While Celeste has remained in Arx, she has taken the time to meet with the leaders of the expedition and outline the general situation and the strategy she wishes employed for the excursion. The briefing given to them was thus:

Upon the southwestern coast of the isle of Setarco a tribe of Shav'arvani have turned to the Horned God. They are part of a coalition of tribes that have merged together and now call themselves the Sons of the Centipede. As followers of the Horned God, Herald of the God of Slavery, these particular Shav'arvani practice slavery. They attack raid farming villages, strike out as pirates in the coastal waters, and capture slaves that are sometimes forced to work and sometimes forced to be the guest stars of sacrificial rituals. This must stop.

The encampment chosen for retribution first sits atop some seaside cliffs. Their longships should be anchored at the bottom, on a narrow stretch of beach, while their village is at the top where it can command a good view of the surrounding territory. A narrow stair was located in the cliff, allowing a single-file kind of line to be taken to the top. It will, unfortunately, present a very defensible area for the shav'arvani to protect the wooden gate at the top. Celeste has indicated this is still the best bet to reaching the slavers, as the land route is nearly impassable with traps, wild animals, or just terrain so difficult to go through that numbers of any sort would never pass through them.

Deception and stealth, then, become the name of the game.

According to the Iron Kraken, the best chance of success comes in convincing the Centipedes that friends and allies have come to trade and thus gain entrance into the village. She warns that you may need to sneak in weapons among 'slaves' that you offer to trade, or else be willing to snatch weapons from soldiers once inside when the time comes. This should get you into the village and from there you can end the lives of the slavers found there. A message must be sent: Pravus will not stand for followers of the Horned God.

Ari has been placed in charge of the naval maneuvers and will act as Commodore of the small fleet sent along.

Ari did his best not to drink ALL night after Alrec's body was found. He's scruffy, and he doesn't smell great, but he's sober enough to do this. He has the galleys with him, with men ready to fight. He moves them into position, to run a blockade for starters.

Harlex stands by on deck. He's been generally quiet, reserved. But that isn't unusual for the Sword of Lenosia. As they line out their plans, he's made it clear he's capable of the stealthier aspects of the operation. If needed. "Or we can dress a few of your soldiers up like slaves, parade them in. Need someone keen on subterfuge, if that's the plan."

Prince Ahriman Grayson was not born of that name. He married into the family and was born Lord Ahriman Pravus and served in his youth as a budding admiral and captain in the great naval tradition of the Pravus family. Normally he would no be involved in such operations but this one in particular hit home. After spending sixteen years as a slave the man bares the signs of his rebellious enslavement. His seal-skin overcoat and attire display him as a common man. His beard is thick and the aged admiral has a keen edge to the dark gaze of his.

He wanted to make approach at night. When eyesight was less keen and if necessary the reserve forces could make their approach under the cover of darkness. As the boat rocks the deck standing man looks more pirate and privateer then distinguish noble. His gnarled fingers grip the rails and he looks to those with them, "Find those men that are strong. Those who can resort to fists and swinging irons. About a dozen of them. Apply the last to them a few times. Not deep. But enough to sell the story of our business. It's about the details."

Ahriman adds, "The guards escorting the slaves equip with bows, shield, and sword. If it comes to violence they become the archers to counter the covering fire. The slaves take their arms and support us there, make them our front line troops."

Ari checked intellect + sailing at difficulty 30, rolling 3 higher.

Ahriman checked intellect + war at difficulty 30, rolling 31 higher.

The sailing charts aren't the best for this region of the island, having long been Abandoned territory, but enough were found to give Ari some idea of what to expect. The water is deep...right up until about twenty feet from the narrow shore when it starts to climb rather rapidly. There's a path to get to the rough docks, but it'll take some navigating and some slow going to reach the shore and not rough up the galleys that were brought.

Ari proves a deft hand at this and can make his way to a drop off point where he chooses while the others prepare for the land actions. Along the way, a few picket ships - longships, all of them - were spotted. Perhaps a half dozen such vessels will present a problem if some fighting on the seas happens or a quick getaway is needed.

