[center][b]Night, Sun's Height 29
Bleakrock Isle[/b][/center]
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For about ninety-eight percent of the time leading up to the Armiger fight on Bleakrock, Ariane Fontaine was distracted. To everyone who didn't know her (which was basically everyone), she was daydreaming between pages of convoluted content. To everyone who did know her (basically only herself), she was extrapolating upon probable theories, which, for all intents and purposes, was daydreaming. Inside the simple minds of sailors and mercenaries, there was none but the concurrent fluttering of sails and the upcoming clash of steel. But Ariane saw herself above such mundane masses. Why bother with the muscle work when she could achieve the same result with the snap of a finger and a surge of magicka? Therefore, Ariane contributed little on-board the [i]Steelhead[/i]. Instead, she studied obscure records of Akaviri weather magic that could supposedly call up tsunamis at will. Uriel Septim V's expedition eastwards was plagued with unnaturally adverse weather conditions. One of Uriel's mages was lucky enough to bring his theories and observations back to the College of Winterhold in the third era, but unluckily, these notes were soon forgotten and it took a lightning storm to shake them out of their dusty shelves. 

Three days after they left port, Ariane was bored and ran into a dead end on her research. She switched to reading tall tales of the northern coasts. One of the more fascinating tales was a northern sailors' legend of the "golden slug". Another was, wait, her communication crystal was glowing.

She blew on the crystal to cool it down, set it on a barrel near the porthole and went back to reading about the golden slug. However, her crystal started to vibrate and smoke began emanating from its heated surface. That was when Ariane remembered that it should have only done so when the other one, in Dumhuvud's possession, called in an emergency. Which meant...

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Dumhuvud was amazed at how little went wrong. The Dunmer dickheads somehow survived a bridge collapse and the rest survived combat with the Armiger patrol. Sure, a couple of them useless twats got themselves hurt, but the brains that none of them used remained intact and unused. The Armigers, the few of them that had the common sense of running away, ran before Dumhuvud could exact vengeance for pummeling him in the head. Of course, Dumhuvud is very much someone who held grudges (and knowing something like not letting the fleeing Armigers warn their garrison), so he naturally ordered an immediate pursuit.

The chase that ensued turned out to be several hours in length. Initially, Dumhuvud thought the enemy was simply trying to lose him in the woods, but as the chase came to an end at the sight of the sea, it suddenly dawned to him that the Armigers were alerting other outposts along their way. This was apparent with the Bleakrock Village ruins abuzz with Armiger activities (something very unusual in the current predawn time). There had to be over a hundred bonemold clad warriors angrily pointing sharp and hard objects at Dumhuvud and his dozen or less mercs. Realizing that he was hopelessly outnumbered, the Cat-Kicker turned around, only to find another hundred from other parts of the island (that the mercenaries were suppose to sneak through), equally angry and ready to kill. There was a third way, except that it was watery, cold and salty.

Before flattening the mercs from two sides, the Armiger leader emerged from his horde. His armor was a mixture of white and black, black on the top and bottom, with a wide band of white in between; some kind of white fluid dripped off him.

"I am Captain Orio Dihp, and you are trespassers sentenced to be wonderfilled with death. Bring forth your champion and let us duel for honor in the name of the high king, the Nerevarine, the Godkiller, blessed be his name, the gracious, the merciful..." Orio Dihp then went on reciting the honorifics and epithets of his god-emperor as a particularly intimating warrior stepped up with an intricate sword twirl.

"For fuck's sake, let's just rush them." Dumhuvud grumbled.

"Kicks-Cats, no!" Eirik stopped him. Before meeting the Armiger in single combat, she whispered. "Call for help with the crystal while I distract him."

And so Eirik the paladin would fight, win, die to a second opponent, and be replaced by another mercenary. The duels continued back and forth, with several mercenaries learning from Eirik's demise and tagging someone else in before being slain. Narzul fought particularly fiercely, defeating two opponents and had to be dragged back by Sadri for his own safety. All the while, Orio droned on, and Dumhuvud vigorously rubbed the communication crystal (as Ariane had taught him), for a whole palm-scraping hour.

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"The bae of salt, the spinner of fidgets and the Cov'fe'f'e." Orio breathed a sigh of relief and took a long sip from his water container. He folded the booklet of Names that he produced twenty minutes ago and replaced it with his weapons. "Why in Oblivion are they still alive? Whatever, now that's finally done, it's time for you all to die!"

At the same time, Dumhuvud had stopped rubbing the crystal. It was obnoxiously hot and his palm more calloused than ever, but nothing happened. 

"This is a fucking waste of my time!" The Cat-Kicker threw the crystal away and took out his axe and shield instead. The sound of a ship's horn immediately interrupted him. Cruising into the harbor was the [i]Steelhead[/i], firing its twin ballista. Explosive dwarven bolts tore through a docked Armiger ship and split it cleanly in half. Panic and confusion took hold of the Armigers as Captain Orio changed priorities from killing mercenaries to firefighting and coastal defense.

"Plan B; cut your way to the ship and destroy everything in between." Dumhuvud [url=https://i.imgur.com/3k535iD.jpg]grinned[/url] like a madman. He took down a torch bearing Armiger and proceeded to throw the torch into a nearby tent. That stupid crystal worked and now he gets to smash stuff; everything's going to go so swell.

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It had all gone to shit for Sadri.

This was the primary thought that kept Sadri's mind preoccupied from the chaos on the deck - which, aside from being set on fire and getting shattered to hell and back thanks to Armiger magic and arrows trying to cut down on their hastily made escape, was also littered with his battered comrades, laying on deck, too exhausted and afraid of getting caught unaware to go down deck and sleep. He himself was lucky to be alive, having gotten smashed in the face by a block of the ship's rigging that came loose in the Armiger bombardment, and almost fallen overboard with the impact. He had woken up with a jagged pain in his nose and lips, a crimson taste in his mouth, and a warmth in his breeches thanks to his bladder coming loose in an unconscious bout.

It was not as if it had gone any good for anyone else. Most of the landing party made it, but the head count didn't feel right and someone might have been left behind. Everyone was injured to some degree, though they did manage to destroy quite a bit of Armiger properties en route.

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A sense of pride and accomplishment swelled in Ariane after convincing the captain to mount a successful rescue of the mercenaries. It, however, was short-lived. Amid the destruction of three Dunmer ships was the counter-barrage, and amid the counter-barrage was a dreamsleeve message. For the first time since signing on with the company, she felt afraid, helpless, as her life rested in the hands of the sailors. However, Ariane barely had any time to dwell on her feelings, or even see the mercenaries make it on-board, before attending to the transmission. 

"What's next?" Dumhuvud stumbled into her quarters, one bloody hand grasping the bulkhead and another covering a wide gash on his thigh.

"Solitude." Ariane read out the message, not exactly clear about it herself. Apparently civil war erupted in Dawnstar and Jarl Skald is dead.

"That's not where the captain's going." Grunted Dumhuvud.

"Then make him go there."