Sorrel is successful.

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at hard. Botch! Kastelon fails completely.

Lucrezia checks command and sailing at daunting. Lucrezia marginally fails.

Veronica checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Veronica fails completely.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven is successful.

Mikani checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Mikani is successful.

Haakon checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Haakon is successful.

Samira checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Samira is successful.

Deimos checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Deimos fails.

Sebastian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Sebastian fails.

Raja checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Raja is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Katarina checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Katarina is successful.

Ari checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Ari fails.

Aedric checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Aedric is successful.

Cirroch checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Cirroch fails.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Scylla is successful.

Tython checks dexterity and sailing at daunting. Tython fails.

Leola checks dexterity and archery at hard. Leola fails.

Mirk checks mana at daunting. Mirk fails.

Gwenna checks mana at daunting. Gwenna is successful.

Torian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Torian is successful.

Raven checks command and leadership at hard. Raven fails.

Mabelle checks command and leadership at hard. Mabelle is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at hard. Acantha marginally fails.

Katarina checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Katarina fails completely.

Valenzo checks charm at hard. Valenzo fails.

Margot checks command and war at hard. Margot fails.

Pasquale checks command and leadership at hard. Pasquale is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at hard. Mihaly is successful.

Eirene checks intellect and medicine at hard. Eirene is successful.

Oskar checks command and leadership at hard. Oskar is successful.

Ivy checks intellect and medicine at hard. Critical Success! Ivy is spectacularly successful.

Antonio checks command and war at hard. Antonio marginally fails.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at hard. Lorenzo fails.

Deimos checks command and leadership at hard. Deimos is successful.

Domonico checks command and war at hard. Domonico is successful.

Mirk looks Gwenna in the eye and gives her a slow nod. For the first time since this battle began, he's withdrawing from his leadership role of the assembled forces, turning his attention more inwards. His eyes are raised towards skies above, whispering a few quiet words. One hand goes to his beard, where once charms dangled, though now they're all missing. Then he steps into place beside Gwenna, his expression hard, lips moving silently, as if pleading with someone or something. In all the chaos and the noise, the words are indistinct, but the feeling is clear.

Sabriel manages to unfurl herself like a woodlouse in the eye of the storm, reaching nearly blindly for the hilt of her rubicund blade. The wave-patterned weapon is clumsily sheathed with little mind paid to the ichor tainting the steel. With one hand still clutching the remnants of the incorporeal wound on her organs, she unsteadily rises to her feet in segments: to her knees, pulling at the rigging of the boarded ship, and then finally staggering under her own power back the way she came. Eyes tinted with tears despite her gritted teeth and familiarity with pain, she slumps over the railing and falls hard on her back on the planks of a friendly ship. Pulling away from the front of the battle, she pulls herself as far to the rear and in cover as she can manage. Her breath continues to come in strained clips as pains both remembered and persistent short-circuit each draw from the air.

Margot looks over at the flame ship and where she's already standing on the Eurusi ship, her mouth opens to yell an order and then closes, her battle mirth dampened briefly with understanding that this is well beyond her control. So when she turns back to her troops to yell her orders, maybe she's distracted, or just not as impassioned, or calculating ahead, what ever it is, it's not as impassioned as before. Her axe rolls over her hand and settles in her palm again. "Fuck," She allows herself to breath, giving a moment to feel the break in her flow of command and regather.

Gwenna, after the quiet exchange of words with Mirk, moves to hold on to one of the rails of the ship with him. She shuts her eyes briefly, her lips moving in what surely is a prayer to one or several of the gods. When she opens her eyes, she looks at wedge heading toward the Grayson ship, and the fires that are suddenly alighting. Her warm brown gaze then casts to the horizon like she's looking for something, seeking it out with a question and her fingers toy with the bracelet of shells on her wrist.

Rosalind is beginning to grow a bit antsy, you can see it on her face. She grows restless. Her large hazel green eyes glance over to Mirk for the briefest of moments before she starts to run toward another end of the ship. For a moment.

Sebastian checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Sebastian is successful.

Sebastian remains capable of fighting.

Ari checks 'death save' at easy. Botch! Ari fails badly.

Ari has died.

Leola checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Leola is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Leola does not take a permanent wound.

Leola checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Leola is successful.

Leola remains capable of fighting.

Among the Black Fleet, a single white ship beacons like a lighthouse. A symbol of hope for the Pravus sailors. The Stormborn returns from its escapades, crashing through wave and debris with a single purpose; to reach the Eurusi ship with the siege weapons on board. Only the sound of drums thrum from these white whaler ships refitted for war but they seem set on their destination.

Kastelon checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Botch! Kastelon fails completely.

Kastelon has suffered a permanent wound!

Kastelon checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Kastelon is successful.

Kastelon remains capable of fighting.

Veronica checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Veronica marginally fails.

Veronica checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Veronica is successful.

Veronica remains capable of fighting.

Katarina is helped up by Ivy, and she smiles to the much, much taller woman. Katarina keeps her blade in her hand, and looks around -- and around -- and around -- it's all chaos. It's all madness. Violence. You know: war. Suddenly, all of the noise of it, all of the intensity, it all hits her at once. Katarina wants to call out to her men, to inspire them, but... the words just don't come out. Golden eyes are wide, and turn upward for a moment: "Sentinel..." Katarina's voice is small. "What do I do...?"

Disappointed that it seems the Anointed Masters are having difficulties, Lucrezia rolls off a shrug. So much for that part of the plan. Since it seems the Eurus are focusing on the Greyson fleet, she orders some of the fleet to go assist. Anything to keep the Eurus pinned in the bay until they were destroyed.

Tython notes the enemy is trying to go straight for the Grayson flag and he curses up a string of words, encouraging his crew to turn the "Prosperity of Gild" around and intercept the enemy before they get too far, but it's a tough fight and Tython's Caravel is soon waylaid by enemies.

Attention drawn towards the Eurusi ship making for the Rising Dawn by an aide who hurries up to her, Liara releases her grip on the rail, gaze drawn toward the looming threat. The dromonds at the front heavily engaged, it still leaves a broad spread of galleys in the following lines, and it is a force of these that she elects to send forwards, with a call to the officer in charge of signals, "Have the seventh squadron move forward, counter them!"

Cirroch keeps moving fowards then is struck at from both sides, a small grimace crosses his face as he starts muttering to himself. Spitting out at those that have struck him. Looking over to Rosalind with some concern. He stays up and swings back, blocking some attacks then he drops his left as he is prone to do in battle. A slice to his side, gives him a small yelp of pain before doubling down and swinging back more violently at those attacking him.

Haakon pushes through the wild fray toward the chain bearing champion at the heart of the frenzied resistance, as the Prodigal warriors of his house push with him in a shield line. Step by bloody step. "WHOSE DAY IS THIS?" he demands, striking hard. He is answered, "ESWYND."

The fighting is fierce, the battle truly joined. Veronica has found her space upon the enemy vessel and lunged to join in the fray...and then promptly slid in a pool of spilled blood. She upends, landing upon the deck with a bruising thud, keeping her sword in hand but utterly failing to carry the battle towards the enemy. And of course, being prone in a melee battle is a disadvantageous position, and one of the enemy fighters takes advantage of that to skewer her badly in the thigh. She gasps, gurgles with the pain but manages to remain conscious and fend off the enemy's blade a few moments longer as she tries to pull herself away.

Raven's not able to chew bubble gum and walk at the present moment, or more specifically to both cut down Eurusi scum AND coordinate the larger scale of attack in spite of her phenomenal rallying charge she has her hands full cutting down Ska'daja and dodging attacks by blades and the occasional arrow, managing to make headway in spite of her injury.

Mabelle's face is one of visiable confusion, between foes vanishing or dropping to their knees and sailors avoiding drowning. Between people being injured and the need to press on, Mabelle runs upon the deck like a headless chicken trying to cover all the wounded, instructing other healers with the help of Ivy.

(It is, of course, possible that Liara's direction is too late. Still, she gives it.)

As she sees her cousin fall also, she tries to bring herself over towards Kastelon, to assist him and perhaps fall back.

On the deck of a foreign ship, Prince Sebastian Pravus continues to fight a hard battle, pushing alongside the First Legion in an attempt to seize the ship's helm. During a particularly frantic fray, one of the enemy slavers manages to get a slash across his right thigh, earning a grunting grit of teeth from the Sin as he struggles against the rush of pain that accompanies it. There's no thoughts of withdrawing, though. "For the CHAINBREAKER!" he calls once again. It's a hard fight, to say the least. The Dragonfire fleet uses their siege weapons to bear on the opposing fleet -- but it's getting harder to do so safely with the mix of Compact forces with that of the Skal'dajan.

The fighting has begun and Raja jumps into the thick of it all! A feral yell is let out as she swings her dagger, getting up close and very personal with the enemy. Blood and sweat dampen her leathers and are sprinkled across her face. She slides up to Katarina, holding her blade up, "We fight! We fight gloriously!" There is something savage that comes from her, a bit of madness in her eye. As a foe comes closer, she steps back forward to fight some more, cackling like a mad woman!

Torian has pumped his people up with old stories and promises of ale and other debaucheries, and they are like a swarm of angry bees when the Wrath of Mangata bumps up against one of the enemy vessels. There's little order in it, and in fact it looks rather chaotic and 'unprofessional' in terms of what one would expect of a fighting force. The Culler's stick and move, rotating about from one target to the next, shuffling places and sticking and jabbing, fighting in a roiling dance of steel that, hopefully, keeps the other side confused enough to keep most of the Cullers on their feet... and the ship they've board still seaworthy enugh to take home... if they make it home.

Back home when Samira fights, she is full of feisty commentary, directing insults and biting taunts toward her opponents. Here, in the gritty reality of battle, there is none of that bravado, only silence and focus borne of necessity, each swing of her blade driven by a fierce desire to stay on her feet and hold her own.

