[I][B]Kyne’s Tear, The Sea of Ghosts…[/B][/I]

The raid had proved to be fruitful as the mercenaries had thoroughly plundered the armoury, electing to take the spoils topside and divvy up the loot equally amongst the crew, along with the Ashlander prisoners that had proved to be rather compliant after the brief, but brutal, skirmish that claimed the lives of their kin. Even Narivar had become much more docile after Sadri administered a through beating to force his fellow Dunmer upchuck the key he had swalled, and Madura had actually proven to be useful for a change keeping an eye on his brother and keeping him company and somewhat amicable now that family was involved. The two brothers, plus the Ashlander survivors, took the now-unclaimed Ashlander ship and sailed West with the intention of confronting the Nerevarine, a goal that most thought to be suicidal. While some were glad to see the pesky journalist gone, namely anyone who had been inconvenienced by him in a life or death situation, there was an undeniable sense of loss without his almost naive charm and optimism among the ranks. 

All in all, outside of a few somewhat serious injuries suffered by the crew, the mission was a nice success, especially following the College of Winterhold debacle where their rescue ended up losing almost every mage they set out to pick up and nearly losing [I]The Courtesan[/I] in the process. 

Best of all were the four ballista that were labourously wheeled up to the surface using the same lift they had descended down from. The hard part was getting them aboard the ships, two a piece, which took a fair deal of effort and ingenuity with no small amounts of ropes , pullies and no small amount of manpower. The weapons and their munitions were secured to the decks of their respective ships, and the company was afforded an hour’s rest before setting sail once more, making way towards their next objective.

The seas had remained as agreeable as they had been before the landing, and the crew had largely felt like they managed to escape any unwanted encounters with Kamal vessels, although the fact that Niernen and Valen had just escaped from a Kamal prison ship and largely drifted back to safety by coincidence gave many a sense of apprehension; the enemy could not have been far off. Still, the sky remained fair, and the horizon remained clear; as far as the sailors were concerned, it was a perfect day, and they were making good time to Bleakrock Isle, despite the Westerly winds working against their sails. The company, in turn, had a chance for some much needed rest, and the technologically inclined scoured over the captured ballistas, figuring out how to crew the weapons and exactly how to operate them. As it turned out, it was somewhat more complicated than a crossbow, if for no other reason than the enormous scale, and no one rightly knew exactly how to aim or range the weapon. They’d require some target practice, and so a debate over the merits of expending precious projectiles over open water in case they were needed was waged amongst the leadership and weapons experts, who varied on opinions that varied between it is better to lose a few bolts to the waves than not know how to operate it in the event of a skirmish verses not having enough when the time came to use them. Eventually, a compromise was reached where the projectiles would be secured by lengths of ropes, which would hinder their ballistic performance somewhat, but it would enable the crew to pull the shots back in. As the ship sailed, icebergs and small isles would make due as makeshift, low-stake targets. 

However, as most things in war tend to be, the uneventful peace was broken when up high in the crow’s nest of [I]Kyne’s Tear[/I] came the bellowing of a war horn. A ship was sighted.

Hargjorn stomped from the bridge to the bottom of the mast, yelling up at the lookout. “What do you see?”

“Kamal ship, sir! Frigate, from the looks of it!” the voice called back.

True to the lookout’s word, from the port-stern came the now familiar and wholly haunting metallic-plated hull of the Kamal ship, which Niernen and Valen would have recognized as the very same prison ship they had escaped from earlier, thanks to the pirate raid. Evidentially, the captain of that particular vessel was not thrilled to have had his prisoners escape custody and using whatever nautical charts were available, likely retraced their metaphorical footsteps to Bthamz, the closest island, and pursued the trail to the next likely location; their allies’ outpost at Bleakrock Isle.  Even for the non-nautically inclined, it was clear that the ship was gaining on the two Tamrielic vessels, and fast. 

“We’ve got maybe an hour, two if we’re lucky. I’ve no damned idea how much that frigate displaces, or I’d try to lose it in the shallows, but that puts our ships in jeopardy of being beached.” Hargjorn growled to Ashav and Edith, who had joined him at the rear of the [I]Tear[/I], watching the enemy vessel’s dark silhouette on the horizon, hunting them. 

“Then we’d really be in a mess.” Ashav observed. 

“More like right fucked.” Hargjorn corrected. “We can’t use the terrain and we can’t outrun ‘em, so it looks like things are about to get messy.”

“I’ll rally the company, let them know we’re expecting visitors.” Edith said, turning to get everyone prepared for battle.

A bit over an hour later, the first shots were fired from the Kamal ship, which had come within a close enough distance, perhaps a league, of the two ships, which had prepared the ballistas to be fired off the port side for the [I]Tear[/I], and starboard for the allied ship. For this, captain Karena had taken the helm while Hargjorn was busy barking orders at the ballista crew and sailors while also seeing to the distribution of weapons and equipment, including crudely cast fire salt hand bombs, for the fighting men in the event of a boarding action. 