"We'll defer to you, Your Highness. If you can get us close enough to breach those gates, it'll be short work." Harlex assures Ahriman. Before they make landfall he has the soldiers stripped to rags, the shackling irons applied over and over again to give the impression of repeated use. Enough to make it convincing. He wears blackened clothes, militant garb but with no distinguishing marks or identifiers. Under the folds of his coat are a knife and his sword is secured beneath the robes of one of the female prisoners. There are, besides the leathers, vicious alaricite gauntlets with clawed ends on each of his hands. He certainly /looks/ the part of someone who'd peddle in nefarious things.

A glance from Ahriman is cast towards Ari. "Those longships will fall to you. This will end in violence of course unless by some happenstance they surrender. I'd prefer and end to them for statement for those who bend this way instead of submit to the will of the People." The man states coldly, "So the moment we act be prepared to deal with the ships after deploying your military contingent to move up. At all costs do not deal with them before we gain entry. These are slavers, they are an affront to the Pravus blood in my veins and to what we as a people hold true in the Compact. Their ilk and their love of the Horned God must come to a swift and sure demise."

The man turns to look over the crew and then back to the others. He nods to Harlex, "Have the slaves carry on their backs a half-dozen barrels of the strongest fiery piss we can. Mix the last two with oil. They will have in their pants flint to ignite the barrels." He smirks, "As soon as we enter or if we are near the top and discovered light these barrels. The smoke will help the troops gaining their way up against any archers that mount a defense while we attack."

Ahriman then looks to Harlex, "I will look to you to make sure I don't die. I'm no fighter, Sword."

Ari adjusts his cape, and looks at the two men. "My ships are ready. Let them know that Pravus is reasonable, and can be bargained with. This is a reputation well earned. But slavery will not stand. We are merchants, and we can offer them trade. But our forces are here. They will not trade again." He gestures to the row of galleys.

Harlex adjusts the straps on his gauntlets and lowers the sleeves. "Yeah, I got that covered." The fighter part. As for the barrels, he has them poured full and the strongest of their 'slaves' secured with the flint hidden in their trousers as well. "Alright, fellas. Watch for the signals, once that smoke touches the air you come up mean as the Abyss and we'll keep the gates open." He'll be going with Prince Ahriman as -- insurance. To the not dying part. But the orders are given, the units composed, and their 'trade goods' set to march.

Once the flagship is close enough to shore the 'slaves' and their 'captors' can be disembarked. It'll be a short march across the stony shore towards the cliffside entrance to the fortified village, with the land based forces coming upon the sentries at the 'docks' first. And by docks, it's more a case of an outcrop of beach where a half dozen longboats are currently pulled out of the water enough to keep the tide from taking them. No doubt slaves are used to push them back in when necessary. Ingenuity has not been used when free labor will do.

Further out, Ari's other ships are having to keep an eye out for the pickets that bob in the sea, playing games of hide-and-seek as they try to keep their claim on these waters secured.

When Ahriman and Harlex approach, a man with his long hair tied back with a simple leather thong, dressed in a leather vest and breeches of no particular make and a short sword at his side, spear in one hand, steps forward. He squints into the dark, trying to make out their shapes better. "Declare yourselves!"

Ari orders his ships to keep the port encircled, trying to stop any ship from leaving without being inspected for slaves. And to slowly start moving closer, as close as possible while keeping control.

Grimshot Skuttle (Ahriman) wears a sinister and dark look. His seal skin attire free of weapons. He looks to his second (Harlex) who starts up beside him as the contingent arrive. He stands next to the man when the call for declarations go up, "We have wares to sell you." The gravel laden voice calls out. He strokes his beard and the scars that rise his neckline show the man to look nothing like the royal person he is. "If you bastards got the coin to trade. I hear you might be in the market for what we got." And here a sinister grin escapes Ahriman's lips, "Brought some fine Thraxian rum that will strip paint or get you loose and fiery." Here the man turns and walks to one of the bare-chest 'slaves' struggling with a barrel. "You." And Ahriman's hand slaps him across the face to leave red streaks of his fingers. "And you." He states to the man behind him to those who have the spirits, "You two give em' a taste and be slow about it. Don't want to spill the rum or break them casks. Give a shit if you spill down the mountain." And here dark eyes look towards the voice, "Didn't bring the lot of the wares. Figure you'd like to sample our good f*ck'n intentions first. Break bread. Talk business, no?"

