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As far as Solveig was concerned, she never stood a chance. Well, just look at it, an average human head (maybe slightly dense) versus a thick chunk of wood. The battle ended as quickly as it started. Solveig never saw the mast coming, not with the slippery, tipping deck and a chaotic scene all around. Her forehead smashed into it at an instant, a deep thump brought the attention of nearby sailors immediately followed by a similar thud; first against the mast and then against deck board. She was out cold.

Thankfully, nearby crew members picked Solveig up and carried her a short distance to the boat, where Orakh then loaded her in. There was still space for one more after that, the boat was near full, so launching it with weight to spare might be better off, especially when the mages provided a solid counter example. The elderly Orc did a final check, and as he told another sailor to undo the ropes, Farid rushed across the deck to the dinghy.

“Wait!” Farid shouted, desperately waving his hands to attract attention in the storm. “Let me in!”

“No time, do it now!” Orakh told the sailor, he undid the ropes as fast as he could and put the dinghy in angle. His side of the boat finished before Farid got there, but the other sailor still fumbled on a knot. Farid took this chance to leap at the gunwale, only to be caught by Orakh in midair and thrown down against the deck.

“Why, what's wrong with you!?” Farid stared wide-eyed as the boat landed safely in the sea. His face drooped as whatever hope of escape went away.

“No more room for freeloaders like you.” 

“Me? You think we're all selfish twats like you?” Farid practically seethed. He took off a backpack loaded with arcane items, shoving it at Orakh's face. “One of these artifacts could be worth a hundred of you!”

“I don't care about artifacts.” The Orc stood his ground. The sailor scurried off at the argument, leaving only him and Farid; the later did not back down. “You would trade lives for money, I wouldn't. Now get out of my way!” He shoved the Redguard, what had been an act of annoyance almost turned deadly. Farid drew his dagger, but as soon as he had done so, Dumhuvud emerged from behind and disarmed him.

“Enough, both of you.” The Cat-Kicker scolded. “Orc, get downstairs and help Beleth with the gap.” Turning to Farid, Dumhuvud looked as if he was going to punch the man. “And you, come with me. Don't make me see you picking fights again.”

As for some rare good news, Sadri's plan went about smoothly. Leif was able to take down the sail in record time, while not getting killed in the process (though he probably felt a bump when Solveig hit the mast). Then together with Orakh, who enlisted the help of Tsleeixth and Roze (because the lower decks were flooded above waist level), Sadri successfully attached the sail onto the gap. What he didn't expect was the gap had grown larger in a peculiar way; one lower corner gave out in a long, thin line. The sail could not cover this in particular, though it did stop a good portion of the leak.

Meanwhile, the dinghy rocked, bounced, but stayed upright the entire time. There were two main oars on board, with two smaller paddles as backup. R'ihanna took up one large oar and rowed with surprising strength. Trius picked up a lesser paddle, swatting the waters semi-coherently with one hand, while the other guarded his ceremonial sword. His armor was already left behind in haste, and as weakened as the Dunmer was, he would not allow himself to lose his final possession. Compared to everyone else, Keegan was having a really bad time. He could swear his intestines were leaping into his throat. There was nothing in the Altmer's stomach to vomit, and for a brief moment, he pondered why he did not inherit his race's nautical affinity.

“You know what they say; never put all your Khajiits in one boat.” R'ihanna chuckled nervously at Do'Karth and Rhasha'dar. When her attempt at humor garnered a few disgusted looks, R'ihanna stayed quiet. Only for a few seconds, she opened her mouth again as an open beach came in sight. “Look, we could land there!” She pointed to the beach. Beside the beach was a cave, and inside the cave; fire.

The beach could be seen from the spyglass of Captain Atgeir as well. His ship still slouched over port side, but had stabilized around thirty degrees. The rudder was moving again, and the Courtesan hobbled towards her lifeboat. Below deck, sailors and passengers stayed busy tossing buckets after buckets of water. Above deck, crew scrambled to get a backup sail rigged, in order to make steering as responsive as possible. 

It would be a good half hour before the Courtesan caught up. Those on the lifeboat would be fending for themselves. What would they have to fend off? For starters, the fire inside the cave lit a dozen humanoid shadows. They were armed and armor shaped, as people on the boat found out when they washed onto the beach. Rowing for fifteen minutes tend to put individuals in no fighting shape. But fighting seemed like exactly what came this way. The figures inside the cave before now charged toward the boat. Every single one of them were clad in darkened bonemold, and Trius could hear them shout “kill them all”, in Dunmeris.

“No, no, this is impossible...” The last piece of the puzzle was a chitin ship parked on the same beach, it bore no symbol, but the shape was familiar enough. Trius slowly stepped over, jaw hanging in disblief at the charging men. “These are Morrowind Armigers, we need to get out of here!” He tried get the others to push the dinghy back out, back to avail; they weren't going anywhere.

At this point, the leading bonemold warrior stopped twenty feet from Trius. This masked man starred into the face, the body and for the longest minute, lingered on the ebony sword at Trius' hip. Finally, the warrior roared. “Traitor!”
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Suffering for Mahz's Sins

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