Headed by a Snake

Wilhelm was tired. He'd spent a majority of the sun helping carry food supplies back to the fort. Folks needed to eat, after all.

He was thankful, though. He'd had spent too damn long rotting in the Saltspray Keep with a fat lot of thieves and brigands. Without food, the fortress was a keg violently full of Orkish sugar, tottering closer and closer to the flame.

The Captain and his Lieutenants started executing rando's. That's when everything started falling apart. Mutiny, they said-- traitorousness or whatever. They tried to shift the blame like it wasn't their fault everything was going to shite.

It really didn't matter none, the reason why things had gone the way they had. Everyone was in the shite. Wilhelm knew it. His buddies knew it. Their leadership knew it. But instead of just surrenderin' the prisoners, they figured that rope and a bit of sky dancing was the fix-all to the f*cked up game they were playing at.

Finally, one of the Iron-Rankers had enough. Someone was bound to, eventually. A man from the Holy Country, a guy named Liber, was the front for the common opinion-- that the 'Kings' of the Saltspray pirates no longer had the right to rule.

Wilhelm was one of the men that strung old Captain Miloslav atop the walls. It was funny. It was his idea to pin the Captain's and Lieutenants' hats to their chests so the Sea Wolves knew exactly what went down. Didn't want 'em to get the wrong idea.

Scary bastards, the Sea Wolves were. Folks came back tellin' stories of how they'd stabbed a Wolf through the heart and they'd get up and go on to kill another ten men. Smash a man's skull right in. Tear his arm right off. Tooth and tentacle, that sort of scary children story shite.

If Wilhelm heard a Sea Wolf beat a man to death with his own spine, Wilhelm would probably believe it. Hm. Maybe he'd spread the rumor himself. That'd earn a bloke buyin' him a drink, easy.

The worst thing about being a sailor was that all the stories were true. Ghost ships, leviathans, merfolk-- and quite obviously, Sea Werewolves.

Apparently, one of the Sea Wolves' Metal-Rankers can turn into a 20-fulm tall giant that was nothing but tentacles and claws. And another was a giant dire wolf with a sword in her mouth, cuttin' across the battlefield like a bolt of lightning. And their leader was an undying god of battle carrying a flag and walking around with 30 guys chanting 'Blood and Thunder' like a gods-damned cult.

Scary shite. Wilhelm was fine lugging around sacks of cornmeal and whatever, if it meant he wasn't on the front lines.

Their leader, some green-haired kid, signed a treaty with Liber. The Wolves got their slaves back, Saltspray got a non-aggression pact for 3 years. Shite was worth it. Liber's a smart fella to have gotten all that. He even made the noble-looking bastard read it aloud.

Things were starting to look up... but contract or not, Wilhelm wanted to get the hells off of the island. He had a feeling there'd be no good ending for the Saltspray Kings.

...

Wilhelm and the rest of the crew had finally arrived at the docks. He gazed longingly at the ship he and his called home, the Bloodsail Bucket. The sun was soon to set and they were a meal and a night away from setting sail, away from the cursed island.

Over a dozen Sea Wolves stood on the docks, blocking the way.

Sea god's beard... Wilhelm wanted nothing to do with the freaks.

A uniformed guy with slanted-eyes walked up, a halberd resting over his shoulders. He had a face Wilhelm wanted to rearrange with his fist-- he must've been a Marine.

The prick grinned toothily, "You boys tryin' ta' head out?"

Wilhelm forced a smile, "Yeah, we are. The Cap'n says we ain't comin' back, neither."

He felt like a bitch, but what the hells could he do? The guy's halberd blade glowed orange with mana. You don't screw with a guy like that.

"Hahaha!" The Marine laughed, "Yeahhh~ that's a pretty good idea. Wouldn't want anything bad happening to ya."

The guy moved back and forth, allowing the sun to glint on his shiny badges. Yeah, even worse. The slant-eye was an officer of some sort. All officers were pricks. It was a golden rule. Wilhelm focused every onze of his willpower just to not punch him in the mouth.

