While pushing up to his feet, Anper brought the flat of his blade against the burning projectile to try and dislodge it before it was too late - but it didn't travel far enough. The crack of clay vessels, some filled with a thick and slow burning pitch and some filled with low flashpoint oils, heralded a rapid firestorm that cut off the route back to the warehouse where three enemy fighters stood.
And made the groaning first attacker roll off of the pier to get away from things. Leaving only two still standing out over the water as the heat and light began to become a quick problem. Glancing at the dock worker raising his hand, the swordsman changed his grip and stance before opening his mouth.
"The owners of the dock don't seem to care about you very much."
"I'm a good swimmer. Also, they've just given me everything I need to-"