The Tempest, leading the Malvici fealty fleet, cuts through the waters, the ballista and archers firing nearly continuously from the warships of the House of War as Domonico directs fire at ships in turn. The Magnotta Count squeezes his hand tight on the prayer beads wrapped around his fingers as he sees the Compact fleet beginning to have a toll taken upon them. He orders his ships to keep moving as he directs them through as best he can, trying to read the battle at sea.

As the fighting across the ships grows more desperate, Lorenzo tries to rally the Northern fleet. He calls and has signals sent to not much effect, their efforts obscured by wreckage and smoke. He turns and just catches Mirk and Gwenna offering prayers. He squints up into the hazy air, offering his own good will as well, even if it is not to the effect of the others.

"Fuck me three-ways with a trident," Eirene swears as she sees a ship just light on fire, sailors and soldiers dropping with phantom pains. "Fucking MAGES," she shouts, making a guess at what could be behind it. She can only trust her stationed medics are holding their own on the other ships while some of the first wounded are being hauled aboard the hospital ship. But she's worked hard to train and prepare the medics for this, so they perform to the best of their ability. "Mi," she calls to her husband, "ready for boarders just in fucking case. They won't go easy on the wounded," she says, keeping her voice low for him before she dashes off to her duties.

Foes fall at Scylla's feet with relative ease, so it is a wonder why she pauses in the midst of battle, weapon poised for a swing? A sailor comes to her aid, knocking a foe's blade aside and sparing her from taking a severe hit. Appreciation is expressed, and she continues to fight, but not with nearly the same energy as before. Parries and dodges are committed with relative ease, and then she withdraws from the battle waging on aboard her deck to seek out Aedric and fight beside him. They are close enough to share words between weapon swings, which they do.

It's all Mihaly can do to keep his soldiers busy upon the hospital ship. It's a great deal of staring into the distance, seeing the fighting and not be able to join. "I know. You want to go over there. But we must hold. We are the only things keeping these people safe. Our duty may not be sung in song, but it's just as important as anyone boarding those ships now." He stops, seeing one of the ships just....light up on fire. "Hold! Remember why we're here! Now get back to the rails!"

War is horrible and chaotic, and Kastelon's not a creature of scenarios where he's often in the fray. Indeed, he's more accustomed to being in the forests, or perhaps on the fringe of battle to use that bow of his but... there's a difference, indeed, when he's spending his time trying to find targets among the enemy to take down. So much more so that he has no vision at all for the fact that there're more ready foes - say other archers - and he's suddenly hit, falling back onto the deck...

Ari is getting to old for this sort of thing. Bleeding from the leg, and from the brow, he limps his way to a mast. Climbing it up, he grabs a rope, tugs on it, and holds out his sword. "For Belladonna, and Miraya," he grunts. The shouting is long gone. And with that, he swings at his foes, hurling his body at them. Trying to take out as many as he can before he is overwhelmed, and falls.

Leola lurches as the ship rolls, slamming into the railing and gasping. She blinks, and breathes out, feeling her ribs creak like the rolling of the ship. A moment's cursing her lack of padding, and she continues to pepper arrows into the melee, wincing and breathing deeply

With all the chaos going on in the battle it takes Pasquale a moment to piece together his options. A glance to the Pravus reassures him that reassuring is not necessary. A glance towards the Greyson flagship shows that he does, briefly, think about moving assets to help there. Yet in the end he chooses to pace the length of his ship, still rattling out orders, and maintain the isles canine's attack but for the occasional vessel which he orders pulled back and then replaced with fresher bodies that are hopefully more eager for the fight than those that tried before them. For now though he seems.. satisfied.. with the events going on around him. Satisfied enough to stay and fight anyway.

Ivy has kept a cool head, even the insanity of the sea battle hasn't rattled here. Perhaps its the Blackram blood. Perhaps its the trauma training. Whichever way it rolls, she's moving fast but sure, calling out orders to the other healers and flashing a reassuring smile towards Mabelle. But then the Keatons both fall and the smile falls away as she mutters, "...Fuck." She finishes quickly wrapping the sailor she's wroking on before sending him along as she races across the deck, sliding down to get under Kastelon's arm and haul him up while flashing a grimaced grin towards Veronica, "Can't let you Keatons fall and make a liar of me to the Marquessa. This way, I'll see to you both now." And that's exactly what she does, getting them out of the immediate battle and somewhere stable where she can start working on their wounds.

There is chaos in any battle. Thick smoke chokes the air, moving at the whims of breezes and tailwinds. The Taskmasters of Skal'daja are finding more trouble using their terrible magic than they'd anticipated. At least, one reasons they did not anticipate the chance of being torn apart by their own spells. But there are many mages of many levels of skill in the wide world, and dark clouds of fog begin to roll across the water from those warships arrayed against the shoreline. It's fog that unfurls like sand, blowing in gusts across the desert; gritty and biting even over the sea. No doubt, there is some horrible working being attempted by the Skal'dajan mages.

While many are too engrossed in the fight for their own lives to see and feel dread at the sight of this dark, swelling magic, some do see. So they also see the clouds above suddenly split by a column of blinding, rainbow light. It smashes into the Eurusi fleet, fired from the Freedom's Phantasm hovering above.

A great CRACK shakes timber and people and firmament alike, the ear-ringing aftermath of it no doubt making the battlefield seem strangely silent for that one, shocked moment. And then, the real aftermath. The sea bubbles up beneath that devestating impact, a wave spreading out that manages to jostle even the furthest ships in the bay. And of the Eurusi warships that were the unfortunate recipients of that beam? There is little more than some floating, flaming wreckage. It is not immediately clear how many were destroyed or disabled - in whole or in part - but it looks like it could be as many as a dozen.

Oskar hasn't let his wound stop him from helping however he can; bloodied but standing tall, he strides across the deck and barks encouragement to the wounded, rearming those who aren't too far gone and sending them scuttling towards their stations and with directions for the other ships in the fleet to move forward or fall back as needed. Still, in the brief moments where the chaos of battle lulls for a heartbeat or more, he paces with unrestrained frustration playing across his craggy face and his grip on the haft of his axe white-knuckled. His bloodlust foiled, it seems. As the cries of "ESWYND" faintly carry back across the wind, his free hand rises to Mangata's charm dangling against the skin of his chest under his armor...but it's not until the blinding rainbow beam smashes into the Eurusi ships that he gasps out a prayer, eyes wide and stunned.

The tiller issue sorted quickly, Valenzo leads with his own men along the fray, the few archers left joining the ranks of others, he and other overseers making shouts of 'knock, draw' and 'loose' repeatedly until the throat begins to dry. Then he catches site of the inexplicable formation of clouds and... he has no words to describe what he saw, while others only turn towards the end of the cataclysm. "Gods!" he cries, whites of his eyes gleaming at the newfound devastation. Good thing it was them and not us.

Sir Ari Corsetina, Knight of Setarco. It's true that not many in the Compact would know every commoner, and even a great knight falling in battle could go unnoticed along the hundreds of others falling in the brutal boarding actions happening around him. Though as Ari dies, with the names of his liege and his family on his lips, something very odd happens- the moment Ari breaths his last, the enemy flagship, with the remaining Prince of Skal'daja on board and bellowing orders, suddenly capsizes as if it was hit by a strong wave. The ship sinks below the waters of the bay as if it was made of stone, taking the Eurusi on board with it. Not a single Eurusi onboard surfaces, and no sign of the ship will ever be found.

The rest of the battle continues, amid a massive sundering of ships near the shoreline, of eurusi ships trying to bring to bear on the Grayson flag onto to be intercepted by Varosh. The bloodspilling is getting heated, with hundreds dying as more and more Eurusi rush back to counter the threat of the Compact fleet enveloping them to destroy them. The boarders have been repelled on some ships, but on the ships boarded by the Pravosi forces and Mourning Isles, a caravel and a drommond have now fallen into Compact hands.

The battle is a frenzy, as thousands more of Eurusi have returned to their ships trying to push back to the Compact. ((OOC: Roughly half of the Eurusi fleet has now been destroyed, while the Compact has taken roughly 20 percent losses, but the Eurusi are fighting back ferociously. Because of the shift in battle, morale, medicine and social checks this round are at easy. Fighting checks will be at normal difficulty.))

From the wreckage and slowly settling churn of waves, three dark shapes launch themselves into the air, shapes the size of people - but with dark, thrashing of what must be wings. They take to the sky, chasing after the ship that gleams dully above.

Rosalind checks dexterity and archery at normal. Rosalind is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at easy. Acantha is successful.

Eirene checks intellect and medicine at easy. Eirene is successful.

Katarina checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Katarina is successful.

Mabelle checks charm and leadership at easy. Mabelle is successful.

Deimos checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Deimos is successful.

Sebastian checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Sebastian is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at easy. Mihaly is successful.

Samira checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Samira is successful.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at easy. Lorenzo marginally fails.

Mikani checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Mikani is successful.

Raja checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Critical Success! Raja is spectacularly successful.

Raven checks command and leadership at hard. Raven is successful.

Valenzo checks charm and leadership at easy. Valenzo is successful.

Ciaran checks command and leadership at easy. Ciaran is successful.

Lucrezia checks command and war at easy. Lucrezia is successful.

Tython checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Tython is successful.

Domonico checks command and war at normal. Domonico is successful.

Haakon checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Critical Success! Haakon is spectacularly successful.

Aedric checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Aedric is successful.

Antonio checks command and war at normal. Antonio is successful.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Botch! Raven fails badly.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Scylla is successful.

With a great sound of pain, Veronica pulls herself mostly upright. She simply can't really put weight on her right leg, so she uses the ship rail to steady herself and half-crawls back across the place where the two ships are joined to fall onto the deck of the Unsullied with another grunt of pain. Then Ivy is there, and she will gratefully let the healer woman steer her away from the action, and even be marginally cooperative about being tended while still trying to see how the fight is going.

Ivy checks intellect and medicine at easy. Ivy is successful.

