Eleven

Six Fathoms Deep ((Ask for invite))

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Loc let out a low growl from where he was lying beside Reroma; he could sense something off about this fog as well. The beast sniffed the air around him and bared his teeth. Something was definitely wrong, and Reroma could both feel it and see it in her cat's expressions. She lightly drummed her fingers on the railing before pushing back from it and heading inside the ship. There she would grab her bow, quiver, and axe before going down to the cannons to see if she could help down there.

Loc, meanwhile, ran to the front of the ship with the others, growling and scanning the sea as he tried his best to see past the fog.

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Amalil nodded, not looking at the dwarf. "Yes, big barbaric looking things. They seemed almost like... Spirits." He focused on the fog again as he continued speaking. "There is also a large amount of wreckage below the fog. Sailing through it might be difficult." His amber eyes continue to scan the fog carefully, catching glimpses of movement.

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Longdang did not mean to ignore the pair that stood beside him, but he was more focused on the words being whispered by his recently silent Elementals. Long slowly opens his eyes as a grim look beings to crawl across his face. Glancing at Amalil and Cara he replies "There are massive men moving beneath the waves. They seem to be scavenging and are no threat to us, however the graveyard of ships they work among is. Ice and half-sunken ships protrude from the seas surface .... This will be a dangerous journey from here." Long suddenly shivers even through all his ..... fur. This slightly startled Long as the cold has rarely effected him before. Longdang came to a realization "I don't believe anything about this storm is natural ... The cold, the fog, even the rain has a scent of death to it. Something tells me this is Altherion's work." As Long glanced back at the water and watched the Sea Men go about their work, he tried to mentally prepare himself for the battle he knew too well was coming soon.

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"Agreed, none of this feels right." Amalil said, frowning. The more he focused on the fog and cold, the more he began to notice the cold feel of death. No, this wasnt right at all. "Nothing about this feels natural. I dont know much about this Altherion. But if this is indeed his work, we have quite the battle ahead of us." He turned to the dwarf and shaman next to him. "Someone should inform the Admiral." And as he looks over the deck of the ship, he adds "And where did Cyllos run off to?".

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The death knight was already heading inside when she called back, "I'll do it!" Her voice actually had the tone of excitement. Thinking she was out of earshot when she entered the mess hall, she added, "finally."

Cara stepped up to Tuuroto's door. Her plated boot kicked it loudly without restraint. "Today's the day, Tuuro," she called.

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Longdang turns from the railing to listen to Cyllos' orders, then turned back to the Sea. Long closed his eye and extended his arms palms down. Slowly opening his eyes which glowed a sea-foam blue, his hands began to pour powerful water magics. Water beside the ship began to rise towards Longs hands, then formed to a Large Water Elemental. Long suddenly sensed something very wrong with the Elemental. Instead of being clear like the water around them, it was a dark green. A whisper came to Long "These waters are tainted Shaman. You and yours are headed towards floating death. Turn back or Arm yourselves." Suddenly the Elemental became unstable for the taint in the water and splashed back into the Sea, as Long's magic faded. Longdang turned from the railing to face Cyllos, and simply repeated the Tainted Elemental's warning "The waters are tainted and we head towards .... floating death.". Long pulls down his wolf helmet, grabs his shield from his back and mace from his hip "We will not die here!"

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A sound of screaming burned through the mist, and for a moment, it seemed something was charging forth to meet the living. There came another noise of whistling wind and splashing behind the Redblade vessel, followed by a blinding explosion of sickly green light. In the artificial illumination, they might catch a glimpse of three tall masts silhouetted against the dark, until the glow faded, leaving only the stench of death. Droplets of boiling ooze met the back of their ship’s hull, the plague barrels detonation having left the wooden pieces charred a darker color. Any of the more unlucky sailors or Surwich natives would find their skin melting off in thick, gooey swaths. Longdang’s shamanistic senses would be overwhelmed as the amount of tainted elementals rose exponentially, the water around the Redblades burning with plague. The fog began to reek of poisonous chemicals, but it wouldn’t have time to settle, as the Nigel’s Fury jolted forward as if possessed.

The cursed elementals that bubbled beneath the ship launched it forward, the tides shifting and drawing the Redblades deeper into the strangling fog. Any attempt to halt their frenzied advance would be met with failure, the former guardians of water cursed with sanity wounded beyond recognition. The passage through the ruins they had come from was now blocked with both debris and the still burning slime, and any attempt to sail through it would surely see them sunk. The elementals dispersed, leaving them adrift for the briefest of moments, before the silence was shattered. Another loud booming noise roared from within the mists, seeming to come from directly ahead of them. This one was met by the loud clanking of chains, and those familiar with Vrykul whaling tactics might recognize the sounds.

