Headed by a Snake



Tycondrius strode across the rotting-wood deck of the Elizabeth Dare, illuminated by the grace of the pale moon. He took in a deep breath of sea-salted fog, savoring the sensation... and he mentally prepared himself to commit violence upon his allies. 

An unfamiliar Marine stood at the edge of the deck, smoking a tobacco stick. 

He looked out onto the black waters, leaning on a precarious portion of railing that, against all odds, remained intact. 

The gentleman seemed occupied with the view, showing no reaction even when Tycon stood by his side. 

"What's on your mind, Marine?" Tycon asked. 

The lonesome Marine took a long draw of his drug-stick, then an equally long exhale... 

Baring his teeth, he glared into the dark fog as he spoke. 

"Been a f*ckin' *while* since I've had a full belly... and we had to get chow our gods-damned selves."

That, he was going to regret very soon. 

However, the younger Marine was not yet finished with his complaints, "Sea god's socks... I d'nno what the boatswain's been doing, but it ain't been his f*ckin' job."

That was disappointing to hear. Tycon was the boatswain when he was working for Langhai and performed his billet without complications. Unfortunately, it seemed his replacement was not as proficient. 

"Duly noted," Tycon replied. "Concerning the matter, I'll speak to the Captain, personally."

"Eh? Huh?"

The Marine turned his head. And, gazing upon Tycon's handsome visage... he finally discovered that he was speaking (and cursing) casually to a superior officer. 

The panicked Marine finally figured out that a superior officer was speaking to him. He hurriedly discarded his drug-stick, then brought his hand up to salute-- as was proper. 

"G-good morning, Lieutenant."

Tycon returned the salute, "Good morning. Now... tell me more about your trivial concerns."

Whatever those concerns were, they were left unsaid. As soon as the young Marine opened his mouth, Tycon struck. 

He forced the fingers of the young Marine's saluting hand down their own throat. Before the fellow could vomit, Tycon grabbed the back of his collar, directing the expulsion of vomitus off the starboard side. 

"W-why?" sputtered the pathetic Marine. 

"Captain's orders," Tycon replied. "You understand."

Ah.

"And mind where you discard your trash," he added. "It's unprofessional."

Before the Marine could reply, Tycon shoved him over the railing. 

"Come back only after retrieving it."

There were no rules against smoking tobacco in the fleet. However, littering was a loathsome behavior. 

Two other Marines saw the act. 

They drew their weapons, one a rapier, and the other an arming sword. 

"What's going on, Marines?" Tycon asked. "Did you perhaps want to accompany your junior?"

"Captain's orders or not," the first mumbled, "y-you can't do this to us, S-sir!"

"The whole crew's gone up two or three levels since Saltspray Island, Lieutenant," the second shouted. "You can't put us all down!"

A smirk crept into the corner of Tycon's mouth as he crept forward.

"Then why... do the two of you... reek. of. *FeAr?*

ραndαsΝοvεl ƈοm The Marine with the arming sword-- her weapon was conveniently shaped for Tycon's purposes.

She was the first to attack, feinting low but committed to an overhead swing. 

It was an excellent display of speed and skill, leading with the blade, and wasting little to no movement. 

Unfortunately for her, Tycon had also improved since the Saltspray campaign. 

He caught the blade between the palms of his hands, then wrenched the weapon out of the young woman's grip. Undeterred, she lowered her body, leaning forward for another offensive movement. 

Tycon was curious to her follow-up, but sensing danger, he took a step back and aside to avoid the Marine Sergeant's rapier. 

That left Tycon balanced and his opponent at his mercy. 

A swift front kick to the pit of the Marine's stomach had him crouching over in pain. A second kick, slower but more forceful, rolled him across the deck.

The woman was forced to dodge to the side to avoid her Sergeant-- but in the direction that Tycon predicted. 

With a single bound forward, Tycon was able to grab hold of her hair. (He secured her hat so she wouldn't lose it.) Then, he dragged her to the edge of the deck and jammed her sword's hilt into her mouth. 

She vomited properly. 

"W-whyyyy?~" she cried. "That... that was the first good meal I've had in like a moon~"

"I'm *trying* to help you, Marine," Tycon scolded. "You should know better than to eat random garbage dredged up from the abyss."

"S-shut up. I'm... I'm gonna dive back in and eat everything I--"

Tycon squeezed the woman's shoulder until he felt and heard a resonating crack. 

She passed out immediately. 

Whatever she was trying to say, he didn't want to hear it. 

By that time, the other Marine had recovered to his feet. 

After meeting Tycon's gaze, the fellow immediately glanced behind him. 

"Don't run, Sergeant Jacque," Tycon warned as he stood up. "It'll be worse if you run."