Varosh checks dexterity and huge wpn at normal. Varosh is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at daunting. Kastelon marginally fails.

Whatever horror is brewing from the Eurusi mages, something else stirs across the water next to and around Elira's Stand. At first, it's indistinguishable from the already choppy water, but that doesn't last. Waves wash up against the ship, then the wind whips across the deck, scattering sailors (fortunately, none fall overboard), and knocking Gwenna flat. The sails flail in the sudden violence, then snap, then shred, and then whatever it is, is no longer around the Elira's Stand at all. Water parts along the surface as if an invisible blade were cutting through, rushing over ships and under ships and then the forefront of the Skal'dajan wedge attempting to reach the back of the Grayson fleet is simply blown apart, splintered to bits by some unseen fury that vanishes as quickly as it arrived. Not a few of the sailors go the same way, pulled to pieces like the sails on the Elira's Stand.

Oskar checks command and leadership at easy. Oskar is successful.

Leola checks command and animal ken at easy. Leola is spectacularly successful.

Cirroch checks composure at easy. Cirroch marginally fails.

Kastelon sees the figures take wing, and fires off a hasty shot. At that distance, it's hard to say - but it looks like it might have been a hit. Perhaps to a knee.

Torian checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Torian is successful.

Pasquale checks command and leadership at easy. Pasquale is successful.

Margot checks command and leadership at easy. Margot is successful.

Margot spots Scylla in the fray, Haakon appears to be doing well, Oskar's up and moving at least and the red water turning between the ships, colored by blood and fire. Her quick skim from her vantage point is interupted by the arm that seems to get through her guard, and refexively she yanks down her axe to sink into it even before she knows where it comes from, the hot splash of blood, the ear peircing scream bringing her back to the moment. Her gaze turns up to the sky, and her grin comes back, too teethy, too blood thirsty; "Back to your ships, grab your prizes while you can!" She yells to her men who have had plenty of time to murder and pillage. Her arms lift above her head, crossed at the wrists and then spreading apart as soon as she hits the deck of the Dove herself, signalling to someone in the birds nest and a red flag quickly starts climbing up the mast. "I want archers on those flying things!"

Hellfrog has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Liara checks charm and propaganda at easy. Liara is successful.

Raja has joined the Oathlands Fleet.

Victus has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Aleksei has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Cirroch checks dexterity and huge wpn at easy. Cirroch is successful.

Azova has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Sorrel has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Lou has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Natasha has left the Nightstar Deployment.

Tyrus has left the Nightstar Deployment.

This is -not- Kastelon's day, clearly, as he's being helped back up by Ivy. That he sees the figures take flight has him gently pulling away from her as he's getting a sight, leaning to the rail for a moment as he's grunting, the bow lifted and an arrow nocked before he has it taking flight into the air after it. Which is also a bad mistake in that it's -not- helping him to get better, and he's already grimacing again before he's letting himself be led back for healing.

In the chaos of battle, with everything else happening, it's easy enough to miss it when it first appears. Just a smudge on the horizon, sailing toward the Bay of Pieros. And then not a smudge, but sails. Hundreds of tattered sails from hundreds of ships appearing seemingly from nowhere. They seem barely tangible, these ships, darker gray against graying skies. But more of them appear. They roll up from the waters, sunken vessels remembering how to float again. Distant. But very real.

And that's when the screaming starts. Skal'dajan sailors that have been flung overboard are suddenly being pulled under the water, and the terrified chitter of dolphins is the only sign that they are leaving, and leaving quickly. Benny practically leaps out of the water, but the sailor he was trying to help isn't so lucky.

Skal'dajan ships crunch from below. Pale, slimy hands reach up from the waters to pull the living down to join them.

Mirk remains at the rail of the Elira's Stand, watching with a sense of awe at whatever stirs across the water. He offers Gwenna a hand to help her up, once the wind has passed, though his eyes are drawn off as if following it with his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. It lasts only a moment or three, before the chaos of battle and the steadily stranger battle crushes that spark of joy. He seems less concerned with fighting for now, and more with his companions.

Raven's stuck temporary blind and her ears ring as the awe-inspiring bolt from the sky caught her looking strait at it with an expression of dumbstruck surprise. Leaving herself open it's no surprise that the press of foes takes the opportunity and she staggers back with a snarled cuss, giving ground briefly to reorient herself and bellows breathless encouragement to the Black Crescent who press onward.

Slumped as she is against the railing, Sabriel can't help but witness the splitting of the clouds. Her pupils immediately shrink to mere pinpricks before she turns away with a hiss for the sting sets the nerves in her eyes alight with the same ferocity as any flame. Then comes the thunderous crack of wood, the twisting and warping of flesh and material at the behest of some arcane force she could not understand. The ringing in her ears is added to the cacophony of dirges her body plays for her as blood seeps where it does not belong, muscle twinges in agony like a land-bound fish, and breaths come in ragged course.
"Fecking hurts," Sabriel complains to no one in particular before a demented grin creeps across her lips. "Should've stuck to piracy and told that Rabbit to go frig herself."

It's almost blinding. No, it's pretty blinding. The bright flash of light from above interrupts Eirene from her all-important work of saving lives. She shields her eyes with her hand and then looks up to see where the burst of light originated from. "Ha-HA," she laughs, triumphantly. "Victus got to take his little boat out, finally! Even the fucking SKY is on our side," she calls out, trying to encourage her medics. Then she sees something else headed upward into that sky. "Ah fuck," she swears agin, a little more simply this time, as her eyes follow the shady figures. But her preparations for the healing portion of the fight is going well; with medics on the other vessels tending to their wounded, the oarships bringing sailors (of both sides) back to the hospital ship for treatment.
Then come the ghost-ships. Eirene says softly, "What in the name of the holy abyss is that..." She stares a little.

Leola stares at the water, at the sailors and the injured falling in. She stares at the sky, at those beams coming down, and she stares at the chaos surrounding her. She takes a breath, and looks to those on her ship; and she begins to speak, frantically, to the fleeing dolphins. Warning, pleading for their safety. To find their safety, find *their* help

The Eswynd warriors press across the deck, cutting down the chained fanatics knotted around the gilded Taskmaster. Haakon is given an opening by his allies and strikes for the distracted foe, hacking off the hand that grasps the chains in one blow, and carrying off the slaver's head in the next stroke. "ESWY-"

The catastrophic blast rocks the deck, and sends Haakon off his feet, dazed for a moment. When he regains his senses, his feet, and his slaver's head, turning an eye to Raven's nearby ship. "Archers!" he shouts for a volley. Then... the horizon. "Oh, now what the fuck is THIS new shit?" Epic words for the histories, truly.

Ciaran isn't in the thick of battle, boots still planted on the deck of his ship, where archers are hard at work peppering a Eurusi vessel with arrows. Everywhere around him there is chaos, but he seems possessed of a certain calm even in the midst of battle -- even as an arrow whizzes by his cheek and embeds itself in the mast of his ship. The sudden swoop of the winged figures causes him to whip his attention that way. He seems to have the same idea as so many others. Like Margot, he hollers: "Archers! Bows skyward! Fifty thousand silver to the man who takes one down!"

This moment doesn't last long, however. He's soon gazing over the side of the ship, to where the seeming ghost fleet, and all its drowned men, rears its ugly head. "...This is starting to feel entirely too familiar," he mutters darkly. "What on earth is that?" He certainly doesn't think it's friendly.

There's too much happening in the moment for Sebastian to possibly know what's just happened. And yet, somehow... in the midst of fighting, he turns, his gaze pulled at first by the bright, multi-colored light that punches into the middle of the enemy fleet, his gaze dropping -- just in time to see one of the Skal'dajan flagships disappearing beneath the waves. Strangely, a tear drops from the corner of one of his eyes, his mouth presses together, and he limps forward. Their push this time is much more successful, making it all the way to the helm with a low roar of satisfaction from the Pravosi soldiers. And then there's screaming: terrified screaming. It pulls the Sin's gaze to the water, thins his mouth. But they have a job to do. "Find the Annointed one," Sebastian calls, limping as he leads the way down belowdecks.

Katarina voices her small prayer to the Sentinel -- and then a rainbow beam erupts from the sky to blast a bunch of ships into atoms. Katarina's eyes are wide for a moment in that 'wait, I didn't just do that, did I?' kind of way before Raja snaps her back into reality. "Y-Yes -- yes! We fight!" If she can't find the pretty words to stir her sailors' souls, Katarina will lead by example. Cobalt dagger in hand, she joins Raja in fighting off a handful of Eurusi who try to board the ship. She's in the wrong position to see the ghost fleet arriving. Won't SHE be in for a shock when she turns around.

Pasquale is still focusing his efforts on keeping the fleet together as the rainbow beam slams into eurasi ships, and then the waves.. For a moment he peers off after the flying thing that is presumably being chased by things of fantasy before redoubling his efforts to keep the fleet's formation from dissolving around him. "Keep an eye to your oars" he calls. The loudest he's managed yet. Words he's rather grateful for when those black sails turn up on the horizon, his composure slipping just enough to allow some near whispered words to escape. "Who's side are they on."

Amid the confusion of battle, Lorenzo does what he can to hold the Northern fleet together, directing the ships to support one another where possible. But when there's a deafening crack and a blinding light, he stops, staring. The wave that moves through the water gives the Elira's Stand a hard nudge barely make him sway, but then something else hits their ship, something much closer. He turns away, shielding his eyes against the splintering wind that shreds the caravel's sails. He risks a peek and sees Gwenna knocked to the deck. "Gwenna!" he yells. Smoke and things broken and burning are everywhere, but he stumbles over to her side. "What... what are those?" he says, only then seeing the gray ships growing closer. "Friends, I hope?" In the water, it certainly seems like they have allies.

Even a cavaral isn't immune to the sea-shattering events. Lucrezia is drenched from all the water rocking the ships. This is bound to be bad for the fleet as people are swept away and ships capsized and sunk. Still, she stands upright and reorganizes the Black Fleet. Her unspeaking crew doesn't react to any of the very odd things going on, but her attention is not on them, but making sure the rest of the fleet's will doesn't break as powerful forces intervene on their behalf.

