Zakhar wields a greasy frying pan with bone handle.

Gaspard wields Shepherd, a diamondplate blade.

It's been a few weeks since Thrax had heard from House Bloodbrook. Those loyal to Dagon had retreated well away from the waters surrounding Maelstrom, with no sign of even a single scouting ship reported by military or fishing vessels. Even so, in the wake of having the heirloom sword, Reafian, removed from Prince Jasher's side, the great house has increased patrols and security. More favors and friends have been called in. And so it that when word does finally come of a massive fleet heading for the Thraxian seat of power, many come together to stand against them.

On the open sea, only those with the best vision can see land at the horizon. Dozens of ships are spaced out on the waves, and in the distance dozens more approach with Bloodbrook's banners flying proud. A dromond near the center of this fleet looks familiar to those who have seen it: The man who took Reafian had escaped upon it.

It's a civil war. She's a general. And apparently an admiral now too, as Martinique is commanding a few Redreef ships carrying soldiers to reinforce Maelstrom from the attack the scouts warned of. She invited any warriors who wanted to join to sail with her; it's a good-sized ship after all and she is ready. As the enemy comes into view, the soldiers and sailors strike up a frenzy of animation, adjusting rigging, readying equipment, in general preparing for war. That's a big fleet over there. But they have a fleet of their own on the loyalist side, and Martinique is making ready. She clasps Caspian on the shoulder briefly as she moves past. "Should be one for the histories today. I should've brought a skald."

War is a horrible thing, indeed. And far, far from the forests of the Oathlands, Kastelon looks out at those ships that are before them, before his head turns back around - further, since he has but the one eye - to spy Pasquale. "I'd say that this looks serious," says he in a most serious tone, over the crash of the waves. But it's a thought that needn't, clearly, be finished, even as he's getting his quiver ready at his side, the bow drawn free to be ready to give fire when the order is granted.

Pasquale Malespero's lighthouse device flies from the mast above him as he stands towards the rear of the flagship dromond with a couple of shield bearers close to hand. Just in case the other side should try to murder him. (Which, if they are smart, they will). He's clad head to toe in brigandined diamondplate partly covered by the heavy folds of a weather-proofed ironwool cloak and has two crossbows, a self bow, and an entire barrel full of arrows close to hand. As the fleets line up he moves to speak to the captain of the Grim Shade in quiet tones, pausing once or twice to quietly cough into an elegant handkerchief. Occasionally saying something to one of the signallers arrayed around the aftcastle and messages ripple through the other ships in the Malespero fleet. Eventually he seems satisfied with that particular conversation and moves back to the spot he is planning to do much of his fighting and admiraling from. He nods to the three who chose to join him; Zakhar, Gaspard and Kastelon "I would be grateful if at least some of you stay close to me. Otherwise do what you do best. You are all well seasoned warriors. You know what you are doing." A slight smile is given to Kastelon. "That is why we are here."

As it happens, Gaspard is presently bent over, heaving into the sea. "Son of a motherless goat." He mutters, wiping nasty stuff from his mouth before setting his helm back on. A bit unsteadily he rises to his full, towering height with a bit of a sway to his step, uneasily. He's clearing adjusting to ship-life. "I never thought I'd crave firm ground more than I do now, or gods forbid, a mountain in a winter month." Despite the MASSIVE fleet before them, Gaspard doesn't seem intimidated in the slightest, rather calm under pressure. A nod is given Pasquales way, making his way further unto the ship, nearing Pasquales side. "You have my sword today. I'll standby." Comes a quick and gruff response to Pasquale. Every step is a rattle of metal armor, unsteadily measured and heavyset with the motion of the waves.

Caspian stood on the railing, holding onto the rigging and peering out toward the other ships. His armor glinted dully, but his blades caught the light in brilliant flashes of sharpened alaracite. his brow knit slightly, "captain... i SWEAR that ship is the same on that bastard snuck away to." he hopped down and grinned as Martinique strolled by. "A skald?! i dont know if i should be insulted by that or not! i can promise you i'll make a song about this one once we send these bastard's down to the depths as fish food!"

War this close to Maelstrom. It'd happened sooner than Victus expected, but it was never in doubt that someone would try to test them. The prince of the ancient fortress was atop his flagship; her hull still marred with the scars of past skirmishes across the Mourning Sea. This vessel and the High Lord shared in that quality. As they'd set out to the waves - the rowers given orders and the sails unfurled - Victus was knelt on the far end of the deck. His head bowed low, closed fist pressed to his forehead. There were precious few quiet moments left, and they were rapidly approaching another storm. His silent prayer and whatever mental preparations he makes before the eve of their defense takes his entire focus. The crew knew all too well what they were meant to do. Another battle, another sibling rivalry, another slew of death.

The old man sits at bow of the ship, snow-white locks waving in the wind and constantly being tied back as he hunches over a small metal bucket with the smallest of dried fertilizer fires burning inside of it. Zakhar currently is curled over top of the mostly coal burning pan while a mysterious meat sizzles away inside of the awkwardly sharpened edge pan. A few soliders have been left bewildered as he was giving them a puppet show with plushies of the highness Victus and an otter in a story about where the drink was hidden. Only left to look up when the call for warriors to arm and ready themselves, a grunt as the awkard face wrapping is left to hang at his sides from neck and whatever that mystery meat in the pan is, is given a quick toss and plucked at with a small shiny blue handled knife. With some of the meat upon blade Zakhar is nibbling upon it. Hot grease left within the pan is given a flick which sizzles loudly next to the rest of the 'meats'. "Which way lord Pasquale?" He notes towards the Malespero as he looks back out to the waters, paying more attention to what might be under the waves than who and what is above it. With a quick look back to the lord and his request, "I suppose I could try, but one of them fuckers askes for breakfast and they're getting a full pan of grease to the face before I claim some of them clavicals. I've got a key set that needs finishing and Zoya needs new needles. So if you've got him - " He nods towards Gaspard, "I'll be shopping for some materials on them ships incoming."

