Over the last several months, skirmishes between Thraxian vessels - merchant and military alike - and enemy vessels have been increasing. While no one questions this as a matter of war, it was notable that the reported skirmishes were happening well away from the shores of the island of Maelstrom. Recently, those skirmishes have started moving closer. And unknown ships have been seen patrolling by fishermen. After one especially urgent report claiming House Bloodbrook had sent a landing party ashore, a team sets out to investigate.

East of the stronghold, a great forested area spreads across the land toward the sea. That stretch of coast is pitted by coves, and the intelligence received suggests that the cove they are looking for is one of the larger ones, just by where the forest meets the fields. It would be an idyllic spot for a visit - if not for the day being more cloudy than sunny, the wind sharp, sea spray icy off the waves. At a distance, two large ships can be seen approaching the cove from the southeast. Unless course is changed, the two sets of ships will meet within half an hour.

Martinique checks command and war at hard. Martinique fails.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Critical Success! Victus is spectacularly successful.

The children of Maelstrom are more inclined to the chill than the summers, when most of them tend to suffer. Natasha Thrax is no exception to that; clad in a leather longcoat with a fur trim, she had set sail with Sorrel and General Barlinnie upon word of a landing party. Information had been directed in advance, thanks to Denica's forewarning; at least there was an advanced one, enough to be able to make some preparations after her conference with Jasher just a few evenings prior. Clad in steelsilk underneath, and with only a dagger by her side, her purpose today is to investigate and observe, and after having more than her fair share of brigands at sea attempting to seize her as a hostage, she has learned from those prior encounters, having situated herself near the door of the captain's cabin in the event that she needs to hurl herself inside and barricade herself from within.

Fight? She leaves that to Sorrel and Martinique, who didn't particularly subscribe to the idea that women don't belong in the battlefield. Almost entirely useless from the neck down, she's probably more of a liability than an asset in such a situation.

While she is aware of her duty of occasional dignity in being a soldier and Redreef knight and whatever, Martinique still gave something very much like a happy squeal when she caught sight of the figurehead of the ship she's being tasked with commanding. She calmed quickly and then headed aboard, quickly casting off and joining the ship to the expedition. Living in the Isles these last few years has turned her into a passably capable sailor though Haakon would say there's still room for improvement when he's not gushing blood.

When the other ships are spotted on the horizon, she watches for Jasher's flag to signal their approach, firing up soldiers and crew to get them ready for whatever is to come; she clearly thinks it would be a fight. Her efforts may be somewhat premature as there's still a bit of time before they four shall meet.

Caspian was doing his best to help as he could on the ship. he was hardly the master sailor many in thrax were. nor was he the prodigy that Mirk had proven to be. still, he was nimble and quick and good and scooting around the rigging. so it was, Caspian was hanging in the rigging as they sailed on. "you know that cove is actually very inviting! I'm surprised no one has set up a little hovel there!"

It's been a long, long time since Victus could remember a threat coming so close to Maelstrom. The fortress-city was one of two strongholds in Arvum to have never fallen in its recorded history. By his expectations, he figured the reports could be little more than scouting parties. Perhaps reavers with more greed than sense that had thought to make a prize of the capital's coastlines. But looks could always be deceiving, and now was not the time to be underestimating one's enemy. He'd brought his flagship into the midst, the heavy dromond lurching forward toward the cove.

The High Lord himself was stood on deck, holding up a gauntlet-clad hand toward the horizon. Thanks to his height, someone might actually notice that he was waving them onwards. Or maybe waving to say hi. It wasn't clear at this distance. Beneath his billowing snakeskin coat, he was fully dressed for battle. His greatsword rested over his shoulder.

Before boarding, Sorrel had to decide between keeping an eye on the High Lord or keeping an eye on his sister. She decided to trust Jasher to mind the former; now she stands beside the latter with her hand at her hip, her gloved fingers brushing against the hilt of her sword in a manner that suggests the object is soothing to some degree. Though she is dressed for battle, she does not necessarily expect it this close to Maelstrom, and there's a disapproving frown on her face, her expression more serious than usual. The wind catches whatever shanty she has been humming and carries it away.

There's armor beneath the stately cloak laden with fur, seatouched wool and fine silks that depict sea serpents in embroidery cavorting around it. Alarissa's been in enough adventures at sea to have dressed up in armor but the warm cloak hides most of it. A diplomat for each ship, she accompaies the High Lord on the Thunderstruck, right hand holding to the railing and watching the waters ahead of them. Not since the start of her marriage had a threat come near Maelstrom. She stands adjacent but not so close to impede Victus reaching his blade if possible and then looks to the other ship with them for a moment before back to the 'visiting' ships. "Friend or foe?" She murmurs loud enough to her husband. "Foolish or brave?"