Mabelle is a good Oathlander, really she is. But there are rainbows sinking ships and things in the sky and things pulling things into the water and between all the chaos, while she really means to encourage the troops to give going all she manages to bellow is, "What the fuck is going on?!"

There's no hiding Liara's surprise as the front of the Skal'dajan wedge is torn open, though she does not verbalise it, and she rapidly recovers herself, gaze set on Varosh's ship for a short time, though the galleys sent to intercept might yet make it to reinforce the Stormborn. Then, there are the ships with tattered sails, slimy hands drawing Skal'dajan sailors into the depths, though despite the blanching of her features, the Princess of Bastion goes to raise a call, a simple few words, likely intended to carry further through the fleet: "The Compact endures! The Compact endures!"

Acantha is having a day and a half with the things she is seeing. But it is for a good cause and she was going to have a lot of stuff to tell her husband about if she made it back home. Though the view of creepy sails and hands coming up from the waves makes her do a double take as she leans over the railing, "Don't you touch my beaver." she grumps.

Valdemar has joined the Nightstar Deployment.

Mihaly has to lift up his visor, in clear awe of what he's seeing and then being momentarily blinded by it. The light splitting the clouds and utterly decimating the Erusi fleet. "What in the name of..." he starts, but everything *else* to pop off at that moment. He steps forward in front of a group of his soldiers, his mind trying to make sense of what exactly he's seeing. In all of his years at war, nothing quite like this. The 'fin' of whatever split the water is taken in, and he stares, unsure what to really make of it. And finally, as if to top it all off, the confused choke of surprise from one of the soldiers with him has him turning his gaze to see these ships bearing a gray mast. "By the very stars..." he mumbles, the old Riven knight at a loss for anything insightful to say at this particular moment.

The frenzy aboard the decks of the Tempest is packed in tight, man wedged shoulder to shoulder as the frenzy of new Eurusi ships making a counter attack, as the men work to protect the aftcastle from boarders. "Rally!" Valenzo is packed in among them, toward the back, so many shoulders crammed together in that close melee he can't make much use to reach, and instead leads the others on. A sudden wave rocks the ship, tumbling men to and fro, but they gatehr themselves. "At them! Watch the taffaril, they're boarding aft!" The clamour and thunking of steel and blows of clubs rains down in the packed foray, as boarder after boarder clambers the walls and is pushed back by the larger force. Arrows whistle and thunk across the deck, an unlucky soldier taking one in chest and going down. Valenzo is on the cusp of helping him, before he notices more sails on the horizon. Eurusi? No... He was seeing more strange things he wanted to think about for a night, so he focused on leading the rally, driving the last of the boarders back. Don't worry about the spooky things in the water, worry about those sand-snorters climbing over the rails.

Valdemar has left the Nightstar Deployment.

The "Prosperity of Gild" ends up entangled with an enemy vessel for some time and Tython is swinging his sword about while calling out curses and laughing, quite madly, even as he slices men down, before drawing back. The next series of events blind and blow back he and his crew in shock but they keep on going. "C'mon ye bastards it's time ta' collect yer pay, forward tha' attack, them Graysons're doin' fine!" and so they press on with the attack.

The magic begins and even in the midst of the battle, Raja could not help but to notice some of it. Then.. there is a HUGE BEAM OF LIGHT! There was something about that light that inspired the Culler woman. A rather savage cheer rises from her as the light shreds the enemy fleet. "What the fuck was that and where can I get one?!" Welp! Back to fighting! She joins in the chaos and goes head to head against her foes. In the distance she can see Raven and an opponent. It just so happens that she has a great line of sight. Another blade is pulled from her belt and she throws it across the water! The blade goes end over end, meeting the head of an enemy trying to come upon her.

Rosalind starts to slowly bristle. She straightens, appearing even taller than what she already is. As the sail closer and the feel of magic hits her, her entire demeanor simply shifts. Seeing Gwenna knocked over, she frowns. With an scary calm, Rosalind lifts her nocked bow and releases her arrow, smooth and precise, watching it fall on some enemey.

Gwenna was already staring at the horizon, studying it even, when the dark clouds of fog being to roll in. "That's not right," she murmurs to Mirk as she continues to watch the phenomenon. Then there's a sense of relief that quickly turns to dread all in just seconds. The rainbow light makes her squinch her eyes against the brightness, even as it smashes into the Eurusi fleet. Her hands shoot up to cover her ears until the sound dissipates and she looks over the wreckage with awe - but not for long. The waves and wind are paying more attention to Elira's Stand suddenly, she realizes, but it takes a minute before relief and a grateful smile are evident on her expression. Knocked flat shortly after, but manages to witness the trail of that force and the havoc it inflicts. There's a flicker of a smile as she glances up to Mirk, taking the offered hand, and then to the horizon with a dip of her head. She says something quiet again. "I'm fine! Promise," she calls over to Lorenzo and then up to Rosalind. "And...hopefully..." But the battle continues on and there are slimy hands and much more to focus on yet.

Margot takes a deep breath, rolls her head from one side to the other, slips her axe back into her belt and lifts her hand to wipe the blood from her cheek, really only succeeding in smearing a more coherant set of red lines their. "Archers on the flying things if you can." She moves up to the high castle looking towards the 'creepy' fleet, her hand lifting to wave before she focus' her attention on getting the Thrax fleet to knock everything and anything into the water as they can. "Everyone else knock as many of them as possible into the water or help mow down the ones that are sinking."

There's a moment in which Cirroch seems to be getting the upper hand, taking a swing and making connection, then a blast of light and he's thrown across the deck of the ship. Opening his eyes to see piercing blinding light and a screaming in his ears, he's shouting louder to those right next to him. "WHAT WAS THAT?" The warriors that have been following along all shake their heads, not that he can see them right now, as his eyesight slowly comes back he sees the few remains of the ships and then... slimy hands??? He pushes back from the rails of the ship, again muttering to himself.

Ecploding ships, ghost ships, winged creatures -- Oskar seems to be taking it all in stride after his initial reaction...or at least, putting on a damned solid enough show of it to convince the forces he's rallied, charging from one side of the deck to the other to bellow orders at passing longships. "Demons and beasts and death and destruction!" He roars to the men and women around him, and raises his axe again. "What are our words?!" There's hardly a beat between his question and the answer torn hoarsely from hundreds of throats. "THE WIND CARES NOT!!!"

Torian is a simple man leading his simple men as best he can. When word gets shouted out the Grayson's need help, his men begin to fall back to their own vessel to lend aid, but before they can even get to the railings there's shit coming out of the sky, shit coming out of the water, and shit coming out of the water and into the sky... He looks this way and that, the threat the the Graysons is diminsed by... whatever that was, and so he looks back to the ship he's attempting to sieze. Ships make sense, ships he can understand, and so it's back to leading his people in trying to take that ship home with them.

Mikani says in Marin'alfar, "Thank the gods and spirits!"

Domonico was fortunately facing the other direction when the rainbow beam fired and swept devastation across the Bay, the Tempest swaying in the waves caused from the impact. The figurehead of Mangata bobs up and down on the front of the ship as the Tempest rolls through the aftermath. "Hmmm," is all his response is to the devastating beam and it's aftermath before he bellows commands to Valenzo and the marines on board to drive the foe from his blessed ship. "Well done Valenzo... Now... Let us find ourselves some prey." The ghostly sails give him pause a moment and he kisses the charm to Mangata again.

Cirroch mutters, "come ... now's ... time. if you're not going to ... ... I might ... well refuse a drink, ... on out you fucking basterd."

Mikani calls out in a foreign tongue as the ships appear on the horizon. She readies her crew for the next onslaught as they start to chase down those that are left.

Eirene calls to Mihaly, "This ain't shitting seagulls.."

There is nothing but the void around Varosh as he narrows the focus of his ships on to the Skal'dajan wedge. He is taken back to his past for a moment, to a place he cherished in his heart. A place that brought him great happiness and deep pain. Destruction rages around him, with the solar beam blowing up ships as the sea parts to swallow those that were at its mercy.

It is Sebastian's words that some how make it to his ear and remind him of the present. The Truesworn issues his command; his white ship hoisting different flags to relay the info. The Captain then roars, "Focus on the anointed ones. They are the prey!" and the white fleet of cogs spread and cross through the battlefield woven into it like the threads of line.

Stunned for a moment by the sheer beauty of the beam of rainbow light that takes out the Eurusi ships, Ivy doesn't even protest when Kastelon pulls away. She doesn't notice the three figures either, instead turning towards the dark ships, the roiling seas... and the screams. This is a sight that's going to stay burned into her memory for a long, long time. She calls for lines to be thrown to anyone in the immediate vicintiy of the Unsullied. Any sailors in the water right there are to be brought aboard NOW. They can figure out nationality and consequences later. And then she's putting it from her immediate attention and turning back to the Keatons. Veronica's leg is tended to, though she winces, "There's some damage here I won't be able to fix. You might find yourself a bit slower on the move for... the forseeable future. I've got the worst of it stopped and we'll get you properly stitched up later, but for now, stay back, take it easy." THen there's Kastelon. She blows out a breath and places a pad against his eye and starts winding a bandage around his head to keep it in place. "Well. You are now and truly a pirate, Kastelon Keaton. The Marquessa is going to kill me for bringing you both back in such rough shape." She flickers a smile at him, then nods to Veronica, "I'd advise you both to head belowdecks, trauma is still traumatic and can affect your swing, your aim... but I will keep an eye on you if you stay on deck."

Despite being engaged in battle, Samira would be hard-pressed to miss the shift of focus of those around her. As their eyes turn to the skies, so too do hers. Little time remains for admiring the sight, but it sets the Culler to fighting with renewed vigor. Flying figures in the sky, the gray ships on the horizon... "'What the fuck' is right!" she yells above the din, echoing Raja's sentiment.