In the aftermath of a long series of battles against House Bloodbrook, one of which led to the unfortunate theft of the Thrax house sword, Jasher appears to be lacking all of the patience and expressionless he is wont to adopt in almost all situations, even war. Now, he stands aboard the Lady Thunderstruck bearing a countenance one might argue is better suited to present circumstances. He is no doubt beginning to feel weary of battle, hardened against the enemies they face and a lives with a dull pain in his body that persists through healing. A man can only ensure so many wounds in so short a period of time, both mental and physical. He is slowly patrolling the starboard side of the ship, armed and armored with the expectation of boarding parties, his gaze thrown to the distant fleet of ships bearing the sigil of House Bloodbrook. His scowl deepens as he recognizes the very same dromond among them that they met weeks prior: the one bearing the man who pilfered his weapon.

Jasher checks perception and sailing at hard. Jasher marginally fails.

Victus checks perception and sailing at hard. Botch! Victus fails completely.

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

Martinique checks perception and war at hard. Martinique is successful.

Gaspard checks perception and investigation at hard. Gaspard is successful.

Zakhar checks perception and survival at hard. Zakhar is successful.

Caspian checks perception and investigation at hard. Caspian fails.

Kastelon checks perception and investigation at hard. Kastelon is successful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is little time between the moments in which the Bloodbrook ships are spotted and the moments in which battle becomes full fledged. The house known fro gratuitous use of Thraxian Fire did not come to parlay: Ballistae begin launching heavy bolts, streaking flames throuh the air. Archers send arrows in a dark rain. It is intense, and immediate, which sparks chaos on board many Thraxian ships as the sailors rush to return the assault and dampen fires on decks. Amid the tumult, no one notices a galley managing to pull close alongside Lady Thunderstruck until Bloodbrook warriors are already clashing with Victus's men on deck. A rogue bolt skims past Caspain on his ship. The Lycene and Oathlands delegation is faring well, however, being largely ignored so far.

Zakhar takes Clay pot with sneeze dust from Alteration and Modification toolkit.

Martinique checks dexterity and war at hard. Martinique is successful.

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus is successful.

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

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

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

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher fails.

Pasquale checks command and archery at hard. Pasquale fails.

Zakhar checks luck at hard. Zakhar is successful.

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

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

"I'll look forward to it," Martinique responds to Caspian's promise of a song before she turns back to continue shouting orders here and there, arranging troops to take cover from incoming fire until it is time to join for fighting. "Fire!" She screams at the archers once the first wave of arrows has come through; there will be counterstrikes, after all. "Shoot everything!" Nothing will be held back, even as the sailors labor to get the ship turned to make an assault. While Victus is facing invaders, Martinique moves--away? But not to flee. No, she is targeting that familiar dromond, the one they've seen before. "Ramming speed!" She calls, and while this is not a rowed ship, it still has a nasty bronze head on the prow, and they have a target in mind. They approach the dromond and move steadily, crashing the two hulls together with the horrible noise of good timber going to waste for war. Soldiers start to swarm over and battle is joined as Martinique takes a moment to survey the full field before she joins in the fray.

As the fire flies through the air Zakhar grins while a few pots slam into the decks. Pulling out a small blue striped jar and tossing it towards Pasquale with little worry of if the lord might catch or drop it, calling out "Sneeze dust! Will suck the air out of their lungs and boil them alive! They wish to throw fire?! HA!" The old man looks far too happy to be in the middle of the fight as he spins the frying pan gently over one of the fires that has taken to the deck while the Malespero marines take to putting the fire out. "Leave it! Let them dance through their own fire as we smash their lungs!" His own face wrap is tightened around face leaving only a small slit for his eyes and another blue striped jar is pulled from the carpenters satchel at his side.

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

It isn't until the first clash of steel on steel that Victus lifts his head. Turning over his shoulder just in time to find a chipped cutlass soaring toward his neck. With a mutter curse he manages to duck just in time, rolling off to the side and hauling his greatsword off the deck. The unfortunate warrior in front of him is reckless in his second effort to behead the High Lord, and he meets the edge of Barathrum across his gut, spilling first blood onto the deck. With a growl, the Prince stands to full attention. His helm is plucked from the ground as well and safely adorned over his fragile noggin. His voice booms over the dirge of combat, steeling resolve for the Lady Thunderstruck's defense, before he throws himself into the melee proper. There's little calm in him today. This close to home, this soon after Reafian was stolen, he's just angry.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Botch! Victus fails completely.

Pasquale glances to Zakhar. "I'm sure there will be plenty of enemies trying to swarm onto the deck sooner or later. Just try not to upset my crew during your shopping." he spares a moment to assess Gaspard's condition before chosing to ignore it ever happened in favor of softly giving instructions to the nearby command crew and smothering another irritating cough as the ships maneuver their way into the battle. He notes Martinique's decision to go for the dromond and chooses to do something a little different himself. Guiding his ships to shear the lead ships escort away, in the hope that the command ship is starved of reinforcements and the Malespero ships can descend upon that part of the Bloodbrook fleet like wolves going after little lost lambs. The Grim Shade itself, as one of the more powerful ships in the formation, sails into position between the Bloodbrook flagship and any enemy reinforcements. Helping to ensure Martinique gets a good go at it. Pasquale blinks as Zakhar draws him out of his focus and stares down at the pot held in his hands for a few moments before giving a terse nod and heading over to one of the ballistaes. He gently taps a crewman on the shoulder until he makes space and hurriedly spends a few moments loading and re-aiming the ballista before firing it off... An act which doesn't go at all like he hoped. He staggers back, badly off balance.

