"It would be better if I went alone." Amal said. "No offense, sir Brenly." 

The northerner snorted, not taking offense but still wishing he could be anywhere but waiting here. Amal wanted the Knight to stay with Emmaline to watch her back, truth be told. That and the thief knew he could remain quiet and quick far better than with the old man. Emmaline shook her head, though. "No, I-" she began as the door next to her opened. The group froze as a Dark Elf holding a bottle of what had to be a type of Liquor stumbled out. 

His eyes were glazed and clearly he was at least somewhat inebriated, but he blinked in recognition of the three non-Druchii before him. After all four of them were still as statues for a second, the Elf tried to scream and fumbled for his sword. The noise and movement were drowned out as Sir Brenly ran him through the neck with the sword. A gurgle escaped the dying elf's lips as blood bubbled from the wound and his mouth and he fell heavily onto the deck. 

Behind the Elf, there was a small storage room of booty and treasure. On the floor of the room was the magic carpet, tied up by three ropes to get it from unraveling and flying. Leaning against the wall was Emmaline's snake-headed staff. Amal and Emmaline looked at one another, and almost laughed. Sir Brenly seemed not to notice, wiping the blood off his new blade. "I never thought I'd be killing elves in my retirement." He said. 

"I'll grab our things. You both go...now!" The sorceress told them. 

The two did as she bid, stepping up the stairs carefully and opening the hatch just enough to peek through once more. Amal could see rain and lightning washing over the deck, though he feared the storm might lessen somewhat soon. The waves were churning powerfully still, however, and the ship bucked and bounced as it tried to slid between the waves. In the distance he could see another shape past the lightning. At first he feared another sea dragon, but it was the other sloop at the fore. He didn't know if that was preferable or not. 

Amal asked Brenly if he was ready, and with his nod they both ascended the stairway and found all wet and dark and cold by the chilled wind around them. Only a dozen feet away was the navigator or captain. Amal didn't know how Dark Elven ships worked with who controlled the ship's steering. His back was turned, corded but lithe muscles trying to keep the ship upright as the black water surged around them. 

Quickly and quietly, Amal led sir Brenly to the mast just past the Elf's vision and began to climb to the fighting top. 
[@Penny]