A saronite harpoon, clearly for hunting the Kraken of the Northern Straits, pierced through the starboard hull. The impact was massive, boasting enough force to throw the living to their knees, though damage to the hull itself wasn't major. The chains rotated backwards, in large, twisting motions, and once again the Redblades would be dragged against their will. There was a clearing in the wreckage, surrounded by three tall spires of ice and the accompanying wrecks that formed the barriers of the clearing. The arena was beneath the cliffs of Death speaker’s Watch, a fitting title. The lack of half sunken ships was clearly intentional, giving them enough room to sail if they weren't being dragged.

Should they gaze below them, they would see not only numerous maddened elementals, but far more ruin than they had witnessed prior. Vast treasures littered the ocean floor, from piles of golden coins to odd relics, though it all seemed lazily discarded. The rapid unfurling of events continued, and another barrel of plague slime exploded behind them, closing them into the trap. The harpoon’s chains detached from it, leaving the ugly spines jutting from their hull. The Redblades had freedom over their own ship once more, though it didn’t seem they had anywhere to run within the artificial cove.

Another moment to catch their breath was stopped when it became apparent they weren't alone in the lair. A large amount of frozen orbs pierced the darkness, seeming to float towards the Redblades. The sounds of water churning and scraping grew louder and louder, and with a frozen gust of wind, the ship belonging to their "prey" became visible. The heavy fog parted, allowing proper vision for the first time in hours. They would first be greeted with an overwhelming stench of death and a deep feeling of dread, as the tri-masted brig before them was revealed. Compared to the Redblade's vessel, the undead held ship was far more bulky, despite its initial size. Loaded to the gills with cannons, harpoons and spines of metal for ramming, the ship moved at a far slower pace. Saronite and cobalt plating lined the edges of the ship, serving as additional armor. The entire brig was painted a deep black, set to match the darkness of the region. In contrast, the sails were normal, a solid white color with nary a scratch.

Sixteen broadside cannons lined both port and starboard, in addition to two catapult shaped devices on the front bow. Several harpoon guns, massive and large enough to take down any whale, stood atop the upper decks. Plague barrels, ready to be flung or poured down upon the enemy, seemed as numerous as the undead. None of that would matter anymore, however, as Altherion had drawn them into a mutually assured destruction. If either side should begin to assault the other with their cannons, especially at this distance, it would likely see them both sunk.

The undead resumed their business on deck, as if the arrival of more living was a trivial matter. Guns were loaded, bows drawn, and swords unsheathed. Some of the corpses that had been impaled on various parts of the ship were let down, their decaying forms limping to the edges of the railing to watch the new arrivals. The enemy was a varied bunch, with the apparently living Kvaldir, to Cultists and Dark Shaman. The undead themselves were comprised of the freshly damned, risen from unlucky sailors. Other minions had been scrounged from the depths of the sea, their flesh seeming to slide off more and more with every movement. All in all, the undead host was nearly matched with the Redblades in numbers, though their uniform movements would seem unnerving.

Decaying bodies continued to wriggle beneath the masts, despite their trapped state. The Redblades vision would be welcomed with numerous hanging victims, as well as several impaled upon great meat hooks. Each bore an admiral or a captain's hat, their trappings of seniority nailed to their bodies with bolts of steel. There were ten hooks in service, with a single unoccupied hook remaining near the topsail. This one was painted the same crimson of the Redblade standard, as if waiting for Tuuroto to become a part of it.

Altherion stood atop the deck of his ebony ship, regarding his new visitors calmly. He was clad in his typical Scouregelord armor, darkened saronite that served to mimic the Lich King. He didn’t bother speaking to those he perceived, instead, his unliving eyes examined the Redblades he could make out. His intent was confusing, as he had been eager to drag them here, but paused when he had the ability to strike them down. The Death Knight seemed to be waiting for confirmation that his true prize was somewhere aboard the enemy brig, peering out for a certain Cornish Rex or Tarot reader.

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Atop the Crow’s Nest of the Undead ship, a lanky figure watched the others through a thick scope. Vennathros form was dominated by the machinery that covered the lower half of his face, breathing apparatus and tubes extending down about his body. His hands bore a powerful rifle, and his armor was fitted with various weapons should the enemy rise to his location.