Jasher stands aboard the Lady Thunderstruck, still and silent, though anything but idle. His eyes are studying a pair of ships sailing in their direction, a marked distance away, closing on their position fast. His face bears an expression of cold calculation common on the edge of impending battle; his mouth adopts a grim line and dark eyebrows darken his eye sockets with their low, drawn set. He turns to observe Victus' own reaction to spotting the potential threat - and so near to their home shores - before he breaks silence to say, "Two ships, as the fishermen reported." Other intelligence reports confirmed this, but he does not remark upon that. "Do we prepare for battle or attempt to parlay?"

Natasha checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Natasha is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Martinique is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Critical Success! Caspian is spectacularly successful.

Sorrel checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Sorrel is successful.

As the ships come closer together, the two approaching from the southeast have no obvious colors flying to declare who they are. One, smaller and faster - a galley, shifts course to intercept the ship carrying Martinique, Caspian, Sorrel, and Natasha. Arrows begin to fly when the range is just close enough. A man's voice can be heard issuing commands, ending them with, "For Bloodbrook!"

The second ship, a dromond, moves to attempt to come allong side Victus's ship to attempt boarding. The maneuvering of Lady Thunderstruck is expert, leaving the other Bloodbrook ship floundering to reorient for attack.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Victus fails.

Martinique checks command and war at hard. Martinique fails.

Natasha checks composure and manipulation at hard. Natasha is successful.

Alarissa checks charm and intimidation at hard. Alarissa is successful.

Sorrel checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Sorrel is successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jasher is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Martinique marginally fails.

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus marginally fails.

Caspian checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Caspian is successful.

Victus' eyes narrow, his hand forming a bridge over his brow. Without colors, identifying by sight alone is almost impossible. There's a rumble in his chest, agitation evident despite his stony features. "I don't know." He replies to Alarissa first, though his tone of voice suggests he's already expecting the worst. He's about to answer Jasher as well when the first set of arrows begin to fly, and Bloodbrook's dromond makes a beeline for their vessel. "Battle."

He shouts a few quick commands, and the well-trained crew hauls their vessel out of the line of fire. Steadying himself on deck, Victus adorns his helmet, fashioned to resemble the head of a great serpent. "Prepare for counterattack."

Arrows it is then. Martinique ducks aside behind a railing as the projectiles come flying in, giving a quick look around to check on the others--seems no injuries for now. Instead, her knife falls into her hand and is held ready as she attempts to maneuver closer while ordering her own archers to return fire. She may be trying to do too many things at once and some wires (or ropes, probably) get crossed; the ship lurches a bit and the volleys go wide. Eventually the ship's course will be righted, but until then Martinique is left seething at her knife and using it to cut away a few errant shafts that might trip people working on deck.

"Fools it is." Alarissa mutters, watching as the ship attempting to board them doesn't succeed for the moment, nostrils flaring as the other dares to board the second ship. She looks to the one that's trailing them and calls out, raising her voice and letting it boom over the waters. "IN THE NAME OF THE HIGH LORD VICTUS THRAX, PRINCE OF MAELSTROM, YOU WILL STAND DOWN!" Imbuing it with the authority of the man on the ship with her, even going so far as to gesture toward him.

With the arrows sent flying their way, positioned as she is, Natasha's arm is swift and direct. She reaches for the knob, swings the door open and dives into the cabin - just in time for a few arrows to rattle wood in audible thunks to shield her. Keeping herself covered by the varnished appendage, she shouts from behind her cover. "House Bloodbrook, House Thrax demands that you cease and desist your attempts to land in Maelstrom *immediately*! We were fully apprised of your operations here and prepared accordingly! Even if you did succeed, our positioned infantry *will* cut you down on the shore!"

Caspian gives a yelp as arrows begin to rain down on the deck "bloodbrok are bulbous bilge rat bastards!!" he gives a grin then jumps from the rigging to land on the deck and draw weapons. the arrows he can help deflect he does, as well as rushing to prepare for the boarding. "ooooh look at all we are bloodbrook. to pathetic to even be a river, just a little dribble is all we can muster!"

The volley of arrows fired at their sister ship answers Jasher's question well enough. Victus' order, and the fact of the enemy dromond adjusting her course for boarding action, prompt the prince to join the Thrax marines near the taffrail, weapon drawn in anticipation of combat. When the two ships are within grappling range, the sails are raised, irons are tossed and bodies begin to vault over the narrow channel of water left between their hulls - the one that almost always sees first blood when boarding begins. Jasher raises his weapon to cut at a Bloodbrook sailor just as he's made his attempt to lunge for the Lady Thunderstruck's main deck. He meets the sharp point of Reafian instead, and joins the others as they sink beneath the waves to their eternal graves.

