[quote=@LordLinguinie]
The blood curdling screams of the captain echoed across the top of the water, piercing the ears of the hunting party on the beach. Unable to fight anymore, the captain gave in, sinking into the waters below, he was quickly torn apart by the monsters below.

[i]...while the remaining two creatures, both a lighter blue color, headed for the center, close to where the party landed and where a small party still stood.
[/i]
[/quote]

[hr]

Anastasia crossed her arms as she stood atop the crate, rolling her eye's at Donnel's dismissive remark. She sighed as a third of the group seemed to agree with his suggestion and went off on their own way towards the east and west. Her eyes twitched violently for a brief moment, unhappy to be dealing once more with idiots. 

A strange movement in the distance caught her sight and she narrowed her eyes, staring far ahead, spotting the ship still moored a ways off, their primary ride home. She watched, eyes slowly widening, as the ship began to descend, slowly than rapidly, into the ocean. Many followed her gaze and gawked, gasping and pointing, a commotion stirring among them. 

"BORIS. EYEGLASS. NOW."

Her hunter rushed to their boat and picked up one of their bags, retrieving a bronze spyglass and handing it over. She extended it and peered through, watching in greater detail the sinking of the Rancid Eel, and the men jumping overboard. 

She watched their struggle.

She watched them sink. 

And the growing red patch blotting the sea that replaced them.

And then they heard that scream.

Her strongers senses picked up the faint motion, quickly heading for them. 

"Fuck."

"Oi, lass, wha' ya seein' out there!? Wha's goin' on!?" One of the thugs called out.


She grinded her teeth and lept off the crate, turning to her men, her hunters, armed with poleaxe and blunderbuss, her initiates, armed with spear and shield and mace. 

A cold fear washed over her.

And yet.

[i]... This was going to be fun.[/i]

She grinned wolfishly, drinking in the rising adrenaline and the iron scent on the winds, her canines bearing, her initiates briefly gazing not at their pious lady, but the devil. The eyes of her hunters gleamed beneath their masks and hats. 

They stood eager, some of them giggling. 

Her initiates shook, some pale. 

"OUR SHIP HAS FALLEN. PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE COMBAT. SPEAR CIRCLE!" She barked sharply, her troop bolting into position, forming a circle of spear and interlocked shields further into the beach, her hunters armed with rifles at the ready inside, herself leaping into the inner circle and preparing her own, gazing at the waterfront. 

Upon her first words a mass panic spread through the crowd of sellswords and brigands, many of the inexperienced and novice bolting for their landing craft and seeking to escape the death trap they had found themselves in, unaware of the danger about to spring upon them, feet dragging through the muddy water, desperate to set off their simple boats. The more experienced drew their weapon and followed her lead, backing off into the rocky terrain and sparse, sandy forest of the inner isle, looking for danger.

She watched the fools struggle, unknowing of the coming danger, her men and her slowly backing away, awaiting the specticle like a child.