Battle wages on aboard the Black Tide, and at the precise moment that Scylla raises her cutlass to fell a foe, a brilliant rainbow light momentarily blinds her. She misses, and the Eurusi man falls over out of sheer terror for the sight and sound of the resulting decimation. He makes for a relatively easy kill thereafter, the tip of her blade slicing through skin and flesh with a quick thrust. Shouts rise above the din. "Ghost ships!" And it is then that Scylla turns and begins to walk toward the taffrail of her ship. Many eyes are focusing on the roiling fog in the distance, putting a brief pause to raging battle that resumes once the novelty has worn off. After all, there's a war to win here and now; this new, foreign threat - if threat they are - can be dealt with when they're raising weapons against allies and family. "Push them back!" Scylla calls out to her sailors, and they abide. Eurusi are driven to the rails of the ship, to fall into the writhing current below where monsters await or else die by the sword.

The battle is chaos, and even for the commanders distant from the thick of the fighting, it can be a little hard to tell just what in the 13th's name is going on. What IS clear is that the Eurusi have taken a beating, and the fighting has splintered. Under the push of Compact soldiers, some of the fanatical Eurusi are attempting to abandon ship- likely to try to escape, regroup, and fight again another day. Another group is forming up under several still breathing Anointed Taskmasters and their slaves, trying to fight their way towards the Grayson highlord, possibly in the hope of capturing a high valued target for barter. And still more are just lost in the melee, too frantically fighting to really see what's going on. But one thing is very clear to both sides, the Eurusi are losing, and they are split between trying something dramatic to change that, or cut their losses.

((OOC: For anyone wanting to chase down the fleeing Eurusi, the checks will be at east. Total successes are important here, escaping ones do mean likely guerilla attacks against Pieros if they lose here. For anyone wanting to stop the Taskmaster push, these are very dangerous. It is daunting combat rolls against them, or hard morale rolls to direct troops against them.))

Katarina checks dexterity and small wpn at daunting. Katarina fails.

Raven checks command and leadership at hard. Raven fails.

Varosh checks dexterity and huge wpn at daunting. Varosh fails.

Cirroch checks dexterity and huge wpn at daunting. Cirroch fails.

Ciaran checks command and leadership at hard. Ciaran is successful.

Kastelon checks perception and archery at daunting. Kastelon is successful.

Sebastian checks dexterity and medium wpn at daunting. Sebastian fails.

Raja checks dexterity and small wpn at daunting. Raja fails.

Rosalind checks dexterity and archery at easy. Rosalind is successful.

Deimos checks command and leadership at hard. Deimos marginally fails.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara marginally fails.

Samira checks dexterity and small wpn at daunting. Samira marginally fails.

Margot checks command and leadership at hard. Margot is successful.

Mabelle checks mana at hard. Mabelle fails.

Lorenzo checks command and leadership at easy. Lorenzo is successful.

Pasquale checks command and leadership at hard. Pasquale fails.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at daunting. Scylla is successful.

Mikani checks dexterity and small wpn at daunting. Mikani fails.

Lucrezia checks command and seduction at hard. Lucrezia fails.

Ivy checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ivy is successful.

Eirene checks intellect and medicine at hard. Eirene is successful.

Acantha checks command and leadership at hard. Acantha is successful.

Mirk checks command and leadership at hard. Mirk fails.

Valenzo checks charm and leadership at easy. Valenzo is successful.

Aedric checks dexterity and medium wpn at daunting. Aedric fails.

Antonio checks dexterity and sailing at easy. Antonio is successful.

Gwenna checks command and leadership at hard. Gwenna fails.

Leola checks dexterity and archery at daunting. Leola is successful.

Oskar checks charm and leadership at hard. Oskar fails.

Mabelle checks charm and leadership at hard. Mabelle marginally fails.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at hard. Mihaly is successful.

Tython checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Tython fails completely.

Sabriel checks command and leadership at easy. Sabriel is successful.

Domonico checks command and war at hard. Domonico is successful.

Varosh checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Varosh is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Varosh does not take a permanent wound.

Varosh checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Varosh is successful.

Varosh remains capable of fighting.

Cirroch checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Cirroch is successful.

Cirroch remains capable of fighting.

Haakon shouts for his men to "Feed their bodies to the sea! Archers, feather the fuckers," he bids, warily turning his eye from the wrecks returned from Mangata's deep, to spy the Eurusi formation cracking, and the winged... whatevers ascending. But in the end, Haakon is a reaver. His warriors are reavers. And a broken foe fleeing is an easy mark. "Oars! Let's take the bleeders."

Sebastian checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Sebastian marginally fails.

Sebastian is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Haakon checks command and sailing at easy. Haakon is successful.

Mirk releases Gwenna when she's firmly back on her feet, and then claps her on the shoulder. "Nice as it'd be to watch the wind and the waves until everything settles, the battle's not done," he says with a wry twist of his lips, before he turns his attention to the soldiers. "The head of the snake is still intact," he bellows to the soldiers. "Your enemy is before you." He points to the Anointed Taskmasters in the distance. But as inspiring speeches go, it isn't much, and there's something distracted about him.

Ciaran spends a while staring at the spectacle of the newly-arrived fleet. The battle has turned awfully magical, very quickly. "They're on our side," he realizes, the fear that was present in his face vanishing. Or at least it certainly seems that way to him. Laughing, he hoists his blade up anew. "What do we have to fear, then, if the ships of the dead hunt our enemies?" He points his blade straight towards one of the Anointed Taskmasters' ships. "Those are the prizes that will end this battle! I'll not have it said we were shy of the thick of it, men!" The Farshaw fleet -- or at least what's left of it, damaged and split up by the fighting -- joins the ships headed for the Taskmasters.

Torian checks command and leadership at hard. Torian is successful.

Aedric checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Aedric is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Aedric does not take a permanent wound.

Aedric checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Aedric marginally fails.

Aedric is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Eirene shakes off her wonder and awe at the bizarre sight of ghost-ships and phantom hands. She sets back to her work. "Wounded first. Both sides! We save them now, sort them out later," she orders. The Mercies and Physicians under her command continue their task of shuttling the wounded to the vessel for triage and overseeing their care.

Haakon peers into the water at the pale hands pulling the enemy under as the warship rows to capture another prize.. Under his breath, he mutters, "Deep Elves?"

Nothing else matters, not your allies, not your friends, not your family. The only thing that does is killing the anointed. Varosh does not see Sebastian fall and even if he did, he does not stop. The cogs go from ship to ship, ramming and boarding the enemy vessels. Aboard enemy ship Varosh takes a bad hit that forces him into a corner but he does not surrender. He continues to press the attack, like the world depended on it.

Margot laughs, really, she laughs, it's such a free and light sound that isn't often heard on a Mourning Isles warship; delighted and gleeful. "Turn. Lets see if we can knock a few of those task masters into the water. I wonder if their precious magics will save them from the grabby, hungry hands of the sea." Ghost ships, hungry waters, fire, giant beavers.... the crew most commonly used for diplomatic missions on Tyde's flag ship, appears rather undaunted by all of it, or are just THAT dedicated to their mistress that they do not waver unless she does, and their certainty drags the rest a the fleet along in suite.

Mabelle while trying to help Ivy with the injured and moving Kastelon and Veronica out of the way, she notices the surge of those trying to reach her Patron and her stomache turns to a knot. Her voice rises and she calls out, in the most charming and well mannered way she can, "Protect your High Lord!!", but either she is not very convincing or they are doing it already.

Liara really didn't do much to make herself inconspicuous atop her flagship's quarterdeck: she's wearing the darn crown, for a start, never mind the griffin sigil across her breastplate. She's not overflowing with options here, either, much of the reserve committed to aid the Stormborn. She resumes her earlier grip at the rail as she watches, then nods to the officer who lingers at her side. "Call them back, those no longer engaged, attend to this." Not awfully inspiring, though anyway, a signal is relayed up through the fleet, to a portion of the dromonds, to call them back to engage the Taskmasters' force, but it's a long shot, the vessels needing to turn.

Veronica can only stare open-mouthed at one incredible thing after another striking at the Eurusi fleet. She finally remembers to close her teeth together with an audible click, and even that is partly because she has to look down at Ivy doing horrible things to her mauled leg and make little sounds of pain as that progresses. "But I want to see!" she protests, though she very clearly isn't planning to try and stand and fight again, at least not unless the enemy has overwhelmed them. She'll watch Kastelon continue to take potshots at the weird flying things instead.

Pulling herself up with the aid of the railing, Sabriel steels herself and grits her teeth against the sharp pin pricks in her breast. Summoning whatever measure of strength she can, her voice bellows with a quivering authority that threatens to break under the nagging pressure of her still open wounds. "After the fleeing Eurusi!" She points at a cluster of them, sweeping with her hand to call in to her will whatever ears would still cede to her command. "Do not allow them to escape! Slay them or bring back prisoners!" Spitting, she dots the railing with crimson spackle once more before trying to catch her breath.

Lorenzo assures himself that both Gwenna and Mirk are all right, and he turns back to the fleet, beginning his effort anew. They seem to be in the mopping up phase, and this is no time to let up. Seeing the Eurusi lines break and the men begin to run, he signals to one of the fast Northern ships, still positioned on the outside and able to give chase. "After them! Cut down or capture every one! Don't let them escape!"

Leola nods to Domonico as he takes them into the midst of the enemy counter attack. She takes a breath, hissing in pain, and then smiles to him as she begins loosing arrow after arrow at the decks, at the sailors on the rigging. Disrupting. Pressing them back, breaking the lines apart for the Malvici troops to smash into them

No point in wasting brain power on figuring out what's going on with the the well.. the everything weird. Antonio instead signals to his fleet simple orders- chase down and destroy stragglers before he takes the helm of the dromand he's on to help do just that.