A large pet spider skittered beside him, leaning off the railing of his perch. The Undead marksman began to search for targets, initially taking aim at a certain Pandaren, but holding his fire until commanded.

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After hearing the crack caused by the harpoon, Reroma sprinted back upstairs to see what was going on. On her way, the rocking of the boat caused by the elementals and their forced movement knocked her to the wall a couple of times. She groaned from the impact, but quickly shook it off and made her way outside just in time to see the fog clear.

The sight of the ship both astounded and frightened the blood elf. She felt her jaw drop as she took it all in, from the saronite plating to the horrific meat hooks the dead sailors were hanging from.

But when her eyes met Altherion's, she could swear she felt her heart stop. Although it was technically the same death knight she knew and loved, the huntress couldn't feel that joy that should come after seeing someone for the first time in months. It was him but at the same time it wasn't, and with that in mind Reroma strightened herself and reached her hand out as if to halt the Redblades' attacks. She turned her head to them. "Do not, I repeat, do not open fire until told to do so!" she shouted to the crew. "Remember, I'm here to prevent bloodshed!" Even so, she took a worrying glance back to Altherion's ship, "If at all possible..." she murmured to herself.

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"Let us hope you CAN prevent it, Sin'dorei." Say's Amalil as he straightens himself out. During the ships unwilling ride to this location, Amalil had slipped and fallen, holding onto the railing tightly until they had come to a stop. Now as he stood, he could finally see what they had spent all this time trying to find. He could feel the death and darkness radiating off the ship, the immensity of it almost overwhelmed him. His eyes scanned up towards the hanging bodies, "I pray we fare better.." He thinks to himself.

As he starts to turn his attention back towards the deck of the enemy ship, something catches his eye. As he looks further up the mast he see's the large pet spider, and what looks to be the barrel of a gun. Then he finally noticed the Death Knight standing among the crew of undead and even from this distance, he reeked of evil. He studied the mans armor as best he could from afar. He looked almost like how he had imagined the infamous Lich King to appear, at least from the descriptions he had heard after the war anyways, and there was something about his stance... Almost as if he was in no hurry to fight. Like he was waiting for something.

Amalil turned and moved towards aft deck swiftly. As he reached his destination he quickly knelt down and unstrapped a long item within a rugged bag. He untied the bag and removed his long spear, the handle of it covered with many different symbols and the razor sharp head engraved on ether side with a crescent moon. As he moved back towards the two standing at the front of the ship, he did his best to block any fear and stray thoughts from his mind. This was one of the reasons why he left his home, to do what he can to fight that which upset the balance and threatened others not just in the forests of Ashenvale or Darkshore, but in all of Azeroth. As he quickly returned to the others, spear in hand, he stood tall.

"If I am to die here today." He thinks to himself, once again looking over the dark enemy ship. "Then by Elune, I'm taking as many of those abominations out with me."

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Longdang clawed the railing as the ship was pulled forward by the Cursed Elementals, just barely keeping his footing. Then the ship jolted forward again as The Harpoon pulled the Redblades into the make-shift cove. Long stood up straight and scanned the area quickly locating the massive, undead-infested, armored ship on the other side of the cove. The grisly scene around him of rotting and walking corpses as well as cursed and tainted Elementals angered Long. He begins growling deep from his belly when he hears Remora shout. Long takes a deep breathe to calm he anger and thinks to himself "I will find whomever corrupted these Elementals .... and they will die!"

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Zolkor exits the Dreadship cabin looking around at his surroundings. The now undead Draenei looks upon life in a whole new point of view. The cold doesn't bother him anymore, the weight of the world isn't on his shoulders , and hunger doesn't annoy him. Actually thats not true, he has found a new form of hunger, he hungers to bathe his Mace in the blood of anyone who stand in his way.

He walks up the steps to where his new Master Altherion stands , his father in death and his teacher. His powerful presence stuck fear and respect for the man, he knew if he stood by him his own power will only grow. He kneels down besides him with his head facing down, "I am yours to command my master."

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Cyllos knocks on Tuurotos door again, "Admiral, there is something going on upside!" He knocks again, the admiral didn't respond. Cyllos sighs and walks upstairs in defeat, the admiral will come out when he is ready.