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

Jasher's patrol near the starboard rail of the Lady Thunderstruck places him at a distinct disadvantage when a volley of arrows begin to rain down overhead. He hears them before he sees them mid-flight, and so it is only due to his quick reflexes that he's able to locate and take cover behind the ship's mainmast with a handful of other incredibly perceptive - or just plain lucky - sailors who all had the same idea. Arrows pelt the deck and bodies alike, and Victus's dromond already runs red with the blood of her sailors. It is during this initial chaos that Blookbrook warriors swiftly board and engage. The prince himself is pinned to the mast by a particularly aggressive combatant wielding an axe which he swings liberally in his direction. There's a grin disturbing his war-crazed features which only grows the wider as the sharp edge of his weapon caves in Jasher's breastplate. It holds, but the flesh behind it aches with the impact, and knocks the air out of his lungs. He doubles over on himself and struggles to breathe. This eliminates every possibility he may have had to defend himself.

TWANG! The arrow's loosed from Kastelon's bow as he's taking aim at one of the ships, though there's the sense of his keeping an ear open for what's afoot with the ballista, because after all - it poses far more a threat than he does, and not just because of the uncommon cargo that's being delivered. Though when he hears the sound that's one that'd indicate that the launch did not go as planned, his head whips around to see if Pasquale, Gaspard and Zakhar are alright.

Fortunately, Gaspard was warned beforehand of Zakhars sneeze dust, bearing a facewrap underneath his helm. Using his shield, he deflects several arrows from his path and Pasquales, almost looking serene under pressure. Nothing appears to get more than a blink out of him, and he can't help but chuckle some up above at Zakhar from his assumed position on higher ground for a better throw. At the very least, a corner of his eye is always pinned on Pasquale, like a hound to its master, never leaving his sight. Thankfully he -was- paying attention, as when Pasquale begins to stumble horribly off balance, all it takes is a couple long-legged steps from the giant of a man to grab Pasquale by a shoulder with an iron grip, setting himself upright as he provides an 'anchor' to Pasquale for equilibrium. Soon after, he surveys the 'damage' of the sneeze dust abord, finding Kastelon and offering a single, mute nod as acknowledgement, deeming the man to be in fit condition still.

Denica checks perception and survival at hard. Denica is successful.

Caspian let out a yelp as the ballista came hurtling past him, the wind whistling as hew barely dodged. He straightened up, looking at the arrow that had nearly taken his head off. He checked himself for holes, and once sure that he was all still there he looked to Marti. "Let them have it!!" he broke into a laugh as the order was given to fire all. He pointed to the dromond, "Those bastards.. right there. I swear that ship is the same one that we fought last time. and look.. that idiot right there is laughing..i think he shot at me!" As the ships closed together, he braced himself. "Come on you lot! lets show these idiots the error of their ways!" Soon as the ships collided, he launched himself forward, scrambling onto the deck of the other ship and blades flashing

The short Thrax princess has been here all along, because that makes sense. She is dressed in an armoured painters smock and looking serious and determined. She's been posted as a lookout, and so for the most part she's been out of sight just watching. Battle is not something Denica is familiar with, not at all. It's overwhelming for someone with so much empathy, but still she pulls from her roots and she manages to keep her cool and calm, for now. Even as things start to get chaotic, but so is art. Then she sees something and she calls out, "I recognize the captain from the galley. That's the guy who escapes the battle with Bloodbrook, I think?," she says, to no one in particular but loud, because she is vocal.

Zakhar takes small hammer with sharpened toe from Alteration and Modification toolkit.

Zakhar takes Cow Cannon bone chisel from Alteration and Modification toolkit.

Aboard Lady Thunderstruck, the Bloodbrook warriors are unreserved in their furor. A redhaired captain - indeed the one that escaped a few battles back - shouts commands to his men before stepping onto the deck himself and barreling toward Jasher and Victus. A small fire has started in the sails of the ship, caused by a flaming arrow delivered from another Dagonite vessel.

Martinique and Caspian find themselves on the flagship of the Bloodbrook fleet. The battle there is not as bloody. The Bloodbrook didn't seem to be expecting to be boarded so soon, allowing the Redreef contingent to have a brief upper hand.

With the confusion of the ballista and pot of powder and hail of arrows, the Lycene and Oathland crew find themselves distracted enough to not prevent the boarding parties that land on their ships.

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus fails.

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

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

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher fails.

Denica checks charm and propaganda at hard. Denica is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Martinique fails.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique fails.

Caspian checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Botch! Caspian fails completely.

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

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Caspian is successful.

The initital fighting is not going so well, at least not for Martinique. She joins her men on the deck of the enemy ship, but she's fighting at a disadvantage against multiple opponents--a tactical error. It's one she'll have to correct, but for the moment the best she can do is try to disengage to a better position, yelling as she takes a heavy slash across the ribs that draws blood. She's far from done though, and her knives are still at the ready.

There is so much chaos, but chaos gives birth to art. The small princess is watching as her two cousins engage in fighting those boarding their ship. It's hard to keep an eye on them and while she has her knife ready, it's the fires that catch her attention. A split decision is made and instead of jumping into the fray, she is turning to the crew. All though she be little, her voice is loud and it carries. There is no hesitation, only raw determination and dedication to a cause she believes in. "The only fires that should burn are the ones in your heart for Thrax! We need to douse these flames. Save this ship, so those that fight--can fight! Now! Quickly! Douse the flames!," she isn't commanding, no, she uses her charm and carefully chosen words to encourage the outcome she hopes to see. Her attention still drifts to Victus and Jasher, of whom she is keeping a close eye on, and probably worrying a little, but she doesn't quite let that show. Not now. She keeps up face.

