Troubled Waters - Part I

Kahl stood in front of the long mirror attached to the wooden wall, checking himself in it, adjusting his purple cape and it's claw shaped clasps on his shoulders. He searched for unwanted marks on his polished, red breastplate, and found none to his satisfaction. The face that looked back at him from the mirror wore a strict look, accentuated by the black, trident shaped beard on his chin. He lifted his sabre, testing it's edge with his thumb. It pricked him, causing a bud of blood to well up, reminding him of the amount of bloodshed he had caused, and how much more he would cause. A knock on his door broke him from his reverie.
"Enter"
The door opened to let in a burly man with a bald head. His attire was similar to Kahl's.
"I trust you have good news for me, Jorr", said Kahl, still looking into the mirror.
"Yes, General", said the Liutenant. "We have found them. They are in front of us, sailing south along the Verdian coast."
"Excellent, get the men ready. And tell me, Jorr, why are we slowing down?"
"Because, sir, we might collide with them."

Terwyn stood on the bow, clutching the gunwale, letting the sea water spray onto his face. The wind had picked up, making his clothes flutter, and his shoulder lenght hair fly in different directions. He peered out of the port side, into the curling mists, trying hard to make out the distant coastline.
"Ter, good man, there you are", a voice hailed him from behind. Terwyn turned around to see the large shape of the captain waddling towards him.
"Fine weather we are having, don't you think, Haadro", said Terwyn, sardonically.
"Eh, don't give me none of that," Haadro grumbled. "It could be worse, even with this blasted fog. Besides, we are making better time than i expected. We may even reach Kos Verda by tomorrow evening."
"Splendid", said Terwyn, admiring the large fore mast, it's sail bulging outward with the force of the wind. It had a blue fist on a sea of green worked on it, Haadro's personal sigil, and was identical to the twin mainsails. A large crossbar extended from the centre of the main mast, forming a triangle with the booms of the two mainsails. "Tell me Haadro, why do you call your ship The Water Fist?"
"I think it resembles a clenched fist. Because, you see, the beam is a little longer than in most ships. But since i'm such a prosperous merchant, i need more space for my cargo. The three decks of the ship are an added bonus", he boasted.
"Indeed. Well, just to let you know, it's been a pleasure riding on your fine vessel. And i speak for my whole group."
"Really?". Haadro pointed at the man standing just behind the pulpit, holding his black cloak close to his body, with pale white hands. He was facing the wind, but his red eyes were wide open, pale white face unfliching, silver hair flowing down in waves till the small of his back, unmoving.
"Oh, you mean Ghost? He doesn't say much, or do much, for that matter. Statues resemble him sometimes", quipped Terwyn. "But he has his uses", he added with a glint in his eye.

Elandred and Evandred stood out on the stern of The Water Fist, eyes closed, their sharp Elven features mirror images of each other's. Their loose woollen cloaks flapped loosely, but they didn't bother about it, concentrating, instead, on the different life forms in the ocean beneath. Images floated in their minds, random thoughts from the creatures below, and the twins shared it between themselves. They could feel the presence of people behind them, sailors going about different chores, but they pushed them out, creating place for a lamprey, and behind it a dolphin, little points of pulsating light in their heads.
And then a whole set of entities entered their minds, larger points of light, coming from starboard. The twins jerked their heads around, simultaneously, their sharp Elven eyes instantaneously spotting the gigantic shape bearing down on them, like a monster emerging from the mists.

Garon pulled his shawl around him tighter, clutching a mug of warm ale and sipping slowly in intervals. The wind was harshest up on the crow's nest, and The Water Fist's nest wasn't protected from the elements at all. Garon cursed his luck softly, for being sent up there on that day of all days. He thought he heard his name being called out, and a flicker of movement down on the deck caught his eye. He looked down and saw the two Elves waving frantically at him, and pointing out to the sea. Frowning, he turned around and peered out, but there was only the fog. And then he saw it, his mug fell from nerveless fingers.
"Gods!"

"All hands on deck!" screamed Haadro, running to the tiller, and snatching control of it from the helmsman. He pulled hard trying to turn the ship to port. "Furl the mainsails", he bellowed, "and rotate the foresail forty-five degrees to port".
Men immediately jumped to his calls. Ten sailors ran towards the mainsails, desperately trying to control them against the vicious wind and fold them up. The sailors had undone the foot of the sail, but now it was flapping wildly and they couldn't tie it up.

Terwyn surveyed the scene from the helm, watching Ghost help Rom, the first mate, and five other sailors turn the foresail succesfully. The twins were at the mainsails. They had decided to cut loose the entire sail, after several futile attempts at tying them up.
"What a waste of good sail, but atleast we are turning", said Haadro, with a hint of dismay in his voice. Terwyn grunted, turning around to get another look at the trireme that almost collided with them. It was slightly behind them now, but closer, it's massive mainsail coming into view, a bloodied sword painted across it.
His jaw dropped.

"Go away Ter. Let me sleep", grumbled Katryn, hugging her pillow closer.
"The Blood Knights are here. I don't know how they found us, but they almost collided with us", said Terwyn in a gruff note, hauling Katryn up. "Go to the deck. Take your quarterstaff with you. I am going to get my swords."
Katryn looked at the black, dragon-bone quarterstaff propped up against the wall. "Time to get back to work", she sighed. She smoothened the wrinkles on her green robe, picked up the staff, and ran up the stairs to the deck.

Evandred and Elandred, yew longbows in their hands, and quivers, filled with arrows, hanging across their backs, watched the trireme draw closer. Even through the fog, they could see the Blood Knights, the finest fighting unit in the world, forming ordered ranks on the deck, looking powerful in their red breastplates and billowing purple capes, ready for war. The twins immediately recognized the man standing in front of the ranks, a long spear in one hand, and a curved sword in the other, the legendary Kahl. They weren't surprised to see that he was the general of the Blood Knights. Tales of his valour and courage were told in every town, every village, men talking of how they had once fought alongside the great man, children telling their friends how they were going to grow up to be just like him. The twins had seen displays of exquisite swordplay from many people, Terwyn included, but Kahl was of a different league altogether, the league of some of the greatest heroes ever. Their minds raced, planning strategies, sharing them with each other, forming possibilites and countering them. Then a sudden sense of panic filled their minds, but it didn't originate from them, it came instead from everyone else on board. Turning around, they looked towards the bow. The ship was heading straight towards a rock.