⟬ Three suns later... ⟭
The Jade Rabbit anchored near the shore of a dismal, grey-clouded beach, its sands dotted by flecks of obsidian.
Tycondriuis had the 'pleasure' of being rowed ashore by one of High-Captain Ho Byul's Martialists.
She refused to look him in the eyes, much less speak with him. She and her Jade Arrow sisters treated him just as coldly.
Tycon had encountered over a dozen Martialists prior to meeting Byul. Those young women were cowed by the threat of his ocular ability, ⌈Vexing Gaze.⌋
As for the others, including his latest companion... he had heard their whisperings.
That morning, Tycon was witnessed exiting their Sect Master's private quarters. Word passed quickly amongst the crew, as scandalous speculation tends to do.
Byul had expressed her frustration with the discovery. She wished for her crew's image of her to remain... pure. She was the dignified leader of a sect, after all.
In the next two bells that followed, Byul demonstrated the image she wished for Tycon to have: filthy, licentious, and with her disembodied head used as an object for pleasure.
Before he'd disembarked, he bid farewell to Byul and gained a kiss on the cheek in front of her crew for his... services.
As Tycon had hoped, it seemed the High-Captain had formed no unreasonable emotional attachment to him. However, he doubted she would forget him. Particular statements Byul made during and between endurance training supported that fact.
Landing on the beach, the young, flush-faced Martialist quickly bowed her head in acknowledgment.
She rowed back to the Jade Rabbit much more leisurely than in dropping him off.
The young woman worked hard. Tycon appreciated it.
After having practiced mind-numbing hedonism for the past few suns, he felt more refreshed than in moons. He was ready to continue adventuring, avenge his assuredly dead companion, Lone, and recover two useless Elven artifacts.
The small isle seemed... inhospitable, if not uninhabitable. It lacked the common cries of sea birds and there were a sparse few sad, pale plants growing amongst gnarled and dying trees. In the distance, through the fog, was a small mountain.
He hoped more lively plants and creatures would exist nearer to that... though Tycon remained skeptical.
Wreckages of various watercraft littered the sharp-rocked beach, from small fishing boats to a snapped-in-two juggernaut resting upon a rocky outcropping.
With the large selection of ships, likely around the whole island, it didn't seem impossible to find one seaworthy.
ραпdα Йᴏνê|(сòm) It was unfortunate, however, that nautical navigation was not in his skillset.
He wondered if Krysaos was dead, having seen no sign of the silver-tongued Captain since they separated a few suns prior.
Tycon had faithfully distracted Byul throughout the voyage... mostly because it was enjoyable, but partly in order to prevent Krysaos' otherwise certain execution.
He didn't have to wait long for an answer.
A dark shadow emerged silently from the waters.
It was... his shadow. Tycon greeted him with a wave.
After it waved back, it then noisily pulled a body out and plopped him into the shallows.
Ah, there he was.
Tycon walked over and the two of them dragged the waterlogged Captain to relative safety, on the beach.
Krysaos coughed loudly, having taken in some seawater, "Th... thanks, Tycon... Ishmael... I'm... I'm good, now."
Ishmael?
Tycon looked over the shadow, who nodded in return.
Ishmael, then.
"You have a Skill that allows you to breathe underwater," Tycon raised an eyebrow. "Did you not use it?"
Ishmael crossed his arms. Something had happened.
"I'm... outta mana... the girls... they took every last bit of it," Krysaos groaned. "I'm... I'm f*cking exhausted, guy. Been busy tryin' to rescue as many of the crew's I could."
Tycon narrowed his eyes... "From what?"
"From living the rest of their undead life as virgins."
Though the declaration sounded absurd, Krysaos looked quite serious.
His and Tycon's priorities were quite different... but the man attacked his goals with confidence and determination. Those traits alone, alone, made him respectable.
Krysaos scratched his face-- it seemed he had shaved recently, but a shadow of his facial hair was already beginning to grow.
"I think the Jade Rabbit's done for," He shook his head. "One of the girls said that the ship floats because the crew were all virgins when they died."
"That is a lie," Tycon assured him.
With how Krysaos presented the fact, it made him out as a villain trying to sink an enemy ship. Tycon decided not to call attention to the fact.
"I dunno," The human shrugged, "I figured as long as I didn't touch their Captain, everything'd be fine."
Tycon grimaced. He had done just that... and more. However, as the ship in the distance was sailing well enough, it was likely that the rumor Krysaos heard was merely Byul's propaganda, as opposed to truth.
"I didn't bother, 'cuz I heard she was into men," Krysaos added.
"That..." Tycon shut his eyes, "is also a lie."
"Oh?" Krysaos grinned, eyeing Tycon suspiciously, "How was it? Please tell me you did the deed."
"...I'd rather not divulge such information in detail," Tycon opened one eye... "--but I can assure you it was enjoyable for both parties."
"Fair 'nough, guy," Krysaos laughed. "Fair enough."
...
Tycon accompanied Krysaos in searching one of the nearby wrecks, a corvette-class ship that seemed to have sustained little outside damage.
They came under attack by skeletons and water-bloated zombies. Such opponents were simple to defeat by Tycon's casual attacks and Krysaos' strategic use of his ⌈Sovereign Strike⌋ attack Skill.
Afterwards, they split up to search the previous ship owners' quarters.
...When they met up with Krysaos once more, he was crouched over a large storage container.
The Captain had his hands on his temples... and was practically screaming, "AuuaaaAAGHHHHH!!!! A hole! A hole in the bottom of the gods-damned hull! This thing belongs in a ship graveyard!"
Tycon and his shadow tacitly and simultaneously crossed their arms.
The island was essentially just that.
While it was disappointing that the first ship they explored wouldn't sail... it was to be expected that the vessels around the isle had some reason as to why their crews were unable to escape.
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