Headed by a Snake

One of the Coral boys standing on one of the Leviathans spun around and shouted back, "Whaddya mean dis ain't a foight, Cap'n!!??"

Tycondrius identified that one as... Wonderboy.

A half-second later, he was whipped in the side of the head by one of the new Leviathan's... appendages.

The response from his peers were similar: "Yeahh!!" "Seems like a foight!!!" "Sea god's socks, it's bleedin' it's bleedin'!!!"

"It ain't a fight!" Krysaos repeated... "It's a RACE!! And we're tryin' to outswim those things!"

"A RACE?!?!" Bob roared with power, "Well, WHY DIN'CHA YA SAY SO?!?!?!?!"

"I don't quite see how that makes a difference, Krysaos," Tycon confided.

Krysaos got to his feet, his gaze continuing to watch his bumbling crew, "Best I could come up with on short notice. I'm open to suggestions, though."

Tycon grimaced as he mulled it over... "I've none, currently."

The unpredictable and fickle natures of his fellow crewmates baffled him. It did seem they were riled up by potential competition... so presenting them with the idea of a contest of speed should have been a sound idea.

The ship suddenly rocked, unbalancing Krysaos. If it weren't for Ishmael grabbing onto his collar, the man would have been thrown off his own ship.

It wouldn't have been the first time.

Tycon looked below... and saw the multitudinous Coral Boys... pushing the Neptune's Revenge, kicking their legs with furious fervor.

...He made some mental calculations, comparing the overall weight of the ship, the increase in nautical speed, and the force being generated by the crew.

The result was illogical.

Were the Leviathans so terribly slow? Had they conceded? Within minutes the ship was a moderate distance away and the Leviathans had submerged into the depths.

"Crisis averted," Krysaos loosed a weary sigh. "I think I'm gonna go lay down."

Tycon twisted his lips, still trying to make sense of the situation... "I... suppose I'll have lunch ready by the time you wake."

"Yeap, sounds good. Ishmael, you watch the Coral Boys and keep 'em out of trouble."

...

⁆ Captain's Log, Date XXXX ⁅

⁆ So there I was... on my new ship. It was a fine piece of work, the Neptune's Revenge. ⁅

⁆ Got me a new crew, too-- a full crew, a nice upgrade from a Lieutenant and a corpse. ⁅

⁆ Didn't have any females yet, not that I plan to touch anyone useful. Lots of problems to be had if a sailor girl gets pregnant at sea. ⁅

⁆ Still... it'd be good to get a doc or two. We got one Coral Boy that said he was good at patchin' the boys up. ⁅

⁆ Doc... I don't think he actually has a medical degree as he keeps claiming. The Coral Boys seem to think he's alright. But each of them keeps insisting that they're healthy and don't need surgery. ⁅

⁆ As for the others... Bob seems pretty good at herding up the rest of 'em and Ishmael's got a good eye for trouble. Catshit's both a crazy bastard and a coward. Barrel Boy goes where Barrel Boy pleases. ⁅

⁆ My most useful recruit's probably the LT. With everything fate's been throwing at me lately, I'm glad to at least have that one. Good guy, that LT. ⁅

⁆ They'd do, for now, but I hope to get some human crewmembers too... ⁅

"What's for lunch, guy?" Krysaos asked. "Hope you don't have trouble casting your food magic with just one arm."

"I do not employ the use of magic in cooking," Lieutenant Tycon chuckled, "But if that is a compliment, I'm glad to hear it."

The meat sizzled in the copper pan as the green-haired guy flipped it over. There were bits of herbs or... something else in the oil, too. He said it wasn't magic, but it definitely looked like it.

"You cookin' that?"

"A type of swordfish," Tycon explained. "It's large enough that its texture and appearance resembles that of meat from a land animal."

Krysaos scoffed, "I know what it is, LT. I just figured... I dunno."

He gestured vaguely towards his green-haired Lieutenant, "You seem like you like your fish... raw?"

"Larger, predatory fish are rife with parasites," Tycon grimaced. "They must be cooked to a certain temperature before safe for human consumption."

They were?

...That would explain more than one instance of him becoming violently ill as a younger sailor.

"So you do know something about the ocean," Krysaos clapped his hands. "Y'know, you made it sound like you didn't know shite."

"Cooking is one of my strongest skills," Tycon smiled politely, "For everything else nautical, I'll be relying on you, Captain."

He plated the fish with his one arm. He was dextrous enough, so it didn't take as long as Krysaos would have expected.

"Here," The guy said, "I ask that you allow it to rest for at least a minute before eating."

Krysaos nodded his head, appreciating the smell and visual appeal. Sea god's socks, it was served with some buttered potatoes, too... There was some green stuff that wasn't as good, but it had a vinaigrette or somethin' to make it alright.

He might have had his own ship and his own crew... but the way he ate was what Krysaos actually feel like he'd made it in life.

"The Coral Boys already eat?"

Tycon shook his head, "I conversed with Petty Officer Bob on the topic. While I did not receive a straight answer, I eventually discerned that the Coral Boys can feed themselves."

"Makes sense," Krysaos nodded as he began his meal. "They're... made of coral. They eat fish poop or somethin'."

Tycon's eye twitched... "That is... an unpleasant visual."

Krysaos chuckled, "The boys are a good lot, though. Strong. Loyal. Not interested in whores..."

"More for you, I suppose," The Lieutenant scoffed.

"What can I say?" Krysaos grinned. "I'm an optimist. Let's go hang out with the crew after we eat."

Tycon hesitated... and then his face twisted into a weird smile that wasn't a smile.

"Be advised, Mister Ishmael returned recently... and he emanated the general sense of having been defeated."

Krysaos waved his hand, "I'm sure it's fine. Probably unrelated to the situation top deck."