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

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

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

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

Kastelon checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Kastelon fails.

Gaspard checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Gaspard fails.

A general Victus usually is, at sea and on land. If he was in his right mind at the moment, he would probably still be. However, this was not his best string of commands. Mostly because they were... nonexistent. The crew is left rudderless in a sense as Victus loses himself in the fight. Frustration had been mounting with every past indignity and insult that the Bloodbrooks had levied against from. From broken armor, stolen arms, and all the wounds suffered thus far. Victus was just angry, and all of that rage was pouring out. Pure instinct, little thought. Eventually, a distraction floats across his vision, in the form of a burning ember. Falling like a light snowfall all around them. He looks upward, to their burning sails, and grits his teeth. "Gods DAMN you all. May the Sentinel judge your disloyal hearts wanting you FUCKS!" Near black eyes fall upon the Bloodbrook commander that draws near. While his attack goes wide, he does manage to sidestep the response. Furious eyes glared at the man responsible for this incursion.

Pasquale checks mana at daunting. Pasquale is successful.

Zakhar checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Zakhar fails.

Zakhar checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Zakhar fails.

Pasquale nods his thanks to Gaspard as he takes advantage of that anchoring support for slightly longer than should be necessary. Pushing away from the Blackram he rubs at his face and then turns his attention back to the battle just in time to watch the other side respond to his previous actions. A grimace creases his brow a moment before the captain shouts to brace and another ship thunks into the side of the Grim Shade. Boarding hooks start crossing the space between the two ships and before to long a massive melee between the two crows starts to spread across the deck. A soft curse passes across Pasquale's lips and he hops back over to his original spot with a surprising burst of vigor. He reaches to snatch up his self bow and some arrows from the barrel. "If they're attacking us they aren't defending the flag ship." he says mostly to Kastelon before raising his voice to command volume and shouting. "Thats a fine ship! Lets take it for our own!" He takes a few moments to scan the battle in general, gives a new instruction that sends a nearby sailor scurrying to wave flags around and then calmly puts an arrow through the eye of the first enemy who thought to climb onto the command deck.

Caspian launches onto the deck, slashing wildly and laughing loudly. "hello again lads! we missed you last time round but this time we'll be sure to find a dance for you!" He twisted and dodged past the flurry of blows that came flashing toward him, barely managing to avoid a few of them "You know im starting to get the feeling we aren't welcome here .." he swung his weapons in large arcs, making room more than inflicting damage. "If your captain is worth his salt he will come down here and deal with us himself!"

Martinique checks command and war at hard. Martinique fails.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Critical Success! Victus is spectacularly successful.

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

Close range is -not- the best place for a bow and arrow, and Kastelon's very much aware of it. But the Keaton huntsman is also equally aware that his blade is not the equal of the bow, and he can at least pick off some of those who are attempting to board from distance, while affording the crew time to fight back. "Push them back! Take their flag!" Shouts he to those who are closest as he's loosing another arrow.
Though it's true what they say - what's good for the goose is good for the gander, and he too is taking fire, the hot hiss of pain when someone does get past that first line, and a blade finds him through his armor, before he's using the blunt side of his bow to bash the soldier away and make his way forward at Pasquale's command.

Zakhar is far too happy, a large grin showing under beard as his face covering falls loose from his face. The frying pan's contents start to be thrown in direction of the boarders and there's a slash at his arm. As if someone boarding has dealt with the old man's shit before and the hot grease is running down side of his arm. Frying pan dropped in mid swing, a grasp to arm and blood curdling scream from the old man. As he's pulling bits of armor off of him to get at the skin that is now boiling under hot grease. "You fucks!" A lash out towards those attacking as he dives to the ground to attempt to dodge, only to be left nearly being sent into the drink himself. As he scurries across the decks upon his back he's seen purposefully throwing scalded arm into a fire and wincing within grin. "Fire... Fire will put this out..."

In the midst of battle, there are very few precious moments a combatant can take to regain their composure and awareness after taking a particularly heavy hit. Every second is precious, and can mean the difference between life and death. Unfortunately, Jasher exceeds what time he has at his disposal to inhale the breath that had only just been forcibly expelled from his lungs. He takes one step to the side to evade a second killing swing by the crazed Bloodbrook, and while it misses his vitals, his left arm is caught between the metal and the wooden mast. Blood instantly gushes from the wound as it makes purchase with the skin layered beneath diamondplate and leather, but in that moment that his enemy is busily wrenching the axe head from the thick wood column, Jasher takes advantage and thrusts his blade into his exposed side. He releases the haft of his weapon and falls to the deck, dead or dying. Victus's voice is heard calling out over the din of battle; Jasher follows the sound of it so that he can join his High Lord's side in battle.

A single, mute nod is given back to Pasquale before they are boarded. Meeting a man head on once they near the vicinity of himself and Pasquale, Gaspard goes to swinging Shepherd about in an overhead arc that whistles from the sheer force, Gaspard cleaves the mans skull in two. Blood spurts, spattering some of his armor with the wet, shiny crimson many know all too well. A blink is registered, nothing more from the man who then turns slightly to check upon Pasquale. It's only then Gaspard noticies a man coming up on Pasquales blindspot, and he bolts at breakneck speed to throw himself in harms way, wincing as a chink in his armor is hit, blood running freely. Echoing Pasquale in a booming, pained voice. "Take it for our own! Check your corners, fight back to back! Don't let them flank you!" Heavy breaths come as he adjusts to his newfound wound, brows pinched heavily into a frown beneath his helm. "NO MERCY!!!!!" He bellows, gaze swiveling about at Pasquales side, a looming figure amongst the battle.

