I hear them echo through the canyons of the Iron City and drift across the shores of the the Styx. The Boatmen hurry to the banks of the river as the Black Triremes cut a deadly wake through the silent waters.
The ship at the head of the formation bears a yellow sail with a black ziggurat, adorned with crimson wings and and offering pyre.
Praise the Fates! The warships anchor to lower the plank for me! My redemption has come at last!