Phorcys nods at his son and raises his hands into the air, gathering the divine magics of his deity around him.
In an instant, Thaumas and Phorcys are on the deck of the flagship.
Two robed magi turn to face them. One is an elf, arms folded, head cocked as he studies the newcomers. The other is a human, dark haired, tall and powerfully built. Silence passes between the two parties, until finally, the human mage speaks.
As they chat, soldiers continue to fight and die in the port below. It is certainly an unnerving reality surrouding an otherwise polite discussion.
"What do you want from this land?" Phorcys asks suspiciously. "Why do you accompany the rogue admiral?"
Scavell clears his throat.
"Tides of war are upon as all. It is evident in your own kingdom and within the kingdoms of all others. The People's Front fights in Lordaeron against the crown, the Liberation Movement would usurp the Stromgarde monarchy, and the cults of this world rise up to banish the agents of the Church."
"Lies and blasphemy!" Phorcys barks. "It is the fanatics of the Light who persecute and burn the pagans!"
Bemused, Scavell shakes his head.
"Secret wars are fought under your very noses, old man of the sea. We have heard of you, the self-appointed voice of paganism in the waters of the south. Do not pretend you do not know of what we speak. The Council of Six of Dalaran was usurped by a man named Javali, with the help of Zinite cultists. Do not excuse yourself. We are magi of Dalaran, and we would see the extent of the pagan threat. That is why we have come."
Thaumas straightens himself out, prepared to assert his authority.