Ships are on fire. A lot of ships are on fire. Bloodbrook sailors have been ramming their ships into Thrax's, setting fire to those which cannot be sailed after the fact. The water is thick with bodies and rowboats as attempts are made to join other ships in their fleet. THrax archers take advantage, sinking arrows into many who make the attempt to swim.

Captain Britt Colborn, the redhaired man, swings his sword hard at Jasher. He is not smiling, instead his expression is focused entirely on the task at hand. "Ah, the swordless Sword," He mocks the prince as he recognizes him.

On the Bloodbrook flagship, the semi-familiar form of the captain can be seen slipping further away through the press of warriors. And with the Lycenes, blood slicks the deck of their ships.

Zakhar takes Mister Bitey from Double wrapping weapons and utility belt.

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

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique marginally fails.

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

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus fails.

Victus checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Victus marginally fails.

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

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

Denica checks charm and performance at hard. Denica is successful.

Martinique is not one to be easily denied her bloodlust once she has engaged it. Her rage may colder than her liege's, but she is no less murderous in her pursuit of her goals, and there are a lot of stab wounds from where she started to where she is going in chasing the captain of the flagship. That she takes another wound or two of her own is something she considers simply the cost of doing business, the business being TOTAL FUCKING WAR. She's going to kill that guy, or maybe even just take him hostage and give him to Natasha, which is like, so much worse.

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

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

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at hard. Kastelon fails.

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

Pasquale checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Botch! Pasquale fails completely.

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

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

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

Zakhar checks strength and small wpn at hard. Zakhar is successful.

Zakhar checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Botch! Zakhar fails completely.

Zakhar checks 'death save' at normal. Zakhar is successful.

Zakhar remains alive, but close to death.

Zakhar is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

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

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

Pasquale half turns as he spots something in his blindspot and nods when he sees Gaspard there and the newly downed enemy. A smile curves his lip and he draws his sword and steps into an attack with a brisk brutality that puts more force behind the blow than Pasquale can safely manage. The cutlass gleams as it rips downwards in a move meant to cut hard into the foes shoulder but instead, thanks to a quick move by his foe, sings past his shoulder and briefly puts Pasquale into a dangerously open position. Fortunately Pasquale is nimble enough to twist away at the last moment. The only casualty Pasquale's smile.

Denica's next move is predictable. A heartwarming speech. Emotions are her weapons. So, in the middle of the chaos, the blood, the smell of burning wood, the sweat and pain, she speaks. Denica hops onto a barrel so to raise her voices above the sounds of metal clashing and the waves crashing.

"Freedom.," the word is heavy and yet it inspires her. She is lit from within. "That's what this is about. It is what fills our hearts and it is the light that shines on is, when everything is dark. I know it hurts. I know it's hard. We've been fighting so long. Sometimes it feels like the fighting will never stop. But, this is our chance. This is the moment we make a difference. The sun is setting, but it will come up tomorrow and we -will- win. This our battle, not just to win, but to make something better. We are better," Denica breathes out and she does everything not to crack, but opens her heart and lays it all out.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Botch! Victus fails completely.

Pasquale checks command and sailing at hard. Pasquale fails.

A dodge, a faint, and another swing with the bow - the last, clearly, is not the best decision that Kastelon can be making when he's trying to back up Pasquale as they're moving to take down those who would be reinforcing the enemy. "This is really not helping any of us with the end goal," calls he, in a tone that hints at even less amusement than the words hold, as he snaps off another shot with his bow, and misses entirely this time. With a hot sound on the tail end, as he's looking to see how the numbers stack up between the sides.

Gaspard's sword whistles past, nearly grazing his next foes face who jumps back wide-eyed before leaping in. Gaspard quickly parries the would-be blow, sending the man off-balance as his smoky grey eyes narrow. A murderously dark element is present, the manner in which he moves calculated, measured. Every step, every movement taken into account as he continues to keep an eye on Pasquale and his nearby surroundings. He looses a shout, kicking a brigand away from Pasquale as he continues to use height and arm length to his advantage.

Sometimes, emotional can be the driving force that makes up for the lack of, well, anything else. Victus' shouts bounce between insults and threats. With every one spoken, it seems to be rallying the men around him, stoking inner flames that begin to burn all the brighter. There is confidence around him, but, he's still not at his post. Soon enough, being leaderless would only put them right back where they started. Perhaps one could excuse him given the enemy they faced, and just how mouthy that certain enemy could be. "AaaAAGH-" He doesn't bother masking his pain either when a sharp edge cuts into a gap in his armor. Composure wasn't even an afterthought. "Damned traitors. LISTEN to my artsy cousin!" He throws a hand back to gesture in Denica's vague direction. "FEAR the man who will reclaim his Sword!" Then one toward Jasher. "And know me as your greatest villain-- the one who will take from you!"

There's a funny thing that happens with grease running over side of armor when introduced to fire... Zakhar 'Bloodbeard' is ON FIRE, slipping across the deck, getting to his feet and grinning. A maniacal laugh erupts from his lips, reaching into the carpentry satchel to then hold onto a jar with small blue stripe over its lid. Holding it high above his arm, opposite arm has fire reaching and lapping at his beard as he looks to all those surrounding him. "See you at the bottom of the well fuckers." The jar is let loose and smashed as hard as the old man can throw it at HIS FEET. Dust rising up around him, all those around him are diving for cover as their lungs are quick to seal shut and the coughing begins. Zakhar takes a deep breath in as he looks to his arm, still on fire. A nod to the world at large and he slumps into the a pile next to edge of ship and in a near comical fashion falls over board into the fire filled waters. Only the last words to be heard as he's kicking at the waters and hauled onto a row boat below, are mangled and whispered. Those upon row boat might tell tales about how his words before falling asleep with a wide grin mixed with singed beard with long burn rising over arm and face, "I win..."

