The roar was at least two dozen feet away, and yet the powerful breath of the giant monster suddenly hit the thief with the force of a blow. He accidentally let go of the rope and plummeted, falling ten feet before hitting a rope below him and rolling to catch it. The burn of the catch seared into his hands, but he held firm and watched with satisfaction as the Sea Dragon sank beneath the waves to quench itself from what had to be a trick from Emmaline. That woman never ceased to amaze him. 

Grunting, he swung his body backwards and then forwards, hooking his legs around the rope he dangled on to ease the pressure on his cut hands. He grabbed his saber hilt, unsheathing the blade and swiping it. The rope he held onto was cut in twain, sending him in a swing to land safely onto the deck with what remained of the ship and the crew. Water mingled with blood on the ruined wood at his feet, and every few meters there was a crack on the deck from the Dragon's strikes. 

He saw the Captain face down on the deck, weakly placing his hands under him to get off his chest. Amal knelt down and helped him up as best he could. "That thing ate the Bosun," The Captain grimaced, making it to his feet roughly. "Damn, I'd call us to the lifeboats but Sigmar knows they'd spot and catch them too if the beast didn't come to devour them whole." It seemed a hopeless situation, and by Allah it likely was. The masts above were tattered remnants of what they once were and the ship seemed all too vulnerable now. 

"Perhaps if we get the engine going again-" Amal began before a scything wind passed by him. He knew immediately it was no natural wind, and looked up to see the mast that had been wrecked was now completely cut in half. A small boom echoed in the distance, and both he and the Captain turned to see more of what had passed overhead. The dark ships, now far closer, began to unleash a barrage of kunai-like blades that spun in the air faster than the eye could see. One man was sliced in half like a sword cutting through a weed stalk, and the projectile continued until it cleanly cut through part of the deck and a bit of the railing behind the bisected man. 

The first lateen sloop suddenly began to spin, having dropped the starboard anchor. The Destrier was still moving, but only out of momentum. Soon it would be merely adrift, and it seemed as if the Dark Elves were now showing off at the near stranded ship. "They're club hauling!" The Captain cried, looking around for the quartermaster, who Amal had the unfortunate experience to have seen eaten alive. 

Knowing they had little time, he gave the order himself. Drawing his cutlass, he raised it in the air. "Fire cannons!" He cried. Silence on deck followed. Amal and the topside crew were disturbed at the Druchii's long, screaming faces as they came face to face along the starboard side of the ship. Somehow they were both beautiful and sinfully terrible to look upon with their too-long fingers and oddly high cheek bones, as if they were parodies of what the race of men might find sexually appealing. Amal knew he hadn't the time to reload his pistol and instead backed away to go and find Emmaline just as the Elves began to swing grappling hooks to board. 

Horribly loud echoes tore through the air and billowing smoke shot out as what remained of the cannons were finally unleashed. Two Dark Elves exploded in a mass of gore just as their ship suddenly was pierced in four different places. It hadn't destroyed or even crippled the sloop, but what men were left alive in the Destrier cried out as their morale was boosted and they drew swords and ranged weapons, crying for the Elves to have a taste. Most of them didn't realize that the other sloop was quietly running around behind them. 
[@Penny]