[center][h3]Turning of the Tide

[I]The Sea of Ghosts[/I][/h3][/center]

What had initially began as a sure thing for the Kamals had quickly turned sour as their vessel had come up against the unexpected weaponry in the form of the Dwemer ballista. Unable to maneuver and at the mercy of the mercenaries’ powerful advantage, what was supposed to be another routined skirmish and prisoner grab had turned into a fight for their lives and then a desperate resignation that the entire ship was scuttled; the waves would claim the vessel and everyone on it soon.

The daring prison break had paid off, and most of the prisoners who had not been killed in the initial blast, succumbed to the smoke and flames, or lost their footing and plummeted through the gaps on the capsizing ship were escorted to [I]Kyne’s Tear[/I] by the remaining mercenaries and sailors who realized that there wasn’t much time left to disembark. With the Kamal captain, Kghergitz, felled by Tsleeixth, Leif, and Sadri, the remaining Kamal were much less certain of their chances of fighting. Those bold enough to wear the heavy armour were largely losing their footing and beginning to slide down the deck in the more severely tilted areas. Of the Tamrielic individuals still present on the frigate, Do’Karth and Niernen decided to do one last sweep to make sure no one was left behind, or worse, trapped. In the chaos of the battle, it was easy to lose track of people. The Khajiit felt safe from harm with Niernen at his side; her magic was easily powerful enough to immolate even the most brutish of the Kamal. With his night eye, he could make out details in the dark below decks, and with what few minutes they had, it was becoming clear time had run out. Do’Karth did not exactly have sea legs, and his balance was severely skewed to the side in order to remain upright. Looking at his Dunmer companion, he shook his head. “We’ve done all we can. Let us get off of this damned ship.” he said, looking at the light streaming from the top access hatch. Through it lay salvation, safety, and a firm deck. The sea had tried to claim him far too many times; today would not be the day it did so.

The duo found their way topside into the impossibly bright daylight and began to head towards the [I]Tear.[/I] Niernen winced as her injured leg had to carry more of her weight than was comfortable while the ship lilted even further to the side. “By Azura,” the Dunmer whispered at the carnage that was visible on the top deck. Its metal surface was scorched, dented and torn in many places and blood (both Akaviri and Tamrielic) clung to… well, everything. The exhaustion of the past few days threatened to overtake her again and she grabbed hold of Do’Karth’s shoulder to steady herself. “Sorry,” Niernen muttered, aware of the extra weight she was putting on the Khajiit. “Yes, let’s get out here,” she added in agreement. The Khajiit helped brace Niernen, offering a supportive smile. “Fear not; this one won’t lose you again. We will make it.” he said, helping her move forward once more. The [i]Tear[/i] was visible over the edge of the railing. Fortunately for them, most of the boarding ladders were still attached to the ship. Clambering down to the [i]Tear[/i] wouldn’t be too difficult.

At the sound of someone calling her name, Niernen turned around and saw Valen stumbling towards them across the tilting deck, the arm of a wounded prisoner draped around his shoulders. It was an uphill battle and he looked to be struggling with the prisoner’s weight. “Hold on!” Niernen said and tentatively inched towards her fellow Dunmer, desperate not to loose her footing and slide down. Valen called out her name again, more urgently this time. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Niernen retorted, but her eyes were downcast on the deck beneath her feet and she did not immediately notice the reason for Valen’s urgency.

And then she felt like she was about to tip over. Panicking, Niernen threw her weight back and reached behind her to grab something -- anything -- to hold on to. Her grasping hands found Do’Karth again. He always seemed to be there. “Thanks,” Niernen gasped before looking down at Valen and the prisoner. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stopped at the sight -- a Kamal they had all believed to be dead had wrapped its hand around Valen’s ankle and trapped him there. Valen struggled to release himself and stabbed the Kamal with his spear using his free hand, but the Akaviri creature seemed unshakable in its desire to drag the Dunmer down with it. 

