"THE ISLAND IS NEAR!!"
General Svaty of the Mizraim Empire bellowed as he looked forward.
Fifteen huge ships moved, following behind the one he led.
Carrying thirty thousand trained soldiers from the human domain towards Moshel's Tomb.
The restless night had taken a toll as they moved non-stop since last night.
Vice Captain Bret gritted his teeth, the muscles in his back and shoulders screaming.
A wave lifted their ship high, the front pointing at the sky.
He felt weightlessness in the pit of his stomach, losing balance and almost slipping from the ship.
Then the ship surged down, cutting into the waves.
An explosion of sea spray crashed over the bows, the wind whipping it across Bret's back like hailstones.
"How are you liking the sea!?" Svaty asked, slapping his back. He had an old wrinkled face.
