The seas were calm this night, the clouds remained overhead obscuring the light of the twin moons. From along the nearby coast the signs of human habitation were visible, smoke and fire, signs of campfires. Yet this island was small, rocky, it did not grow much and was not even registered on maps of the region. This was not an area where one would normally pass, but here upon this tiny rock stood a fortress.

Built of stone and wood, the structure oversaw a hidden cove, surrounded by craggy cliffs, and steep inclines. Down below hidden from view within the outstretched arms of the cliffs lay a cove, possessing enough coastline upon which to beach the assortment of vessels, biremes, triremes, and pentaconters to name a few. This mishmash of various ships had only one defining similarity, that was the image emblazoned along their sides, that of an emerald serpent, its wide gaping maw enveloping the prow of each ship.

Although numerous watch towers dotted the coast, their guards meant to alert the fortress of any changes upon the seas, they failed to notice the shadowy vessel emerging from the horizon. A string of victories and night after night of successful raids had left the pirates with a sense of invincibility. Their storage pens filled with the unfortunate victims of their raids, the men drunk on wine, and regularly indulging in the captive women left their posts unmanned. It was to be another boring night; their home was unknown to most and no nearby naval power to challenge them in the region. Yet the victor is always weakest after battle, such successes always draw attention, and it is impossible to know what is watching and waiting for just such an opportunity.

The ship that stalked towards the island was close to a trireme in overall length, yet it did not use oars in its approach. Instead, the vessel possessed three large masts, one in the center, one at the aft, and one closer to the bow, with the aft mast being the smallest of the three. Different from the normal square shaped sails, this vessel sported triangular variants, which was easily providing adequate propulsion with the minimal wind this night.

Of note was the complete lack of lighting, not a single fire was lit upon the decks of the ship, numerous cloaked figures could be seen upon its deck, all remaining still and silent with an eerie focus. The vessels hull was painted black, like the darkness from which it seemed to appear, as was every aspect of its thin, angular design. As the shadow ship closed in on the cove and the fortress above, some of the sailors on board moved to the front and rear of the vessel. Slowly they removed the cloth covering upon the devices positioned in both areas, it was a large wooden contraption, a sling like piece had been placed at the top, just above the metal slit within the wood frame.

What appeared to be twisted bull tendons were connected to either side of the frame, then attached to the slit in the center. Four bulky arms emerged from the darkness, gloved hand grabbed hold of the tightly woven tendons, one man on either side. Together they pulled, their veins pulsating, teeth gritted in exertion as they set the tendons in place and locked the device.

With the lock in place the one behind the device had to only release the latch and the tension in the tendons would be released, launching the projectile towards it target. “Bring up the crates and load the weapons.” A man standing at least a head taller than all the rest commanded some of the others to go and retrieve yet another item from down below. It was not long before they returned with a crate, its sides marked Danger, emphasized in bright red as if the words themselves were not enough.

The men lifted the lid and carefully removed two fist sized round clay containers, with the insides of the wooden crate packed with soft linens and yet more of these spherical pots. With practices movements the men delivered the pots to the devices, loading them carefully into the firing slit and against the leather sling. Once the devices were loaded the men gave a sign, indicating that the weapons were ready.

Little by little the ship closed in, eventually entering the cove, without a single alarm being raised. The ship then laid anchor in a corner of the cove, showing only its starboard side, with its port side guarded by the surrounding cliffs. One by one smaller rowboats were lowered into the water, teams of ten soldiers loaded onto four boats quietly rowed their way towards the shore where the pirate vessels lay beached.

Once the first group of soldiers reached the shore they rapidly disembarked, sending the boats back to retrieve the second batch of troops. However, during the disembarkation one of the pirates answering nature’s call spotted the cloaked figures and rushed towards the nearest watchtower.

Soon enough the alarm rang, the clang of a bell could be heard ringing, its sound amplified by the shape of the surrounding terrain. Yells and groggy curses rose from across the coast, men who had been resting aboard their vessels, or the men in the distant fortress who had yet to finish their celebrations. None were pleased about being woken or disturbed from their revelries, yet it was the soldiers upon the shore who were disappointed most of all.