Not one to speak or shout orders in the midst of battle, at least without good reason, he leaves his cousin to continue to rally his men and hurl insults at their enemy. It is the taunts, however, that bring Jasher full-tilt to his side; there is no doubt in his mind that the Bloodbrook combatants will pass up a challenge to fight and claim the head of the High Lord of Thrax, the man at the center of this conflict. He nods to his cousin as Wake's Edge is raised and wielded with more ferocity and dexterity than he has since the start of this conflict, though now he clearly knows what he's up against. The next Bloodbrook warrior to approach is dispatched with ease.

"I know." Pasquale says to Kastelon as he attempts to defend himself against another foe. "But theres nothing I can do right now." he snatches a moment to look out over the surrounding battle as Gaspard frees up some space around him. He stalls for a moment to stare after the fireball that is Zakhar, having a hard time keeping his mouth closed, and wrenches his gaze away to stare out at the ships arrayed around them instead and slam his sword back into its scabbard so that he can once again pick up his bow. "Gaspard. Keep them off us for a few moments and I'll get us free." he requests before gesturing at the opposing ship. "See the one in the hat Kastelon? I'd be grateful if he was gone."

A grumble from the Keaton huntsman, but a nod as well, as he's following Pasquale's point towards the other ship. "Consider it done, my lord," he answers succinctly as he's drawing yet another arrow from his quiver and nocking it to the bow, not letting what's transpired aboard their own ship distract him from that which been set before him as a task. "He'll regret wearing that hat." Says the Keaton in the jaunty hat.

Dropping a single, firm nod aside to Pasquale, Gaspard does just that. With an ear-shattering bellow, Gaspard lets out. "WHOSE NEXT?!?" With a broad swing of Shepherd around himself with precision. Something about a man that's 6'6 or 6'7 in full diamondplate armor swinging a sword wildly is likely intimidating to your average soldier.

The Malespero flagship is locked in place by a crush of ships - both friend and foe. However, Zakhar's idiotically heroic (or heroically idiotic) ploy works to ease some of the crush, as enemies flee or fall into the sea. While many foes still crowd the deck of around Kastelon, Gaspard, and Pasquale, the ship manages to maneuver away from the deadlock.

Martinique and Caspian find themselves, ironically, in the least danger on the deck of the Bloodbrook flagship. The man who took Reafian from Jasher stands tall and turns to face Martinique. He is silent, calculating. Several sailors stand between them.

The Thraxes, on the other hand, are having a bad time. Captain Colborn continues to press his attack, and while Denica is able to ensure the crew of Lady Thunderstruck is kept hopeful in battle, the fleet is floundering. Slowly, it becomes clear that the ship is being isolated from support.

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

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Martinique fails.

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

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

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

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Caspian fails.

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

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

Martinique checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Martinique fails.

Martinique is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Caspian checks luck at hard. Caspian fails.

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

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus marginally fails.

Victus checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Victus fails.

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

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

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

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

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

Denica checks charm and performance at hard. Denica is successful.

Caspian eyes the captain and grins, twirling the daggers on their chain. "He doesn't seem so chatty now does he. I recall him talking a big game when last we saw eachother." his gaze hardened then as he eyed the man, "A lot of good men and woman died because you and your house chose to burn that ship. no more!" with that he launched forward, slashing a bit wildly at the sailors and captain, landing a savage blow to the man, but taking a strike across his back as he did.

So there are dudes in the path. Martinique will not let them stand before her. She rushes, heedlessly, enduring their blades when she cannot parry them, to sink her knife into the captain at the end. Blood rushes over her teeth as she strikes him, as his men strike her, but her devil's grin remains as she drives in the knife. "I'll fuckin' have you you, ca me degoutant en tabarnak, calisse! Tu me deougtant!"

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

In the middle of waters on fire, a single battle medic upon the rowboat that has picked up Zakhar is screaming over top of the rowers. "Hold the boat steady! Where are all of these weapons coming from?? Is that a cow bone?... Who gave this man so many... Oh for the love of.. No. Stop playing with that whole bag. LEAVE THE BAG ALONE. HOW MANY POTS ARE IN THERE? ... No, I don't want to know... Is this... What is that?" Rowers are running out of space on the rowboat, one picks up a teacup and looks to be about to toss it over side of the boat to save room as another nearly dives in after it. "We keep the teacup." A stern stare at the shipmate that is unaware.

Victus stands alongside his cousin. Every now and then, he shifts his gaze over his shoulder to ensure he has an idea of wherever Denica is. Last time this many family was on board, someone took an arrow to the gut. A situation he may not be able to prevent a second time, but a fear nonetheless that keeps him aware. Bracing himself, Victus calls out some actual encouragement for the first time. "They go this far and no further! Tears in our wake! Drive them back!" He swings, missing his next opponent by a hair's breadth. The attack leaves him open long enough for another blade to sink into his side. Blood stains his hip and spreads down his leg, but he's not down yet.

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

Really, this man is glued to Pasquales side, never leaving his station and following orders to a T. He headbutts a soldier head on, knocking the man out, outright. All the height and momentum paired with diamondplate leaves the soldier almost certainly with some internal skull bleeding. Noting another soldier inching closer to himself and Pasquale, Gaspard shield-bashes the soldier, causing them to stumble onto their ass. "Pasquale!" He hollers amidst the clatter of metal and combat. "I've got your back, do what you need to do!" Smoky grey eyes scan the scene unfolding, landing on Kastelon for a few moments, a nod to himself.

