The Black Hammer — Vladimir Duran

No advantage is ever absolute. The turn of a card at the wrong moment can take it all away. In battle with a Harrower battleship Wriath will learn what it is to be on the receiving end of an assault. It's a battle on the high seas as Wraith goes head to head with the BLACK HAMMER.



Excerpt



The sound of the waves changed, a new note in the endless rise and fall. Something was coming up from the depths. Navel gazing lethargy left in a moment. Waves swelled underneath and stood him on his feet.



Five hundred feet away a thick shaft of black metal rose from the cold ocean. Rose and raced towards him. Two more followed, one fore, one aft. Then a crossbeam attached to the center poll. A crimson cloth rose along with the crossbeam. The construct continued to rise and soon it crested a wave. The bulk burst into the open air.



Her prow curved downward like a plow, breaking blue sea to white foam. A sleek, fearsome looking thing. All deadly subtle curves, those masts were the only straight lines on the whole of the ship. The black metal hull gleamed brightly in the sunlight, untarnished by five hundreds years of saltwater. Crimson sails splashed square patches of blood against the cerulean sky. A masthead in the shape of snarling dragon's head thrust forward five feet before her prowl. An open threat for any that dared attack.



Exactly as intended. The black flag, bearing the red and gold death's-head told the tale of this awe-inspiring apparition. The Black Hammer, a Dragon class Harrower warship.