Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-26446054-20151011004211/@comment-26446054-20151022143304

(Sunny, you are approved)

Cyrnin held onto the stern of the Thalmor ship, stomach lurching as the surprisingly fast ship dragged him along. Climbing became a mixture of terrifying, hard and tiring due to the boxes slowing him down with one arm, and the water making it slippier with every movement. "What in the name of Akatosh is she doing?" Cyrnin muttered, seeing Lyria attempting something with the fuse. But whatever it was, his vision was blocked out by the abrupt bellow of explosions going off simultaneously with shards of glass or metal flying in all directions and the orange-yellow flash of flames engulfing the houses, the dry wood and palm leaves easily catching fire.

Surely, Lyria couldn't be alive, Cyrnin thought. Could she?

He shook his head and pressed on with the task at hand, finally reaching a window in the hull as the Nord's Terror  closened to the pirates. There, in the ammunition hold beside the gunners, he could see the cannonballs stacked beside gunpowder barrels.

"Perfect." Whispered he, and clambered in quite noisily, lighting a thin string (his make-shift ignition cord) and dropping the satchel by the barrels - just as he was spotted by a gunner.

"Oi! You! Stop right there!" Shouted the one that found Cyrnin, alerting the others. A Shock spell flew his way and hit his arm, tumbling the surprised Cyrnin into the wall as the satchel cord burnt on. Time seemingly slowed down as he watched it finish and begin to spark, before he gathered his wits and leapt out, caught by flames on the way out that singed his waist, but his pain was soon relieved by cold water. All the while, Thalmor men burnt and screamed, the stern exploding and sending wood into the air, the massive hole letting in water.