Cirroch hears the cries from command and leans towards going after the taskmaster, a couple of swings, several misses. Then a blazing sharp flash across his face as a slice comes from a foe to his side. His helmet is split and sent flying, a growl errupts from him as he lands to his knees, again muttering, pleading with someone, something for help. A few warriors rush to his aide, helping him back to his feet, a look of worry for what the man is muttering being closer to him and hearing more of what he's saying.

Gwenna, too, is still somewhat distracted, and her attempts at command surely don't do much. Thankfully Lorenzo is having far more luck, so she takes in and sighs out a breath, stepping back to collect herself a bit more. "You're right," she says to Mirk and seems a bit steadier. "The battle isn't done and there's much to do before we can think about going home." That said, she moves back toward the front of the ship to see where things are now starting to line up.

After what it likely a short reverie, Mihaly goes back to his task to having the soldiers on the Lady's Jewels be look outs and using more of their observational skills, issuing commands and tactics through the use of flags, in the hands of one of the soldiers, to give out orders to accompanying ships within their fleet. If he can help give directions in openings to take those Taskmasters down, even from afar, so be it.

There's something to be said perhaps for knowing the right people, but... Kastelon's not looking all that much like he's wanting to be sopping up the attention. "You're going to have to see for me a bit, it'd seem," he counters to Veronica, as the pair of the Keatons are over being tended to. But... "Where you go, we follow" is the motto of their house, and everyone's come down to the Saffron Chain for the purpose of fighting the Eurusi. And fight he will, until he's unable to do so, that quiver at his hip kept in use as he's firing still. Though there's the faintest, faintest hint of a smile for Ivy at the comment. "I'll expect you and Lady Laurent to put in a word to her duke about the matter that he certainly owes me a boat to make the image complete." A cough. "One large enough for my cows too."

All of Rosalind's movements are repetitive, though shockingly they show control. She remains exactly where she however. Seeing more Eurusi, Rosa smiles a moment, her eyes frenzied. Lifting her bow, the Ravenseye releases another arrow. Watching it land right where it inteded. Looking down to Mirk, Lorenzo, and Gwenna, Rosalind gives them all a brief salute. Is this even normal behavior?!

Raven blinks as she whips around-too slow to have protected her exposed back but just in time to see a corpse hit the deck with a blade sticking out of it. She reaches down with a grunt to retrieve the blade and calls out, "I'm gonna find this blade's keeper and buy them a round or a dozen!" She sucks in a breath to bellow more commands but sputters and wheezes in surprise, her focus again derailed by...ghost...ships? There's a crew she's not keen to join!

Lucrezia squints at the storm signs that are inherent to the Eurus magic, it seems. Noting good can come of them succeeding, so she yells and bullies those who can hear into attacking the Masters, knowing full well it'll be suicide for most of them. Some do, but there's so much noise and chaos it's difficult for most of them to hear or even reach them.

The sailors near Pasquale surely noticed his momentary distraction or perhaps they are merely too upset by the magics around them to listen to a man who honestly doesn't have a good yelling voice. Pasquale raises his voice. Some of them pay attention. He raises it a bit more. A few more start listening. But it takes long enough for those orders to filter through that the initiative is lost and his hopes to cut off some of the force of that desperate eurasi attack fall away. He frowns as he watches this unfold, soon changing his orders a little to adapt to the new, latest, set of circumstances. Right now, in the center of this mess, that seems to be happening every three minutes. His voice starts to waver a little, made hoarse by the attempts to yell, and he pauses to take a swig of something from a wineskin in his belt, before once more trying to pull the isles canines away from chaos and back into good order.

Katarina checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Katarina is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Katarina does not take a permanent wound.

Katarina checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Katarina is successful.

Katarina remains capable of fighting.

It's during another charge across the deck for a last-minute exchange with a passing captain that Oskar suddenly stumbles and falls to one knee; the Marquis has been pushing himself hard, and the bandage a stray healer managed to stop him long enough to bind around his ribs is already soaked through. His eyes are locked on the Eurusi headed towards the flagship, and he tries to call out a demand to intercede -- but for the moment, pain has robbed him of breath. He slams one fist to the timbers as he gasps for breath and struggles to his feet again with the aid of a passing sailor.

There is a taskmaster and Raja's eyes flare. The Liberator spins her dagger in her hand before she marches forward! Unfortunately, these are horrifyingly powerful foes! Raja quickly finds herself knocked back and on her ass, bleeding from her mouth. This only strengthens her resolve. One hand goes up to grab at a nearby crate, pulling herself back up. Dark eyes narrow and she proceeds back forward.

Domonico does not signal a general pursuit from the Malvici fleet and keeps his formation tight around the Tempest. Horns and signals are sent as a solid wedge of Malvici dromonds head straight towards the flank of the Taskmaster's push, rowers straining against oars, sails filled with wind. Light catapults and ballista fire from the Malvici ships, along with volleys of disciplined arrowfire as the Malvici demonstrate why they are known as the House of War.

Wholly uncaring of those that seek to flee the Compact's forces for now -- that will be tomorrow's problem -- Sebastian regroups with the Deviant. At least one of his guard has a hand on his shoulder, as if asking for the Pravosi Prince to take a moment -- but the Sin shakes off the hand and directs the caravel after one of the Taskmaster's ships. It doesn't take long for the caravel to run it down, the First Legion leaping aboard, Sebastian at the head of the group. Almost immediately, they're confronted by a group -- not running, since there's one of the Annointed Masters amongst them. Sebastian smiles, and a moment later they're in combat. It's brutal, and quick -- the Taskmaster's sharp weapon drives through the Pravosi Prince's side, and he slumps to his knees. As a cry of "Protect the Prince!" rallies the First Centurions around him, the Artist of Pravus slumps forward onto the deck of the foreign ship, unmoving.

"Don't let up! Don't you dare let up now!" Samira shrieks into the wind. The reminder may very well be directed to herself as much as to her comrades, a steeling of resolve before turning to face a taskmaster. Jaw clenched, she lunges forward with a swipe of her blade only to stumble backward on the receiving end of her foe's powerful counter.

Katarina turns around and sees the hands of the dead -- or something that certainly seems dead -- pulling downed sailors to their dark, cold undersea graves. Katarina's eyes widen in shock. What motivates her to try and inspire her troops by diving into the fray against a Taskmaster, who knows? But her focus isn't there -- not completely. She starts fighting her way there... and is swiftly and unceremoniously stabbed in her back, right around (but thankfully not right through) her kidney. "Bluhh--!"

Acantha looks around for her beaver, "Benny? You doing okay?" she asks. The big guy is probably snacking on wood...or something else. Who knew right now. She goes with what the others are doing because she's here to help. The Neo-Noble just hopes that they don't lose too much more.

The taskmasters cannot be granted any leeway; if they manage to rally and push an attack against the Grayson Highlord, morale would plummet, and a powerful ally would be allowed to fall. Others attempt to stage an assault, but can't seem to make it to their destination, so waylaid by enemies or pitfalls as they are. It takes every ounce of courage and conviction from Scylla to withdraw her ship from the wreckage of the Erursi fleet and grapple the Taskmaster ship, to throw herself and her crew in harm's way, but it must be done. While the crew of the ship is busy fending off attacks by Compact forces, the Black Tide successfully sidles against its starboard side, and the crew boards, swords raised and voices venomous with rage. It during that moment of chaos that Scylla slips aboard, creeps up and thrusts her blade into one taskmaster's chest cavity, right between the ribs.

Ivy continues to rush about the decks here and there, tending the wounded and in general trying to keep as many people up and fighting as possible. Barring that, alive and breathing. More and more are sent belowdecks when their injuries become too much and Ivy calls for buckets of water to help clear the decks of blood and... other things. Won't do anyone any good if they can't keep their footing. She checks in with Mabelle and offers her a waterskin, "Drink, my lady. Keep your voice intact." She smiles, then darts off again, a glance towards Katarina only to see her getting stabbed. "FUCK!" She calls for anyone still fighting to surround the Princess and ducks in to get hands under Kat to drag her physically out of the fight. "Okay, Highness, you asked for it. Doctor says no more fighting for you. You stick to calling orders until we know if there's internal bleeding." She winks and works to get Katarina bandaged up tightly in case the tiny woman decides to go crazy and wade back into the fray. A glance darted towards the Keatons, seeing that they're staying safe-ish and giving a nod. Next patient!

In the midst of the fighting, the elder Blackshore has seemingly fallen into a trance. Parry. Riposte. A blow to the chest. Calf. Abdomen. No taskmaster is ultimately slain by his hand. Still, it is a frightening sight to behold -- an emaciated sailor, by some miracle capable of supporting the weight of his own platemail, pushing steadily forward against an onslaught of Skal'dajan marines. Until, of course, he could no longer. He collapses onto the deck and fades again into distant and frightful dreamscapes.

It's a near thing, pushing the taskmasters back. One falls to Scylla, and a volley of arrows brings down another as Compact troops rally against the push. Another taskmaster is chanting ominously and pointing at Liara, but then suddenly seems to just... fall apart into shadowy pieces that dissolve on the ground. Following that, the troops reach them and though a dozen Compact soldiers trying to stop the Taskmasters seem to trip and fall into dust, or burst into flame, there's suddenly many, many spears and swords in their general direction and repeated hacking and slashing brings the pocket down.

The Eurusi fleeing for the shores are caught in time; cut down as they try to leave ships, or intercepted before the shore, and that leaves hundreds in the thick of battle fighting for the last. Victory seems in the grasp of the Compact, it's just a matter of how costly the final moments are.

((OOC: Two options here, but representing how chaotic battles are, here's how it goes. It's any social roll at daunting to get them to surrender, but any combat roll, whether success or failure, will subtract from those successes. To just try to kill them, it's combat checks at easy, and same for ordering a massacre, command rolls at easy.))

