The heavy waves the dark storm crash ever-persistent against the side of the great galleon while the opposing ship draws closer and closer. The winds whip as though at the hands of some unseen master, slashing against both vessels and the storming sea. Canon fire continues to rip across the waves as each ship maintains its turns to mow the other down. That there shall reside a victor remains ever a dwindling possibility. As the others attend to the tasks set upon them by the dark leathered man, the crew of the vessel prepares themselves for the coming combat. They ready themselves with the weapons they are provided. The extra canons salvaged in such a dire storm as this are manned and ready. The opposing vessel continues to fire at will.

The wizard, Card, sought to complete the task set to him as he dives below deck while the others complete their own tasks. Holes riddled with splinters and charred edges pour water through the hull with every slosh in the sea. Some crew below deck use buckets attempting to toss the water out as quickly as possible, but on almost every deck the water level meets their knees. Card applies his methods of the arcane on the smallest of the wounds in the hull first. Using his simple cantrips to mend the wood and slow the wafting waters. With the crew attending to the larger holes, this appears the most effective tactic for the time being.

"[color=fff79a]We are nearly there, lads! Hold the canons![/color]" The Captain cries out. Now is the time for a final tactic. Up close and personal, the Captain would set the opposing ship to a blaze with as much canon fire as possible with no lack for aim. The crew readies themselves, holding steady as the enemy ship draws nearer. Each wave seems to spend the pause in eternity, but the great sails and the dark wood of the opposition draw ever nearer.

"[color=fff79a]Steady yourselves![/color]" The Captain cries out once more. The man in dark leathers looks to those he had commanded to lend aid, seeking to know their final location before the storm of battle is unleashed fully. There the red-headed girl sits with optimal striking for one of her caliber. The Tiefling man is set with the crew, ready to rend flesh with metal. The wizard, now finished with what mending he could accomplish with his spells, finds his way back to the surface ready to engage with the others.

"[color=fff79a]Hold![/color]" The Captain cries out as the enemy vessel nears more and more. They turn, moving to come alongside in preparation to exchange crews for combat. "[color=fff79a]HOLD![/color]" He carries out again, with one hand tight upon the wheel and the other firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. The ship crosses the threshold of the bow with a slosh in a large wave. As it comes crashing down, storming the galleon with a handful of canon fire blowing out parts of the deck and sending some crew to their immediate end, it slams down into the water to land just alongside with the galleon.

Moments pass in this single introduction. Mere moments one could attest to an endless sense of fear. The wind whipping and the water of the sea and rain slapping against the skin of every man and woman aboard. Such a moment at the peak where battle comes to join are few and savored by fewer, save for this crew of the black ship. Lightning streaks across the sky offering light upon both ships. In such a moment, the opposing force is revealed with dreaded garb and blades raised high. Through the tattered garb and the shredded cloth rest only bone and sinew with eyes hollow and void. White teeth part exposing gullets of darkness accompanied by the shrilled cries of the damned. Who could be more possessed to slaughter ships in a tomentous storm such as this than those who have no need to fear death?

"[color=fff79a]Fire!!![/color]" The Captain cries out as loud as a warcry one could hope to must in such terror as this. Hesitation means death and damnation, and the Captain shall have neither. The crew, stricken and shaken, are brought from their moments of terror back into a state where survival is all that matters. They ignite and fire off every canon they have to muster, sending a rain of metal and fire into the enemy vessel. Explosions cry out from the enemy with members of the damned crew flying through the air. Within moments of the ignition of the canon, the sounds of clashing metal clamber through the air as some of the wretches had already begun to swing across to the galleon.

"[color=7ea7d8]Send these wretches to the abyss![/color]" The man in dark leathers cries out, lunging himself forward toward a deranged creature as it swings straight toward him upon a rope. He slashes the strand overhead of the creature, dodging its own blade swing, sending it crashing to the deck.