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[i]His robes are sweaty,
spells weak,
staff strokes are heavy.
There's vomit on his sweater already;
Alinori spaghetti.
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Keegan snapped back (from dream) to reality, and almost thought there goes gravity. Stepping out onto the deck, Keegan choked on rainwater. He's so mad, but he won't give up that easily...

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What was Keegan thinking? Why did he even think signing back on with this mercenary company was a good idea? It seemed bad fortune gravitated to these mercenaries wherever they went. How was it possible for someone to have an airship, let alone an army of messed up dreughs and an undead werewolf. It wasn't just any werewolf, it was the resurrected corpses of Relmyna Vibato, the poor Dunmer girl they locked up in Windhelm, for single-handedly pushing back a Kamal assault in beast form. It was horrifying to know that not even the dead have seen the end of this terrible conflict. What was this conflict anyway? Surely this couldn't be the Kamals; they have not been observed practicing necromany, and it would serve them better to unleash this monstrosity in mainland Skyrim. So now it's even more horrifying to think that there existed forces beyond the eastern invaders.

If dozens of Kamals stood no chance against werewolf Relmyna, then what chance do the mercs have? Sagax's bulky sister had no luck, the new Redguard had no luck, and the new Bosmer/Redguard pretender had no luck either. Keegan could run, but to where? He turned only to trip and fall face first into an utterly decimated corpse. It was the same man cut up by the werewolf's golden claws. The wounds were so gruesome that Keegan threw up in response, right on his own sweater. The vomit wasn't spaghetti, but his knees went weak and arms felt heavy beyond measure.

Then a dreugh jumped right in front him. Savage hiss emanated from its mouth parts like the disparaging lyrics from Papa Dock. Following up was a golden claw like the dropping of a voice amplifier. Keegan rolled left, avoiding the downward claw. The dreugh maneuvered to face him, and Keegan had time to get up on his knees. However, he dived back down again when arcs of lightning flew from the dreugh's claw. Now Keegan found himself on the flank of the dreugh again. The creature wasn't the fastest to turn, so Keegan took this opportunity to form a bound dagger and lunged at the dreugh.

Well, Keegan choked. His bound dagger fizzled upon contact with the dreugh and dissipated without doing damage. The dreugh turned to face him, with what was most likely anger on its face. Keegan fell again, backward onto his ass and scrambling out of the way of another claw strike.

"What's your beef!?" Keegan asked. To whom? He wasn't sure. It wasn't like the dreugh understood him. He barely had the time to pull his staff from the straps on his bag to swipe aside the next claw. Fine, if it wanted a fight, he'll give it one. Keegan's not afraid to take a stand. Even in this soaking rain; whatever weather, cold or warm. So he's back on his feet again. This time, Keegan discharged electricity from his staff, and the sparks did not miss.

Except that Keegan missed the part about dreughs being resistant to shock. His opponent reared back, seemingly in pain. But then it suddenly shot back with lightning of its own. Keegan threw up a lesser ward in defense, absorbing most of the energy but still felt his muscles numbing with excess electricity.

"Quit playing scissors and shit, and cut the crap." Keegan straightened himself from the shock, avoided dreugh pincers and counterattacked with his staff. He jabbed with his staff like a spear, but his attacks either skidded off the hardy shell or missed completely. The slippery deck sabotaged what little grace Keegan had in the way of footwork. Not matter how hard he tried, he could not beat this one stubborn dreugh.

"Why don't you just die!?" Keegan let out a frustrated yell behind another futile thrust. "Auriel! Stendarr! For fuck's sake! Talos! Please!"

Something answered in the air. A bird, no. An airship, well, of course it's still there. No, it was a flying man. No, wait, it was a falling man. Dying screams became louder as its source descended. 

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[right][h3][color=yellow][i]SPLAT![/i][/color][/h3][/right]
Keegan had gone prone again and covered his head with his arms. He even closed his eyes (in case it was some eye-destroying substance). When the impact landed and nothing else happened a few seconds later, he opened his eyes to find the dreugh he was fighting squished flat by a dead sailor.

"It's raining men!" Keegan exclaimed. It took him a second to comprehend the current situation, but Keegan eventually realized the sailor had been sent from above; he laughed. "Thank you, Auriel! Thank you, Stendarr!"

Divine intervention did exist! Keegan shook his head. He had one more to thank. "Thanks, Talos."

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Elsewhere, the dreughs were converging on Narzul and Niernen. Having been rescued by Leif, Dar'Jzo was no longer a target. Instead, the dreughs that were formerly eyeing him as their next meal changed their diet to Dunmer. A dozen dreughs besieged the Venim siblings, and this was definitely more than they could handle in their wounded state. 

Fortunately, Gustav had seen their peril from afar. He was wondering on how to put the ballista to use, and there it was, a tightly packed mass of targets, perfect for their incendiary bolt. He commanded the ballista crew to aim toward the dreughs, right over the heads of mercenaries caught in between. In was not ideal, and if Hargjorn was here, he would go berserk at the potential damage to his beloved ship. Hargjorn was taking the high road instead, and that meant Gustav was getting the one shot that he did want to miss the chance to blow.

Between the ballista and the Venims was the werewolf and the mercenaries that fought it. Having multiple targets meant the werewolf was distracted and could not focus on overwhelming any one of them. Most of its attack were directed at Ashna, but she managed to fend them off. Offensive efforts by Adaeze and Daixanos did not inflict further damage, though they steadily pushed the werewolf into defense. The fight was far from over, but the mercenaries could now dictate the pace and direction. 

Having observed the entire battle from a crack underneath a hatch, Dough-Boy now saw an opening for the ballista to take out both the dreughs and the werewolf in one shot. It would need the mercenaries to direct the werewolf toward the dreughs (and the Venim siblings), and the flame bolt would be enough to engulf both types of foes. Dough-Boy jumped up to communicate his unexpected tactical genius, and when he finished, he was knocked down by a debris shaken loose by an explosion on the airship. 

Gustav sighed. He ordered those fighting the werewolf to the opposite direction, which would minimize collateral damage. Of course, they could continue fighting the werewolf where they were, as the mercenaries have obtained a favorable position. Gustav also ordered someone to get the knocked out boy to safety; losing Dough-Boy means no one would be handling annoying errands. Finally, he warned the Venims; they could take cover in their current position, make a run through the mass of dreughs or jump overboard to avoid the incoming bolt.

Whatever the mercenaries do, a deadly shot of fire was coming.