Red Herring

Sunny was watching the battleship move across the tumultuous surface of the ocean. 

But, of course, he was watching other things at the same time as well. 

His shadows were spread throughout the port fortress, absorbing all kinds of information. 

One was hidden in the barrel of an overheated rail gun, watching Nightmare Creatures layi siege to the walls of the stronghold. A deathly downpour of projectiles, both mundane and magical, was falling on the surging mass of attacking abominations. Figures of Knights could be seen within the horde, moving to eliminate the most dangerous targets. 

Saint Gilead was also there, clad in a suit of lustrous armor, facing the Nightmare Creatures like a bastion of immovable courage and steel. 

It was a familiar scene.