The vessels cut across the turbulent waves like six ashen vorpal blades through exposed flesh, discharging their colorless steamy exhaust into the unbroken blue sky. Each black ironclad was unique in its design and size however united in the colors they flew; the crescent moon reflected over deep water harbor- the symbol of Waterdeep.
Men could be seen working the decks with feverish purpose cleaning off ocean scree and ensuring the on board catapults and specialized ballista were in prime working order. Manual exercises were performed routinely so that when the climactic battle came each man knew their job and acted without thinking forcing their tasks to become immediate and automatic.
The churning ocean waters sounded like ripping velvet torn from a King’s throne as the Peacemaker leading the regiment began to slow. On the horizon mountains sketched their angular peaks to the east as the sea swallowed the sun to the west. Slowly, methodically five of the ironclads took defensive positions around one of their own which not only different from the rest but looked damaged and repaired compared to its pristine company.
Gunslingers took to the interior of their respective ships; a sensation of wrongness and betrayal was palpable, like the calm before a storm. Then without prelude the five ships turned their weapons upon their weaker companion and opened fired. The attack was swift and brutal on the unsuspecting ironclad taking out its weapons and navigation before its crew knew what was happening. The attack continued unabated until suddenly the sixth ironclad exploded with a roar of fire, metal, and magic.