Deep within the Many-Armed Folk's camp, ocean currents stirred up fine sand, forming murky whirlpools around the tents.
General Glash slammed his tentacles against the stone table.
"Three assault squads!"
His roar made the coral walls hum.
"Three whole assault squads! And they couldn't even tear down a few rotten wooden posts!"
Several adjutants huddled in the corners of the tent, not daring to breathe.
Glash commanded great fear and respect within the clan, but even his oldest adjutant had never seen him like this.
"General! Urgent military intelligence!"
A messenger rushed into the tent, clutching a shell letter.
It bore the mark of the Shipbreaker-Lord Unas's personal token.
Glash took the letter, his tentacles trembling uncontrollably.
The shell slowly opened, and a voice emerged from within.
It was Lord Unas. His furious voice filled the room.
"Useless fool! You sent our people to die for nothing! Tear down their outer defenses within two days. Fail, and I'll chop you up and feed you to the sharks!"
"Aaargh!"
Glash let out a bestial howl. All eight tentacles struck at once, and under the relentless battering, the heavy tabletop finally gave way and shattered across the floor.
Stone fragments flew everywhere. Even those adjutants struck by the debris dared not move.
"Damn land insects!"
Glash swam wildly around the tent, his tentacles lashing everything within reach.
"Lord Unas said we sent our people to die for nothing! He said those spineless weaklings' defenses are getting stronger!"
He stopped, his bloodshot eyes fixed on his adjutants.
"Two days! We have only two days! We must completely destroy Minas Tirith's outer harbor! Tear down every last defensive installation!"
One adjutant ventured shakily, "General, how are we going to-"
"Gather every warrior!" Glash interrupted. "All of them! Including the camp garrison! Including the level-five