There's blood in the water. Some of it runs up the Skal'dajan ship Sebastian and his forces have boarded, flows past their feet, and up the Skal'dajan soldiers. They drain, their faces going pale and dead. They fall. Then they stand back up again. The Anointed Master pulls back, eyes wide, muttering swift prayers under his breath, but the Deep is apparently disinterested. Or, at least, disinterested in his pleading. His own soldiers, dead, gaping, pull at him, biting. Chewing. His screams can be heard halfway across the bay.

A figure appears near Aedric, a woman, brash, eyes alight. "You get this one," she says. And then every single SKal'dajan near her dies, cut down by her blade, or the blades of their fellows who rise to fight with her.

Ciaran checks charm and propaganda at daunting. Ciaran fails.

Margot checks charm and diplomacy at daunting. Margot fails.

Raven checks dexterity at easy. Raven is successful.

Leola checks command and propaganda at daunting. Leola fails.

Mikani checks dexterity and small wpn at easy. Mikani is successful.

Deimos checks command and intimidation at daunting. Deimos fails.

Acantha checks command and diplomacy at daunting. Acantha fails.

Mabelle checks charm and manipulation at daunting. Mabelle marginally fails.

Lorenzo checks charm and diplomacy at daunting. Lorenzo marginally fails.

Katarina checks command and empathy at daunting. Katarina fails.

Lucrezia checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Lucrezia is successful.

Cirroch checks dexterity and huge wpn at easy. Cirroch is successful.

Haakon checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Haakon is successful.

Ivy checks command and performance at daunting. Ivy is successful.

Raja checks command and intimidation at daunting. Raja fails.

Antonio checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Antonio is successful.

Tython checks command and leadership at daunting. Tython fails.

Mirk checks charm and propaganda at daunting. Mirk marginally fails.

Sabriel checks command and leadership at daunting. Botch! Sabriel fails completely.

Kastelon checks charm and intimidation at daunting. Kastelon fails.

Gwenna checks charm and diplomacy at daunting. Critical Success! Gwenna is spectacularly successful.

It is only when she sees the prize, a pet Eurusi task master? Information? That she hesitates, pulls back just a touch, hesitates a breath, it's really a second, a call that's swollowed in the fray and not offered again. Her nose twitches a little as such slips through her fingers, but it's let go like water held in hand.

Valenzo checks charm at daunting. Valenzo is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at easy. Critical Success! Liara is inhumanly successful in a way that defies expectations.

Scylla checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Critical Success! Scylla is spectacularly successful.

Pasquale checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Pasquale is successful.

Domonico checks command and leadership at daunting. Domonico fails.

Torian checks dexterity and medium wpn at easy. Torian is successful.

Mihaly checks command and leadership at daunting. Mihaly is successful.

Oskar checks charm and diplomacy at daunting. Oskar fails.

Eirene checks command and leadership at daunting. Eirene is successful.

Varosh checks mana at daunting. Varosh fails.

Rosalind checks charm and empathy at daunting. Rosalind fails.

Raven turns to get her bearings and check the status of those around her just in time to spot Sebastian collapse. Her sunkissed visage goes ashen and her eyes go wide around, "BAS!!" her heart dropping strait into her stomach with dread enough that her voice breaks with that single cry of alarm. She hastily Vaults over the railing of the ship she's on down into a neighboring ship and then onto another, she's besides Sebastian. She tugs off the bandana and ties it over the worse of the wounds to try to stauch the flow and carefully hefts him in her arms, demanding of the Centurions, "Which way's the damned Medical ship?!"

Mabelle checks dexterity and small wpn at easy. Mabelle is successful.

Samira checks command and intimidation at daunting. Samira marginally fails.

The things she has seen today will haunt her. And not even her own injury so much--that's just war. But the dead, the very sea, rising to strike at their enemies, it is terrifying. Veronica is no longer focused on her individual survival and so she can simply try to observe it all, the horrors rising, the enemies...simply dissolving into shadows. What...what are these weapons her people have deployed? Are not the Eurusi the heretics? Veronica just watches with wide, horrified eyes.

Haakon and the Eswynd fleet finish running down the fleeing foes, and the choice of what to do with the Skal'dajans aboard is as quick to Haakon's lips as the Eurusi are stubborn in their resistance: "NO SHIP GOES HOME WITHOUT A SLAVER'S HEAD ON THE PROW."

Sebastian is wholly oblivious to the risen dead attacking the Annointed one that that stabbed him, and his terrified screams, loud enough to wake the dead... but not the Prince of Pravus. One could argue he's fortunate to miss the sight. There might be more than one of Sebastian's First Legion Centurions looking particularly fearful... but they've also seen a lot of terrible things in service to the Pravosi Prince. They freeze as they watch the gruesome scene unfold. It's not until Raven appears in their midst with her demands that they stir, and seek to escort the pair off the doomed ship. "The Lady's Jewels. His twin's caravel, this way," as they escort the pair off.

As Oathlanders are levelheaded nice people, Mabelle truly tries to speak to their hearts, really, she does. But they are not cooperating so she is doing the single thing she promised not to do to every single one of her friends and family, she behaves stupidly brave and starts killing people. With a dagger. What? They are defeated.

Once it's starting to look like a victory, one of the officers comes up to Mihaly, asking what orders he should be sending to the other ships, at least asking for the Lady's Jewels Commander input. "If we can, spare any who surrender. I've seen far too much death in my lifetime that if some can be spared without bloodshed, offer it." He glances at Eirene for a moment before looking back at the junior officer. "Besides, what if one day it is my children being put to the sword and the enemy commander has a similar stroke of conscience? I would like to hope I paying it forward, however I can."

Lorenzo still tries to direct the Northern forces in battle. Of course they have to bring down the enemy somehow, and while it would be useful to capture some to question, he cannot object to the blood spilled when necessary. The Eurusi would have no qualms about doing the same or worse to them.

:watches in horror as the taskmaster is eaten. Raja simply decides to retreat from that and turns to the fleeing enemy and yells out, "SURRENDER OR DIE!" Well, these guys aren't stupid. They know if they surrender that they will die anyways. So, Raja is not very convincing. "Not going to be easy.." She grunts. "Welp. Time to kill.."

The Princess of Bastion bows her head a little as others engage the Taskmasters, be it the Malvicis or Scylla who slays one herself. As she looks back up, she watches the Taskmaster point towards her, her jaw set, not in much of a place to do a damn thing else about it, then puffs out a short breath as the mage suddenly just falls apart. It's not the weirdest thing seen today. Collecting herself, she sweeps her gaze across the bay, then offers a brisk call, an effort to rally the people around her in to one last push. "Bring their ruin! End this! Let them never trouble our shores again! The Compact endures!" Her voice carries some way, crisp and clear.

Its at this point that Antonio finally draws his blade. His ship overtakes one of the fleeing ships, and he joins his soldiers as the swarm the enemy. "Leave none alive," he tells his men, shouting over the din of close quarters combat, "Show them how dear the cost of messing with us is."

Cirroch takes back to his feet, and with a roaring cry to all Redrain around him. "SLAUGHTER THEM ALL"

With the battle turning into more of a mop up operation Pasquale seems to decide it is time to get his hands dirty. He shares a word with his champion and the henchman puts the crossbow aside before falling into step behind Pasquale. Pasquale draws his sword as he goes, with a rather gaudily mirrorsilver decorated blade, finds a promising group of Eurasi and sets about the butchers work. To start with the attacks are slow, measured, and very purposeful, but that care falls away as he continues onwards, his movements getting more energetic each time the blade meets flesh. He starts with the hard expression of someone doing something necessary but unwanted but by the end his mouth has a somewhat cruel twist to it.

Katarina is on her knees. She's just been stabbed. She is, historically, not very good at being stabbed. Last time she got stabbed she was in bed for a week or two. At least this time she's not poisoned. She's staying calm. Somehow. "Please," she says, in Eurusi, toward a group of warriors preparing to break away and escape. "I am Princess Katarina al'Muraq-Sabbat -- heir to the throne of Suj'abbat -- do not -- do not flee into the arms of certain doom -- stand with me... stand..." Katarina almost slumps over completely. Standing isn't her strong suit right now, so it's no wonder she's not very inspiring.

No one sends Lucrezia into a situation for diplomacy and that is the case here. When it is time to mop of the remainder of the fleet and she's not as busy leading, she wades into battle herself, a wild, joyous light on her face as she carves revenge for every Pravosi fallen out of the hide of those with the misfortune of facing her. Her silent crew flanks her, carving a wedge with her at the head.

The advantage to being tended to by the healers is that Kastelon's not in a position, truly, to be pushing for a massacre. There's a deep frown when he's hearing the sounds of others calling out for revenge, the struggle to get back to his feet and try to see what he's doing, his bow lowered and that sword of his in its scabbard... and there's a very distinct expression on his face. A frown, a deep, distinct one, one that only lessens when he hears Katarina calling out to her kin-people in their native tongue.

Acantha's not really the type of person to murder folks right off the bat, so the silver tongued savage tries her best to use her diplomacy to get through to them. But that doesn't work...and it's probably not a good day for those that are on the receiving end. She steps back from things and goes to look over the rail of the ship again, watching the gruesome sight below. "Benny...get out of the water." she whispers with a suddenly dry mouth.

Ciaran stands astride the edge of his ship's deck, doing his best to shout at the captain of the Eurusi ship now grinding against the timbers of his boat. "You are beaten," he hollers, gesturing with his sword. "Lay down your weapons and I swear by the grace of the gods that your lives will be--" Maybe it's that he doesn't speak Eurusi. Maybe the men on the other side simply don't feel inclined to give up the fight. But his words fall on deaf ears, and he finds his ship repelling enemy boarders. Sailors fight sailors, Arvani marines cutting down Eurusi thralls and freedmen alike. The Highlord's command to achieve an utter rout is infectious to morale, and the waters run red with blood.

