One continuous 30-second take: the viewpoint sprints at full speed along the rain-slick deck toward the bow, the image bouncing vertically and trembling with every footfall as the shield and axe rise and fall with the run—the battle is already underway. Ahead, a gigantic dark shadow beneath the surface churns up a rolling wake between the ships. The isolated archer in the dragon-head prow sends arrows one after another in arcing trajectories into the center of the disturbance. A spear thrower roars past the viewpoint from the right and hurls his harpoon with all his strength, while horn blasts and shouted calls from warriors scattered across the fleet answer one another. The surface erupts violently—@serpent surges out of the water, curtains of seawater pouring off its scaled body like black waterfalls lit white by lightning. Its four muscled serpent necks fan outward against the storm sky, all four pairs of pale-green eyes lighting up one after another, while the bioluminescent veins in its chest pulse with cold glow. Arrows already embedded between its scales quiver with the movement. The shockwave and spray from its breach slam into the viewpoint, jolting the image, which continues to shake with residual vibrations. The nearest serpent head charges at full speed and crashes violently into the raised round shield—a thunderous impact travels through the shield and into the warrior's arm, whipping the image violently in the direction of the strike with a moment of blur. The collision lifts him completely off his feet and throws him backward over the gunwale. He lands flat on his back in the sea and is driven beneath the surface into a muffled world: bubbles, suspended silt, wavering lightning-light from above, and the distorted gigantic shadow of the beast marked by pale-green points of light, while the image sways sluggishly with the current. He bursts back through the surface and hauls himself over a floating oar as the soundscape explodes into full volume again: in the distance, one serpent head holds a screaming warrior in its jaws and flings him high into the air, its jaws snapping shut in midair with a crunch that crushes the mail. The mobile archer continues firing while retreating along the rolling deck, and the weighted rope loop of the two-man team on the far ship has already cinched around one serpent neck as they haul downward together. Another head dives in to bite as he pulls himself back aboard—the warrior braces its enormous jaws with the rim of his shield and drives the bearded axe in his right hand straight forward. The blade bites deep into one glowing pale-green eye, spraying dark blood and vitreous fluid. The reaction force of the blow jolts the image. The serpent head releases a shrill keening scream and thrashes violently with the axe still embedded, while the warrior grips the haft with all his strength and uses the motion to wrench the axe free. He immediately lowers his body and sprints down the pitching deck to bait the enemy—the colossal body roars as it attempts to turn, its coils plowing through the swells, waves exploding against its flanks, but it cannot rotate quickly enough. The four serpent necks are forced into wide sweeping motions: one snaps after the viewpoint while the others sweep toward the scattered warriors. The two climbers seize the opportunity to scale the beast's back from opposite sides, using the harpoon lines, and hammer their spears deep into the seams between the great scales, spraying blood. The warrior catches the opening and slashes horizontally with all his strength at the nearest serpent neck—the axe blade shears through the banded muscle between two coils. The severed head tumbles away through the air, spraying black blood and slime. The stump lashes wildly, then the flesh knits and swells outward segment by segment as new scales ripple, harden, and lock into place. A new head self-assembles from the regrown neck, and its two pale-green eyes suddenly ignite—all four heads are restored and remain in frame together. The final encirclement: the archers unleash a coordinated volley to suppress the beast, harpoons pass overhead and bury themselves in the seams of its body, the climbers on its back shout and stab repeatedly, and the torchbearer's flames force one head away—the four enraged serpent heads simultaneously close in on the viewpoint, their enormous jaws filling the entire frame and surrounding the center of the shield. At the instant of one final deafening crash as fangs strike the iron shield boss, the image cuts off abruptly amid the screaming.
Audio: the warrior's heavy breathing and enraged roars continue throughout; horn blasts and shouted responses from warriors scattered across the fleet; arrows whistling through the rain and striking the great scales with dull thuds; the howling storm wind, the crash of swells against hulls, groaning ship timbers and rattling rigging, thunder rolling and cracking overhead; hinged jaws slamming open and shut, and the wet sliding rush of the coiling necks; the thunderous crash of a serpent head striking the shield; the crunch of mail being crushed and the warrior's scream fading into the distance; the burst of blood and the keening scream as the axe bites into the eye; flesh tearing in the severed neck, black blood spraying, and the wet knitting, rippling sounds of the new head regrowing; full-frequency muffled underwater pressure followed by the soundscape exploding back as the warrior breaks the surface; low-frequency heavy impacts accompanying every collision; the ending cuts off abruptly at the final crash.
👆 не понравился жопный случай , смотри ка, он и тут недовольный 