Although Sorrel holds her sword, she does not jump to fight just yet. Assuming a defensive stance near Natasha, she looks immensely annoyed at the arrows, as if they are a personal affront, an annoyance, an insult. "House Bloodbrook, stand down and we will negotiate the terms of your honorable surrender to the High Lord of Thrax. Stand down!" she calls, opting to attempt diplomacy before she starts attempting to cut them down.

In the immediate chaos, the Bloodbrook galley slides alongside the larger vessel (Happy Eel) carrying Martinique, Caspian, Sorrel, and Natasha. Sailors begin to clamor aboard, hauling themselves up ropes. The captain of the galley looks toward where Natasha's voice came from, then turns to regard Sorrel. He hesitates. Over on Lady Thunderstruck, more Bloodbrook sailors board easily from dromond to dromond. Some of the sailors pause when they hear Alarissa. Some even pause long enough for Lady Thunderstruck's crew to cut them down or kick them overboard into to frigid sea. But more board until the deck is becoming crowded.

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Victus marginally fails.

Jasher checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jasher is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Martinique is successful.

Victus checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Victus is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique is successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher is successful.

Sorrel checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Sorrel is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Caspian is successful.

Alarissa checks charm and intimidation at hard. Alarissa is successful.

Sorrel checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Sorrel marginally fails.

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Critical Success! Caspian is spectacularly successful.

Alarissa checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Alarissa fails.

Alarissa checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Alarissa marginally fails.

Alarissa checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Alarissa is successful.

Alarissa remains capable of fighting.

Welp, time to get a-stabbin'. She doesn't turn as Natasha and Sorrel call out, focusing her attention on the approaching enemies--though she can see that small hesitation. Well, perhaps she can give them incentive to listen to the wise words of the Thrax women--her hands fill with knives and she launches into the foe as they attempt their attack, stabbing one who was clearly still eager to be first over the rail. Combat is joined, and she then parries away other attempted blows what lashing out with her own. She grins. She can't help it.

Natasha checks composure and manipulation at hard. Natasha marginally fails.

"TURN BACK NOW IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE" Alarissa barks out, moving back away from where people are starting to board. "OR FORFEIT YOUR LIFE" The last word is met however, with an arrow sailing through the air and striking the Princess somewhere to her left midriff and she lets out a cry of pain and right hand coming to the weapon sticking out of her before turning and seeking much like Natasha, some cover. Diplomacy was done for her and now it was Victus, Jasher and the other soldiers and sailors on the ship.

When the next wave of enemy marines makes their attempt to board, Jasher is there to waylay them. He makes no effort to depart the Lady Thunderstruck, not while there are people aboard that are attempting to negotiate a cease fire /and/ that may require his protection. And so he stands as a bulwark against any who would dare cross, and cuts yet another one down - his body falling to the deck with an exhalation of anguish - while successfully dodging an incoming strike with relative ease.

She narrows her eyes - her far-seeing gaze catches the sight of the captain of the attacking ship hesitating. After murmuring quietly to Sorrel and turning her attention to Caspian and Martinique, especially, to see how they're faring, she is about to press her advantage and continue to try and convince the other ship to cease and desist when attacks commence in full. With a yelp, she ducks back into the room and slams the door shut, and probably won't open it until the arrows at least *stop* hitting her shield.

With the fighting kicking off in earnest, Victus draws Barathrum from its sheathe and holds it close to his side. With a growl of fury, the Prince makes for the rails as assailants begin crossing the gap. Although his greatsword is intimidating, its weight also makes it slow and unwieldy. The enemy combatants are able to avoid its sharp edge, effectively forcing there to be a wide berth around him than dealing any actual damage. It comes with a silver lining however, in that the sailors needed that extra step to broach their attack, leaving him enough time to avoid their swings.

That cry of pain from a familiar voice however demands his attention. Casting his gaze to 'Rissa, he frowns beneath his helm, and immediately motions several soldiers across the Lady Thunderstruck to follow her into cover. "Go, GO!"

Caspian is waiting with a grin for the boarders, his knives held easily in his grasp "you know it's awfully nice of you to take all the trouble to deliver yourselves to your own doom..damned considerate of you" then his smile takes a wolfish grin to it as combat is joined! he drives into the fray, slashing in wide arcs. one sailor is to slow to move and the chain dagger slices cleanly through his throat. as the sailor stumbled, he threw a javelin at Caspian. it went wide, and would have grazed sorrel.. had Caspian not caught the tail end with his dagger, sending the javelin whistling harmlessly by

Sorrel makes eye contact with the Captain of the Bloodbrook galley who hesitated. She gives him a very serious look. "Captain! No one else needs to die here today. As a knight, I will see to it that your men are treated honorably. Do not lose your life here on these frigid seas! Do not dash your ship against the futility that is attacking your High Lord! Surrender now and you will be treated far better than you might anticipate! I will see to your safety personally," the princess calls, but she has readied her sword. Even if she is slow to join the fighting, she has made it clear that she will fight should he not act quickly.

