[center][IMG]http://i59.tinypic.com/13zsayb.jpg[/IMG][/center]

[center][b]Parlay[/b][/center]

A small outcrop of rock, not much bigger than a banquet table. A lone figure stands, clad in full iron plate with a slender feminine figure. Dark hair flows from underneath a great helm inscribed with tapestries of ancient battles. To its back, six mighty hulking vessels of darkened wood stand with grim silence. No crew are seen on their decks, and no commotion is heard from within their bowels. They are as if ghost ships; menacing and full of quiet yet evil intent. 

Facing it, a small rowboat, containing the Uarunerian representatives. They are unarmed, but bolstered by the sight of their own ships three hundred yards behind them. If anything goes ill, the black ships would be outnumbered - even with their impressive design, Uarunerian naval might has never failed with such odds. 

The lone figure does not speak, but breathes in rasps, as if the rich sea air is proving poisonous to its lungs - or perhaps it rasps in excitement of a coming battle. Carefully, it extends an iron-clad hand clenching a rolled scroll. The Uarunerians take the scroll, and open it. After some moments of reading and re-reading, the Uarunerian host clambers back into the rowboat and heads with all haste back to its anchored fleet. 

The lone figure lets loose an almost childish giggle, but does not move, does not stir. It's gaze remains fixed on the Uarunerians as they reach the safety of their fleet and ascend the rigging.