Elyrin Wintersprout
The man whose name I discovered to be Folker was vigorously discussing strategy with the orc leader. They repeatedly interrupted their planning session to bark a few orders to the rest of us. Almost everyone on the deck was consumed by hassle. The spellcasters, including myself, were however ordered to take their positions and wait for the arrival of the foe. The only exceptions were those with frost powers as they were tasked with making an ice platform around the ship.
Among them, I noted the presence of a death knight who had already finished solidifying his section of water. The menacing figure with a face concealed under a dark horned helmet stood like a stone statue by my left waiting for new orders.
Though I'm greatly ashamed to admit this, the undead man's presence bothered me a lot. That's why half my concentration was dedicated entirely to trying to not think about a terrifying monster nearby while another half desperately tried to not show any sign of this struggle to said monster.
In order to distract myself I tried to survey my surroundings. To my right, there was a green orc tending to his weapon, which to my surprise was a dwarven musket with what looked like a miniature spyglass added on top of it. Then I looked at his belt. His belts, in fact, that had bombs, pistols, as well as other hard-to-identify contraptions strapped to them. The designs were more elegant than the goblin designs I've seen and cruder compared to what gnomes typically make.
"Zoz, I found it." A voice came from behind.
Both me and the orc turned towards it. Of all things, I did not expect to see a demon hunter.
What once was an attractive blood elf's face now bore the additions of an eye-concealing mask and two thin black horns pointing at the sky. The tattooed and naked upper half of his body looked rather thin even by the elven standards. A quiver and a bow were strapped around his shoulder.
"Thanks!" Orc tinkerer responded swiftly, took a screwdriver from the half-demon's hand, and continued working on his weapon like nothing had happened while the aforementioned half-demon leaned on the taffrail beside him.
Two potentially dangerous creatures in my vicinity instead of one. Marvelous.
At that point, the only thing I could do to maintain my composure was try to focus on the soon-to-be battlefield. It was rather unusual for nagas to give us so much time to prepare, though the force they gathered near the cliff was nothing to scoff at.
"They are approaching! Fire on my command!" An order helped me regain my remaining concentration.
The enemy was indeed advancing towards us. What caught my attention was their back line. Their mages began to cast something even though they were too far away to reach us with anything offensive using conventional spell casting. There are, of course, techniques dedicated to increasing the effective range of magic as well as supporting spells that can be used to aid allies on the frontline. Unfortunately, I could not discern from that distance what exact spells they were using.
The answer came in the form of a white wall made of thick fog. It stretched between the ship and the cliff concealing arriving forces from our gaze.
"Fire!" We attacked where the foe was seen a moment ago. It did not prevent the first wave of murlocs from slamming into our defenses.
Then a rain of projectiles both mundane and magical began falling onto the ship. We fired back with arrows, bullets, spells, and the roar of cannons yet our offense appeared to be swallowed by the fog and spat it back in equal amounts. The murlocs below were slain yet more were arriving every second. The magical protections that we employed were holding up but they couldn't last forever.
As if the gear was put into its proper place, the understanding came to me.
We were all gathered in the same place, and the sea dwellers had plenty of time to measure our approximate location before the fog appeared. They in contrast were spread out throughout a much larger area constantly switching their position after each volley. At the same time, the weaves of disposable murlocs were meant to keep our defenders occupied, which protected naga ranged combatants from being charged in melee.
All in all, while both sides were shooting with their eyes tied, the enemy just had a greater chance of actually hitting their target.
As things stand, we'll just bleed to death before they do. There has to be something that could give us an advantage. There has to be...
My thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous explosion underneath. The wooden boards drifted apart below my feet and I fell into a smoky pit.