Headed by a Snake

Krysaos bent over, hacking and coughing. A glorious glob came out of ihs throat, made of more mud than anything else.

He spat a few times, but the taste of dirt kept living in his mouth, rent-free.

"What... the fuuuuck, LT?" He groaned, "You usin' magic to keep clean or what?"

His own uniform was covered in cuts and drenched with sweat and seawater. If the LT had some weirdly specific spell to stop that from happening... he wanted to learn that sh*t too!

"Don't be absurd, Captain," Tycon frowned. "If I were, would the state of my boots be so miserable?"

Krysaos glanced downward. Blood had splattered on the Lieutenant's boots... and a liiiiiittle tiny bit on his left trouser leg.

Whatever.

"So anyroad... I got bad news, LT," Krysaos sighed. "Once the dust clears, we're in for more fighting."

Tycon narrowed his eyes... "And?"

"And the way my Transformation Skill drains my mana, I can go full power for... like... three or four good hits?"

"Tss..." Tycon scoffed and crossed his arms, "I share your concerns... I've run out of Sixth-Circle spells and have but a single Large-Area-Effect Spell in reserve."

Using his deceptively strong arms, the Thunder God pulled both Tycon and Krysaos in for a touchy-feely embrace.

"Fear not, dear friends! Know that I excel in close-quarter combat and my Storm Axe still hungers for--"

Tycon interrupted the guy with a swift knee to the gut.

"Then why... in the seVEN HELLS," The LT seethed-- "have you WASTED our time merely throwing *lightning bolts?*"

Oh. Yeah. He did that.

"Y-you... dare... strike a god..." Muttered the kneeling Thunder God.

"...My apologies," Tycon groaned. "My actions were inappropriate, considering the circumstances."

It was the most insincere apology Krysaos had heard in his life.

...And he was practically a scum-sucking pirate for the majority of his career.

Krysaos would have laughed, had he not been so absolutely exhausted.

"Anyroad, I propose we adopt a new formation," Tycon continued. "The Thunder God shall be our vanguard. I shall support from the rear. You, Krysaos, will shift your priorities as necessary-- along with Mister Wroe, if he is still alive."

"I'm alive, Boss," Said a disembodied voice.

"Ah, very well," Tycon nodded. "Wherever you are, regroup with us as soon as possible."

"Right! Workin' on it."

...Weird kid, that Tarquin Wroe.

"LT," Krysaos frowned. "It'll take up most of my remaining mana... but I can bring Mina here. She's probably stronger than that Heartsong chick-- and we could sure use the firepower."

"Oh, yes," Tycon groaned. "I would *love* to have more members, Krysaos. It's not my fault that Coraline's injured or Mina's needed for keeping order on the ship or... bah."

"We get it," Krysaos rolled his eyes. "Elle broke up with you and your life sucks. Can we move on?"

"The woman of my dreams did *not* break up with me!" Tycon shouted. "We're... just... oh, f*ck off, Krysaos."

Women. The things they did f*cked up even the best of folks.

...Even other women.

The Thunder God stood up and placed his hand on Krysaos' shoulder, "Sea God, we can still use... *that.*"

"Please abstain from sexual advances on the field of combat," Tycon grimaced. "Did we not discuss this? This is something we should have discussed."

The Thunder God shook his head... and when he opened his eyes, they sparked with an ominous light.

"Sea God," He said... "Take firm hold of my javelin."

Krysaos coughed into a closed fist and turned away.

"...I have a girlfriend."

"I speak of my GOD-WEAPON!!" The Thunder God insisted.

"This neither the time NOR the place!" Tycon scolded, "I will not allow Krysaos to be seduced by the likes of--"

Krysaos furrowed his brows, "Oh. Oh, shite. You mean that throwing javelin you gave me back on the island?"

"The throwing javelin I *lent* you, Sea God," Said the flustered Thunder God.

"Am I being ignored?" Tycon frowned, "Carry on and I will grant you both the Mercy you deserve."

The Thunder God took in a deep breath before revealing a warm smile.

"Friend-Maedar, Friend-Sea-God... I ask for thy faith."

"Hmph," Tycon narrowed his eyes. He seemed doubtful...

Krysaos, though-- he was convinced.

The Thunder God was risking his life, just as well as everyone else. Trust should've been a given.

...

⟬ After a few moments of preparation... ⟭

⁆ So I've never used a god-weapon before. ⁅

⟬ Yes, you f*cking have. ⟭

⁆ Well... Mina doesn't count. I've had Mina for moons. ⁅

⁆ And before you interrupt me again-- Poseidon's Trident doesn't count either! ⁅

⟬ I don't even care anymore. Do as you please. ⟭

⁆ Poseidon was a shite god-- and his stupid fork isn't nearly as awesome as the Heart of the Ocean, A.K.A. the Master Sword. ⁅

⟬ You're contradicting yourself, Captain. ⟭

Krysaos squinted his eyes, "I thought you said you didn't care."

"I agree! The Javelin of the Thunder God," Declared... the Thunder God, "is a *proper* god-weapon!"

Krysaos pursed his lips, "So... do I just throw this thing or what?"

"Lift the javelin to throwing position," Tycon explained. "Run at a moderate speed to build linear force. Before the throw, switch to a cross-step jog, and-- landing on your back leg, throw while utilizing the force of the rotation."

"Let the strength of your noble heart guide thy throw!" The Thunder God grinned.

"...Y'know what? I'm..." Krysaos exhaled out of his nose and shook his head, "I'm just gonna f*ckin' throw it."

"...As you wish." "Allow thy spirit to soar!"

And so, as soon as the dust cleared enough to see a target... Krysaos ran a little bit... did three little cross-steps... and threw the Thunder God's Javelin as hard as he could.

⁆ So this javelin... it turns into a bolt of lightning. ⁅

⁆ I mean... of course, it would. That comes with the basic 'weapon bestowed by the Thunder God' package. ⁅

⁆ That javelin-- it hits this big-arse wolf, like... bigger than a carriage? No-- this wolf was the size of a fishing boat. ⁅

⁆ It goes right through its mouth, through its heart... blood's everywhere, smell of burnt fur-- the whole thing was a f*ckin mess. ⁅

⁆ But... ⁅

"The... f*ck?" Krysaos furrowed his brows, "Was that it?"

",