The Doomsayers spoke of the End of Days approaching the world, and though they had been saying it for generations, the news that traveled showed the claims had merit. The winds of chaos flowed ever more strongly these days, and there had been increasing attacks on shipping lanes and the shores of the Old World by the 'Elves'. In their haughtiness, the Elves of Ulthuan never made it public knowledge to the Men and Dwarfs of the Old World there had even [i]been[/i] a Sundering. But some sailors who had to deal with Elves had heard tale of their dark kin, who were behind the treachery of Elven slave raids. 

Of course Amal had only heard stories, and he wasn't privvy to world events. All he knew was there was a grimness to the air, as if death and corruption radiated off the ships that looked to be closing fast. As the men scrambled, Amal took off his hat, sliding it inside his belt. He placed his foot on the deck railing and kicked up to grab one of the ropes, climbing like a monkey up higher to get a better view (and to keep an eye on Emmaline).

"Haul on the main brace, lads!" The Captain cried, clapping hard as the Quartermaster literally kicked the ass of a slow sailor to get him moving. Bottles spilled as crossbows, axes, and firearms were handed out to any that didn't have immediate duties. A few mercenaries were standing on the forecastle, holding boarding pikes. "Ready with those guns and throw anything overboard we can't eat, drink, or make a profit off of! Go!" 

"Sir, should we turn back!?" The Bosun cried, wringing a line of rope around the aft mast. The entire crew stopped at once and turned to look at the Captain, who seemed to be on the verge of considering that or jumping overboard. There was a beat, and then he growled. "The wind'd be against us ye slack jawed idiots, now move afore they catch us on the cross stream!" 

Amal felt his belt as the ship began to luff with the wind and churn in the sea. He felt a bit better he had his pistol there, powdered and ready. He'd never shot a firearm before, but he'd been shown back in port reaver how to load one, and he'd seen them being fired before in Al-Hiekk. As long as he kept his hand steady, he'd do fine. 

The clouds overhead passed them by and the sun began to shine again, dispelling some of the doom that the people onboard felt at their predicament. Amal had always loved the sun, even in a land of perpetual heat. He looked down and spotted Emmaline's golden hair among the men, and his eyes turned across the boat over into the water. His gaze passed over a large school of fish below sweeping below the ship, and then his eye caught the end of the long school to see a massive serpentine tail. 

Amal's eyes widened and his heart lurched when he realized that wasn't a school of fish at all. The shape was dark and as large as a whale, moving with a cruel will that was now out of sight. Amal wondered for a moment if it was the sea serpent that had aided he and Emmaline those days ago to the shore, but his heart told him otherwise. He grabbed ahold of the rope harder and called down to the Captain below. 

"Under the ship!" He cried, his voice lost over the wind. He saw Warhem and Emmaline look up at him inquisitively. "Under the ship! A beast!" 

He hadn't even finished his last word before the ship lurched and grounded along something, as if they had bumped into a sandbar. The Arabyan was portside, and he turned to see if he could find whatever had been under them before an explosion of flesh and churning sea water erupted out of the water on the starboard side. The thing rose so high out of the water it matched Amal's level, and he guessed he was six meters above the deck. 

"[i]Hoog[/i]!"

A Sea Dragon of Naggaroth, limbless save fins and as thick as four masts together. It was as terrible to look upon as a Carnosaur of Lustria. The dull, sea colored scales shined brightly, nearly blinding Amal in the sun for a moment. Atop the beasts head was a figure, lithe and graceful. It was an Elf, with dark hair and a deathly ill pallor to the color of its skin. His features were chiseled and striking, and Amal saw an intense hatred in his eyes as he called out in a foreign tongue to the beast. 
 
"[i]Hoog[/i]!" The dragon growled gutturally, and slammed its head onto the deck, cracking timber and swallowing two of the crew members whole. Men wailed and pointed, aiming their crossbows and arquebuses at the sea monster. Those that didn't miss out of panic seemed like bee stings to the beast, only truly enraging it. Like lightning it struck again, its maw taking a screaming man and biting him in half, crushing two others that had been standing beside him. 

Compared to the monster, Amal's pistol seemed flimsy. So he did the next best thing. 

He aimed and shot the Elf. 
[@Penny]