The captain on the galley turns his gaze to Sorrel, listening to her as she compels him to give up the fight. He starts to bark out a command when his eyes go wide. Caspian's display has proven stunning. Instead, the tall, red-haired captain calls to his men to retreat and ready to make haste away from the Thraxian dromond.

Several of the Bloodbrook soldiers stare at Alarissa when she is struck by that arrow, gaping. The captain of the Bloodbrook dromond can heard cursing, threatening to have the head of whichever archer targeted the princess-consort. But that does not stop the battle.

Victus checks strength and huge wpn at hard. Botch! Victus fails completely.

Jasher checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jasher is successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Caspian is successful.

Victus checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Botch! Victus fails completely.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique is successful.

Sorrel checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Sorrel marginally fails.

with one dromond already retreating, Natasha turns to Martinique, Caspian and Sorrel. "I think we should let them go, but go and assist the Lady Thunderstruck with their trouble. If we overwhelm them, there's a chance we can take some of them alive for interrogation. I will, however, leave it to more adept naval minds than myself." This last to Martinique.

Victus checks luck at hard. Victus is successful.

The hands on her back and arm startle her, but the armor is familiar out of the corner of her eyes. Friendlies. Panting through the pain, bent over to protect the arrow in her from being jostled, she moves with them from the top to inside the ship while the battle beyond rings still in her ears. A prayer to Gloria let slip through clenched teeth before she's picked up to make moving through the ship faster to safer(ish) places more easily defended.

To the surprise of no one, Martinique continues to stab people in lieu of pursuing any diplomatic options. She dodges adeptly, parries, kills another sailor. Then she hears the enemy calls to withdraw, sees the opposition starting to go back over the rail from whence they came. Her first instinct is to pursue them, to jump across right back onto their ship--but she restrains herself. Perhaps barely. Instead she signals her own soldiers to fall back, for the archers to stay wary. A quick glance over at the Lady Thunderstruck confirms this--Alarissa has been shot, and now Victus is under heavy assault. She starts barking different orders, to make for the other dromond. The Happy Eel has not finished its feast this day.

Favoring the red-headed captain with a smile, Sorrel nods her head to him as he withdraws. It's not a surrender, but she'll take it, at least for the moment. She shifts to check on Natasha, that she's all in one piece and not bleeding, and then she nods to Martinique. "Good. Wise to get underway. On your toes, people! This matter has not yet been settled," she calls, her own sword not yet bloody.

Victus' eyes had never strayed far from Alarissa's retreat. Even with his instincts still in the battle, his attention is far from it. When he finally takes action, he's already being rushed. He swings his blade in a sloppy, kneejerk reaction that goes completely wide, and takes his poise with it. Stumbling, Victus is practically anchored down by his own blade as it smashes through a deck board. Left wide open, the assailants leap at the opportunity. Cutlasses, daggers, whatever the hell else are raining down. Several getting through his armor, leaving his coat with plenty of holes that would need to be sown in the aftermath.

He slides back on his heels and drops to a knee. Blood coats his chest... his /armored/ chest? Wait a minute...

The High Lord yanks the coat aside. His breastplate, reforged after an unfortunate encounter with one 'Wolf-Man', had always been left with a deep groove where the beast's claws had struck. Under the assault, it had become a chasm. All it takes is a quick tug, and the alaricite simply folds and bends out of place, all but slipping right off his torso. At least the moment of sheer shock his hidden beneath his helm.

With Martinique electing to follow her suggestion, Natasha nods grimly, having emerged from the cabin now that the hail of arrows and the clash of steel have ceased. After a reassuring nod to Sorrel at her once-over to ensure she isn't harmed, she draws her furred hood up and turns her attention to the sleek silhouette of the Lady Thunderstruck, still under siege, her expression set and grim. "Gods willing, we'll be able to reach them quickly," she murmurs.

Jasher continues to hold a defensive line, though the Bloodbrook marines are still able to swarm the deck. With Alarissa taking an arrow to the midsection, he begins to fall back with the aim of ensuring neither she nor Victus are cornered and cut down, at least not without going through him first. Reafian continues to spill the blood of enemies that would dare to attack the flagship of the Leviathan, one in particular suffering a fatal wound to the neck as the sharp alaricite edge cleaves bone and cartilage like a knife through softened butter. It is in the aftermath of this clean kill that Jasher pivots to find Victus has taken a knee and begun to inspect his red breastplate. Was it always red? No, no it was not. "Victus," his cousin shouts above the din of battle, his eyes expressing what concern he does not voice aloud, lest the enemy become aware and consider taking advantage of the fact that the most valuable target in Maelstrom is prone and wounded. He waits to receive a response before acting in any capacity to assist him or continue fighting, though his eyes are ever on the advancing threat.