The first shots, massive ice spikes from the bow of the ship, landed just short of the [I]Tear[/I] Forcing both vessels to turn opposite of each other, making the Kamal captain have to pick his target carefully. As luck would have it, for the [I]Tear[/I], at least, the ship began to pivot in pursuit of the escort ship, which launched both of its ballista, which thudded into the hull of the Kamal ship near the bow; from the ropes tailing from the shots, the captain of that  vessel had evidentially elected to try and negate the frigate’s ability to maneuver by pulling it by the ropes, which were secured to starboard forward breast line and forward spring mooring points, iron hooks that were used to fasten the ship to dock, but now were used to hold onto the Kamal vessel while the crew loaded a follow-up volley. 

“Aim for their aft! They do not have firing ports there!” Hargjorn yelled to the [I]Tear’s[/I] ballista crews as the ship came around side of the Kamal vessel, which launched a salvo of spikes at the ship as it passed, tearing holes in the sails and puncturing the hull high above the water line; the turning motion of the ship gave the deck somewhat of a tilt that likely saved it from worse damage, including taking on water.

The escort ship was not so lucky, as it turned out, as near its bow were three sizable holes that were at or just above the water line; it was taking on water, and the lines that were fastened to the enemy vessel was dragging the front down somewhat, dipping the hull breach below the waves as the ship was pulled around. The [I]Tear[/I] could ill afford to worry themselves with their comrades, as the battle required precise timing, and luck, that could not afford patience. 

“FIRE!” Hargjorn yelled, and the heavy twang of both ballista shook the deck as the ropes sailed beyond the over-sized bolts that cracked into the wood near the cabin. “Pull us in, boys! Let’s get these bastards back for Windhelm, for Winterhold!” 

A roar of approval and anger rang out across the deck as the crew, six for each line, pulled the [I]Tear[/I] towards the Kamal vessel, which was trapped between the two ships, the escort vessel’s crew trying to pull themselves closer to the frigate, both to bring their men into fighting position, and to have a chance at saving their ship. Whatever the reason, the effect was practically acting as an anchor for the Kamal frigate, which wasn’t able to turn to face either ship. Archers on both company decks loosed at heads that dared peak over with flaming arrows, ignited from braziers that had been fastened to the deck in an eventuality of combat with the Kamal once more; likewise,  the ballista crew was busy loading thick-oil coated bolts into the weapons that were ignited prior to firing, flinging flaming and penetrating projectiles into the hull of the ship. It was through hard-earned experience that the Kamal hated and were rather vulnerable to fire, something that Do’Karth was certain Niernen was more than eager to demonstrate on the snow demons that had held her prisoner. When the hulls collided, assault ladders were brought out and fastened to the ship, which sat higher up than either Tamrielic vessel due to its much larger size. The grenadiers were first up, covered by archers, and a lobbed volley of fire salt bombs flew over the gunwale, igniting with a brilliant blast and a chorus of inhuman screams. Climbing higher yet, a second volley was tossed, with similar results. Shortly after the detonation, and taking advantage of the confusion and agony of the Kamal defenders, most of whom weren’t in their heavy armour due to fear of drowning, the boarding party climbed aboard the enemy vessel, in for a fight they weren’t entirely certain they could win.

“Rozalia, Sagax, I have an important assignment for you two. It is dangerous, and potentially fatal, but after what I witnessed in Windhelm, I trust no one else to have the… talent to pull this off.” Ashav said to the dynamic duo, both of whom had earned something of a reputation of being an invincible, and questionably sane, suicide squad. Lined up in a crate were a bundle of canvas satchels, along with a few sets of fire starters. “These are arcane charges, they work similarly to the fire salt bombs, but on a much grander scale. Note the length of the fuses;  that should give you enough time to clear the detonation radius safely while not affording the enemy much time to react.” He pointed to the holes that were opened in the frigate’s hold. “You need to get the charges in there. I leave it up to you if you want to board the ship to reach your marks, or to commandeer one of our dingies for this, but I need this done.”

“Niernen! Valen!” Do’Karth called to the two Dunmer companions. “This one has a plan, but he needs your assistance.” The Khajiit said, looking between them and back to the Kamal frigate. “Do’Karth wants to get to the prisoners on that ship and release them, both to help us with the fight, and to give them a chance at escape if things… do not go according to plan. You both understand what the Kamal are capable of, and you are familiar faces to them. This one hopes there is a sense of trust that comes with that amongst the prisoners when they see you have returned.   Do’Karth does not know where the prisoners are kept, but you both do. Will you help him do this?” he asked.