Wilhelm looked back at his fellow crewmen. He'd get no help from those worthless cunts-- they were just as terrified as he was... He was the only one with the stones to be a coward, "You uh... you fella's mind if you let us through?"

​ Slant-eye had jammed his pinky into his ear, picking out the gunk, "You say somethin? I haven't heard volume so sweet since my daughter was born-- and she was still louder than you."

The Sea Wolf's eyes shone gold, "Get. Back."

Wilhelm subconsciously stepped back. Sea. God's. Shitebox. He was a sliver away from breaking down into tears. He just wanted to head to the ship and sleep in his thrice-damned cot. He didn't want to deal with a dozen sea monster cunts with weapons that were literally on fire.

"Wh-what? Isn't there a treaty? Could you... could you please just let us go?"

Yeah. He was being a total bitch. Wilhelm didn't care. He just wanted to live.

"Not hard, boy. You either have the steel to go through us or..." The guy motioned around him, "You go for a swim."

Seven hells. There wasn't any space on the docks to walk around them. They'd have to jump into the drink to get around-- and then do some fancy maneuvering to climb back onto the dock.

"Hey, fuck you, Sea Wolf," Lenny shouted in anger.

Wilhelm turned to glare at the thrice-damned idiot.

'What in the seven gods-damned hells do you think you're doing?' --that's what Wilhelm wanted to say.

But Lenny would not speak again. Dark blood ran down the sailor's mouth and onto his neck. 6 whitish points were sticking out of his chest, with more of his blood spilling onto the rotten-wood docks.

Both sides of Lenny's chest exploded in a rending of flesh and rib bone. Disbelief still marked on the man's face, he fell. Standing behind him was a set of armor, just 4-fulms tall. The iron helmet on the guy was made to look like a mocking bull shark, and he was just slathered in Lenny's blood and guts.

A glowing pearl set into the shark helm glowed as it spoke-- a deep, echoey, inhuman voice. "Lieutenant Shao Ran, the first has fallen."

Shao Ran clutched at his stomach, cackling at the blood and gore, "Lieutenant Eleven of Seven, 'fallen' doesn't do it justice! More like 'eviscerated'! 'Eliminated with extreme prejudice'! Hahaha!"

"A kill has been secured without resistance. Your bitching is irrelevant," Eleven swiped the blood off of his blades, sharpened coral.

Wilhelm felt his bladder immediately empty its contents. The Sea Wolves never intended to let them go, in the first place... "But-- but the treaty?! There's a TREATY!!!"

"Many remain," the short metal man chided.

Shao Ran grinned, wiping a tear of laughter, "All shall fall."

The man spun his halberd's haft around his neck.

As Wilhelm flew through the air, the last thing he saw was his headless body still standing on the docks.

...

Lang Hai ran ahead of his men, his body morphing and twisting. He completed his transformation within seconds, bounding forward as a 12-fulm tall hybrid Abyssal Sea Wolf.

He set his claws into the gate and with bulging muscles, pried the barred wooden doors apart. He tore one of the doors off of its heavy hinges and slammed it down, the sheer weight of it rending an unexpecting pirate into two.

What an unlucky fellow.

No one was around to stop the Sea Wolves, much less Lang Hai. Everyone in the fortress seemed to be resting or had returned to their ships in the docks... The crews of the Thalia Grace and the Spear of Selena would ensure they would not sail away. First Lieutenant Eilean could take the wind out of their sails. Tycon had seen it.

"Impressive, Captain," Tycon complimented. "Do you work out?"

Ravenous and frothing Sea Wolves, wielding claw and cutlass, ran past him and Hai and into the keep. It was a stark contrast to the leisurely walking Baron Tycon.

The hybrid-formed Lang Hai shrugged. "It's more of a grip-strength thing. We practice by crushing banana tree wood," His voice was echoey and garbled as if phlegm was caught in this throat.

"Hm. Effective."

"Please." The Abyssal Sea Wolf motioned ostentatiously for Tycon to move forward, "Age before beauty."

Tycon rolled his eyes as he walked into the fort. "You're such a gentleman," he said sarcastically.