Part of a section about Campaigns.
Ekess Morshin Kornari Di Wer Thaczil
Leaf Persvek vi Pab
The Anigav's bow crested over the waves, she sought her destination off the eastern coast, the small fishing town of Dale^Dale. Though the ship had long forgotten the touch of drydock, she still harkened unto the coast as faithful as any vessel. However her voyage would take her on a course few ships could claim to have surpassed, no thanks to a few unlikely passangers.
Varis Farfeather awoke from his cot below the creeking deck. And for a moment, forgot, untill the bitter memories of his home returned to him in a force as crashing as the rising waves upon his mind. The ruckus of the crew above did not help his discomfort of sea travel. The constant chopping of Cook-Cook's knife on the wooden table at the end of the galley's mess brought a nauseating sickness to his stomach. One that reminded him of the pain he was running from. And also seeking out.
Surwen nostrils burned under the rising stench of Captain Ilmig's merryment. His cabin was left in dissarry, (though she doubted it ever looked much better) shattered bottles of brandy littered the rocking floor. (Nothing she wasn't used too) Seoen glided across the hazzard as if she was merely performing a graceful dance she had rehearsed countless times before. The Anigav banked suddenly. Seoen shifted her weight and lept onto Ilmig's table casting bottles and womens clothing in everydirection. With a spining grace that would impress any cat of Stareach, she kept her momentum and glided on top of a tumbling stool and landed calmly infront of her prize, the Captains chest. Gold, notes and some womens underwear (not trophys) were revealed once the lock was unfortunately retired (nothing exceptional but a girl can't complain). A thunderous crack reverbated throughout the entire ship, she was running out of time. A whimpering cry could be heard through the distant yells of the desperate crew. It was coming from the cabinet (she was reluctant to search). She edged her way to the cabinets cracked door, expecting anything, well, almost anything. A quivering pup was inside, pressing intself into the corner of the interior. Another lost soul? Not today.
Teufel Ver' knew it wouldn't be the last time his hands would bleed. The rope was cutting deep into his flesh. He couldn't let go, lives were depending on his strength. The spray of the waves and rain gathered on his face and dripped off the tips of his horns. Ignoring the flashes of thunder and the howls of pain from the injured sailors, Teufel Ver pulled the rigging with every ounce of his soul. The mast was holding and by the gods so would the rest of the Anigav! If Teufel had anything to say with his joints! Clearing his face from the spray and his own fallen hair, he noticed Varis loose an arrow into the center of the foul spirit of the storm. Behind Varis, Teufel could see Surwen emerging from the ships main cabin, with a hidden bundle in her arms. He would have to watch her closley. But that was not the task at hand, literally! Before Teufel even realized what he was doing, he had instinictively grabbed the hands of a sailor who had some how managed to return from the swallowing sea clasping on to the bulwark of the Anigav. A thunderous crack shook the ship and the mast collapased across the deck crushing the legs of a poor seamen. The impact nearly drove both Teufel and the young sailor into the licking sea below. Teufel could have sworn he heard a dolphins call, nevermind, lives were depending on his strength, and his hands were bleeding.
Azkaellon was not about to be made a fool of. The creature thought that it could best an Astartes. It was wrong.