As he walks outside to assess the damage and to see what all the fuss was about, his attention turned to the Dreadship and the many undead controlling it. He immidietly brings a palm to his face and drags it down. He just had to give him the ship, just had to get his information. He was thankful to see none of the members were injured , but notice that all of them were gazing upon his old friend.

"So hes here..." He sighs and pulls out his sword to get ready for battle, but then he heard one of the death knights talk. 'That voice.' he thought. It couldn't be him could it? He takes out a spy glass to look towards to see a Death Knight Draenei in a hood kneeling besides Altherion. He inhales through his nose deeply trying to settle the thoughts racing in his mind. If it was indeed him, he was not ready to face him

"Reroma, do what you gotta do. Try to negotiate with him." He stares intently at the Draenei Death Knight. " Take your pet and two sailors with you, its up to you now."

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"I will need people to lower the lifeboat, but Loc and I are going there alone," stated the elf. "We can't make ourselves look like even more of a threat." She didn't even leave it up for debate, she just headed to the lifeboat while she tightened the strap on her quiver. Loc trotted over and hopped into the boat first, followed by Reroma. She took another look at the dreaded ship, and took a deep breath to calm any anxiety.

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Eleven stood, arms crossed, near the harpoon that dragged in the enemy ship. Upon seeing the red sails punch through the thick fog, it knelt behind the rail at the edge of the dreadship among the others. It examined the ship from between the bars it grasped. There was no surprise the Redblades decided to come even despite its warning.

Eleven contemplated each person on the other ship. They have all turned against you. It clawed the bars when its eye caught the former captain. She was here, but the Admiral?

Then, there was the elf in the lifeboat. Eleven leaned closer and squinted. None of the others made motion to join her. Suicide. Eleven kept its weapons sheathed and hidden; this was no threat. She would easily be shot down there in the water.

It turned sharply, pushing away the lessers as it crawled, ducking around the web-like rigging. It took to the shadows. You will be alone in the end.

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<Arcane Telepathy>: “You didn’t tiiink I’d let you go alone, did you?”

In a small firework burst of arcane energy, the Draenei Admiral of the Redblades materialized on the small lifeboat that Reroma and Loc had boarded. He remained stoic, not making eye contact with the Sin’Dorei or her beast, as he slung over his shoulder a brown burlap sack large enough to fit a couple of human bodies. He did not bother to explain his presence or why he had been missing from the action up until now. Whether or not he regretted his silence towards his comrades over the past two weeks, Tuuroto would not yet reveal.

More so than usual, there were a number of oddities regarding Tuuroto’s sudden appearance. His beard was much longer, reaching to his pectorals, and more unkempt than usual, but the average crewmember would conclude that Tuuroto simply had not shaved during the entire voyage to Northrend. More noticeably, Tuuro was NOT wearing his traditional Admiral’s uniform, nor was he donning the red Broken Ones’ villagers’ kilt he was also known to wear.

Rather, the Draenei was dressed in a resplendent Kirin Tor robe that brimmed with mana essence: the robe’s intricate patterns of fluorescent gold and purple allowed him to be easily seen from a distance in spite of the thick fog of death. The robe’s wizardly sleeves draped over his arms, concealing whatever Tuuro would be tightly grasping in his right fist. However, Tuuroto had his hood down, making no effort to physically conceal his face. The deck of tarot cards that normally would float by Tuuroto’s waist was now tightly stored in the breast pocket of his robe.

His hooves firmly planted wide apart on the floorboards of the lifeboat, Tuuroto took a deep breath that matched Reroma’s, as the two of them and Loc sailed towards Altherion, Eleven, and Zolkor.

...

*Meanwhile, aboard the Nigel’s Fury*

The door to the Redblade Admiral’s chamber was slightly ajar…

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The Admiral's sudden appearance gave her a start, and she stared up at him in pure shock after not having seen him the whole trip. he mana radiating from the draenei's robes was nearly overwhelming, especially being someone who wasn't much of a magic user. Loc jumped back a bit, barely sensing any warning before the teleportation and suppressing a minor growl of annoyance. Clearly, he didn't like surprises.

Looking him over, Reroma thought out loud, "You know you're crazy for following me like this. He probably wants you the most out of all of us." She begins to lower the lifeboat, assuming Tuuroto was going to help her with the other side. "You can still turn back now; I don't know what's going to happen from here on out, and the Redblades need their Admiral." She looked at him, and while her tone was calm, her eyes betrayed her fear-not just for herself, but for him and the entire crew as well.