The battle rages on. The ship is unsteady, keeping footing is its own challenge and the princess sticks to what she knows. Battle was an eye-opening experience in-and-of-itself. Still, there was something pushing her, bring her into this chaos and she seeks inspiration from those charged emotions. Foot stomping, the small princess gets louder and more boisterous. Determination in her voice, but it's more, dedication and a belief in what they are doing. It shows. In everything she does. "We are warriors. We are fighters. It's in our blood. So we will fight with our last breath. We are part of something bigger, each and everyone. Search your hearts. This is your home. Our home. The Mourning Isles! There is nothing more important, you can break steel but you cannot break our spirit. Tears in our wake!," Denica is shouting now, red faced, everything that comes to her and it's disjointed and it's full of emotion, but it's her and it's authentic. "For Maelstrom! For Thrax! For Freedom!," she lifts her little fist into the air.

Kastelon is -not- glued to Gaspard and Pasquale's sides, since he has a task before him. That bow of his comes around, the bead drawn on the man who was pointed out. A breath passes between his lips, and he's loosing the arrow through the air, sending the man sprawling over the side and into the water below. "People shouldn't wear stupid hats while they're at war," says he, with a lift of his fingers to push the brim of his own hat higher, before he's moving to follow after the others and perhaps help with taking the prize.

The extra bit of help from Kastelon and Gaspard finally gives Pasquale the breathing room he needs to fix this mess and for the next few moments he stays close to the rails barking orders whilst the ships untangle themselves. The Grim Shade finally slips free and he nods, mostly to himself, and tells the two warriors "The archduke is having a bad time." before bounding away to start organising this new plan with a vigor that would have been astonishing an hour ago. This team of marines push there. This team of marines clear hooks. This team of rowers give a burst of power ... now. Now he doesn't have to split his attention things are picking up again and the Grim Shade is powering its way towards the Thrax flagship whilst Pasquale features reflect the smile of a passionate artist doing his art.

Pasquale spares a moment to smile at Kastelon's comment. "It was a nice hat."

Jasher appears to become inspired by the combined shouts of Denica and Victus, so much so that he raises his own voice in addition to reply, "For Thrax!" in the faces of the next wave of enemies that bear down upon them and the host of marines fighting staunchly beside them. His next blow glances the enemy's armor, but he manages to side-step a return strike in time to avoid suffering another hit in return. His breastplate is already caved in, his left arm still bleeds, but his resolve is only greater than it has been leading up to this moment.

Kastelon lifts his singular eye back towards Pasquale, and lets a grunt slip free before he looks back the way he'd shot. "It didn't suit him." A beat. "As you requested, I fixed that."

The man captaining the Bloodbrook flagship barely reacts to Martinique and Caspian. He's clearly spent years upon the sea, moving with expert grace and precision before plunging his blade deep into Martinique's midsection. He unceremoniously uses his boot to dislodge her from his sword, leaving her to fall over the ship's rail into the sea. A gesture is made, thisch results in Caspian being knocked into the water after the unconscious general. Redreef's ships, those not burning to ash upon the waves, quickly hasten to retreat, finding their way to bolster the ranks of Thrax and Malespero. One ship does pause long enough to fish Martinique and Caspian from the water. Some of the Bloodbrook ships begin to change course to sail away from the battle.

The arrival of Pasquale, Kastelon, and Gaspard, paired with the inspiring words of Denica, helps to rouse the spirirts and turn the tide on the deck of Lady Thunderstruck. Captain Colborn yet stands, but his stance is shaky. Lycenes mingle with the Thraxian sailors to push back the Dagonites on Victus's ship.

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

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

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

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

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher marginally fails.

Denica checks charm and performance at hard. Denica is successful.

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

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus marginally fails.

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

Kastelon checks dexterity and archery at hard. Kastelon marginally fails.

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

Kastelon checks luck at hard. Kastelon fails.

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

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

Kastelon checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Kastelon fails.

Kastelon is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

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

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

From Victus' point of view, the battle was severe on both ends. Blood on the deck of Lady Thunderstruck, blood on the... Bloodbrook ships, but not the purely aesthetic kind. He'd cut down a few, taken his share of punishment as well. Though difficult to parse the separate fronts, he does notice the Redreef ships lurching in their direction. It provides some relief, just as Pasquale's crew have done. Still shouting his commands over all the noise, Victus narrowly moves out of the way of another shining sword, pushing back his attacker at the last moment. He finally has a moment to breathe. "... How much longer can we do this?" It's not spoken to anyone in particular. The Bloodbrook ships on the run give him a glimmer of hope all the same.

There are good days and there are bad days when one's an archer. Most of the former, and few of the latter, involve when targets are aplenty and so is the cover.
This is not a good day for Kastelon.
Still trying to pick out the next target, this leaves him out in the open for where someone else can see his jaunty hat - someone, clearly, who hasn't the fashion taste to appreciate such fine haberdashery - and from his bad side, all at once, he takes a blow that lays him low, the bow tumbling away across the deck.

When the Grim Shade smashes into the enemy ship currently giving Victus such trouble Pasquale grabs a spare quiver of arrows and gestures to the other ship "Give it everything!" He hops down a couple of the steps, shoots at a sailor who made the mistake of meeting his eye, and then keeps moving with the troops swarming off the dromond. Taking advantage of Gaspard and Kastelon's protective presences each pace of the way. Never too far forwards. Never too far back. He hesitates just once, for half a moment, when Kastelon goes down before continuing to push through to the higher ground offered by the forecastle of the other ship. Its here he glances to Gaspard and stops to set himself up for the perfect shot. Setting the arrow to the bow, drawing it back.. holding his breath.. and sending a single blue fletched arrow into Captain Colborn's back.

