Troubled Waters - Part II

Kahl watched The Water Fist lurch upwards, it's bow in the air, pause for a brief instant, and then with a sickening groan that carried all the way to him, fall hard, impaling itself on the jagged rock before it. The hull shattered under the impact, and shock waves emanated outwards from it, carrying with it splinters of wood and drops of water. He could feel the deck under his boots vibrate softly, water and wood striking his breastplate. He cursed softly, wiping his breastplate clean. The plate was heavy enough to drag him to a watery grave, should he fall into the sea. He hated it, hated the mere sight of it, and what it symbolized. Some said that the plates were not red with paint, but with blood. Kahl knew it to be partly true. The Blood Knights were called so because of their bloody armour, and that was why, against pure logic, he wore it today. It was what instilled fear into their opponents, a trademark of the indomitable Blood Knights. He wondered, though, if there was anyone left to instill fear into, after what he had just seen. Through the fog, he could see shapes sprawled across the deck of The Water Fist, but he was unable to tell if they were moving.
"Looks like our job is already done, general", Jorr grinned, coming up to stand beside him.
The look of pure loathing and disgust that Kahl shot at him wiped the grin of his face.
"Do you find it amusing that some of the best warriors in the world may have died in a ship wreck that we just caused, lieutenant?"" Kahl's voice robbed Jorr of every bit of warmth he had in him. "Terwyn and his group do not deserve to die like this. In fact i'll place a wager that they are still alive. And if they are, i would like to keep it that way. If they attack, then defend yourselves, but do not initite an attack. Is that understood, lieutenant?"
"As you say", Jorr said gruffly, saluting, clenched fist touching his right eye. Almost as an after-thought, he added a "General". Then with the flick of his hand, he signaled the advance. Fifty Blood Knights followed.

Of all the parts of the deck of The Water Fist, the helm was the most protected. It was here that Katryn and Haadro had braced themselves for the collision. Haadro was still dizzy and disoriented from his fall. His deck hadn't ruptured, but he couldn't even begin to think about what had happened below it.
Katryn picked up her quarterstaff and watched the first of the Blood Knights board the ship, throwing grappling hooks onto the gunwale and crossing over. Tears stung her eyes, as her thoughts kept going to Terwyn, possibly lying dead in his room two decks below. She saw a lieutenant stand in front of her, with Blood Knights milling around behind him, and a corporal next to him, reading a declaration from the Emperor. His words didn't register in her mind, rage filling her head instead. For too long she had been running, but now she didn't care. Now she was going to show them her true power. Her eyes glowed, a soft blue light, and she stretched her hands outwards, palms facing the corporal. A blood-curling shriek interrupted his speech, as his head burst into flames. He clawed at his face, running about madly, blindly. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled the air, but no one took notice, eyes instead rivetted on the flailing man. The corporal stumbled, and fell headlong into the main-mast, and flames instantly sprung up along the polished mast. It teetered slowly, it's base consumed by the fire, then it fell, right into the midst of the Blood Knights, scattering them like flies. The crash and the oppresive heat from the spreading fire brought Katryn back to her senses. A line of fire cut the helm and bow off from the stern. To her left, on the bow, Ghost stood up groggily, recovering from the collision with the rock. And in front of her stood the Blood Knights, in no mood to negotiate, ready to kill.

The twins had regained consciousness just in time to see Katryn set a Blood Knight's face ablaze. They had lost almost all their arrows. Evandred had two left, Elandred one. It wasn't enough though. Ten Blood Knights had dived onto the stern, trying to escape the falling main-mast. The knights advanced on the twins and the two sailors with them, drawing out their swords. The sailors ran forward, pulling out short swords, and engaged the knights. Simultaneously, the twins nocked arrows, pulled back the drawstrings to their cheeks, and let fly. Two knights dropped dead, feathered shafts sticking out from their necks.
I'm out, pulsed Elandred.
Evandred felled another knight. Time to improvise. He pointed towards the railing, and in particular, it's wooden props.
I like your style. Elandred grabbed a prop, yanked hard, and broke it loose. It was heavier and thicker than a normal arrow, but the length was right, and it's ends were splintered. And it did a satisfactory job of killing knights.
The sailors were dead now, and the remaining six knights charged towards the twins, looking like demons with the fire raging behind them. They dropped two, but the rest were closing in fast, too fast to nock and fire. Their minds combined, pulling in energy from their bodies, concentrating it, and lashing out hard at the minds of the incoming knights. The knights stopped suddenly in mid-stride, momentarily stunned. The delay gave the twins all the time they needed to dispatch them.

Rom, with a sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other, stormed into the approaching Blood Knights. Eight were just too many for him, though, and he was cut down instantaneously. Eight pairs of eyes looked down on the mangled body with satisfaction, then up at Ghost and the five sailors with him, watched Ghost raise his hands, palms facing the sky, and then opened wide in horror as the dead body in front of them started writhing about vigorously. Fissures formed, on the skin along the centre of the face, torso and limbs. Then, as if by some unseen force, the flesh on either side of the fissures burst apart, spewing out blood and an assortment of organs, revealing the bones beneath. Slowly, the skull raised itself up, the scalp falling down like loose cloth. The rib-cage and backbone moved upwards, into a sitting position, shoulder blades shrugging off the skin. Bony appendages picked up the sword and dagger, and then, like some hideous monster rising up to earth from the Hells, it stood in front of the petrified Blood Knights. Crimson, coagulated blood stuck to it, nerves and arteries embedded in the sticky, semi-solid blood. The diaphragm separated from the ribs and fell to the ground, lungs and heart following immediately after, making abhorrent sounds as it slapped to the deck. The eye sockets glowed red, and the horror-stricken Blood Knights could see the brains beyond it, part of it slowly leaking out through the hollow nose. Lifting the sword up, it calmly decapitated the knight in front of it.