Ahriman checked intellect + manipulation at difficulty 35, rolling 41 higher.

Ari checked command + sailing at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Harlex has risen his hood ever more menacing in posture as he stands as Skuttle's (Ahriman's) second. No weapons visible on his person, but he seems to take a position of keeping the 'goods' in line. Those slow to walk are shoved and so forth before they come to a stand still. Awaiting entry to the gated village.

The man with the spear gives Ahriman as much as a look over as he can in the dim conditions. "And who the fuck are you?" he asks, clearly not recognizing the Prince. Thankfully, not recognizing him AS a prince either. With the arrogance of a slaver, there's a smirk on his lips when Ahriman smacks the soldier (who may have words with Ahriman later...or at least invite him to a less than fair game of poker on the way home). By this time a few of the other guards on duty have wandered over, a trio of them standing behind the first man and another stepping up to his side. "Some healthy looking slaves, aren't they?" Suspicion lingers for the strangers, but the Centipedists at least look intrigued at the prospect.

Out on the water, Ari's squadron of ships have taken up position that affords them a pretty decent chance of blockading the slavers. Enough distance from the reef keeps the Pravus vessels safe while making it difficult for others to escape.

But one of those slaver pickets, one of the longships? It's coming in towards the shore, and Ari notices its current course will take it too close to one of the galleys not to be noticed.

Ari orders his own ship to intercept the slaver approaching his galley, and signals the galley being investigated to prepare for combat. "BATTLE SPEED" he shouts.

Ari stands at the bow, the wind swishing his cape. He does his best to stay steady as the evening of drinking continues to weigh on him.

Ari checked command + sailing at difficulty 30, rolling 17 higher.

"Grimshot Skuttle." Ahriman answers with a curse, "You piss poor maggots don't need to know who I am or why I might be looking to get rid of some better treated thralls before the profit on them is lost. Stupid f'in Compact. Even making the stupid Thraxians go soft. Pretty soon they'll roll over and play dead as weak as they have become. Be a lot less of a f'ckin burden on us..." Here he sneers and laughs, "Decent business folk." The man looks back over his shoulder, "Aye, healthy as a recently captured royal baby. We fattened em' up for you good and proper knowing you'll turn them to market. But good of you to notice their health. Favors us now on the negotiations." And here Ahriman addresses the leader, "Let your guards do the price talk for you and you lose. Me... I make mine shut up so as to best handle the negotiations myself. Ain't tellin' you how to do your business at all. But you just lost the haggle point of them being scrawny and not worth your salt." And here the man shrugs, "You're a nearby stop for us. Ain't gonna get the one over on our ships. Either let us in and we talk or we move on and the guy behind you some weeks doin' the same gets the goods. Ain't no skin from my back." A laugh and a glance to the slaves, "Theirs maybe." He grins, "We gonna break rum and trade. We'll drink first even. Show you we don't mean to poison you and your negotiating guards none."

Ahriman checked charm + manipulation at difficulty 35, rolling 20 higher.

Harlex checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 18 higher.

While the negotiations are underway, Harlex turns his head a bit. Slanted downward. His arms folded across his chest.

Oars sweep through the water as Ari's sailors snap to action under the man's command. A low drum beat keeps their timing, a threatening sound like the pulse of the sea itself for those close enough to hear it - which is, sadly, no one on the shore. Ocean spray leaps off the prow of the Vincent Pravus. With the oars int he water, the wind matters less, and with the skill of the crew the galley heads straight for the longship that was coming in.