"The battle's lost! Throw down your arms and we'll give you quarter!" The shout was convincing, convincing at least that some of the Eurusi lower their arms, but the press of combat and the din makes Val's pleads unheard. They are cut down with the press of Magnotta soldiers and his own crew, before the rest start fighting back. Blades clash and thunk against armour, cries and shouts of anger erupt over the foredeck as the remainder of enemy boarders and pressed and crushed back. Spears, axes and falchions cut through them, as crimson lines the oaken deck, bodies soon to fall upon the scarlet pools forming between the deck boards. It seems to have come over whole pack like a wave - it's not just a rout, it's a slaughter. Valenzo turns his head, spitting. Part of him confided in the fact that it was his crew or theirs who would survive, but a small part of him felt dirty.

Ivy is about saving lives, not ending them. She casts a look around the deck at the carnage that's begun and shudders. This is not her wheelshouse. Its so far out of her normal means. But nobody else is stepping up. Katarina is barely consicous. Drawing in a deep breath, Ivy steps up to the quarterdeck and booms out across the deck, "STOP IT! THERE IS NO HONOR IN KILLING A HELPLESS ENEMY!" She whips a hand towards Katarina, "SHE ESCAPED, FOUND A BETTER LIFE! YOU CAN TOO! LAY DOWN ARMS AND SURRENDER!" Not that anyone seems to be paying attention to her. Instead, she starts around the deck, trying to physically pull people away from the fallen foes. "Knock it off! This is WRONG!"

Eirene shoves a rescued Eurisi sailor down onto a medical bed. "Stop fucking fighting," she says. "Your masters are dead, there's nothing forcing you to hold a sword against us now," she says. The doctor does her best to reassure the rescued ones they're safe now as she tends to the wounded. It's possible she's spending more time on the Compact patients than the rescued enemies, but there's no one being left to suffer from those brought about the Jewels. With the route being in place, she prepares to receive MORE wounded, those brought over from other ships.

The ex-freebooter does not have the energy nor the command of her lungs to bellow with strength enough to punch through the fugue of fear and frenzy. Before Sabriel can form a word her lungs lurch like a pricked balloon leaving her coughing and gasping for air. Turning her attention inward, she discards the field and hunts for a medic to ease her wounds.

Margot pivots back to violence. Hey maybe one of her reavers can get her a pair of those golden cuffs to hang on her mantle?

The former reaver king is clearly torn when it becomes plain the Eurusi have finally started to crumble; he stands on the bow of the ship with his axe gripped in both hands, emotions warring over his face. "Eswynd," He begins, haltingly, raising his hoarse voice above the fray -- but Haaekon's call for Eurusi heads reaches them first, and their forces are too thirsty for blood. "THE WIND CARES NOT!!" They bellow again, and Oskar can only turn away, his craggy face grim and hard as stone.

Benny is definitely out of the water. He is so very out of the water he might try climbing the ship's mast. It might be rather hard to convince him to go back into the water for a while.

"There is a life for you here," Mirk calls out to the Eurusi, his voice loud and booming. "I know. I have helped refugees create new lives for themselves, native Eurusi who now have a place in our Compact. It's not too late for any of you. Please, just lay down your arms."

Samira's dark eyes fall upon Katarina, concern filling her gaze. Perhaps it is the princess's Eurusi words which bring pause and lend restraint to the Culler, encouraging her to follow suit. Scowling, she lifts her voice to bellow, "YOU'LL NOT ESCAPE US. SURRENDER WHILE YOU CAN."

Despite herself, Gwenna can't help but snort a laugh when Rosalind offers down a salute. Maybe that was just the thing the Redrain needed to really refocus. "I'd say be careful up there, but..." She shrugs and grins up at the Ravenseye. Time continues to tick, and the battle forges on. The Redrain was raised to be a soothing voice amongst much louder ones, so it's probably little surprise her tactics lean to getting the Eurusi to surrender. Maybe they will be useful! After years of gently lowering axes, she's had some really, really good practice and it seems to work out well. At least for a few of the enemy. "Well said, My Lord," she offers to Mirk, even though things look to lean to blooshed despite their efforts. Looking up to check that Rosalind is still firing arrows from her perch, she then moves closer to where Lorenzo continues to lead the forces.

Domonico calls for the nearby Eurusi ship to surrender but his words are lost in the roar of battle. Around him Malvici dromonds crash into Skal'daja and begin to slaughter them. The Magnotta Count moves to the side of Tempest, watching the battle take place, his hand on the hilt of Riptide as the massacre unfolds. A single slaver, panicked and desperate breaks through the melee and charges the Southport Admiral, who then with speed draws his blade and with one clean strike ends the attacker, silently cursing the bloodshed all around. "There is no glory in this..." he murmurs to himself.

Rosalind is too far--gone---to offer any enouraging words of surrounder. She tries, but the words don't even come out. "Well shit,"the red head mutters. Hearing Gwenna, she grins because obviously someone is far better at the words than the prodigal.

Slaughter them all. That is the chant rising above the din of battle, the commands issued forth by her peers. Immoral, but understandable given the future they intended to subject her friends and allies to: one of ruthless slavery and submission. However, this is not where her primary focus is at the moment; the unconscious man lying still upon the deck of the Eurusi taskmaster ship is in want of assistance, and she would never deny it him. "Kill those who don't throw down their weapons," Scylla orders her crew, and they obey without hesitation. Amid the chaos, Scylla bends down to help Aedric up and shoulder his weight as best she can. Another of her crewmates jogs up to support his other side, and in this fashion, they carry him swiftly back to the Black Tide, to safety. "Stay with me," she orders him, and with an undercurrent of earnest feeling detectable in her tone. "I need a healer!"

Even in the best of times, it can be hard to prevent a massacre of surrendering enemy forces, and the overwhelming majority show no signs of doing anything but fighting to the last. And so it's a brutal, bloody end to all save but for a handful too injured to fight, and as the smoke clears from the Bay of Pieros, there stands a victorious Compact. The fleet from the Dune Kingdom of Skal'daja, sent to 'chasten' the Compact of Arvum and teach it humility, has been crushingly defeated, and the Eurusi cannot afford to ever take Arvum again lightly. With this defeat, it would be difficult for the Dune Emperor of Eurus to convince his conquered Dune Kingdoms to turn their attention to Arvum from a war not yet won in Eurus, and with that threat of invasion gone, so too is the hope from rebellious Mourning Islander factions for intercession on their behalf from the Dune Kingdom. The risk of a major splintering of the Compact is as fleeting as the risk of invasion from Eurus, and while there are still dangers on both fronts, the implications are huge.

There are losses. Grievous ones. Many of the Compact ships are battered enough it'll be cheaper to replace than repair, some have sunk under fire ships, raming, or other damage be it from Taskmasters or siege weapons. Thousands of soldiers are dead, including ones who will be much missed, like Sir Ari Corsetina. But the threat from Skal'daja on sea is done.

The Compact endures.


The woman that was standing near Aedric is gone. Where? It's not remotely clear, but she's not on the ship. Neither are the fallen-then-risen Eurusi. On the horizon, the ghost fleet begins to turn away, but the waters beneath them churn a blood red. As do their tattered sails. They slowly vanish over the horizon as strangely as they came, and the bloodwater goes with them.

Margot has her soldiers toss over board the bodies of any dead Eurusi they find, injuried will be captured. The compact endures.

With the various calls for stopping the killing and need of healers, Mabelle's normal Oathlandish smash them resolve is weakened and she turns toward the decks to tend to the wounded, "Ivy, who did you treat and who needs help, direct me", she asks her fellow physician once she realize the role she came to fill here and begins to do her job.

Katarina is once again helped up by Ivy -- she's bleeding from her back but at least her aeterna blouse won't stain. Granted, it's also torn. Her head is dipped low, and her thoughts remain her own for the moment. Even in this moment of victory, Katarina isn't quick to celebrate too actively.

Mikani has left the Northlands Fleet.

Domonico takes a deep breath before looking towards the shore. "I wonder how the battle goes there?" he says before giving orders to begin seeing to the wounded. "Let us get those who need it to the hospital ships."

Acantha gives a look to Benny as he's climbing up the mast and there's a bit of a heart broken look, "Come here, lets get you dry and we'll get this all cleaned up and then we'll start the trip home." she murmurs to the beaver as she finds a length of sail that's been torn to go wipe the animal off with. Poor guy.

Varosh reorganizes his ships and begins the process of towing sunken Pravus caravels and other ships, hoping to scavenge the most from their loses as possible.

Rosalind has left the Northlands Fleet.

Leola has left the Lycene Fleet.

Raja puts Twilight Embrace, an alaricite dagger in Black Leather Belt.

Valenzo has left the Lycene Fleet.

Veronica has joined the line.

Acantha is overheard praising Katarina.

Acantha is overheard praising Gwenna.

Acantha has left the Northlands Fleet.

Sebastian is overheard praising Ari: A loyal knight of Setarco, to the end.

Margot is overheard praising Ari.

Gwenna is overheard praising Ari.

Lorenzo is overheard praising Ari.

Ivy is overheard praising Ari.

Veronica has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Lorenzo has left the Northlands Fleet.

Mirk has left the Northlands Fleet.

Mihaly has left the Fleet of the Faith.

Katarina has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Gwenna has left the Northlands Fleet.

Antonio has left the Lycene Fleet.

Domonico has left the Lycene Fleet.

Cirroch is overheard praising Gwenna.

Cirroch is overheard praising Mirk.

Mabelle has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Cirroch is overheard praising Rosalind.

Eirene has left the Fleet of the Faith.

Oskar has left the Mourning Isles Fleet.

Aedric has left the Mourning Isles Fleet.

Sebastian has left the Pravus Fleet.

Scylla has left the Mourning Isles Fleet.

Cirroch has left the Northlands Fleet.

Ivy has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Kastelon has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Lucrezia has left the Pravus Fleet.

Deimos has left the Pravus Fleet.

Raja has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Pasquale has left the Pravus Fleet.

Samira has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Margot has left the Mourning Isles Fleet.

Liara has left the Crownlands Fleet.

Raven has left the Pravus Fleet.

Ciaran has left the Oathlands Fleet.

Varosh has left the Pravus Fleet.

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