A day later...
The sunrise bathed the waters in a molten gold as the day dawned. Off in the distance, the menacing silhouette of the demon fleet stood stark against the horizon, a mere 300 kilometers away from the shores of Erindale. In the quiet before the storm, our forces stood at the ready, hearts pounding in anticipation of the looming conflict.
Meanwhile, in the undulating depths of the sea, the merfolk began their stealthy assault. Riding their sea beasts, they moved like shadows, undetectable under the cover of the choppy waves and the deceptive calm of the sea. Drawing from their intimate knowledge of the ocean depths, they navigated the underwater canyons and current-ridden routes with dexterity.
As they neared the demon fleet, the merfolk warriors dove deeper, evading the demons' sonar. Timing their assault with the rise and fall of the ocean waves, they sprang into action. The sea erupted in a flurry of chaos as the merfolk attacked, their trained sea beasts snapping at hulls of the enemy supply ships. They sliced through the bottom of the boats with their sharpened tridents, puncturing holes in the wooden underbellies of the demon vessels. The ocean turned frothy, the surface churned by the frenzied activity underneath.
The surprise and effectiveness of the assault created havoc among the demon ranks. Ships began sinking, their hulls breached by the merfolk and their sea beasts. Supplies for the demon army started to disappear into the ocean's depth, swallowed by the relentless sea.
The merfolk, having accomplished their objective, retreated as swiftly as they came, disappearing under the cover of the sea's turmoil, leaving behind a scene of chaos and confusion. The first part of the strategy was a success.
The imp cowered, its tiny body trembling as it delivered the news, "Y-Your Highness, the merfolk have targeted our supply ships. Several have been sunk, many more severely damaged."
The Demon King leaned forward, his hulking figure casting a long shadow over the terrified imp. His eyes, burning with an unearthly fire, studied the imp for a long moment. Then, he gave a nonchalant sniff, as if the news was of little concern to him.
"Continue to push forward," he commanded, his deep, gravelly voice echoing across the deck of the ship. "Let the merfolk play their little games. Our destination remains the same. Onward, to Erindale."
The imp scurried off, bowing repeatedly as it retreated, clearly relieved to be dismissed from the presence of the imposing Demon King. His orders were clear. Despite the attacks, the demonic fleet would continue to push towards Erindale.
***
A scout, panting heavily, rushed into the war camp. His message was received by the beastkin leader, Thoren, who then addressed the gathered leaders.
"The merfolk have successfully raided the demon fleet's supply ships. Many have been sunk, others are damaged," Thoren reported, pride in his voice at the success of the first wave of the plan.
A murmur of satisfaction spread around the council of leaders, but the scout was not finished. He took a deep breath, his face pale as he delivered the second part of his report.
"But... but the demonic fleet... they are not retreating. They continue to sail towards Erindale," the scout stammered out.
The satisfied murmur turned into concerned whispers. The faces of the leaders hardened as they digested the news.
"So," Elandra said, her voice breaking the silence, "the Demon King wishes to engage us, regardless of his losses. Very well. We are prepared for this."
There was a determination in her voice that resounded in the tent. We were ready, come what may.
Q: Are you familiar with naval warfare?