Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius was not as acrobatic as Pale or Kimura Taree. He was strong and had a good sense of balance, but his kicking accuracy was unpracticed-- especially when counterattacking from surprise.

The initial kick to the groin made Tarquin Wroe keel over in pain. The second kick was a heavy boot landing on Tarquin Wroe's clavicle, causing the blue-haired Hexblade to crumple to the ground.

Tycon frowned. The second kick was aimed at Wroe's temple.

He quietly observed his surroundings, making certain there were no *actual* enemies, before seeing to the fallen man.

He crouched down adjacent to the man's face-down head, "Mister Wroe, you seem to have improved your Shadow Walk ability. I hadn't sensed your approach."

"H-hey, Boss." Wroe groaned in pain, turning his head to the side, "I'm assuming I... ergh... deserved that."

"Indeed, you did. Are you... crying?"

"Please... just let me save some face, Boss."

"Though I don't believe I struck you so strongly-- if one of your testicles have ruptured, you will require medical attention," Tycon pat Wroe on the back.

"I'll-- I'll do that..."

...Tycon coaxed Sasarame out of her hiding spot, "This is my adopted daughter. Sasha, say hello."

"(Hello, Shadow-Walker,)" she hissed.

Wroe, still curled up in pain, waved one of his hands, "Hey."

Tycon explained, "Mister Wroe is a daeva. According to popular belief, he has angel blood flowing through his veins."

Sasarame nodded in understanding before retreating back into the folds of Tycon's hood.

Tycon turned his attention back to Wroe, "What was so important to seek me out instead of waiting patiently-- Are you just going to keep lying there?"

"Y-yeah-- I mean, if that's alright with you."

Wroe was setting an awfully low precedent for Sasarame... However, the angel-blood had just sustained a painful injury.

Tycon decided to show off his magnanimity, "Very well. I shall allow it."

Wroe gave his report, "Wolfbanger's really sick... Lone needs to talk to you. And I think Pale's learned a new skill."

Tycon grimaced, "Understood... I'll see them, shortly."

...

After dinner, Tycon asked around for Wolfbanger's location... Entering the infirmary, he met with Petty Officer Milo.

"What's wrong with him, doc?"

"I don't really know-- I'm just a dentist," Milo responded with good-natured sass.

Tycon offered an embarrassed smile to the gentleman, "The uh... Sea Wolves don't differentiate between medical personnel, do they?"

"They do not! Anyroad, I'm just happy to help."

Wolfbanger was in a sorry state... looking similar to how he did on the ship, pathetic and three-quarters dead. He also looked thinner and his wolf-dog-boy face was contorted in constant agony. Tycon even felt the boy's mana spasm irregularly, like his very essence was trying to pull him apart.

Tycon recognized the boy's painful symptoms without needing to clarify with his System. The boy was suffering mana backlash from breaching a mana contract.

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "What. did. you. do, boy?"

The sickly weretouched boy blinked slowly, trying to focus. He looked over to the sailor, "I didn't do it, Boss..."

Tycon sighed, "Petty Officer Milo, could you give us some privacy?"

...

Tycondrius had to threaten the dog-wolf pup with physical violence to get him to admit that he tried to steal from the Saltspray pirates. As a matter of course, there were far too many pirates for that to work well without a supernatural stealth ability. He was caught and forced to kill one of their number. He had even lost his stupid-looking greathammer in the skirmish.

Good. Tycon would get him a more reasonable replacement-weapon.

With the way mana contracts worked... the magical backlash would have been greatly reduced if he was unaware of the contract's terms. Likely, he knew ahead of time, or he was informed in the skirmish.

The development and use of magical contracts, popularized by the devil-blooded mages of Bael Turath, led to an economic boom in the past several epochs. Of course, magical contracts were imperfect-- their terms were drafted by mortals, full of their own inconsistencies, so loopholes always existed.

The young Wolfbanger was not cunning enough to utilize a contract's loophole as Tycon had-- and he'd suffered for it. The boy would be unable to fight for even longer...

...Tycon had hopes for the boy... once... long ago.

"(Master, who is that?)" Sasarame hissed curiously.

Tycon responded in a hushed hiss, "(No one of consequence, beautiful child.)"

At the very least, Wolfbanger's blunder had led Tycon to an interesting discovery. Besides slaves, the Saltspray Kings had something worthwhile to steal.

...

Talk was abound amongst the Sea Wolves of how a ghost ship had mysteriously appeared in port... Tycon immediately searched for Captain Lang Hai to report that the ship was raised by his Warlock, Mister Wroe.

It turned out that Lieutenant Eilean already knew as much. She had asked the ship, directly.

Witch was a strange Class.

Afterward, Tycon collected the remaining members of Guild Invictus for a meeting.

He introduced Sasarame as 'Sasha', an interim member of Guild Invictus. The silver snake proved shy around everyone but Tycon, preferring to hide.

The blue-haired daeva Warlock, Mister Wroe, recounted his... mostly tragic tale of trying to get a ship. He succeeded, however, and even brought the ghost ship to the Saltspray Island. Tycon did not ask how Wroe found them.

The nose-and-cheek scarred, dark-haired human, Lone, talked about how he was feeling frustrated that he had such a difficult time against the Bronze-Rank Aquamancers amongst the Saltspray pirates. Tycon ordered Pale to help the young man understand why fire-element attacks have reduced effectiveness against water-element mages.

The half-elf sandy-blonde spearman, Pale, told everyone he learned a new Skill.

Tycon wasn't impressed until he heard it was a healing Skill. Healing Skills were highly sought after.

After a light interrogation, Tycon was less enthused upon discovering that Pale's Skill was incredibly limited in its application. Its mana efficiency was poor and required a healthy amount of sand as a spell component.

After mentioning Wroe's recent injury, Pale offered to sprinkle his healing sand on the daeva's testicles, despite the mana-cost. Wroe vehemently declined, for whatever reason.

...

Tycon sighed, "With Mister Wolfrider's injury, we will be returning with the Sea Wolf fleet to Beaurte-- more specifically, to Port Saint Guinefort. There, we may be able to get the boy some proper medical attention..."

Only Lone of the 4 Invictus members showed concern for Wolfbanger.

Tycon continued, "At any rate, I've a mind to see the captured Beaurte prisoners back to their home."

Wroe and Pale were more onboard with the concept of ensuring mission completion.

"From there, we'll depart from that port and make way to the Holy Country-- perhaps utilizing air travel via the Windwright's Guild. At any rate, I'd like to send word back to Gian Vanzano's family, if he has any.

Guild Invictus agreed unanimously on the notion. The death of Maximus was still felt by every guild member.

"For now, let's search around for the loot pile Captain Lang's amassed. I believe Guild Invictus has done well enough that we may be able to... requisition something."