[h3]Below the deck  of the frigate…[/h3]

As luck would hold, the team didn’t encounter any of the Kamal below deck, presumably because most, if not all of them, were topside dealing with the counter-boarding action. The sounds of violence and death were still rather audible above, and streams of dusty light were shining through like breaks in an overcast day through the cracks between planks. The ship construction, while somewhat alien in design, still retained enough familiarity that anyone familiar with sea vessels could identify common threads. While the frigate was large enough to house three subdecks, both Niernen and Valen seemed adamant that the prison hold was on the same deck they were on, which made sense; it was easier to load and unload “cargo”, and if there was a breakout, the prisoners would be unlikely to retreat below deck even further, reducing the odds of them stumbling across something important or useful in their escape attempt. Given the gaps between wooden planks, Do’Karth assumed there also wasn’t much protection from the elements. Comfort was never a concern for those you viewed less than you.
Large gashes in the hull let light shine through, illuminating the way through the dark interior, the evidence of the Dwemer ballista’s effectiveness even more apparent from the unique perspective of seeing the impacts first hand. Do’Karth reflected on the fact that the weapons and constructs were all hundreds of years old; how on Nirn did anyone manage to withstand the Dwemer when it came time to war? He quickly cast those thoughts aside, and continued through the deck, combing it for intruders.

Opening an oversized wooden door towards the stern, the sudden stench of body odor and waste filled the air and massive iron bars and a locked gate were visible, and beyond, the deprived but still alive bodies of the prisoners. The team rushed over to the gate, to inspect the lock. “We need to get the lock off…” Do’Karth stated, rather obviously. He looked at the people beyond the bars; hallow sets of eyes staring back with a mixture of hope and despair. “We are here to rescue you,  hold-“

The Khajiit’s words were cut off when he was lifted off the floor as a force directly underneath him threw him upwards off of the deck and hard down, his ears ringing from the detonation of the charges that Roze and Sagax had placed, unbeknownst to the boarding team. The ship groaned in strain and protest, and a very present tilt to the floor was felt, along with the cracking of wood and the smell of burning timber. The below deck had exploded, and the flames would be spreading. 

Inside the prison cell, a hole in the floor had opened up under the gored remains of one of the prisoners who had been caught directly above one of the charges. Flames flickered like the depths of Oblivion, salivating over the prospect of tasting Tamrielic flesh. The prisoners moved away from the hole, which only stood to grow larger and the supports of the ship started to give out due to structural failure. The ship would sink, and sooner rather than later. 

The only way for the prisoners to escape was through the locked gate, which would require a key or a very crafty lockpicker who was dealing with a much larger and sturdier lock than a typical lock-pick would open. There was also still the matter of getting off the ship intact, since staying below deck seemed like a death sentence, and the Kamal were sure to be desperate and twice and dangerous as they were normally.

Below deck, the Pakseech sat slumped against the wall, a piece of jagged timber impaled through his abdomen. He scarcely minded, as the Kamal who was harvesting his people was screaming in otherworldly vocals as flames consumed him and the bodies of his cruel labour. Perhaps it was as the Hist willed it, and while his people failed to return to the swamps where they were summoned, this was a tiny gesture of vengeance against those that preyed upon the argonian people. As the Kamal finally lay still and the flames spread closer and closer, the Pakseech smiled through blooded lips before enough of his life had slipped out with his blood, dimming the lights of life forever.

The explosion had rocked the top deck enough that the mercenaries and sailors were largely knocked off their feet, some toppling overboard. The ladders that had been secured to the ship were knocked ajar, and it seemed that the only escape would be the frigid waters unless someone managed to remount the ladders, which were dragging down the hull of the frigate and dangerously close to dipping into the sea to be lost forever. The Kamal seemed even less sure of their footing, as it was much harder for creatures of their bulk and weight to adjust to the shifting balance of the deck and pick themselves up. However, the danger they provided was real enough, as anyone within their reach was at their utter lack of mercy. They likely knew of their impending fate, and were determined to bring the Tamrielic fighters down with them.