"Port! Fuck! To port!" comes a frenzied shout from a woman in the back of the longship. The smaller vessel struggles to get out of the way of the oncoming galley. "Who the hell--" the question barely gets shouted towards the Vincent before the woman has to grasp at a line and hold herself steady, grimace hidden in the darkness.

And all that so hard to hear from the shore, where attention is holding steady on Ahriman, Harlex, and the Pravus soliders.

The man that was taking lead in talking for the shavs uses his spear to nudge the man beside him towards the disguised soldiers. "Go on, Lum. Have a drink and see if they speak true." When then rangy man that was shoved forward - Lum, apparently - comes forward to test the rum, it's easier to see the tattoo of a centipede that's marked in red and black inks from just behind his ear down to his shoulder, where it disappears under his own leather vest.

If Ahriman is true to his word and shares some rum the man will drink, while all his fellows look on expectantly, waiting for him to die of poisoning or the like. But when it proves to be just rum and no one dies from it? Well, they're convinced enough.

"Alright," the first man drawls, looking at the group that's come ashore, checking for weapons or threat. But with none visible, he motions Ahriman and Harlex and their 'slaves' to follow him and leads the way towards the cliff and the stairs cut into the stone that go up towards the village. "Lum here'll take ya up. You draw a weapon or start shit, and you don't come back down."

"Same can be said for Lum here." Ahriman laughs, "Poor stupid Lum eh?" And on the way up the man mutters something softly to his second. The guards and slaves start on their way up. Ahriman takes his time and tells his second, "Go to the back and make sure those bastards have plenty of motivation not to lag behind."

Ari keeps the drumbeats up, and as when they don't turn off quickly, he shouts "RAMMING SPEED." Arms on his hips, satisfied that the message is being sent: submit to inspection. Pravus's will is law here. He'll order his men to see to saving any survivors willing to submit to capture, who may fall overboard.

The murmured words are lost between them and Harlex merely nods, moving to the back to keep the 'slaves' motivated on their course into the village proper. On their course, he speaks harshly with one of them carrying a barrel of their rum. Upon entering, he moves and directs them out. The one he spoke with setting up a barrel three yards down from the front gate. Setting up their wares, as it were for the enjoyment of their hosts. It's going to be a real shindig. All the while he keeps a particular female 'slave' near him as if she is his attendant. The black-clad man looking back toward his employer (Ahriman). Merely awaiting that signal. Keeping quiet. Keeping ready.

"Turn you fools!" comes the strangled shout of the woman at the back of the longboat. It's too little, too late. The Vincent Pravus slams into the side of the longboat, enough momentum behind the bigger ship to splinter wood and cut deep, nearly all of the way through, the hull of the smaller vessel. One unfortunate sailor gets crushed in the process, blood seeping out into the waters of the ocean. Others go flying, leaving only a pair left on the ship at all. Splutter, splashing, all mingling with the flotsam of a now mostly-useless longboat.

It's a long climb up to the top of the cliff and some of the poorer 'slaves' might be a bit winded by the time the group gets there. At the top of the stairs a wooden palisade stretches around a small village. Most of the homes here are driftwood and scavenged timbers paired with old sail canvas. At the center, some larger ship oars are dug into the ground so that the blades of them are in the air. Tied to the blades are garland like streamers, writhing with living centipedes that crawl across the streamers in languid undulation. Occasionally one falls the ground, only to find the nearest oar and climb back up. There are probably fifty slaves kept in pens like pigs, the ground beneath them a muddy churn of shit and piss on bare ground. Another handful are led around on leashes, treated like nothing more than pets to show off.

Ahriman and Harlex, and their slaves, are allowed to set up while guards watch them. Someone - Lum - runs off to find the leader of the shavs to bring him out for the trade show and negotiations.

