The storm howled and lashed at the ship, her crewmembers rushing here-and-there as another wave rose and crashed across the deck, swamping them all up to their knees and nearly sweeping them away altogether. Fighting to keep his feet, Killian’s attention was all for the fin cutting through the surf on a collision course with the ship’s port bow until the captain thrust a spear towards him and asked, “Need one of these, or you got some magic shit?” A smile pulled at the corner of the swordmage’s mouth in spite of the approaching horror as he turned towards the gunwale and drew his sword, arcane energy crackling along its length. “Magic shit,” Killian answered in a voice far calmer than he felt.