Martinique checks command and war at hard. Martinique fails.

The galley with the unnamed, red-haired captain puts distance between itself and the Happy Eel, not looking back nor attempting to rally to the other Bloodbrook ship's side. Any sailors that were unfortunate enough to be too slow to regain the deck of the galley is cut down by the crew of the Thraxian dromond. It takes time for everyone to focus on heading toward the other two dromonds to relieve Lady Thunderstruck of the devestating attack they face.

Alarissa is safely carried into the depths of the ship where none of the Bloodbrook sailors can get to her. The captain of the drommond is actively moving across the deck of his ship toward the archer that hit the princess. The battle continues around them.

They're too far away. Martinique screams at her sailors but the ship can't be turned fast enough. At least not to her satisfaction. As well, even as they close, they can't risk archers without risking hitting their own on the Thunderstruck. So it is that Martinique is fuming by the forward rail, stalking back and forth in-between looking back at the bustling crew.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Critical Success! Victus is spectacularly successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jasher is successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher is successful.

Victus cringes in the process of standing, dragging his destroyed armor with him. To him, the Sword of Maelstrom sounds so distant, but the words still find their way to him. His eyes lift. Though his expression is hidden, his presence is clear as day. "THEY SHOT MY WIFE!" He roars in response. "THEY BROKE MY FUCKING-- MY FUCKING THING!" Coherency was difficult to find in the midst of his outburst. So much so, that the physical act of him /slamming/ his broken breastplate into the deck with a crushing 'BOOMF' has to speak for him. All of that rage comes through his screaming throat like a bursting dam, yelling across the waves themselves.

Just as quickly as he'd descended into a fit of frenzy, he's right back to standing tall. He swings his blade once more. Not to kill this time, but to direct his fury through the actions of his soldiers. The tip of the sword held the captain of the Bloodbrook dromond in its path. "Bring him to me. Bring me the fucking bilgerat."

Even from this distance, she can hear her big brother bellowing in rage. "Oh, thank gods," Natasha exclaims from where she's positioned on the deck of Martinique's dromond. "He's angry."

Caspian watches the attacking crew scramble back to their ship and snorts, "Dribble indeed! bloody cowards is more like it!" he looks over to Sorrel, Martinique and Natasha and gives just the biggest grin ever. his eyes sparkled with clear delight as he asked "So.. we are going for them right?" he motions to the other ship. Then Victus's voice carries over the water, he cant quite make out what was said, but it was quite clearly pissed. he shook his head, "oooh. they are in for it.."

Jasher watches with a mixture of pride and relief as Victus rallies, summoning every ounce of raw, unmitigated hatred and directing it at one very unfortunate target: the dromond's captain. That inspirational call to arms fills the prince with renewed vigor; he takes the High Lord's order as a personal challenge, pivots upon his heel, and begins to cross the deck of his ship with the express intent of bringing the captain's head back. A single enemy sailor stands in his path, but after a quick moment spent parrying blows with him, Jasher cuts him down and presses on. It may succeed or it may fail, but he's nothing if not a loyal Sword of Maelstrom, and furthermore, eager to take out the man responsible for the destruction and pain wrought against his family and their dedicated marines.

"We take who we can alive," Sorrel tells Caspian. "They're soldiers, following orders. We simply need to convince them that the consequences are worse if they do not surrender than if they continue to follow orders. That is often a difficult trick." She continues to hold her yet unused sword at her side, ready for conflict.

The crews of Lady Thunderstruck and the Bloodbrook dromond continue to clash, leaving blood and bodies spilling across the deck and into the sea. The Happy Eel maneuvers into place on the opposite side of the enemy ship, giving it little chance of escape caught between the two Thraxian vessels.

"No, I don't care about the soldiers. If they surrender, we'll give them a clean death, but they are traitors to the coronet and if they're so willing to die for their cause, we ought to oblige them as fellow Islanders," Natasha replies in her level tone, her eyes as black as coals as she keeps them trained on the Lady Thunderstruck. "The officers, however, are a different story - the captain, especially. Him, I will want alive to extend my hospitality." Martinique would know what that means.

Martinique checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Martinique is successful.

Martinique checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Martinique is successful.

Jasher checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jasher marginally fails.

"They're just soldiers. They are beholden to their lords as I am to mine--they don't have much of a choice if they are not to be foresworn." This is Martinique to Natasha. It's a rare moment of compassion from the stab-happy general. Of course, this is not going to prevent her from going over that rail and stabbing the absolute shit out of anyone who doesn't surrender. She strangely doesn't immediately head for the captain--but that might be because of the looming Thraxes she can see around her who might like to have a word.