“Valen!” Niernen screamed. He looked up at her and Niernen could see fear in his eyes for the first time. For Do’Karth’s part, he guided Niernen’s hand to a beam for support and he scrambled down as carefully as he could move towards Valen, knowing that the only way to save the Dunmer was to break the Kamal’s grasp. The prisoner, a female Imperial, was kicking ineffectively at the Kamal, trying to make it lose its grasp. The Akaviri didn’t budge; Do’Karth could tell that its final effort in consciousness was to grab for Valen, either out of vengeance or a final attempt at saving itself. It died, and with it, rigor mortis caused its joints to lock in place, making it difficult to pry the thick fingers from Valen’s ankle. “Hang on! Do’Karth will reach you. Grab the-” the Khajiit called, interrupted by a sudden lurch of the ship. The deck tilted enough that the Kamal began to slide down the deck, with Valen helplessly in his grasp. The Dunmer looked around pleadingly with saucer-sized crimson eyes, fingers clawing at the deck for purchase, bloodying them as skin and nails alike tore in desperation. The prisoner also wasn’t able to stop herself, and with a scream, she slid down the deck, and towards the waves.

“No, nono- please! By Azura, help! Gods, [I]HELP![/I]” Valen screamed, his face petrified with terror. His eyes met with Do’Karth’s, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still, the features of the Dunmer’s face etched in the Khajiit’s mind before the Kamal’s body hit the gunwale hard, causing a sizable dent before momentum carried the Snow Demon’s corpse over, and with it, Valen. His screams filled the air before they hit the surface, and Valen’s voice was cut out forever.

Do’Karth stared unbelieving, for a moment forgetting that he himself was still in peril. His eyes locked on the Imperial woman, who by the way she clutched her leg must have had it broken in the slide. There was no way to safely make it to her, but they had to try, didn’t they? “We need to save her! If we don’t, Valen died for nothing!” Do’Karth cried, looking frantically for a way down as the ship lurched again.

Niernen felt like she’d been punched in her gut. It was difficult to breathe and, as tears filled her eyes, difficult to see. “Valen,” she stammered weakly. She hadn’t known him for very long, admittedly, but bonds are quickly forged in the crucibles of war and shared suffering, and she owed him her life. And now he was dead. Her useless body, permanently weakened by poisoned Argonian warblades in Black Marsh years ago, had abandoned her yet again. It took a few seconds for Do’Karth’s words to register but Niernen realized he was right. Valen died to save this woman. She had to finish his work.

An idea suddenly struck her. Why would she even use her [i]body[/i]? Niernen took a deep breath and steadied herself as much as she could against the lurching of the ship, one hand grasping the railing tight, the other extended in front of her. She was no more than an adept when it came to the school of Alteration. This would be one of the most difficult pieces of magic she’d ever attempted, but by Azura, it had to work. “Hold on to something, I’ve got this!” Niernen yelled at Do’Karth. 

With a grunt of effort and veins visibly pulsing in her temples, Niernen used Telekinesis to lift the Imperial woman in the air. The prisoner initially screamed in blind terror, afraid another Kamal had grabbed her, until she realised she was suspended in mid-air by an invisible force. “Come [i]on[/i],” Niernen hissed through clenched teeth, the fingers of her casting hand trembling, and pulled the woman up and towards Do’Karth. Without access to magicka potions her reserves still hadn’t fully recovered after the fireballs she’d used to slay the Kamal earlier, so time was against her. She estimated she only had a few more seconds before her hold on the prisoner would break and the woman would plummet down -- a fall she surely wouldn’t survive. “Reach!” Niernen blurted at both her Khajiit companion and the prisoner that slowly, but surely, floated towards him.

Do’Karth supported himself the best he could, anchoring his feet on whatever firm surface he could reach, and he reached out with his staff, trying to reach the woman who was just out of reach. “A bit further, you can do it!” He called encouragingly, looking towards the woman but thinking of Niernen; she had to be tiring out. To his surprise and relief, a hand managed to grasp the end of the quarterstaff right as Niernen’s telekinetic grasp dropped, and the woman hit the deck, still holding onto the staff. Do’Karth jolted, glad he braced himself before offering his weapon for the Imperial prisoner, otherwise he would have lost his balance and slid as well.

