Tristan was not the target of the shots that came at the vessel, thanks to his high perch. Instead, people below were targeted – ballistae crew primarily. He winced as he saw several crew members hit, and there were screams of pain as they reeled away from the mounted weapons, blood beginning to slick the decks. Thankfully, the volley was at maximum range – so many shots missed entirely.

Tristan pulled back the bowstring, pushed essence into the weapon once more, and let loose as another explosion of ice scattered across the hostile crew – causing injury aplenty as curses echoed out over the water. No fatalities were inflicted, but the injuries and knowledge of being up against an essence-weaver were sure to be disheartening. "Felicity, go down below, grab some of those bottles of alcohol and go on a bombing run."

She tapped his head, "Oooh! I get to firebomb them!" she flew off, and Tristan saw the crossbow bolts coming to bear once more. Not aiming at the ship and the ballistae crew – but up at him. Shit, he thought, spinning his essence crucible as he activated Scales of Our Foe. The armor enveloped his body, and the barrage was loosed up at him. Thanks to Near Miss, the vast majority went sailing past him; but the sailor next to him was not so lucky. Tristan turned as the man gasped out in pain – a bolt lodged in his throat. He let out a gurgle, a pleading look in his eyes, as he tumbled out of the crow's nest and crunched onto the deck below.

Tristan had seen death before. Inflicted it, as well, but the idea that a single lucky shot could end everything helped ground him in the truth of any conflict – anyone could be a casualty. Obadai, who must have seen the focus on Tristan, lobbed another flaming sphere at the ship – this time focusing on the crew. The flaming sphere impacted, men screamed, and dropped onto the decks of the ship as their allies ran over to smother the flames.

Ballistae were reloaded and a second volley went off. Tristan felt a tingling on the back of his neck, and he moved a little to his left, barely dodging a bolt the size of his arm that barely nicked his pauldron. I'm too easy of a target up here, he thought. But he also had a great vantage point. Slinging the bow by the string over his shoulder, he held his hand out in front of himself. Palm up, chest height, tucking the thumb and pinky into the palm as he held the other three fingers out in front of him. "Ich beschwöre die Wut von Hitze und Flamme: Bilde einen Blitz, der mein Ziel verbrennt und versengt." (I summon forth the rage of heat and flame: form a bolt that will burn and sear my target).

A sphere of crackling silver appeared in his palm as the essence surged down his arm. Crimson and black sparks danced in the silver flame, and the edge of the flames were tinged icy blue. More essence, he thought as he spun his crucible more. And the flame expanded, growing in size into a bright, shining beacon of destructive energy. He could feel the temperature increasing as the sphere grew to the size of a horse. He felt his essence draining and stopped the flow to the spell when it was at about half of its maximum. Then, he threw the sphere.

It impacted the top of the deck as the ships came in for boarding actions. The silver flames exploded in an inferno that quickly turned a deep, cherry red mixed with orange as the entire deck blazed up.

Then, the flames began to turn gold. Tristan glanced at Obadai, seeing him perform a very complicated gesture. Right, Tristan recalled, I ignited the deck with my spell, he's going to-

His thoughts were interrupted as the flames burned a bright, shimmering gold before rising in height and heat to the point that the ropes around him began to dry out. The sails got crisp, with slight burn marks appearing. The pirates on board that vessel yelled out before the air in their lungs was stripped away by the roaring inferno – the entire top of the ship completely engulfed in a raging blaze. It was both awe inspiring and frightening, and Tristan felt very keenly the gap between his and Obadai's essence-weaving prowess.

One ship dealt with, the Archon ducked into the ship, and Tristan assumed he must have been low on essence and didn't want to risk injury. Can't blame him for that, Tristan thought. He clambered down the ropes as the remaining ship approached, and got to the deck as grappling hooks were thrown and planks tossed down – planks with jagged hooks on the bottom to facilitate boarding actions.

The crew faded back as the Pathfinders surged forward; more heavily armed and armored than the crew, but the pirates were far greater in number. Crossbow bolts went flying in both directions, shouts and screaming echoed across the waters, and the crackling of the ship that was now a pyre was ever-present.

Tristan pushed essence into his blade, activating Dragon's Doom as the weapon elongated. And being heavily armored, he managed to swap places with a Pathfinder to take a leading 'blocker' position at the end of one of the boarding platforms. The battle was truly joined, as a large Bearkin dressed in light leather armor and wielding a large, hooked spear stabbed forward at Tristan.

The well-trained dragonslayer was easily able to parry the strike, and his lengthened blade was capable of delivering a return blow, disarming the figure. Tristan felt that tingling on the back of his neck that something he was about to do was a bad idea. I was going to stay here, so I should advance? He chose to gamble on that and moved forward – not a second too soon, as a pirate fell from above – sniped by a crossbow bolt mid-swing to board the ship.

