Headed by a Snake

"I uh... err... ah. Ehehaha..." Doc giggled to himself nervously, unable to keep his hands in one place. "About 'at, Ca'tnnn..."

"'E fell," Bob insisted, glaring angrily towards Doc. "Tripped on his own feet, din'cha?"

"Oh, yeah! Right!" Doc barked obediently, "Wonderboy fell! 'Ats'all!"

The collective of Coral Boys murmured general agreements to the same disharmonic tune. Petty Officer Bob stuck his chest out, betting his everything that his confidence would make everyone else overlook the fact that he was lying through his rocky teeth.

Honestly, Krysaos wasn't even mad. It's what sailors do-- stick together.

"Doc," He took a deep breath. "Step away... from my deck swab."

The Coral Boy folded his hands in front of his chest as if he was trying to beg, "I uh... I ain't so sure 'at's a good idea, Cap'n."

"Brother-Captain," Lieutenant Tycon whispered in a low voice... "Perhaps... we should let this go?"

Krysaos hesitated... but shook his head, "At this rate, I... I have to know, LT... even if it kills me."

"I feel the need to remind you that... that is not an impossible outcome."

"Yeah, I do," Krysaos sighed.

No one lives forever.

"Doc, I am the Captain of the Neptune's Revenge," Krysaos raised his voice. "And I gave you a direct order."

"Sure fing, Cap'n. Sure fing..." Doc mumbled as he stepped off of Wonderboy.

The face-down Coral Boy... scrunched-- sticking his arse in the air, before plopping it down into the bilge with a splash. Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his lime-green head and looked around like he was lost.

"Oh!" Wonderboy's eyes shot open, "HEY, Cap'n! You'z 'ere for da fight?!"

The LT placed a hand on his chin. Doc started to giggle like a madman. Bob covered his yellow face with a thick palm.

That was it. That was the big secret.

"Fight?" Krysaos raised his eyebrows, "I don't see no--"

A vicious crack resounded through the air as fresh seawater drenched his coat and trousers.

That... was something he never wanted to hear on his own ship: the sound of his gods-damned hull being broken open.

He was going to die. Everyone on the ship that needed to breathe air to live was going to die.

Not just one, but a half-dozen giant tentacles had burst through holes in the hull.

"BLOOD AND F'UNDERRRR!!" Bob raised his battleaxe.

"""VICT'RY AT SEAAAAA!!!""" The Coral Boys resounded.

Whipped into a frenzy, the crew of the Neptune's Revenge began to do battle.

Everything started flying in the air... bloody chunks of blubber, blunted iron blades, axes, and tridents... the Coral Boys, themselves...

There was a lot of screaming... but not from Krysaos.

He'd already accepted his fate. He and Tycon were going to die aboard the Neptune's Revenge.

That elf twat too... probably.

Tycon calmly wiped water off his face, "These are..."

"Yep," Krysaos nodded, "Leviathan wangs. We... could really use a Sea Witch, right now..."

"Shall I attempt to resuscitate Miss Mina?"

"Nah, don't bother," Krysaos sighed. He was on the verge of a mental breakdown. "Actually-- do whatever. I'm... I'm going to my room. You mind if I tap into the rum?"

"We haven't the rum to spare, Brother-Captain."

"Sea god's piss-ridden pants..." Krysaos sighed louder and with more emphasis... "There still bread from breakfast?"

"That can be arranged."

Tycon gave that little half-hearted smile that was kinda patronizing-- but Krysaos was used to it.

It was going to be a huge pain figuring out how to die properly while sober... but having a full belly would help a little bit.

...

⟬ Neptune's Revenge, the galley. ⟭

Tycondrius plated Captain Krysaos a simple combination of cold roast beef and rye bread.

"Perhaps we can entreat the... elf for assistance against the... creatures?" He offered.

The Captain took to the dish gratefully, taking two quick bites as if he were starving.

"Yeah, uh huh?" Krysaos responded-- his mouth half-full, "like that arrogant cunt'll help us with anything."

Due to the potentially disastrous situation happening belowdecks, Tycon chose not to chastise the Captain for his table manners.

Tycon pursed his lips, "I suppose I'll head down, then, in an attempt to reduce the damage."

Krysaos washed down a gulp with some heavily watered ale... "I mean, if we die, we die, Tycon. But yeah, go ahead."

As Tycon turned to the door, he spotted movement in the nearby porthole.

