Fog against Mist
The Arakyma had been sailing for Isara, laden with goods to exchange with the Isarans themselves, but more importantly the Helians who had recently landed in Aeredos and struck an accord with Vaesilokh Ilhara. This time of year, the Sea of Storms was in full swing, and it had taken every bit of skill from Seval (Captain) Tirela Cyron and their crew to make it through unscathed. They thought that they would have smooth sailing when they broke through from the torrential rain and intense winds. The unnatural fog that rolled in two days later, out of nowhere suggested to Tirela that this was no longer the case. A few hours after entering the thick fog, Tirela was joined at the helm by the blue-eyed Viras Ilcolin, oft called the Mistweaver, a mage that specialized in water magic. Anaetyne ships often employed water mages to help with the journeys, but the Arakyma was lucky enough to have a relatively powerful one stationed on them, since this was a long voyage, and important to the Vaesilokh.
“This is no natural fog, Seval.” Viras said in a vaguely irritating monotone.
“I’m aware, Viras, I may not have your talents but I know when a fog shouldn’t form.”
Viras smiled thinly at the Seval’s retort, but waited a moment before responding, “Be that as it may, I cannot shift this fog, because it is unnatural. If I don’t know the mechanism behind it I can’t do anything about it, I don’t know what awaits us in here, but you should ready the soldiers. Whatever is about to happen, I doubt it is here to share a meal and song.”
Tirela nodded, and sang out three words that carried across the ship and over the water beyond. Below the deck, the sound of metal on wood preceded the door leading below being thrown open, and within minutes nearly two dozen soldiers stood upon the main deck. Half of them held spears, the other half had bows at the ready. It was none too soon, as after Viras went down to join the Anaetyne warriors, three black sailed ships came gliding silently out of the fog towards the Arakyma. The soldier with the fanciest carvings on their armor looked to Tirela, who nodded once before unsheathing their own sword and thrusting into the sky. As the dark ships pulled alongside the Arakyma, the human pirates aboard found a wall of elven soldiers, singing at the top of their lungs, spears leveled and arrows nocked. The pirates hesitated for a moment before a shout went up “ATTACK YOU COWARDS, WE OUTNUMBER THEM FOUR TO ONE”. And so the battle began.
Pirates leapt from their ships to the elven ship, to be impaled on leaf bladed spears and struck down mid jump by multiple arrows. Quickly, however, the pressure of numbers forced the defending elves to back up, and the pirates gained a foothold on the deck. Two elves were struck down by enemy arrows, and one to a notched and rusty sword. Tirela waded into the fray, cutting down three pirates who tried to stop them from making their way to their men. The battle was tense for a few moments, before Viras finished what he was doing behind the Anaetyne warriors, knelt down in the center of the deck.
Blue tendrils of energy had been slowly feeding into them, emerging from the fog and sea and pouring into their eyes and mouth, but now, they stopped, and the elven mage stood up to their full height and threw out their hands. Mist poured off their body like they was carved from dry ice, and a cerulean glow came from their eyes and mouth. The pirates noticed this, and hesitated for a moment, captivated by the display. So captivated, in fact, that they didn't notice the sea rising behind them. Massive tentacles of water, reminiscent of the tales of krakens they all had grown up on, rose from the sea between the two ships, and after holding a moment above the enemy, came crashing down as Viras slammed their arms downward. The water hit the deck with all the force of the raging tide, and pirates were blasted off the ship into the water. Those that were not were grasped by the tendrils, and thrown bodily into the ocean with their allies. The Anaetyne, while soaked from the display, remained on deck unscathed.
Soon only the pirate captain remained, trying to crawl his way across the deck back to his ship with an arrow in his thigh. Tirela walked up to him slowly, and placed their heavy boot on the small of his back, pressing him into the drenched wood and preventing him from moving.
“Please, mercy sir, mercy!” the pirate sobbed, as Tirela increased the pressure.
“The Anaetyne have no mercy for murderers and thieves.”
One swift thrust from their sword silenced the cries for mercy.
As the Seval turned away and gestured for two of their soldiers to remove the body, they ordered Viras to knock holes in the ships before they departed.
“If some of them survive, they will warn others not to trifle with our people. If they don’t, they aren’t our problem anymore.”
The Mistweaver nodded, and began drawing in power once more, as the fog around them dissipated.