[b]Southern Coast of Naqah, Niraph[/b]

"I will find a way." Warmaster Nemrod replied, and the Naqah Daemonrexiac translated thus. The Naqah Daemonrexiac had also become his personal advisor in the speech of the Naqah as well, and he found the Naqah elder's intentions suspicious, asking for just a mere representative to enter the town. "And my half-legion will accompany me. I am sure that the wounded would not carry themselves, and a Daemonrexa Galley holds at least 200 marines and oarsmen, exalted elder." When the elder mentioned bad news, Warmaster Nemrod's scale of what a disaster was was small. After all, there had not been any major casualties thus far in more than a century, with deaths by the hundreds and thousands confined to history - in recent years, the Daemonrexa had been very successful in their campaign to destroy the pirate threat.

With that, Warmaster Nemrod gave an order for the half-legion to get into a thin marching formation, then another order to march them through the gates of Niraph. When it came time for the Nephilims in the legion to get in, Nemrod simply ordered them to scale the walls and did so himself at the head of the formation, half-expecting an ambush inside. The wall was easy for a Nephilim to scale, as they stood only a little taller than them. What was a tall enough wall to normal beings was a mere fence to the Nephilim.

After marching the half-legion to the town square where they stood at attention in a circle formation, ready for anything, the Warmaster and his Overseers, with 5 Maniples acting as bodyguards, followed the elder to the barracks where the survivors were said to have been kept. Being too large, the Warmaster and other Nephilim was forced to stay outside, and had to make their way to the windows opening from the clinic's room. Before seeing anything, the Warmaster thought the clinic to be too small to hold so a galley's crew - it was his first hint that the bad news was much worse than he thought, and when he gazed into the room where the survivors were kept, it was far, far worse than he thought.

Warmaster Nemrod even poked his head through the window when the smaller Daemonrexa inside opened them to take a second look. The Healer and Elder was there. The Warmaster turned his massive head to look at them in disbelief. His otherwise relatively friendly look turned into an enraged frown, with teeth showing. "Where is the rest of my galley crew?" What would have been otherwise an angry bellow was lowered to normal out of respect for the wounded, but the Warmaster's voice never ceased to be one of seething anger, his voice unstable, wavering between restraint and fury.

The wounded overseer, having been awakened and glad to see other Daemonrexa, but absolutely dreading the presence of the Warmaster after essentially losing his entire crew, got up slowly from his four linked beds, trying his best not to aggravate his wounds, and explained, "My Master, we were attacked by pirates five fold our number. The Healer told us that we were all that was left-"

"The Healer told you-!" Warmaster gave into his fury for a moment, before trying his best to calm down again - he could not simply believe that the Healer was telling the truth, or that he wasn't mistaken. It seemed otherworldly to him, what was going on. Never had such a loss been incurred by a unit in his entire career. Many thoughts were going through his mind- he wanted badly to enact sweet vengeance upon those responsible for the loss of his charges, and he imagined the humiliation he would face back home. 'I would have to find a way to make things right' The Warmaster thought as he grudgingly accepted the circumstances forced upon him. Turning to regard the healer with a mix of emotions, he continued with the translator in tow, "Very well." Nemrod breathed heavily and quickly, the dreadful noise of rage perpetuating throughout the room. He was almost as if in battle fury. Even his own soldiers were becoming afraid of their general. "Where are the bodies? They must be preserved quickly! Their friends and family must have them for the proper rituals to be conducted so that they may part ways with a final farewell." On one hand, the Nephilim smells foul play, and on the other, he simply smelt the ineptitude of foreign tribesmen.

Even the translator was visibly shaking and stuttering as he tried his best to do his job.