The point of the sabre bit through the well-made mail and poked into the meat of his pectoral, but it was a light wound. Markus knocked the sword aside even as the drucchi pulled the sword out of the wound for a second strike. He took his cloak in his offhand and whirled it about his arm, his accursed sword clattering against dark elven iron in three passes. Markus pushed the drucchi back, ignoring the wound and fighting with a controlled savagery. The dark elf face was unreadable behind his helm, but a strangled cry rang out from him when Sketti shattered the drucchi's leg from behind with a metal rod. The elf went to his knees, and the dwarf placed the rod at the elf's neck and crushed his windpipe with his stout muscles. 

All around the cohesion of the dark elves had been shattered and they fought one against two or three of Markus' crew, one by one being cut down or leaping over the side of the ship, unwilling to die for a mere human vessel. The towering Halfdan himself picked up a dark elf and threw the screaming raider further than Markus thought possible. Markus didn't see where the dark elf landed in the gloom, but he heard the splash. 

"Captain!" Brod bellowed, the normally pot-bellied man looking positively lean compared to his normal self from the lack of food he had been provided the past fortnight. Markus rushed over to him, and the man pointed over the stern. Dark elves were scrambling, but one wearing an ornate devil-horned shoulder guard cape roared in their vile tongue, organizing the swordsmen who trickled in from the commotion. Even a few of the ones that had jumped ship had crawled back onto the docks and went to rally themselves by their commander. 

"We need to get this ship moving," Markus said, but even as he spoke the words, he saw the dark elf commander stumble. The captain looked to his left and saw Idrin lowering a crossbow, the string still quivering. Unfortunately the commander wasn't dead, however. He rose back up and waved his hand, shields rising from the staggered formation, quickly gaining cohesion to protect their lord. Markus cursed and ran back to the deck, crying out to raise anchor and get the sails down. He knew there was no wind, but if they could at least get out of the docks they would find the gale they needed. As men ran to their posts, he saw Eckard nearly stumble over Emmaline. Her bottom in the air and her eyes on the deck with his navigational equipment. 

"What are you doing, woman!?" Markus demanded as he hurried over to her.