General Zarma stood astride one of the mighty iron war cannons.  His golden horns glowed in the light, and his long dark hair, tied into a ponytail, whipped in the wind.  He clutched the Sword of Destinaro in his right hand and watched as his warships sailed back into the bay of Azure Hell.  From their decks and holds came the cheers of victory mixed in with the screams of the wounded and dying.  Zarma smiled grimly.  It had been an ugly battle, but they had emerged victorious.  Hagnar and...