Natasha checks composure and manipulation at hard. Natasha fails.

Jasher checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jasher is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Caspian is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Caspian is successful.

Sorrel checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Sorrel is successful.

Victus checks command and war at hard. Victus is successful.

Caspian looks to Martinique and Sorrel, "They had a choice. and they made it. they made it poorly. There is no excuse now for those who sail under those flags. They know damn well what they are fighting for and they could walk away. they CHOOSE not to. Even now, they could surrender, but they dont" he doesn't seem to harbor much sympathy for the now trapped men. When the ships gets close enough, he vaults onto the enemy ships's deck, twisting and spinning past the enemies attacks as he looks around for the captain, striving to reach him as streak of crimson begin to paint the deck around him.

Despite his assertions, Victus does not yet rejoin the fighting with the vanguard. One hand covers a bleeding wound on his chest, the other drags his sword behind himself. Still breathing, still standing, still mad... and still in control. "Take the captain alive. Damn the rest, the Sentinel will judge if they fulfilled their oaths to a hopeless cause!" He thrusts Barathrum into the air, rallying the bloodied but unbowed sailors aboard the Thrax ship. "Over the edge! Fight! FIGHT!"

"Beloved Natasha, the soldiers have consequences standing on deck with them. The officers do not," Sorrel points out quietly to her Thrax cousin, keeping her voice low before she steps forward as the Happy Eel approaches the Thunderstruck.

"Stand down!" Sorrel calls out loudly to the remaining Bloodbrook ship. "Surrender to your High Lord!"

Jasher makes his way to the deck of the enemy dromond and begins to wend his way through the crowd of combatants, careful not to trip or step on any of the dead scattered on the boards along the way. He does not make it without being spotted, but none of those that make out his identity are able to disengage from their Thrax attackers to forestall his progress. Eventually, he makes his way to where the captain is perched with a clear view of the combat raging on around him, and wastes no time engaging him. Reafian strikes, misses, but Jasher dodges in time to avoid the captain's counterattack.

It wouldn't be the first moment where the cracks are starting to show - Compassion is increasingly becoming a dwindling commodity within Natasha Thrax's personal coffers as the war progresses, and when the High Lord proves that they don't need to be in the same space to think alike, lashes lid faintly in acknowledgment. Within striking distance to the remaining dromond, the princess does nothing to engage physically - she remains close to the cabin, and the last thing she wants to be is a liability to Sorrel who has taken up the task of defending her. Other values may have been shelved, or at least limited, but familial piety remains; some say stronger than ever. She folds her hands in front of her, situated within the shadows of the cabin's awning. "Eyes forward, cousin," she tells Sorrel quietly. "I can't capture prizes with my own hands, but you can."

The captain of the Bloodbrook ship only fights off the Thraxians coming for him long enough to put an end to the archer that hit Alarissa himself. He spits at Jasher's feet, but he's not so stupid as to think he can win this fight now. The man drops his blade and holds his hands up in surrender. "You may as well kill me, Sword." Swiftly, his crew surrenders, as well. The combined force of the two Thrax dromonds allows for taking prisoners and securing the third ship under their control.

When the surrendering starts, Martinique slowly winds down from the stabbing. Perhaps not as fast as she should. But she was sincere in her holding that these are just ordinary soldiers, not responsible for the captain's actions, and so she too will stand down, though her knives stay in her hands even as she gestures for own soldiers to join her in surrounding the enemy as the ropes come out and prisoners are taken. "High Lord, what shall we do with their ship?" On the one hand, free dromond. On the other, burning ships to the waterline as a message is good clean fun.

Caspian seems almost disappointed when the captain gives in so easily. he does however, stop the stabbing, though a few well placed elbows and kicks to the shins may be dispatched. The daggers dont vanish, but he does stop the bloodshed, standing within stabbing range of the captain as he awaits the judgement of the others. he does mutter a few things under his breath though.

Caspian mutters, ""whish it was so ... to STOP being a thrall. ... ... ... your weapons and you ... fine."

Jasher takes a cautious step forward to kick the captain's weapon far out of his reach, then motions with his head for him to move toward the stairs that leads down to the main deck. "To the Thunderstruck. High Lord Victus Thrax would like a word with you," he orders through gritted teeth and ragged breaths. He follows after the man with Reafian pointed threateningly at his back, and escorts him across the gangway sailors helpfully lowered to bridge their ships for ease of transport. After all, there are a large number of bodies and surrendered enemy troops to be moved. He escorts the man within a few feet of Victus, though before he allows the man to step near, he orders a few sailors to check him for weapons on his person. Only after he is clear does Jasher sheathe his longsword and relax.