Ahriman checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

"Alright boys." Ahriman signals one guard for each to draw their swords, "These casks are a gift. Pop them open and let those slaves drinks so they can see what's what. This is for the village. Our token of good will." The man declares, "The last two." He thumbs behind him, "Are for when we seal the deal." Each slave is near a guard by the cask. The casks to provide cover while they exchange weapons. Ahriman stands behind the row of casks, slaves, and guards. Ahriman announces, "Gift to you fine folk here. This rum. Proper Thraxian swill too. Will strip you of your dignity in no time! Come one, come all. Drink up." He has the 'slaves' drink to show it isn't poisoned." If they bite, if they come... in the confusion before negotiations and the leader gets there. They will strike fast and ruthlessly. The signal will be delivered once they frenzy for free piss.

Harlex checked dexterity + stealth at difficulty 30, rolling 0 higher.

Harlex wields Memory, a wickedly curved rubicund knife.

Harlex has rolled a critical success!
Harlex checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 48 higher.

Ari shouts into the water. "Surrender to Pravus, and you will be treated well. We don't take slaves. I don't impress men either. No slavery, no piracy. Honest business."

Ari checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 60, rolling 35 lower.

Ahriman checked command + leadership at difficulty 25, rolling 8 higher.

Harlex is gone.

Where he stood, the attendant woman stands by the barrel and the barrel carrier. Both look a bit confused for a moment, because they could have sworn he was just telling them to be ready. They look nervous, momentarily. A brief flicker of their gaze around but trying, of course, to not draw attention to themselves. They manage.

The Wolf lurks toward the secondary gate, shrouded in the dark, the only warning the guardsman has is the glint of something blood red and then the press of a gauntlet over his mouth and the feeling of rubicund bone deep across his throat. Harlex pushes his head forward, grasping him through the silent spasms before he drops the body dead with that vicious wound. Exposing the spine in the back. One less Slaver. He'll clear the area and when he's through, he can begin to open that secondary portal to allow their attack on two-fronts. A whistle waiting to signal the soldiers once the fires are lit.

Ari checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 4 higher.

Sure, someone might be pissed about it in five minutes, but for now? There's free booze. And the promise of it being the strong Thraxian stuff too! Ahriman doesn't have the most difficult task at the moment, convincing thirsty slavers to have some drinks. One's even kind enough to pour some rum on the ground for his 'pet' human to lap up. With a boot pressed down on the back of its head to get the picture across. Let the drinking begin!

At sea, Ari proves less persuasive. Or at least, the sailors splashing around in the ocean less open to what he's selling them. "Fuck off, you compact scum!" is the prevaling sentiment. "Our god will cast you down in chains!" The sailors cast into the water start swimming back towards their destroyed ship, still stuck on the prow of the Vincent Pravus, to climb out of the water. One that was left on the ship manages to push some plank away and scramble to their feet, a dagger thrown in Ari's direction....the arc not quite right enough to hit him though.

Ari checked composure + propaganda at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Ari dodges the dagger shot, and laughs. "My daughter would teach you daggers. But Reveka take you all. Die at sea. Men, pull up the ladders, let not one of them come aboard without surrendering and swearing to obey the Duchess. Raise your swords, push them into the water." And then he draws his own weapon. Right handed.

Ahriman smiles at the guard near the man with the person at his his feet. He turns and gives the signal. "You two, with me. Open the pens." He tells the two 'slaves' who are taking the swords and shields from the guards near him. Ahriman draws a simple dagger and he tosses it down to the 'pet', "I'll leave him for you. Take your dignity, hate, and anger out on this man who defiles you of it." And now Ahriman shouts, "Take them. Leave none alive that spits on humanity thus. Strip them of their lives as they strip others of their freedom. Make a statement of what is means to defy the Pravus and the Compact." And Ahriman starts towards the pens with his two 'guards'.

Sparks shower in the background near the gates as flint goes to oil and smoke laden clasks. They ignite and illuminate the walls and gates for the soldiers as they start to run up. They also signal the ships out at sea. Fury. Fury and righteous indignation are the law today.

Harlex wields Silverfang, diamondplated sword of the wolf.

Ahriman checked command + war at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Ari checked command + sailing at difficulty 30, rolling 28 higher.

