Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius casually eyed the unfamiliar fellow.

The somewhat-tall, lightly-tanned gentleman boasted long locks of blonde hair.

He wore a cloth wrap around his loins... a skirt of some kind?

Tattoos in careful, geometric patterns adorned his skin.

The style was... reminiscent of the Eastern States' tribes to the east.

Were his skin darker and his tattoos in Elven script, Tycon would have assumed he belonged in Imperia's Spider Crab tribe.

Without, the man's attire more closely resembled that of a common whore than a tribal warrior.

He wore no shirt, yet his muscles were... average?

Tycon considered the company he kept... a Gold-Rank Buccaneer turned Sky-Rank Dread Pirate, a house-sized muscle orc, and a Hexblade with forearms the size of a regular person's calves.

Then... there was a formerly bronze-skinned human who focused his weight-training on his upper body.

Even his lover, Elle, had a naturally powerful and athletic build due to her bloodline.

The blonde man's presence unnerved Tycon.

However, it was not because he seemed particularly notable.

Contrary to that, he didn't seem notable at all.

It would be foolish of him to underestimate a potential enemy, yet... he was doing just that.

"Niiiiice~" The unreasonably tall orc approached, his hands resting on his hips. "You guys took down the barrier!"

"You look well, brother," Tycon tapped his fist against the Death God's.

Hades, god of death and the dead, did not introduce his companion. The fact led credence to Tycon's assumption that they weren't anyone of significance.

"Just so y'know," The orc hummed, "you missed like-- an entire host of angels! Minions, it looked like-- we took care of it, though."

He waved his large, blood-covered warscythe while making 'whooshing' sounds with his mouth... as if to demonstrate.

"Whew, angels, huh?" Krysaos clapped his hands together, "So the sea god had *minions!* I was wondering where they'd gone!"

Ah...

Tycon had forgotten how frustrating the Captain could be.

He held his hands in front of his chest and slowly closed his fingers.

Krysaos was a friend.

He was an ally.

He remained *useful* to him and Sol Invictus.

Killing him would be petty... and immature...

It would be a waste of Krysaos' talent... and his recently stolen god-powers.

Wanton murder was inefficient... and unethical.

Tycon took an extended moment to swallow his feelings before re-assuming a mask of neutral professionalism.

"Apologies," He bowed politely. "Mister Wroe and I purposely avoided the patrols to arrive at Krysaos' side in better haste."

"Ah, yeah," Hades tapped on one of his tusks. "To be honest, I f*cking suck at stealth."

He... what?

Tycon furrowed his brows. Some moons ago, Hades and the crew of the Neptune's Revenge raided the Amphitrite Reef tribe.

The opposition was reported to be minimal...

Unless...

Was it possible... that Hades murdered each and every witness he came across?

"What... what have you DONE?!?!"

The shout came to Tycon as a surprise-- as the voice did not belong to him.

Instead, it came from the... fellow adjacent to the Death God.

The blonde man's face had turned red, his disgusting expression and demeanor neither neutral nor professional.

Krysaos casually sat down... once again on the corpse of the sea god.

He tilted his head up, jutting his chin forward, "And who the f*ck are you?"

"Who... who the f*ck am I?!?!?"

The indignation of the lightly-dressed blonde man was so great that the features of his face scrunched together to the point of absurdity.

Tycon narrowed his eyes... and looked to Hades, "Who the f*ck is this?"

He was being rude... but he was swept up by Krysaos' audacity.

A slight bit of unprofessionalism was forgivable, depending on the circumstances.

"Right, new people," Hades cleared his throat... before widening his orcish grin, "This... f*cking guy is uh... the Thunder God."

"Death God!" Thunder God pouted, "I am the God of Storm and Lightning!"

"Storm, lightning..." Hades leaned down... "aaaand thunder."

The face of the Thunder God fell-- clearly in disappointment... "As you say."

Tycon shared a glance with Krysaos, who nodded in return.

As far as Thunder Gods went... the mewling child in their company was--

He was...

...peculiar.

Tycon had bore witness to several god-rank beings... and recently.

Hades, God of Death, the Dead, and being-the-size-of-a-house, was a high-tiered Abyssal Necromancer. He carried with him a soul-reaping scythe and was largely immune to recreational drugs.

The recently deceased sea god was an obscenely muscular gentleman, grizzled with age. He died with fury still in his eyes and his mouth locked into an eternal scowl.

Of course, the deceased snake god had a dangerous air about him. He was conniving, scheming, and most of all, incredibly handsome.

...Even the lizard goddess, Neerin Neelia, was... passably attractive by human standards. She had both the magical power and resilient physique to win a modicum of Tycon's respect.

The... Thunder God was... a young, beardless human... unarmored and...

"Why do you stare, mortal?" The Thunder God grimaced-- "is there something not to your liking?"

--and he whined like a petulant child.

Tycon turned away, "Brother-Hades, the old sea god is dead. Can you take us to the surface Realm?"

"Huh?" The orc scratched his head, "Oh, yeah, sure thi--"

"Do not ignore the Sea Go-- argh! I mean-- the Thunder God!"

"Eh?" Hades tilted his head, "Ohhhh, right. My bad. Were uh... were you two buddies?"

...Tycon shared another glance with Krysaos, this one more subtle.

The good Captain kept his smile and his attention focused on the blonde fellow. His palm, however, rested on the hilt of the Heart of the Ocean.

Tycon straightened his back, his chest out. He had, in his possession, a god-weapon-- the trident's sharpened tines assumedly capable of lethal injury.

The Thunder God took a breath... "We... played card games on Wednesdays..."

"...You were still going to those?" Hades frowned, "Even after we started that bowling group?"

"Bowling?!" The Thunder God reeled back, as if he was hurt-- "I... LOVE bowling! I... Death God?! You never invited me to--"

"Sorry, man. Team's already full," Hades dipped his head. "You know how it is."

Tycon turned away to keep his composure.

There was a strange social mechanic at play.

...Earlier, Hades had complained on the longboat that his bowling team roster had a single vacancy. Tycon found it highly unlikely that the spot was filled in such a short amount of time.

For what reason did the god of death and the dead have to lie?