Headed by a Snake

Hades climbed the rope ladder and onto the deck. It was big enough to support the Coral Boys, but it looked ridiculous for the biggest orc he'd ever seen to have to smoosh his arms together to climb it.

Slung over his back was a huge burlap sack, made up of maybe three or four sacks stitched together.

"Sup?" He grinned, tossing his bag of loot onto the deck, spilling its contents.

"Welcome back, big guy," Krysaos grinned.

The other Coral Boys boarded the ship and emptied their own sacks into the pile.

The haul was... actually pretty good. At any rate, it was better than Krysaos could have hoped for.

They brought weapons made of stone, coral, and precious metals; armor that looked to be made from turtles and crabs and clams. They even brought ranged weaponry like their harpoon launchers, throwing pila, and a heap of ammo, too.

"Fascinating..." Tycon picked up a crossbow, "These are enchanted against the ocean's corrosion."

The LT was looking at the loot like a proper pirate would look at a whore.

It could all sell for some good coin, too. Krysaos found himself grinning madly, thinking of how wealthy he had become-- or the crew had become, anyroad.

"⌈Venomous Shadow Ishmael⌋!" Tycon yelled, "Petty Officer Bob!"

The shadowy Ishmael appeared at his side with a nod.

Bob swaggered forward with a salute, "You called, Bosun?"

"You two," Tycon grinned, "are going to assist me with inventory."

The guy untied the sling on his bum arm and started to organize the piles... like an absolute madman.

"Oof," Krysaos sucked in air through his teeth... "That guy... really likes his inventory."

"It's actually pretty f*ckin' lame," Hades chuckled to himself. "But I mean... I don't kink-shame, y'know?"

"Yeah," Krysaos nodded. "I guess it's fine, s'long as it makes him happy, right? Probably healthier than booze, drugs, and whoring."

"Hasn't killed me yet," Hades shrugged.

"...You mean you're not? Dead, I mean?"

Hades furrowed his thick Orcish brows... "Honestly, I dunno. Maybe?"

...

"Watch carefully, gentlemen. I will perform a practice demonstration, but once."

Before he began, Tycondrius scanned the crowd of Coral Boys.

His commanding voice garnered as much attention as he expected. Considering that the topic was war and the bettering of each individual Coral Boy, most of them were listening and watching attentively.

One of his would-be students, however, was not.

"⌈Shadowfang,⌋" Tycon crossed the distance to Wonderboy in an instant. Raising his knee, he locked it into place, then spun the rest of his body, using the momentum to land a solid kick against the Coral Boy's side.

It probably hurt Tycon more than it did his opponent. Choosing a less painful subsequent attack, he then planted the sole of his boot on Wonderboy's chest, launching him off of the railless deck and into the waters.

"The demonstration begins now," Tycon explained.

He took the crossbow Ishmael offered and, holding it with his still-weak arm, he used the reload tool to lock a bolt into place.

...He winced in pain as he did so. His arm was healing well enough to function for mundane tasks... but participating in active combat remained a daunting proposition.

As Tycon walked over to the side of the ship, the Coral Boys followed him, leaning over what side railings were still intact.

"Best practice dictates placing the crossbow stock in your shoulder pocket. Line the shot with the iron sights, adjusting for distance. Pull the trigger with a slow and steady squeeze."

He was shooting left-handed to reduce the strain on his arm, but Wonderboy's range was too close for him to miss.

The crossbow bolt sailed through the air... and struck something meaty.

The Coral Boy emerged from the waters, embracing a large tuna... looking at the bolt with wide eyes.

The other Coral Boys applauded politely.

"I will now be handing out crossbows and quivers." Tycon passed the unloaded crossbow to Petty Officer Bob, "I want-- no, I *demand* that each and every Coral Boy be basically trained with these. The highest rated sharpshooters will be awarded personal weaponry."

Those that did not meet his expectations would be rewarded with violence done to their persons until either the lessons were learned or they expired.

He would, however, not inform them of that. He preferred to influence his students to seek success rather than to avoid the consequences of failure.

...He raised an eyebrow, "What the hells are you all looking at?"

Doc giggled to himself, "Kehehe... Bosun, Wonderboy, 'e got eaten by a shark."

"That is not our problem. Now... line up, Marines-- and be quick about it! BLOOD AND THUNDER!!"

"""VICT'RY AT SEA!!"""

...

"So 'ow was it, big guy?" Krysaos looked up at his big companion.

He didn't know how to deal with an orc, really... nor a god.

Thankfully, Hades seemed... more like a regular guy than anything else. He drank. He did hard drugs. He talked about f*cking.

There was no weird air of godhood about him... or Orcishness, for that matter. He was physically intimidating, sure. Krysaos could see how normal folk could be a bit put off by just that.

But then again, a lot of folks wouldn't be okay with the guy just having different colored skin.

All in all, Hades was a good guy. Krysaos treated him like... any good guy, and it seemed to work out just fine.

Still... besides being a god, Hades was the strongest guy Krysaos had ever met. Probably stronger than Tycon, even if the LT didn't have a f*cked up arm.

When Hades said he could wipe out a tribe of thousands of seafolk as easy as he could piss... Krysaos believed him.

If he were being honest with himself... he was a little afraid that he did just that.

"Didn't kill anyone," The orc shrugged. "Well-- not anyone relevant. Reaped an old guy that was gonna die in a few bells. Saved their Reaper like five minutes. Cute, pink-haired chick, but she's f*ckin' a phoenix or somethin'."

"Sounds about right," Krysaos nodded in thought.

In truth, none of that sounded right. Getting insider information from the god of death was probably something he wasn't supposed to hear about.