There's no expression when the Thraxian Voice glimpses, from a small distance, that the fighting has ceased and men have surrendered. They get to keep their lives, for now, but the real objective of the day can be spotted from her vantage point as the Sword of Maelstrom brings a captain of House Bloodbrook to the Lady Thunderstruck. "As always, you do excellent work, General Barlinnie," she tells Martinique - it's telling that she doesn't call her 'dame' despite having been knighted by the Countess. "I think I'll have to get on board the Lady Thunderstruck to assist His Grace with the captive, however." There's a glance at a hanging rope, tempted, briefly, to swing across like other seasoned sailors....but she remembers the water, and her noodle arms, and perhaps wisely stops herself from attempting it. Instead, she waits for a plank.

"Princess." Martinique will bow, and then call for a plank to be settled now that the ships are relatively stabilized in their positions. She herself will head back to the Happy Eel, there to clean her weapons and sheathe them, while her soldiers worry about seizing enemies and running the ship.

Sorrel sheathes her sword so that she can move to aid Natasha in crossing from one ship to the other. Because even with a plank, she's still a bit wary of the daintier princess and the icy sea below.

Natasha is overheard praising Sorrel.

Natasha is overheard praising Victus.

Natasha is overheard praising Martinique.

Natasha is overheard praising Caspian.

Natasha is overheard praising Alarissa.

Natasha is overheard praising Jasher.

Somewhere there's a short strangled scream. Victus and others from the house know who it belongs to. A few minutes pass and from the belly of the ships comes Alarissa, supported by soldiers now that the fighting seems to have died down. She's paler than usual and while most of the arrow's been snapped off, held in place by swaths of bloody cotton wrapped about her middle and her armor around the truncated shaft, her eyes are seeking out her husband even as she pants. Bloodied hand gripping the doorway. "Victus." She calls out, looking for him, needing to confirm for herself that he is alive.

Victus steps back and takes a deep breath. With all the action slowing to a finish, he can finally ease the tension in his body. Of course there's the sting that comes with it, but he's not going to show it if he can help it. Now was the time to put on brave faces. Tilting toward Martinique first, the Prince looks Bloodbrook's vessel up and down. "Search it from top to bottom. We're close enough to Maelstrom that bringing it back will be no issue. Skeleton crew, or a strong chain..." It didn't matter.

Now, onto the prisoner. The most significant one of the several that had laid down their arms. Victus nods with appreciation to Jasher, before focusing the full brunt of his glare upon Bloodbrook's leader. Slowly, he removes his helm, his hair damp and sweat running down his brow. "In another life, I would have clapped you in irons and let you experience the 'mercy' that is slavery. I wonder if you would be so eager to fight and die, if you were knee-deep in shit until your back is broken, passing your 'debt' onto your child once you've been drained of all life." His gauntleted hand involuntarily clenches into a fist and opens again, several times over. "Perhaps I should allow you to depart with a time-honored tradition, and mount your skinless body on a cross, to be licked by salt and scavenged by sea-birds until you finally run out of breath."

There is naught but malice in the High Lord's tone. The voice of a man who was, for all intents and purposes, 'done with this shit'. "Not yet, I think. Not yet. If you're cooperative, maybe your legacy won't merely be an omen of a traitor's end.." He steps back then, his gaze downcast. "Show respect to my sister when she arrives."

Turning on his heel, Victus immediately jerks his head in the direction of Alarissa. His armor clanks as he speeds his way toward her. "I'm alive. They broke my fucking good armor-- but alive." A beat. "You? Are you okay? I mean- fuck- obviously you're not, but, you get what I mean."

Caspian moves to jasher, and leans forward and whispers something in his ear

"It's not sharks" Something only he would understand, something between husband and wife and those in the know. But he's alive and his Alaricite is broken. A glance behind him and she lifts her head in the direction of those who have surrendered before a deep breath leaves her needing support from a soldier and more hurt noises. "Take us home."

There may have been a moment where she would have made a beeline straight towards where the captain of House Bloodbrook's dromond was held, but there is a pause in her tracks at the scream from Alarissa on the way to the brig. Wide-eyed and calling for her husband, she waits there until Victus sees to his wife, her dark, amber-flecked irises finding her older sibling when he arrives, larger than life, matted with sweat and caked with blood. A matching pair, if anything, though concern and displeasure etches further on her ivory countenance when she glimpses the shattered surface of the Prince of Maelstrom's breastplate. "Vic," she murmurs, her voice low in an attempt to smother her relief from it. "We'll have to replace that, if we can't mend it." She won't have her older brother go through the rest of the war without a major piece of armor, after all. After a glance to Alarissa, she bows her head to both, before she pivots to leave them to their privacy. She'll check on them later - after all, she knows how this goes. She can relate.

