Headed by a Snake

⁆ So, back on my old ship, the Sugar-Titted Siren, everything was always clean. ⁅

⁆ Always. ⁅

⁆ Personally, I hate cleaning. Now, I'm not one for leaving a mess, but a personal space is a personal space. Obviously, you don't want anything growing on your shite-- but anything before that's good enough. ⁅

⁆ Once upon a time, my idiot crewmen said they had nothing to do. ⁅

⁆ I gave them something to do. Lots of things to do. ⁅

⁆ ...Maybe that's why those bastards mutinied a few weeks later. ⁅

⁆ Filthy gods-damned pirates. ⁅

⁆ Stupid sea god. ⁅

⁆ Anyroad, me and the crew, we hadn't had a good moment to rest and... just figure shite out, until... this sun. Recently, the priorities had been keeping a lookout for undead in the fog, Leviathan wangs... or those gods-damned toothbirds. ⁅

⁆ Hate those things. Birds aren't supposed to have teeth. The Coral Boys kept throwing their weapons off the deck, trying to hit them. Gotta get us some crossbows or something. ⁅

⁆ So this ship of mine... it was the first time I got a good look at her, my latest and greatest pride and joy... the Neptune's Revenge. ⁅

"It's like... I didn't get a full ship," Krysaos shook his head. "I got... half o' one."

"...It sails, Captain," Lieutenant Tycon offered a smile that was clearly out of pity.

"Probably the only good thing about it..."

The deck looked horrendous.... and that was besides the wooden debris, fragments of bone, and chunks of zombie flesh.

There were obvious holes in the planks, to make walking a chore and running a guaranteed visit to Doc. The railings were in total disrepair... with maybe a quarter of them still fully intact.

The sails had as many holes in them as a Coral Boy... and were patched with various clothing, with sets of underpants being the number one patch of choice.

...And then, for some reason, someone had gone over the whole thing with red paint.

Not colored dye.

Paint.

...It was the same stuff he'd used to go over the ship's old name.

But why? Why would anyone do that?

Then... there were a total of two cannons on a ship that should have at least had one or two dozen...

And one had a tentacle growing out of it!

"You see that, LT?!" Krysaos pointed.

"I advise you ignore that one, Brother-Captain," Tycon lowered his head, hiding his eyes beneath the brim of his sailor's cap... "As long as it doesn't notice you, it should go away."

"We can't just run away from our problems, Tycon."

"For that particular one, yes, we can. If we can avoid the creature imprinting onto either of us, it should lose interest and return to the ocean."

"Isn't this supposed to be a ship from the Magic Kingdom?" Krysaos crossed his arms, "Aren't they supposed to be... I dunno, a clean people?"

"That is a baffling stereotype," Tycon scolded. "Anyroad, this isn't just a Kingdom ship... it formerly belonged to... the Royal Marines."

"...Those guys," Krysaos gulped... "They didn't have a lot of funding, did they?"

"This," Tycon gestured around him, "is, unfortunately, quite normal for one of their vessels."

Krysaos grit his teeth... "I should check the hull."

Tycon grabbed onto his shoulder before he could go.

"I advise against it," He shook his head. "We're malms away from land and do not have the supplies to make emergency repairs."

A chill ran down Krysaos spine as he nodded slowly... "Yeah... no use finding out we're f*cked if we can't do anything about it."

Shaking Tycon's hand off, he approached the nearest Coral Boy, "Hey, Wonderboy. Report."

"Wonderboy?" Tycon asked.

"This one used to be One of Twelve," Krysaos shrugged.

"G-good MORNIN', BAWSSSS!!!" The Coral Boy saluted... Tycon.

Tycon grimaced... and returned the salute as protocol dictated, but he looked back to Krysaos for guidance.

It was... ridiculous. The highest ranking officer was the one that was supposed to be saluted first. Krysaos obviously had a bigger, cooler looking hat than Tycon did-- even if he was the Bosun and interacted with the crew ten times more than he did.

He cleared his throat, hoping that the green, rocky fellow would realize his mistake.

"YOUUUU IDIOTTTTTTT!!" Another crewman shouted.

It was Catshit. That was good-- he was decently smart.

The peach Coral Boy stomped over and smacked Wonderboy in the back of the head, "It's AFTERNOON, rock-brain!!!"

"Oh, sea god's-- ahhhHHH!!"

""GOOD AFTERNOON, BAWSSSS!!!"" The two shouted in tandem.

"Nevermind," Krysaos shook his head, "The Lieutenant's told me you guys've been workin' the fishing nets."

"Yessir," Wonderboy nodded.

"'At's right, Cap'n," Catshit grinned. "Da boys are haulin' in da nets now. Wanna take a look-see?"

...

"IT'S A BIG ONE, BOYZZZZ!!!!" Bob shouted, "HEEEEAVE!!!"

"""HOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!!!""" They shouted in unison.

"Cap'n!!" Bob waved to Krysaos, "Me and the boys've almost got it!!"

"I'll go help," Krysaos looked over to Tycon... "You... you can stay."

Tycondrius glanced down at his injured arm. Admittedly, he could probably assist well enough, as he was... but it was nice to be exempt from mundane physical labor.

"Thank you for your kindness, Captain."

Krysaos pushed aside one of the weaker looking boys and started to pull, "Whoa, it's a big one!! Maybe we caught a hot-ass mermaid??!"

Ishmael, who was adjacent to the Captain, briefly stopped pulling in order to stare at the Captain with incredulity.

Captain Krysaos was an enemy to women across the Realm... but at least he was consistent.

"Maybe it's an ENEMY!!" Catshit grinned. "Den we'z can kill it!!"

"And EAT it!!" Wonderboy cackled.

...Tycon had previously thought the Coral Boys did not eat living creatures. Perhaps they were omnivorous? Or perhaps it depended on the Coral Boy.

With a final heave, Captain Krysaos and the crew dragged the huge fishing net onboard, spilling a copious amount of fish onto the deck... as well as a large barrel.

"Barrel Boy, what the F*CK are you doin' in there?!" Krysaos shouted.

A Coral Boy popped his head out of the barrel, "S-sorry, Cap'n. We was hungry."