The short princess clad in her armoured painters smock stands there like a soul on fire, the battle rages and she is overcoming by everything around her. Denica speaks loud. "Resilience. Victory is never easy, but resilience means we will keep picking ourselves up and we will continue to fight.," she looks at the people, some familiar many not. But right now, they are all here together, and it is that the princess focuses on. "Fight hard. Fight together. We are stronger for the person next to you. Your High Lord fights here with you. Maelstrom's sword. We fight together." Her eyes blink and she's looking for Victus and Jasher. Every chance she gets, making sure she can see them, always. Denica doesn't fight back the emotions, she lets everyone see, proudly. She openly displays her loyalty and love for her family and tries to inspire others. "Your families depend on it. They are supporting you. We are fighting for all of them. For the Mourning Isles. Maelstrom is ours. Together, we are resilient. United and unstoppable." A little breathless, she doesn't stop, raising her arms in the air, never looking away. " We can do this! Tears in our wake!"

Gaspard doesn't slow, but it's clear he's trying NOT to bark orders out as he starts to barrel through. Using his shield, his shoulder, his head of all things, the giant of a man has NO issue cleaving through armor, flesh and bone. "Move, move!" He urges Pasquale without ordering the man, circling back to cover Pasquales rush for higher ground. Once there, he flashes a grin. "Perfect." Soon that grin vanishes, a frown evident as Kastelon falls. He glances up as Pasquale before glaring down any brave enough to approach. "I dare you." He sports a bloodied grin, smoky grey eyes fierce and wild with battlelust, "I DARE YOU!" Before skewering the first man or woman to approach.

Jasher strikes out at another foe, and it lands with a crunch against the side of his head; the Bloodbrook marine falls to the deck, joins the pile of bodies that have begun to litter the veritable battlefield that is the Lady Thunderstruck. In turn, the prince suffers little more than a bruise to his cheek as, in his dying throes, the combatant throws an unexpected fist against the side of his face. He takes it well, shakes his head once, then moves on to the next man. Victus's question is replied to through gritted teeth, "As long as we have the men and the will. We can do it, Victus. Keep fighting."

"STOP PLAYING WITH THE BAG" The poor medic shakes their head while rowers are circling back to the Malespero ships to get people, especially Zakhar and the number of weapons that have been pulled off of him just to get to a better position to wrap up his wounds. Rowers have dropped oars to simply play with having a tea party. One now has a cut lip, "Oy. Is my lip bleeding?" while another stares with a laugh in the middle of the grim scene, "I heard they call him Whitebeard on account of the hair." Another who is playing with a spoon, "Oh, look at me.. All fancy with a spoon. OUCH! It bit me!"

The sound of war is deafening. Crashing waves, raging fires, spltinering wood, clanging metal, battle cries and death groans. But the din begins to fade as Bloodbrook ships make for the horizon. Looking over the water presents a gruesome sight: Charred wood, broken bodies, a couple of floating hats (less gruesome, still there).

Captain Britt Colborn readies himself to take a punishing swing at Jasher, but the blow is softened by Pasquale's arrow putting an end to the Bloodbrook sailor. The redhaired man crumples to his knees before collapsing fully upon the deck. It takes some long minutes after, but eventually the Thraxians push back the remainder of those Bloodbrook who did not follow their flagship. Some few surrender.

Pasquale keeps setting arrows into Bloodbrook's they have fully committed to their retreat, at which point he stops. He clasps a hand on Gaspard's shoulder for a brief moment and inclines his jaw down towards where Jasher and Victus were fighting. "Do you want to go meet them?"

Gaspard glances to Pasquale, smoky-grey gaze following the jaws gesture towards Jasher and Victus. After a moment he says, "Well, I'd like to meet anyone I ever fight for, or with." Comes a rumbling, deep baritone.

War. It's messy. It's complicated. It's terrible. Yet, in the worst of times, there can be the deepest sense of gratitude emerge. This shines through Denica and the moment that it's safe to do so. She's going towards her cousins. Victus and Jasher. Weaving through the bodies, stumbling and trying to keep her balance, but she needs to find them. Be close. Make sure. The princess is reaching out for each one in turn, trying to gentle touch their arm if safe to do so. To let them know she is there but just to be sure. "I love you," she says to both of them. There is much more to come. They are just getting started. When she knows hers are okay, she stands up and she looks around at everyone there and it takes her breath away and eyes go wide. Then she says though softly, the most sincere, "Thank You," to anyone that can hear. Even if they can't. Denica is grateful.

One more swing. One more dash. Finally, just one more death. The arrow that strikes the captain seems to signal the end of all to the Bloodbrook crew. He follows its trajectory all the way to the Malesparo ships. One hand is lifted in a grateful wave, as the rest of the Thrax contingent brings Lady Thunderstruck back under control. At last, Victus can drop his sword-arm. His steps are slightly sluggish thanks to his many wounds. Stained with the blood of both sides, it's unclear just where he's hurt, only that he is /definitely/ hurting. His head turns to regard Denica beneath his helm's visage when she brushes his arm. The best he can offer is: "... Yeah. You too."

Looking beyond to Jasher then, Victus gives him a nod. Another battle. Another survival. Less traitors was always going to be a victory in his mind. Although the tension certainly remains, as Victus backpedals to lean against the rail of the ship. With his helmet off, his messy hair falls in tangles around his shoulders. His attention turns to the sea. Specifically, the wake left in the Bloodbrook's flagship. Something unresolved, slowly disappearing over the waters. They still had something of their's. But today, for now, this was good enough.

Gaspard checks perception at hard. Gaspard fails.

Gaspard checks perception and investigation at hard. Gaspard fails.

Jasher does not feel relief, and is certainly far from indulging in anything like celebration for the retreat of the Bloodblook fleet as it limps on to safety. Denica's professions of love are returned with a smile she cannot see from behind the upraised gorget, though it is dropped in time for him to say, "I am glad you're safe." This is for more than just /her/, though, made evident by the way tired cobalt eyes shift to observe Victus leaning exhaustedly against the taffrail. He inclines his head respectfully to the man, his cousin and High Lord, then all but collapses against the aft mast of the ship to rest.