His eyes widened as he noticed the woman’s hand slipping down the smooth steel cap at the end of the staff. “No, no… hold on! Take this one’s hand!” He cried, pulling against screaming muscles to bring the staff closer to him, and in extension, the prisoner, whose hand trembled as she reached for his fingers. Only half a meter to go, and inching ever closer…

And in an instant, it was over. Her hand gave out and with a harrowing scream the woman plummeted, tumbling head over heels towards a watery grave, her head cracking against the gunwale, ending her misery before she hit the water. It was a small, awful mercy that left a deep pit in Do’Karth’s gut. He was speechless, his throat clenching as he fought off a sob. It was all so damned senseless, wasn’t it? “We… we tried.” he managed, looking back at Niernen. He could at least save her. “We did all we could.”  

Niernen averted her gaze with a strangled cry when the woman’s grasp slipped and she fell to her death. The elf grabbed the railing with both hands and slid down onto the deck. She wept openly, tears mingling with sweat and salty seawater on her cheeks. Do’Karth’s words, while true, did nothing to soothe the immense and crushing feeling of powerlessness and loss. It was, indeed, all so damned senseless. During the few precious moments of rest that Valen and Niernen had shared on this very frigate, less than a week ago, Niernen had learned a few things about the Dunmer -- not much, but enough to know that he hadn’t been living the best life before the Armigers took him. Their escape was the turning point. He’d saved Niernen’s life, joined up with the mercenaries, and courageously fought his tormentors with everything he had to give. This should have been his salvation. Instead, the rage of the waves had claimed him and Niernen couldn’t even save the woman Valen died to rescue. If only she’d had a few more seconds, if only she’d studied Alteration more back home, if only she’d been better… it was the running theme throughout her life. Always coming up short when it really mattered. 

“I shouldn’t even be here,” Niernen managed to squeeze out in between choking sobs. “I can’t do this, Do’Karth.” She looked down at the Khajiit, her copper eyes filled with pain.

“Niernen,” Do’Karth replied, carefully plotting his way back to her. She was hurting, they both were, but there wasn’t time to dwell. “No one should be here, but staying put will not help anyone. Just another push, we need to get to safety. Please do not give up on Do’Karth; he does not wish to lose you a second time.” He forced a smile to look brave, reassuring, anything. “Look at me. Things will be fine, the road to get there is hard, but it will work out in the end. Please, come with Do’Karth. Just a bit further,” he said, reaching Niernen and offering a hand for her to take.

Having calmed down a little, Niernen silently took Do’Karth’s hand and climbed to her feet. She nodded once to acknowledge his words but couldn't find the strength to muster a proper reply. She wasn't even sure if she believed him. Would things ever be fine again? Niernen thought of her old life; peaceful and quiet study with her Redoran family and mentors. Since going to war she'd been stabbed, poisoned, bludgeoned, captured, beaten and broken. Her so-called High King had betrayed her and now she couldn't even see her family. Maybe they were all dead too, just like Valen. All she had left now was the company… and Do'Karth. “Let's go,” she whispered and squeezed his hand.

The pair made it back to the [I]Kyne’s Tear[/I], climbing down the ladder and onto a relatively level deck, safety. A deck officer was checking a scroll, containing the names of everyone aboard, and he shook his head. “Those were the last ones. Twenty three dead.” he said somberly.

“And my goddamn ship.” Another voice growled. Sure enough, the allied vessel was well below the waves now. The figurehead at the bow was still vaguely visible but vanishing fast. With the ship went two of the ballistas and all of the provisions, along with a handful of lives who had died in the skirmish.

With the ladders retracted, the survivors stood in silence as they watched the frigate begin to slip beneath the waves on its side, on the odd chance that maybe, just maybe, another survivor beat the odds. As the last of the monstrous metal hull was swallowed by the sea, it became quite clear that if anyone was going to survive, they were already here. A brief non-denominal sermon was held for the fallen, wishing them peace and happiness wherever the afterlife took them, and that was the end of it. Hargjorn cursed to himself, sharing a look with Edith, before he bellowed to the helmsman, “Set course for Dawnstar!” with that, the Nord marched to the stern of the ship to attend to the numerous metaphorical fires that needed to be put out.

Do’Karth found an unoccupied section of the starboard gunwale and he slumped down, staring back where the battle had just taken place, where so many had died- but many more yet lived. When was there going to be a clear victory that didn’t cost so much blood and suffering?

