(Third-person perspective)
Aermir stood on the deck of his Druid warship, watching the approaching Three Sisters fleet through the eyes of the Wave. It was an impressive fleet, a mix of warships and smaller vessels. Forty warships formed a powerful center, while the smaller ships flanked them. Their intention was clear: they planned to charge forward and encircle his fleet.
Aermir couldn't help but smile, amazed by their arrogance. The Three Sisters women charged at him, underestimating their opponent in full view of everyone. Their boldness was exactly what he had anticipated. This would be their fatal flaw.
Aermir knew he had a trump card, a surprise that could turn the tide. He was prepared for this naval battle, and now it was time to execute his plan.
Aermir's calm voice carried a hint of confidence as he issued the order.
" Rep, now's your time to shine. But remember, don't damage the warships, just disable them. We'll use them again after we free them from their current owners. The key is to disable their rudders, trapping them in the middle of the sea."
A vibrant, passionate, and enthusiastic young voice echoed in Aermir's mind.
"Yes, Master. Then, may we play with them? That would be so much fun."
Aermir was somewhat puzzled by his new friend's peculiar way of speaking. Rep's offer to play with them might sound rather naive. If you focused on his innocent, childlike voice, you'd think he wanted to play catch, but Aermir had learned from documentaries how Rep's peers played, and Aermir wasn't surprised by any of it.
Rep is an orca who enjoys playing with its prey or anything it wants to kill. As a large creature, Rep can only command three of its kind, but since orcas usually travel in groups, the rest will obey Rep's commands as long as food is found. Because of this, they will follow basic commands.
Prior to the Battle of Moon drift port, Aermir meticulously crafted four harnesses, custom-made for Repon and the three orcas he had successfully controlled. These specialized armors were designed to be secured to the orcas' heads, with a simple yet effective structure.
Each set of armor had a sturdy spike, firmly attached to a padded base. The images of these decorated sea creatures might seem strange or even comical to some, but Aermir didn't laugh at their appearance, because Rep already disliked his armor.
Rep charged forward, leading a relentless attack on one of the Three Sisters ' capital ships, his three orcas, adorned with strange pointed headdresses, echoing his actions and each targeting a different vessel. As they rammed the unsuspecting ship, they displayed breathtaking sheer power.
Each enormous orca, with unparalleled ferocity, used its reinforced, pointed head as a ram, smashing large holes into the hull. The spikes on their headdresses sliced through the planks like hot knives cutting butter, leaving gaps, and the icy seawater quickly filled these doomed ships. The sailors and warriors from the Three Sisters aboard these ill-fated vessels had almost no chance of survival.
The resulting scene was a mixture of awe and devastation. As their ships slowly succumbed to the relentless onslaught of the sea, they could only futilely attempt to mend the breaches. The arrogant lords of the Three Sisters, who had initially underestimated their adversaries, watched in disbelief as the sea began to claim their warships one by one. The lords were safe on their ships, for Rep had been ordered not to destroy them.
Panic and chaos quickly spread among the sailors, who desperately tried to figure out who or what had launched the deadly attack. Within minutes, all but 40 ships in the Three Sisters fleet were lost at sea. Aermir's forces could only watch helplessly as their ships sank, bewildered by the inexplicable destruction before them. To them, the sinking of the ships made no sense. They believed that the Emre the Druid were ruling the seas.
Lord Sunderland stood there, dumbfounded, watching his men tremble in terror and utterly bewildered. Before him, the very essence of their naval power was crumbling, vanishing into nothingness. Every ship, every man, was disappearing into the merciless sea. Some of the Three Sisters ' warships attempted to retreat, breaking formation in their desperate struggle for survival, but they too found themselves swiftly dragged beneath the waves, their escape route cut off before they could advance even a few hundred meters. The devastating fate of their fleet terrified Lord Sunderland and his people, leaving them utterly bewildered by the nature of this catastrophe.
In his rage, the Lord Sunderland finally regained his composure and shouted to his men, "Prepare the ballistae and scorpions! Open fire on the approaching ships! We will not be defeated without a fight!"
In desperation, the Three Sisters lords ordered their crews to aim their ballistae and scorpions at the impending threat. With a thunderous roar, stone projectiles soared into the air, their trajectories aimed directly at the distant enemy. However, the disparity between the two forces was too great, causing the projectiles to miss their intended targets by a considerable distance. Each stone splashed into the sea, creating a deafening impact and further disorienting the Three Sisters fleet.
They continued firing, but Aermir's fleet did not approach them. They circled the remaining Three Sisters warships. The Southern Fleet found itself unable to pursue them because their rudders were broken. The Three Sisters warships drifted aimlessly. The Three Sisters people were helpless as the enemy advanced on their land. The once mighty Sith fleet was now shattered and scattered, at the mercy of the relentless waves.
As the lords of the Three Sisters stood atop their flagship, watching the enemy ships pass by, their expressions twisted with anger and despair. They had underestimated the Druid ' magical power, and now they were reaping the bitter fruits of their arrogance.
"The grace of the Seven! We're finished!" Lord Longthorpe cried out, his eyes blazing with fury. "This shouldn't have happened. We should have crushed them! We had superior forces at sea!"
Even the usually taciturn Lord Borrell couldn't hide his frustration. "We've been defeated, completely outmaneuvered by a North clinging to a tree," he said listlessly, utterly demoralized. "We underestimated the power of the Druid and his Old Gods. We should have known Lord Drasil wasn't a fool; he wouldn't launch an attack with just 35 warships."
Meanwhile, the ever-kind-hearted Pebble lord, Pryor, and Paps lord Elesham, exchanged eager yet uneasy glances. Lord Pryor, a staunch believer in the Seven, complained to the lords of the Three Sisters: " The Seven have abandoned us because of you. You blasphemed their names when you attacked the North with greed; in their eyes you are guilty, and now we are destined to perish because of it!"