No plan was perfect, and this one had now been disrupted, but the soldiers had no intention of returning even if they could. The reinforcements were still halfway to the beach and if the pirates aboard the nearby vessels were able to organize themselves and fire down arrows upon the boats, their brothers and sisters would have no ability to defend. Understanding the situation, the cloaked figures unsheathed their weapons and charged towards the nearest grouping of enemies.

Axes and blades met the unsuspecting foe, many of whom had yet to wake or were caught completely by surprise. The cloaked warriors showing absolutely no mercy, cutting down all with reckless abandon, women’s screams could be heard as they were soaked in the blood of those next to them.

Members of the Emerald Leviathan were clearly distinguishable, as the group was known to not take women into their ranks. Their view of women was clear, merely as outlets for men, and thus it was easy for the attackers to avoid causing undue casualties to those that had been kidnapped. Although there may have been some casualties among the slaves, especially in the dark when it was two men sharing the same bed, as it wasn’t rare to find those with such proclivities. Yet collateral damage was not necessarily an issue for the attackers, although it was clear in their actions that they did not wish to have unnecessary deaths, they would not stop their assault and risk the lives of their warriors.

As the fighting intensified and the screams and cries of the dying rose in the night, even the most oblivious realized that they were being attacked. What some may have thought of as a drunken brawl, or conflict over one of the women had proven to be much more. With that realization came a change in the ongoing battle, more defenders joined the fight, things devolving into a chaotic melee.

It was still night and with the moons obscured it was difficult to see anything within the limited firelight. Unlike the cloaked attackers who moved in coordinated teams of three, the defenders moved in large blobs, there was no strategy, just a desire to rush into the thick of it. That lack of strategy only added to the danger as wide swings would often cause more friendly deaths or injuries.

Decks of beach ships and the sand below had become red with the blood of countless men and women, both attackers and defenders littered the terrain after minutes of vicious fighting. For a single moment it appeared as if the attackers would be pushed back to the sea, the sheer weight of numbers pressing against them. Yet that momentum lasted for but an instant, due to the emergence of the reinforcements rushing in from the defender’s flank. Men were hewn in two as the attacker’s leader mad his appearance, a six-foot-long battle axe held in his burly hands. The head glinting with a vicious light, its dark wood haft encircled by a handle crafted from bleached animal bones.

The man and his axe inflicted an almost primal fear within those before him, each swing of his vicious weapon chopping men in two. Blood and guts littered the field as he moved through their ranks like a storm, even his own soldiers keeping their distance and following in his wake, cutting down any survivors. It was at this moment, when the enemy was beginning to waver that the anchored shadow ship finally unleashed its gift.

As the back ranks of the defending force retreated towards the protection of the fortress walls further uphill, two dark shadows floated through the skies above. Their target was the very same walls the defenders were about to reach, and it was just as they proceeded to pass through the open gates that the shadows impacted. The pots crashing against the thick wooden palisades, spreading a thick liquid substance, a substance that only seconds later ignited in a fiery conflagration.

Raging flames filled the night sky, illuminating the battle below and the fear etched upon the defenders faces. Screams of pain erupted from the sections of wall drenched in the burning light, followed closely by the stench of cooked meat. Bodies engulfed in the thick cloying flames fell from the walls and into the crowds of men below, while others dropped from the cliff sides into the dark waters below.

Flames quickly spread amongst the closely packed men beneath the gates, the wood weakened and collapsed, the lucky ones were crushed beneath the weight of the debris. Those who were less blessed were pinned beneath the pieces of burning debris, the liquid flames grabbing hold and working their way across their flesh. Their screams caused those outside the walls to throw down their weapons and flee into the darkness. With neither ships, food, nor weapons, the cowards could be easily rounded up later.

Another volley of liquid flames destroyed yet another section of the walls, the fire making short work and sticking aggressively to anyone foolish enough to get nearby. The cloaked figures stood back, allowing the flames to ravage the enemy defenses and kill their men, once the fire subsided, they would move in and silence the rest.

The leader of the attacking force stood at the forefront, his eyes reflecting the orange glow of the vicious flames. He simply stood there and laughed, his bushy beard and mane of hair the sporting the same fiery red as the ravaging flames. An embodiment of a primordial titan, wreathed in hellish flames.