“This one does not think he was made to be a mercenary.” he said to Niernen quietly, sighing. “No amount of coin is worth this.”

Not missing a chance to give her legs some rest, Niernen awkwardly sat herself down next to the Khajiit and let out a long sigh of relief and fatigue. “Mmmh,” she mumbled at first and closed her eyes. It had been a terribly long week. The idea of setting foot on the mainland at Dawnstar and finding a bath was such a pleasant daydream that she was loath to pull herself back to the misery of the moment, but she realised that Do’Karth needed someone to talk to right now -- and it was probably better for her not to suppress the emotions of the day either. 

Turning her head so she could see Do’Karth, Niernen said: “You’re pretty good at it, though. Your actions saved many lives today. It was your idea to rescue the prisoners. Losing Valen and the others like that is… terrible.” Niernen fell silent for a few seconds and swallowed hard. “But you were right. We did everything we could. Besides, you know as well as I do that you’re not in it for the septims. I’m sure that we will all look back on these times one day and be proud of our choice to fight back,” she added. 

After a few more seconds, she laughed mirthlessly, and the optimism of her consoling words faded away. “What else are we going to do?” the she-elf asked rhetorically, her tone suddenly flanged with bitterness. “Neither of us have anywhere else to go.” Niernen grit her teeth and clenched her fists. No matter how much she wanted to cheer Do’Karth up, she couldn’t deny her own pain and fear and anger. The tears came back (which only frustrated her more) and Niernen looked away. 

“I’m not crying,” she whispered.

Do’Karth reached over and placed a hand on Niernen’s arm. He smiled, although his eyes betrayed his own exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. “There are plenty of places to be, but there’s a certain responsibility that needs to be met. Leaving now wouldn’t make the war stop, it would just mean that the support we have here would not longer be there. This one does not care to find out how he fares against a run in with Kamal by his lonesome. He is glad to have you at his side.” He said, taking his hand back, interlacing his fingers on his lap and resting his head against the wood behind him. The Khajiit closed his eyes and just let the rocking of the ship soothe him. There were some things about sailing that were nice; Do’Karth would take what he could get.


“Do’Karth does not kill. It is not a mistake he wishes to repeat, but he wonders if that bit of ethics is going to cost someone else their lives. Not all who are shown mercy walk a more enlightened path.” he said after a few short moments, his eyes half opening and staring straight ahead. “So Do’Karth tries to make up for that potential and redeem himself by trying to help others, regardless of what it costs him. The gods kept him alive for a reason, but they refuse to say why. How does one remain virtuous when one sees so much wrong with the world?” 

He looked down, exhaling before looking directly towards Niernen. “This one wishes to profess that until he joined this company, he did not form personal attachments to people or places, and kept moving when things became difficult. Do’Karth is unsure of why he remains, but for the first time in many, many years, there are people he cares for that matter more than he does. Valen’s loss hurt, yes, but this one asks himself if he would have done things differently had it been Sevine, Jorwen, Solveig… you. Do’Karth does not have these answers, and that frightens him.”

Niernen kept her stare fixed on the horizon while Do’Karth talked. As he did, she felt her most recent outburst of emotions recede and a gentle calm came over her. It wasn’t even what he was saying -- just the sound of his voice and his strange, sing-song accent was enough to banish her worst thoughts. When he said that he was glad to have Niernen by his side, she looked at him fondly. While the salty wind tussled her tangled, dirty hair and a substantial layer of grime and dirt was caked on her face, the way the silver light danced in her eyes and her smile played around her lips brought out some of Niernen’s beauty regardless. 

She leaned her shoulder against the wooden gunwale and placed her hand on Do’Karth’s knee. Her heart started beating faster. “That’s love,” Niernen said softly. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”


The way Niernen said ‘love’ made Do’Karth blink; there was a familiar affection in the tone he recognized in Sevine’s voice. Was Niernen implying… no, couldn’t be. The Khajiit was somewhat perplexed; he’d gone from being an utter loner without looking for love and affection to suddenly having it drawn to him the moment he’d allowed himself to open up to the idea of friendship. And now, this worn, beaten, but still fighting Dunmer woman next to him was starting to sound like there was something more in her voice than the annuls of friendship. Her voice was higher when she spoke to him, more receptive, than when she spoke with others. 