Ari checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 25 higher.

Harlex throws open the gate. Signaling the soldiers up the cliff stairs. He hurries back, catching his sword as its thrown to him by the woman soldier. The white-steel gleaming like a fang in the dark.

Harlex checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 4 higher.

What is even going on? There were drinks and now there's...there's fire? And smoke? And...where'd that dead body come from?

Before the leader of the group of shavs has even been roused from his hut the invaders are already setting chaos tot he small village. A slave on all fours stares up in confusion at the words from Ahriman, shaken and afraid to move.

Smoke rises above sudden bonfires, a clear signal to the forces at sea and a beacon to the shav pickets that suddenly see something that wasn't expected, turning their ships towards the shore where they'll encounter Ari's galleys.

Not everyone was drinking, nor easy pickings. "Alarum! We've been tricked!" comes a shout. A clanging of sword against iron pot serving to stir others to the defense. It might even call up those on the shore below.

It takes /effort/ to open a gate. Which has left the swordsman momentarily slower as he defends himself from a guardsman wandering by and spying the dead body. Its a really bad night to wander by, as Harlex fights his way /through/ that man and works his way inward. He orders a pair of soldiers to guard Ahriman. At all costs. But his intention is elsewhere, to catch the leader of this band of insects, no doubt beginning to stir from the ensuing chaos. His is rending claws and vicious steel. Every brutal finishing blow intended to shake the core of the enemies around him, hewing off limbs or stinking those alaricite ends into the throats of punctured attackers -- leaving a bloody mess in his wake.

Ahriman who had suffered the indignity of slavery heads with a menacing scowl towards the pens. The guards launch arrows as people rouse and flee. Feathers zip through the air at rapid intervals while the sword and shield slaves pair off and cut through the easy pickings and advanced towards those who are not as unfortunate.

Darkness and wind are at the back of Ahriman. His seal-skin coat flaps in the breeze while the moon illuminates the carnage from above. He walks at a casual gate. Cold. Those pitch eyes stare with hatred for the human suffering. And he goes to the pens and instructs the guards to break them open with their swords. "You, men, women, and children of passion. You have been trampled upon. But now the Pravus have freed you. Your torment is at an end... rise up. Take out your vengeance. Let the Gods infuse your finger with justice. And mete it out like extension of their anger at this cursed place. You have your freedom. Now deliver your captors from their existence into the realm of judgment."

Harlex checked strength + intimidation at difficulty 40, rolling 1 lower.

Ari sees his men springing to action, and Ari shouts "There will be blood tonight!" Seeing dagger man climbing at him. Ari waits, and says "I do not suppose you could speed things up?" But once the man gets close enough, a thrust of his rapier brings a shriek, and a splash, as a body falls into the water.

Ahriman has rolled a critical success!
Ahriman checked command + manipulation at difficulty 15, rolling 121 higher.

Ahriman checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 19 lower.

Ahriman checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 26 lower.

45 inflicted and Ahriman is harmed for severe damage.

Out at sea, some bowmen take care of those on the destroyed longship that Ari doesn't personally dispatch with aplomb. But a handful of longships are closing in, and the call goes up at seeing the galley over the wreckage of their mates. "Bows!" comes the call, and soon a rain of arrows is headed towards Ari as the longships try to fight around his vessel and get through.

In the village, the chaos is made worse with Ahriman's inspiring speech. Some of the slaves, especially those now freed from their pens and the ones in better shape, begin to take up the arms of fallen captors and turn against the slavers. They're not great fighters, to be sure, but it's a wall of people that have to be gotten through.

Seeing Ahriman as a threat now that he's made such a rousing speach, several slavers turn towards the Prince, jabbing at him with spears and piercing through the sealskin to get to the tender bits beneath.

And Harlex? Well, he's an implacable mountain but the dedicated of the enemy are unshaken. "WHAT IS THIS?" comes a roar from a big, red-haired man stepping bare-chested out of a hut. A heavy but crude maul is clenched in one fist.

