[Chaos]

The fortress that was once the defense of the south stood tall, but much differently than what the pride of the south had stood tall. It looked torn and ruined, a cracked and crumbling thing. Inhuman, yet human-looking… things loped across the walls, bearing small bows. Bat ears poked out of kettle helms, and the sounds of a coarse language consisting of yips, barks, and growls could be heard. In the moonlight, the banners could be seen. They looked like house banners of the noble families in Bastion, but it was much different to any house. A bright purple banner flowed from each of the walls, and the flag atop the fortress. At the heart of each of these was a horizontal crescent pointed downwards.
 
The lord looked on at the eight figures at the coast, approaching the wretches that were cutting the earth, digging a foreboding trench to the sea with crude shovels and picks. The Lord of Nocturne turned his head to a figure dressed in resplendent silk and said, [Agha, take gaunts and your finest men. Ensure that these… interlopers… are never seen again] the dervish nodded his head, and departed.

It was pitch dark when the dervishes descended onto the deck, the Tritons had returned and given their report, and the scribe was drafting his letter to the regatta to the Seat when the alarm cry was yelled, then cut short. Dervishes danced and the gaunts plucked theur quarry from the decks.