What on Nirn was this? Mara liked her jokes, that much was becoming rather transparent. He looked down at the hand on his knee, and back at Niernen, his voice caught in the back of his throat. What could he possibly say?

“Oh, Do’Karth disagrees.” He said, chuckling nervously, clenching his fingers tighter together. “There’s loss, and confusion, and hurting people one cares for. Do’Karth does not wish to lose Sevine or see her hurt, for instance. She’s all he has. Jorwen is the best friend this one has ever had, and Do’Karth swore that he would keep Solveig safe, since Jorwen couldn’t be everywhere at once. Do’Karth lost you once, and it hurt, and now you’re back. He… is unsure of your intentions.” he admitted, fidging uncomfortably. 

Suddenly acutely aware of herself, Niernen pulled her hand back and averted her gaze. “My intentions?” she said, a little too fast, and cleared her throat. Her heart was thundering in her ears now and the way Do’Karth spoke of Sevine stabbed in her chest like a hundred little daggers. “I didn’t… you know, mean anything by it,” she continued. Mustering the courage to look up at Do’Karth’s eyes again, Niernen shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Just that you should let yourself feel these things. And that you should stay, definitely. No more running,” Niernen said and laughed timidly.

Well, this was about as awkward as someone walking in when you were using the privy. “Oh… Do’Karth isn’t going anywhere. He is far too tired for running.” he joked, dancing around the more serious implication of what Niernen was saying. “Understand that this one has had quite a few years of not truly understanding who he is or what he wants, so it’s a difficult road ahead. He trusts you will help keep him going the right way.” he smiled, hopefully letting the tense and uncomfortable moment pass. “For what it is worth, Do’Karth is sorry you cannot return home. He… understands what that is like.”

Niernen nodded slowly and faked a yawn -- though she was so tired that it almost immediately became a real one. She had to gather her thoughts and rest or she’d do something stupid again. “You’ll have to tell me that story another time,” the elf said and got to her feet. “I need to go find somewhere to sleep. See you in a week,” she quipped, managed a smile, and hobbled away towards the hatch that would take her below deck, giving Do’Karth no further opportunity to respond. [i]Idiot,[/i] Niernen chided herself. [i]What were you thinking?[/i]

[center][h3][B]Dawnstar, two days later…[/B][/h3][/center]

It was early afternoon when the town became visible to the sailor up in the crow’s nest, who bellowed down at the faces below of his finding. The weary crew and passengers might have well sighed a collective sigh of relief; even those with permanent sea legs that couldn’t stand being on solid ground for any length of time seemed to be eager to get off of the sea for a while. After what felt like weeks, even though reality came up much shorter, and several high-stakes confrontations against the enemy in a Dwemer ruin and against the prison frigate later, which had resulted in no small amount of damage to the [I]Kyne’s Tear[/I]. The loss of the escort vessel and two of the ballista was a heavy blow for anyone to take, and it was clear that everyone about the ship was well out of fight at this point. All wars involved revolving your front line forces to keep them fresh and the morale up; this latest assignment began to push that and a number of the crew were at the end of their ropes, especially those who had lost friends in the battles. On top of that, they couldn’t very well take a bunch of former prisoners into battle; basic decency dictated that they were returned to the mainland in good order. It was unlikely any of them would be eager to take to the sea again for quite some time after their stay on the Kamal frigate. 

Ashav and Edith agreed that while time was of the essence,  there needed to be at least a one day leave, if not two. However, Daelin’s company would be due to return within the week, perhaps even beating the [I]Tear[/I], and it would be paramount to find the results of the Bosmer’s mission. While it was easy to think of the war as being entirely in the East and to the North via the sea, the reports of Kamal activity moving further inland was disconcerting, to say the least. While the next assignment was going to go forward as scheduled, for intelligence would be needed before knowing who and what they needed to commit. 

And so the crew was dismissed and the company was assigned to light duties and forced rest while the commanders planned their next move. The Innkeeper, for his part, tapped yet another barrel of mead. From the looks of the faces coming off the ship, it was needed.