Ari sees the arrows and shouts "RAMMING SPEED! Take cover! Get below, and take out the ship with the bows! Plow through the wreckage if you must!"

Harlex checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 50, rolling 8 lower.

Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 38, rolling 15 higher.

Ahriman who is bleeding under that seal skin attire and has been skewered thoroughly grits his bloody teeth. He turns and runs into the horde of slaves now turned killer and justified butchers. And he makes his way to safety. His job here is done. His justice given. The old admiral withdraws to safety of wherever tactically is advantageous enough for him to ride out what is left of this winning proposition in the village.

Ari has rolled a critical success!
Ari checked command + sailing at difficulty 30, rolling 62 higher.

Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 39 higher.

Harlex has rolled a critical success!
Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 89 higher.

Harlex slices his way toward that giant shav, intercepted by two others whose courage comes from numbers. But with the howl of his sword, he rebukes them. Trying to angle a strike toward the maul-wielding chieftain but its deflected. He draws backwards, whistling sharply for his two cohorts from earlier to take the lesser slavers. Leaving the big one to him. He angles his sword, lowering into his stance. Choking down on the handle, near the pommel, and running those claws along the diamondplate tip. Opal sparks flying about. Challenging. "Come on," snarled from his lips. "Leave you in pieces for your weak god."

Galleys turn at Ari's command and rowers quickly get them up to the speed requested. Ramming Speed! Aye Aye! There sound of haul on haul action is a horrible thing with wood splintering, sailors going overboard or getting crushed. One case a galley slices clean through, having had more time to work up speed, and as two halves of a longship go below the waves, so do two halves of a slaver.

Ahriman escapes to some measure of safety and the Pravus soldiers do their best to keep the press of chaos away from the Prince. No medics on shore, but someone oh-so-helpfully recommends he find one.

But now it's Harlex vs Redhead. With a snarl, the chieftain brings up his maul. "I won't kill you," he says with arrogance. "I'll have you live to see your men flayed!" And he launches himself towards the Wolf.

Harlex checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 40, rolling 13 higher.

Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 17 higher.

Ari raises his sword and shouts, rallying his sailors. "We're winning. Turn around, back to the line. Hold the line. Signal to the fleet victory is at hand!"

Ahriman seeks some support from slave or anyone to stop the gaping chest wound from sprouting death. The Prince that was not promised does not get a second shot at the mortal coil. He avoids battle.

The speed at which Harlex delivers that thrust is staggering, enough to knock the swing of the maul off balance. Its clear, that the black-clad swordsman isn't just swift of foot but strong, strong enough to leave a gash wound along Redhead's side before he's pivoting back around to face the big shav again, bringing his sword down between both hands. His teeth shown in a wolfish snarl toward the alpha Centipede.

Ships float in wrecked tatters on the waves of an ocean that seeks to drag down the bodies left in the wake of the galleys. Some have arrows sprouting from them, some just tangled in rope or sail and unable to save themselves. None ask for quarter, and none is given.

In the village, the chieftain begins to bleed. The diamondplate blade cuts through skin and muscle, leaving the retaliation of maul too slow to connect with the fierce warrior. Notably, though, there's no smoke, no shriveling of skin. The redhaired male is just a man, and not some demonspawn.

Harlex checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 40, rolling 23 higher.

Harlex checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

It's over before it begins.

The redhaired shav is just too slow and his swings are errant, wide, destructive enough to clip some of his own men who come just trying to help. His arrogance turns to frustration and turns to a finality as a side swipe of the maul seems to barely miss Harelx. The Wolf leaps forward, boot pressed into the crook of the giant arm, before Silverfang comes down to pierce the shoulder downward. Flesh and blood and bone cleanly cut by the white-steel.

When his foe screams in pain, alaricite claws come forward inside of his mouth, digging down and pulled back with a growl. Jawbone dripping in Harlex's messy hand as the shav falls back and the Wolf keeps a boot on his chest.

Moving to his full height, he throws the gore aside. "Your chain is broken," he solemnly notes.