Krysaos saw it too. He vaulted over his eating table and glued his face to the recently cleaned glass.

...He did so before Tycon could stop him, "Stars and stones, Captain, must you?"

"What... what the f*ck is going on?" He turned to Tycon, "What... are those?"

Tycon narrowed his eyes in perplexity.

Anything sighted on the eastern seas was Krysaos' expertise. If he was uncertain as to what he was looking at, then Tycon doubted he had much to offer.

He calmly strode out the door... and though it may not have been the best judgment, he headed to the top deck in order to sate his curiosity.

Looking out onto the water, he saw...

Elves.

Sea elves, perhaps-- and they were fast approaching the ship.

They numbered over a dozen, armed and armored for war. They skimmed the surface of the water, riding what appeared to be... blue-shelled crabs, each large enough to support two or three riders.

Tycon adjusted his slung arm and crossed his good arm over it, "I was not aware that crabs could swim."

"Yeah," Krysaos had emerged from the stairs just behind him. "Some have these weird paddle-fin things on their back legs."

"You know of these creatures, then?" Tycon asked.

"I do," Krysaos' gaze hardened. "They're elves."

"The giant crabs, Brother-Captain."

"Megapediculosis Pubis," The Captain whispered hoarsely... "I've experienced 'em more'n a few times... it ain't pretty, LT."

"The creatures the elves are riding, Brother-Captain," Tycon clarified.

"Oh, those?" Krysaos furrowed his thick brows, "Karkinii, I think. Haven't seen 'em before, though. Pretty sure some of the sahuagin armor we looted's made out of their chitin."

Before reaching the ship, the crabs and crab-riders submerged below the waves. Within minutes, the churning waters began to turn red with blood.

If Tycon had assumed correctly, the elves were attacking the Leviathans. With enough damage taken, their... wangs should also withdraw.

"If all is well, this sun shall not be our last," Tycon remarked.

"Yeah... that's still to be seen, LT."

If Tycon's assumption was incorrect... then it was of no great consequence. So far away from land, he wasn't expecting to survive if the ship were to sink.

...

The loud clicks and clacks of the elves' mounts climbed onto the deck.

Sixteen elves dismounted, covered in chitinous armor and carrying spears. Nine extraordinarily large crabs, the karkinii, kept by them. Bubbles frothed at their 'mouths' and each of their claws could easily grab hold of a regular human and crush their insides into paste.

Long, spike-shelled claws reached over the side of the ship, belonging to a different, larger karkinos. It crawled onto the main deck with six elongated legs, their ends tapered as sharp as spears, leaving new holes in the wood that... unfortunately, did not look out of place on the weathered Sea Wolf ship.

The two arms on its front were even longer than the others and ended with claws smaller than that of its kin. However, the karkinos' agility belied its size, leading Tycon to believe it was the most dangerous of the creatures.

Its body seemed small in comparison to its elongated limbs, but matched the size of the other, lesser karkinii... yet it held a single rider.

It was an Elven woman... with sea-glistened, dark grey skin and silver hair, tightly braided to her scalp.

Tycon recalled a people deep in his memories... an ancient Elven tribe called the drow, the chosen sons and daughters of the Scorpion God.

...He examined each karkinos for a poisonous tail and was slightly disappointed to find none.

The Elven whelpling leapt off of hers with an acrobatic flip and landed in front of Captain Krysaos. Though she had to look up to meet his gaze, her nose and chin were turned up in a pathetic attempt to appear more important than she did.

With her unique mount and attire, she seemed to have a position greater than that of the other elves.

However, when compared to her subordinates, the female elf wore... the least armor. Notably, she did not wear an armor chest plate, her small bosom guarded merely by light-colored cloth and string.

Her intent was likely to... appear attractive to the opposite gender. Tycon found the half-armor, half-beachwear to be... unprofessional.

It was unfortunate, but Captain Krysaos did not appear as the prideful 'scourge of the eastern seas' as he often touted himself to be.

The previous sun, his coat sleeve had been cut and had yet to be resewn.

Where the elves' sets of shell armor were designed to be used in and out of water, Krysaos' was not... and he was still drenched from their recent foray belowdecks.

Worse still, Krysaos was still chewing on the last bite of his lunch.

It made Tycon wish he had spent a short time preparing a spell circle for the gentleman to at least clean his coat... or at least inspect his appearance before meeting with their... saviors.

",