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"Ve stick to your plan first. If it fails, ve move on to mine. Zimple as pastry cake," Tuuroto retorted immediately without even the slightest change in his serious, out-for-blood demeanor.

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Reroma just sighed and kept lowering the boat. Once in the water, she tossed him an oar, "Sounds reasonable enough. Now if you would help me get there..."

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Evellin had braced herself, grabbing a hold of the ratlines as the ship was yanked to and fro like a hound's favorite chewtoy. Once everything settled, she looked out across the water, to the accursed vessel they faced. The Death Knight grunted unintelligibly. There, there at the top of the vessel was their prize; or what was supposed to be their prize, had they not frolicked into his own damn territory.

Now she wished she'd stepped off the ship when she had a chance. They were surrounded by vile waters, the likes of which she wasn't entirely certain she could safely cross on her own. Eve finally released the ratlines and moved closer to the edge of the ship, peering across to get a better view.

They were already armed and prepared. A well-oiled machine, numb from pain, and fear, and despair. Unlike this crew. She heaved a sigh; what was their plan exactly? Negotiate with this man? What did they even hope to gain from this? Her eyes lingered for a moment on the Sin'dorei and Draenei aboard the dinghy.

"...so much for warfare."

Cursing the situation, Evellin turned and made her way inward quickly, starting for the hold. But she lingered and changed her mind, moving towards the Captain's Quarters instead. Loading cannons wasn't useful. Seeing what the Admiral's diabolical plot to get everyone killed was; even if she could only prepare for a moment before the whole vessel went to hell.

Evellin attempted to shove through the door.

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Only one corpse had turned to look in the direction of the coming living. Altherion gazed upon the Admiral and Blood Elf, as well as their miniscule vessel. Beneath the surface of the waves, the sickly green water hissed and bubbled, before it turned into a lighter, blue shade. The same color was seen within the bowels of the enemy ship, and that may be where the spell originated. A sheet of ice, held together by magic, formed across the surface of the water as a walkway to the newcomers.

Even as the path of frost solidified, it looked and felt extremely resilient. When it reached Altherion's ship, it formed three sizable steps, a stairway to approach him. A noise, similar to before, came from within the lower decks of his ship. Four cannons were now pointed at the two wayward living.

A gleeful bounce here, and an oddly timed cartwheel there, Jitters landed on the deck beside his master. His step springy and energized, the Geist opened his maw wide. The figure was clad in numerous bandages, many torn and ancient. Dried blood covered any visible skin, and only one long, dead eye showed. In either hand, he bore an ever dirty dagger, rust and gore caking their well used blades. With a wide grin, the minion rasped.

"Raaawk! The steps. Only the elf for now. Lrreeave the beasts." He implied both Loc and his hooved companion, though the braindead undead giggled at what he presumed to be a moderate attempt at humor. "Anyone else move, and the Surwich-man bye bye!"

Despite Tuuroto being his goal, and the annoying tones of the undead beside him, Altherion focused his gaze on Reroma for now. It seemed he may be attempting his odd form of diplomacy.

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Loc huffed at the suggestion of being left on the boat, and Reroma eyed Jitters with suspicion. She knew this particular minion of Alth's, at least. Still, she knelt next to the spirit beast and gave him a gentle hug. Loc purred and leaned on his mistress as she spoke to him, "I'll be back, boy." She then leaned into his ear and whispered, "If something happens, release." Loc didn't move upon hearing the command, and Reroma stood back up, gave a determined nod to Tuuro, and turned to follow Jitters across the ice.

The entire time, Reroma couldn't swallow the growing dread that had finally bloomed when she made her way on the ship.

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As Reroma ascended the path, it vanished beneath her. Glowing shards of frost fell and melted away within the sea, leaving Reroma upon the dead ship. The duo of Admiral and spirit beast were both trapped in their small boat, even as the ice around them clung to the wooden frame like a vice. Jitters leapt behind Reroma, the beast mistress pinned between daggers and her former ally.

For a moment, the Death Knight looked her over. Ice cracked along his armor, the saronite moving for the first time in days. To those on the living ship with a spyglass, it may seem he was about to begin negotiations. A heavy plated hand was pressed to Reroma's back, leading her to the edge of the undead ship. Any traces of anger or hatred vanished, replaced with a grim calm. Even his plentiful undead minions spread, giving them a wide atrium to speak.

