As the flagship bobbed in the dark water, heavy cannons locked onto the colossal black hull. Syra waited patiently at the bow, but as five, then ten minutes passed, the thick fog simply continued to swirl around the silent vessel.
No flags were raised, and no horns sounded to declare their intent.
Stepping onto the main deck, Iron-Scale stared at the massive obstacle blocking their path. 'I do not have time for a staring contest,' he thought, raising a clawed hand. "Fire the spools. We are boarding."
The deck crew immediately fired dozens of high-tensile grappling lines, the heavy steel hooks biting deeply into the stranger's hull. Grabbing a line, Iron-Scale zipped across the gap in a blur of motion with Gulag following right behind him.
The Troglodyte general vaulted over the Vanguard railing to land on the enemy deck with a heavy thud, while a dozen elite Kobold assassins touched down silently in the shadows around them.