When she finally reaches the space in which the captain is held, she tilts her head to the side as she examines him carefully, silently, for a few long heartbeats. "My name is Natasha Thrax," she introduces, ever courteous. "Sister of the rightful High Lord of the Mourning Isles, Victus Thrax. I have the privilege of being his justice, and his *Minister of Loyalty*."

Eyes hood at that, rendering eyes like obsidian even darker, the shadows they cast snuffing the lights within. "Since you were so anxious to land in Maelstrom, I'll be more than happy to supervise your visit."

Her words drift at the last as the door closes slowly behind her.

The captain is the picture of a perfect prisoner as he approaches Victus. The order to search the ship sends people off in groups of three and four while others haul the Bloodbrook crew off the ship to be bound for transport to the Maelstrom stronghold. It isn't quiet, but within a relatively short time, the chaos of battle has settled into a murmur of activity.

With a sneer, the captain meets Victus's gaze. "You still could." He quickly bites his tongue, however, opting for silence when Alarissa arrives back on deck. That, or the threat of being skinned and left on a cross is more than he wants to tempt the High Lord with. His head lowers when the rest of the Thraxian nobility assemble around him.

The emotions in Martiique's face are conflicted as Victus makes his threats. But then she turns and starts givign yet more orders. Prisoners are to be moved and kept under guard. The ship itself is to be searched. And /no looting/ at least until they've tallied what all they've managed to pick up. "If they've been mooring in that cove, they might have more supplies there. I can go check it if you want to haul this thing away." She adds.

Jasher leans in to listen to Caspian's murmured words at his ear, then nods once. His response is delivered in a similar fashion: in a volume so low that none other than the champion can hear it.

Caspian looked to Jasher and nodded with a smile, hand going to his chest in a salute. He spun on his heel and headed for the captains cabin to begin the searching.

Martinique checks perception and sailing at hard. Martinique fails.

Caspian checks wits and investigation at hard. Caspian is successful.

Natasha checks composure and manipulation at hard. Natasha is successful.

Jasher checks perception and investigation at hard. Jasher fails.

Sorrel checks wits and investigation at hard. Sorrel fails.

"We'll get you back there. Safe and sound." With little Eleyna too, but that remains unspoken. Standing beside his wife, Victus takes a long look across the deck. Bloodied and full of grim faces, still working along despite the scenes before them. Such was war. Natasha's remarks are given a nod, and a short 'hmph'. He's not quite over the loss of his gear just yet. "At least it wasn't Barathrum." Victus looks pridefully at his bloodied blade. His third arm, really. He calls next to the Sword of Maelstrom. "Jasher. Good work." Another nod, another grunt, and a final sigh as he looks back on his obliterated alaricite scrap.

"Fuckheads..." The High Lord curses under his breath before simply tossing the wreck of a breastplate overboard. A burial at sea for a worthy companion.

With the door closed, Natasha eases down on a chair directly in front of the captain, her hands folding on her lap. "There were too little of your number to take a chance at invasion. What did you intend to do in Maelstrom? If this was a scouting mission, what were you looking for?"

The captain taunt to Victus, of making a thrall is met with a pained glare by Alarissa. The back of her right hand brushes against the back of Victus' as the breastplate is given a sailors burial before a soldier is guiding her back into the belly of the ship so she can lay down somewhere till Maelstrom and healers can tend to her and other wounded.

Caspian returned from the cabin, a neat little chest in his hands. he had the lid open and perusing several documents when he stepped onto the deck. as he walked into the sun ahain, he snapped the lid closed and gave a smile and nod to Jasher. He would wait by the door where Natasha was questioning the captain, and when she emerged hand her the chest with a bow.

The captain huffs. "You weren't supposed to be here." He seems rather miffed by the fact that his mission was met with resistance. There is a hint of regret in his expression. "Especially weren't supposed to bring the Usurper and his bride." He sighs, shaking his head. It takes him a long moment to respond to the rest of Natasha's questions. "We've been looking for weaknesses around Maelstrom. Had heard there might be a path along that forest edge that wasn't well watched by guard." But then he falls silent. He stares at Natasha for long seconds. "When your brother kills me, would you see my ring sent back to my wife?"

"We'll be continuing this conversation in Maelstrom, Captain," Natasha remarks. "And once we're finished speaking, I'll be administering your execution, unless you would like an audience before His Grace before then. As for your ring..." She glances down at the finger where the jewelry rests, though there is barely a flicker of emotion present, nor any softness of tone. While neutral, it remains cordial. "I give you my word that your ring will be sent to your wife. Get some rest."

The implication that he will need it is there.

Rising from her seat, she steps out into the hallway, to meet with Caspian and relieve him of the things he finds. "My gratitude, Messere Wilde, and good work today."

To be continued...