A ragged cheer started along the ship's crew and Skyreach's own men. It was quickly extinguished when they spotted the pirate vessel cutting through the brine less than ten paces off the starboard. Lined up along the port side of Chalice of the Crowns, Skyreach's men were out of place to defend the ship.

"Order them to the other side," Skyreach snapped.

Verys hurriedly did as she bade, his flags snapping code in short arcs.

Skyreach released her hold on the rigging and plunged across the deck. The wooden deck raged across the wallows of the cruel sea, making footing treacherous. The slick scum left by the lapping brine contributed to the danger.

Even as trained as they were, Skyreach saw a handful of her men go down in twisting heaps as they lost their footing across the deck. The careful formations they'd arranged themselves into were suddenly confused and broken.

The elven warrior stumbled across more than ran across the deck. She fell, caught herself on her hands, and forced herself back to her feet. A curling wave caught her, rising almost to her knees, and the spitting spume splashed across her, drenching her even more. She felt clothed in liquid, only the harsh bite of the leather breaking that illusion. Verys straggled at her side. She reached out and helped the man to his feet.

"Thank you, milady."

Reaching the other side of the deck, Skyreach saw the grappling hooks launched from the pirate vessel claw for Chalice of the Crowns.

"Cut the ropes!" she yelled. Lifting the long sword, she brought the keen edge down against a grappling hook's trailing rope. The hemp was tightly wound, and it took two more blows to completely sever it. The grappling hook, a trident of curved metal, dropped at Skyreach's feet. She kicked it away, then it vanished in a new coil of waves that slapped across the deck.