His hand slid along her spine, before it pressed to the back of her head. To Reroma, it might seem an icy caress. Her hair slipped between his fingers as his other hand gestured to the Redblade ship. The elves senses would be overcome with a deep, warming calm as Altherion held her. No words were exchanged, though it still seemed oddly peaceful, especially given their surroundings.

The moment hung over the group for what seemed an eternity, leaving the more hopeful to believe the plan regarded as madness had worked. That was, of course, before a literal shriek pierced the air. The runeblade on Altherion's back flared with a blinding light. His numerous undead minions would mirror the shriek, eyes flaring with his controlling magic. In the same moment, Reroma's feeling of warmth would suddenly become intense burning. Altherion's hands both crackled with unholy energy, and the free one took up his axe.

The back of Reroma's head would begin to decay and sizzle away, flesh melting and dripping down Altherion's arm. The blue-black of his armor was stained by a sudden river of crimson. Unphased by the violence to someone that loved him, he pressed his hand harder. There was no human warmth here, no caring embrace. This was an iron-clad grip, that kept her, however desperate, in place.

With the increase of magic, the flesh at the front of her head would become taut and sickly. The fel green of her eyes burst away, reborn as a sudden blast of unholy magic that pierced her skull. It looked to be, at first, a magical fire. However, these notions were cast aside as the outer layers of her skin started to rot past normalcy. It began as a voracious infection, before it covered her head and spread down her neck in thick patches. Rotten, bloody flesh began bursting in various directions as arteries turned into ash.

As the death magic slowly ate layer by layer of her flesh, she would feel agonizing pain, down to the core of her being. The resilience of the skull would only block the infection for so long, and as it began the descent on her brain, all feeling of pain and horror would leave her body.

Along with her head.

Altherion's blade screamed through the air as it sliced through the ruination of her neck. The magic would continue to burn as the severed flesh sunk beneath the waves. With the same movement, a firm boot was placed on the corpses lower back. The body was kicked into the sea as well, left to sink and rot. There would be no further aggravations with this death, his axe not even bothering to claim the soul.

Blood continued to drip down his body in either thick, slow sheets, or quick rivulets of gore. The burn of his eyes retained their grim, calm visage. Behind the Death Knight, the archers readied their bows. Down in the hold, wicks were lit.

Finally, he spoke to those gathered. His magic carried his voice so that all on both ships would hear him.

"A fair warning, a kind display of what awaited you. Such hospitality is unfounded by my race. And yet your mad quest continued. This...blight on common sense cannot go abated. Nor can your many transgressions against myself, or my minions." He continued, his gaze locked on either the Admiral or those on the enemy ship. "A final kindness, I offer you. Relinquish your arms, and throw yourselves at my mercy. I shall make your transcendence to death an easy one."

His axe still coated in bits of elf, Altherion pointed the weapon at the living.

Despite his words, the wicks of the four cannons burned out. The volley of cannonballs flew at the Admiral and his ally. Within the same span of seconds, the undead horde fired their bows at the duo. Arrows tipped in plague or necrotic poisons soared behind the initial cannon fire.

Apparently his kindness wouldn't be extending to the Admiral or spirit beast. Or even the others, as the rest of the cannons turned to aim at the Redblades. It was dangerously close, and would surely see them both at the bottom of the sea. But the dead didn't feel mortal emotion, the dead didn't breathe. Instead, they raised their weapons.

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As the cannons fired, Long thought only one thing "Their coming with us!". He looked at the now visible sky and with a quick chant, Lightning magic crackled from his palms. He then fires a massive Bolt of lightning into the sky, wheres it begins to rumble. Suddenly hundreds of bolts of lightning begin to strike the deck and masts of the Black Ship. A bolt of lightning ignites one of the sails as another turns the crows nest to splinters. Many of the undead aboard the ships are reduced to ashes from the intense lightning strikes. Longdang watches the havoc unfold and counts the seconds before the cannon balls hit.

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Evellin hesitated with her fist against the door. Though she wanted to go inside, she felt vulnerable being unable to see what was going on aboard the enemy ship. It was blind herself or stall and be aware of her surroundings. The Death Knight stepped back, looking out just as the scene played out. Even from this distance she could see the unmistakable slaughter, as Altherion sliced the head from his wife's body, kicked the corpse into the ocean, and effectively orphaned their elf-child.

Even as Altherion bellowed his threats for all to hear, Eve wondered if they would finally pay attention. As the cannons were fired into the water where Tuuroto and the dinghy remained, the Death Knight wasn't entirely certain she'd have anyone left to offer up an "I damn well told you so" to.

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