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Tristan was now on the wooden platform between ships, and he fended off the next to approach. A burly Pigkin holding a cutlass. The figure let out a war cry and chopped downward. Tristan stepped into the strike – shoving his forearm under the blade and trusting the armor to catch the weapon. It did so, and he was able to whip his left arm to the side as he brought his blade in from the right with the momentum, slashing across the man's chest and sending him careening into the water between the ships.

Tristan heard cackling, and glancing up saw Felicity dropping flaming bottles of alcohol onto the ship. "Take this! And this! And especially this!"

He could not focus on her as the assaulting crew kept coming, and he was pressed not just by the one he was facing, but two more as he had almost unknowingly advanced onto the enemy vessel. No longer being boarded, he was the one doing the boarding. And he could tell based on the sounds around him that the Pathfinders had pushed forward as well – the ones that had gotten onto a blocking position on the planks. There was combat on the Tideskipper's Crest behind him from those who swung over – but Tristan couldn't focus on that and what he was doing.

Parrying a strike from one of his foes, he unleashed a broad sweep as he brought his left hand up to his mouth, curling his fingers into a ring. Exhaling out as he spoke the spell, he said, "The power I took from you is now mine to wield!" Essence churned and drained from his crucible as he released an enormous blast of flame – a thirty-foot cone that engulfed those in front of him and across the ship with silver fire.

They screamed and began trying to put it out, and Tristan got off the plank and onto the deck of the other ship. The whole surface was ablaze, and men were desperately trying to fight it off. Even the Pathfinders had retreated along the planks, just holding them as men tried to escape the blaze. But Tristan, thanks to his quaffing of fire dragon blood, barely felt anything; just a little bit of warmth as the flames surged up around him.

He carved into the pirate crew, ending their suffering as they wailed in pain from the all-engulfing and encompassing heat. Slicing his way to the upper decks, he came face-to-face with the unharmed Vantir captain. He was holding a long, thin rapier and took up a duelist's stance – but a shoddy one. Tristan glowered through the visor of the helmet, "Surrender, and I'll let you live."

The man looked at the ship engulfed in flames, the same flames that began to surge up and around Tristan and dropped his weapon. "We surrender!" he shouted in a slightly nasal voice. "Just stop the fire!"

Tristan turned back to the deck of the ship below him, sheathed his weapon, and then put both of his hands at his midsection. He bent his fingers into crooks, interlaced them, and then faced his palms outward. I'll be low on essence after this, he thought as he focused the powerful energy from his crucible into his hands. "Ich befehle dir, Flamme und Hitze, zu verschwinden. Kehrt zurück in die Asche, aus der ihr gekommen seid." (I order you, flame and heat, to recede to nothing. Return to the ash from whence you came).

The blaze aboard the vessel died out, instantly vanishing as naught but charred corpses, scorched wood, and burned survivors remained. The survivors dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender. Tristan looked over to the Pathfinders, "Alright, they gave up! Confiscate the weapons, gather up the survivors, and let's keep them from dying."

This earned odd glances from the Pathfinders, but they followed his orders. Soon enough all of the pirate crew were grouped up on the deck of their vessel, and Tristan had wrapped some ropes around the Vantir captain.

Captain Yokain stood across on the other ship, "Lord Tristan! What do you intend to do with them?"

"First, we are going to make sure none of them die. Go get Obadai, tell him I need his rejuvenation spells."

The Vantir looked at Tristan with pleading eyes, "Please, lord, don't sell us into slavery! We are just sailors who lost our contract!"

"Stay put for now," Tristan replied as he crossed over the planks to join Captain Yokain. He was busy seeing to his fallen crewmembers, and as Obadai came onto the deck, looking tired, Tristan pointed first at their injured crew and the injured Pathfinders. "Please mend the ones you can from our crew. If you have excess essence, then use it on the more badly injured pirates."

"Why?" both Yokain and Obadai asked. Yokain with disgust, Obadai with curiosity.

Tristan looked back at the terrified pirate crew who had surrendered and whose fates now were held in his hands. "I want to hear them out. Learn what drove them to piracy. Perhaps there is a chance for redemption."

Yokain spat over the side of the ship, "There's no redemption for piracy."

"I disagree," Obadai stated. "But it is not my place. I will do as you ask, Tristan." He began tending to the injured crew members.

Yokain glared at Tristan, "You really intend to hear them out? They'll lie to save their skin."

"Maybe," Tristan replied. "But I am going to be the man my grandfather taught me to be."

This earned a softened expression from Yokain, and he sighed. "Morals. Well, I won't try to convince you further." He chuckled, "After that display – lighting the deck on fire, single-handedly taking on the remaining crew, getting them to surrender? You'll get a nickname from this. And when we get to port, legend will spread. If you want to dictate what that nickname will be, this is your chance. Just tell me, and I'll put the words in one of my lads' ears."

Tristan smiled letting his essence crucible stop spinning as his armor receded. "Let's go with something suitably terrifying. Build a reputation that we are not to be messed with. The dragon of the sea."

Yokain had a glint in his eye and gave a little salute with his palm on his chest. "Very well, Lord Tristan."

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