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Part Three
Other ships followed us through the fog. One by one they emerged. Some were battered, some were missing, but many remained. We formed up and sailed toward the main island.
Through the terrible storms that battered us on our way, the captain stood firm. Many in the crew wished to abandon our cause, but the captain cursed them and would not hear of it. His cabin is directly above mine and at night I swear I could hear demonic whispers and see eerie lights. The captain I knew slipped away in the fog to be replaced by spectre [sic] of anger and hate.
A projection of Baron-Admiral Olo appeared on our deck. He spoke as if he could not see us—I assume this was some sort of magical broadcast to the fleet. He ordered us to take boats and men to sack the big island and lay siege to the tower by land as his remaining Imperial ships bombarded it from a distance. We armed ourselves with swords and bows, and the captain ordered us to the longboats.
When we set foot on shore I think we were the first to arrive. We were not the last. The Sloads are powerful necromancers, but they are poor hand-to-hand fighters and our numbers dwarfed theirs. Still, they fought, and they died as we conquered their island. They whispered curses to their Daedric Lord with their dying breaths are we took their gold, their goods, and their lives.
The blue light atop the coral tower began to pulse and bleed energy into the clouded sky. When the ground beneath our feet began to quake and tremble, no one had to tell us to run. The island began to crack and sink. The sea around Thras boiled as we rowed for our lives back to the Golden Era.
We were hauled back on deck in time to watch the Coral Tower collapse into the sea. We noticed too late the current that pulled us towards it. As the eye of blue light atop the tower dipped into the sea it began to spin like a great wheel, and when it met the waves it formed a monstrous whirlpool. Half the fleet was drawn into it, our ship included.