"This-- this is pretty bad already, Sir."

"Are you coming to me or do you value your teeth?"

The Marine Sergeant steadied his stance. 

Tycon saw an almost palpable flow of mana as Jacque's Sea Wolf blood ran hot. 

The muscles in his arms and legs bulged, though not to the extent of his Captain's true form. His eyes grew hazy and his teeth grew long and sharp. Then, with supernaturally enhanced speed, he sprinted forward with his rapier. 

The Sea Wolves were fast-- faster and stronger than most of Tycon's human allies. It was wonderful seeing them in action-- seeing the development of their combat prowess over two, well-trained years. 

He was glad he fought alongside them rather than against them. 

--overall, anyroad. 

Tycon stepped to the side, narrowly dodging the blade before grabbing the front half of the snarling Sergeant's neck.

Sensing a shift in Jacque's weight, Tycon lifted his shin to check a kick. 

It hurt. 

The unconscious woman wasn't exaggerating. If the other fleet Marines had grown-- in speed similar to hers and strength similar to Jacque's, Langhai had prepared them well for the coming war. 

"LT," Jacque whispered... "I never got the chance to thank you properly for your help on Saltspray Isle."

Thus unbalanced, Tycon repositioned his grip to the back of the Sergeant's shoulder. Then, he dropped the gentleman down, driving his stomach into his knee. 

Sergeant Jacque promptly vomited onto the deck. 

"No thanks are necessary, Marine," Tycon whispered. "Blood and thunder."

"V-victory at sea," the Sergeant coughed. 

Tycon gently lowered Jacque, allowing him to kneel on the deck and contemplate his life choices.

...Tycon also granted him two reconciliatory pats on the back. 

Despite the numbness he felt in his left shin, his feelings of respect outweighed his feelings of annoyance. 

Jacque had fought well. 

"Ahaha... who the f*ck's gotten 'emselves SEA-sick this time o' night?"

A woman's voice came from around the corner, its owner arriving shortly after. 

It was Miss Loretta, whom he had worked with before. And accompanying her was a Marine carrying a heavy shield. 

Their faces immediately paled.

Whether it was for the unconscious junior Marine, her face frozen in agony; or the fallen Sergeant on his knees, face to a pool of his own ejecta, rear to the starry sky; Tycon did not know. 

Their appearances might have been rather pitiful... but they'd live. 

That was the goal of Tycon's mission, after all: 

--to save as many Marines as he could. 

Tycon stood up and began walking toward two latest recipients of his mercy and good will. 

"Good morning, Marines," he said with a smile. 

"M-mornin', Sir." "Good... morning, Lieutenant," came their uncertain responses. 

Placing a hand on his chin, Tycon wondered if he could get the two to jam their fingers down each other's throats. 

...

⟬ 45 minutes later... ⟭ 

All of the Sea Wolves that had gone on patrol (and some that had not) were forced to purge. 

The most difficult of which... as Tycon somewhat expected, was the Sea Wolf High-Captain, Lang Hai, himself. 

⟬ Lang Hai, Iron-Rank Human Dread Captain. ⟭ 

The rebellious boy-Captain even used his ⌈Abyssal Sea Wolf Transformation⌋, likely assuming he could brute-force himself exempt from his own orders. 

The transformation was a troublesome one, greatly reducing the free space on the top deck-- especially as they both wanted to avoid unreasonable damage to the Elizabeth Dare.

...Hm. That wasn't exactly right. 

The damage to the Elizabeth Dare was already beyond reasonable. 

Thankfully, Tycon did not have to be the one to embarrass the High Captain in front of his crew-- his friends, peers, and longtime allies. 

For that, Tycon chose to rely on Langhai's romantic partner. 

⟬ Rico, Gold-Rank Calamity Beast. ⟭ 

At his behest, the ever-lovely Corporal Rico crammed her entire arm down her Captain's throat with zero hesitation. 

Hai promptly expelled his dinner onto the deck. And all over his girlfriend. 

Subsequently, and as expected, she suffered a similar reaction. 

It was... not the *most* embarrassing scene Tycon had witnessed. 

But the entire ordeal was certainly... distasteful. 

And soon after, Tycondrius of Charm was ordered off of the Elizabeth Dare. 

He was glad to meet with the Marines of Beaurte. 

It gave him confidence. 

If the rest of his allies had even half their training, they might all survive the swarths of the Lizard God's lackeys. 

And when their leader reared its disgusting, scaled face... Tycon could leave his allies to their own devices while he struck off on his own to accomplish the impossible. 

However... the Sea Wolves were but a single faction amongst the anti-lizard offensive. 

He wanted to see the others.

Though it was far too late to rectify their situations... Tycon held a minuscule hope that he'd find something that would lift his spirits. 

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