633 Is It Bad?

He kept his attention towards the shadowy creature... but looked towards Tycon out the corner of his eye. 

The green-haired Lieutenant was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room, cradling a long sheathed sword in his arms. 

And somehow... he was still asleep! 

"Tycon!" He raised his voice-- but just a little bit. 

One of the guy's eyes shot open immediately-- "What?"

...He looked angry. BUT THAT WASN'T IMPORTANT!

Krysaos stealthily gestured his thumb towards the shadow, "There's a... a thing here." 

"Mm..." Tycon casually stretched his back. With a finger, he gently rubbed the sand out of the corners of his eyes, "Have you never seen a shadow before?"

Krysaos grit his teeth... "Course I have, guy."

"Then there should be no cause for alarm," Tycon shook his head. "He's with us, anyroad."

...Oh. 

Krysaos furrowed his brows as he re-sheathed his sword... 

The shadow waved. 

"Good morning... Shadow-guy."

The shadow nodded... and its golden eyes seemed to glow bright, for a moment. 

"Can I recruit him into the crew?" Krysaos asked.

"...I don't see why not."

"Welcome to the crew, Shadow," Krysaos grinned... 

He was still trying to come to terms that he was speaking to a... sentient shadow creature. Admittedly, he shouldn't have found it so strange. 

The shadow saluted in agreement. 

...Nice. Krysaos could live with that. 

"Hey Tycon, you awake?"

"I am now," Tycon got to his feet, smiling politely. "Good morning, Captain."

"Good morning," Krysaos began smoothing out his linen shirt, "Sea god's socks... what's with this place, though?"

"Years of neglect, it seems," Tycon casually looked over the cramped cabin, "I'd imagine it's how you attained passage for the two of us for so cheap."

Krysaos felt beads of sweat start to form on his forehead... This... this was somehow his fault. 

He whipped his head around, hearing a foreboding clicking noise... and his eyes widened as he realized the lever to the door was... moving. 

Someone... or some... thing was trying to get in. 

He again fumbled for his sword, drawing it clumsily. Years of training in White Raven swordsmanship... and he was about to piss himself.

"T-tycon... the door..."

"They won't be able to get in," Tycon shrugged. "nor us, out. The mechanism is jammed."

"Y-you don't say," Krysaos frowned... 

Soon enough, the motion stopped... leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Krysaos hurried to the door and peered at the key lock, "What the... is this... human... hair?! This is FREAKIN' CREEPY!!"

"H-how did they lock us in from this side?!" Krysaos glanced to the side... at the red-stained razorblade, "and... is that... BLOOD?!"

"Rust, most likely."

"...Oh. Still gross."

"Slightly unprofessional, I agree," Tycon nodded. 

"And what is THAT!?" Krysaos pointed to a book the creepy shadow guy was holding. 

The shadow pointed back to the writing desk-- probably where he found it.

Krysaos took the book and flipped it open to a random page. The spelling was terrible, but it was written as if spoken, so he could read it. 

⁆ XXX days since I died. I got stuck on swabbing duty again. Being dead sucks, but I wish I didn't die at such a low rank. ⁅

He tossed the journal to the deck, "A-- a dead person wrote this!!! Isn't that really frickin' CREEPY??!" 

"To reiterate, I'd imagine this is exactly what we paid for, Captain," Tycon smiled politely. 

"I mean, YEAH!" Krysaos grit his teeth... "I thought I got a good deal, too! But... the ship looked nothing like this when I checked it out the other sun..."

"Ah. You're referring to the thin veil of illusory magic," The guy mused. "The spell expired during the night."

Krysaos nearly shouted, he was so mad, "And you didn't think that was important?!" 

Tycon pursed his lips, "Obviously, I did not..."

He cleared his throat... then paused to summon a waterskin out of his spatial ring. 

Krysaos held his hand out, hoping Tycon would hand him the waterskin after. Water would alleviate his headache. 

He did. Great guy, that Tycon-- when he wasn't purposely withholding information just to watch him squirm. 

"The ship sails, regardless of its appearance," Tycon explained. "The dark energies suffused in the air keep it afloat."

Krysaos nearly spat out his drink, "Wh-wh-wha? What-- dark... energies?" 

"...Yes," Tycon nodded... "I apologize, did I misspeak?"

This guy!! THIS GUY!!! 

Tycon was DEFINITELY as much as fault for their situation as HE WAS!

"I dunno ANYTHING 'bout no dark energies?!" Krysaos raised his voice, "It sounds bad! Is it bad? It's bad, isn't it?!" 

"You can't sense it?" The green-haired Lieutenant gestured calmly at their surroundings, "We're surrounded by a thick miasma of dark mana, shadow and undeath. They're similar to begin with... and in this place, they're melded together."

"Normal people can't sense that sort of thing!" Krysaos insisted.

"...Oh. That's fair," Tycon nodded-- looking far less concerned than he should have been. 

Krysaos placed his face into his palms... "I shoulda known something was suspicious when the girl said we didn't have to pay for passage."

He felt someone patting his back to calm him down. As Tycon was in front of him, it was probably the shadow. 

...He hoped it was the shadow. 

"If that's the case..." Tycon placed his hand on his chin... "do you have any leftover coin?"

"I do not," Krysaos lied. 

"Anyroad, from your panic, Captain, I'm assuming we're in some sort of predicament."

"Not sure yet," Krysaos gulped. "Gotta see for m'self."

He strode over to the room's exit and went out the door... greeted by a shadowy hallway, pale light sifting through the holes in the poorly maintained top deck. 

"Yep, see that?" Krysaos grimaced as he pointed down the hallway, "We're on a ghost ship."

"Makes sense," Tycon said from behind him. 

From Krysaos' peripheral vision, the shadow had... phased into the hallway to beside him. It shrugged its shoulders as if it was confused. 

"A ghost ship," Krysaos explained, "is a busted ship, filled with undead... sailing around and terrorizing port towns, sometimes kidnapping them to join their ghostly crew!"

"You make them sound rather intimidating..." Tycon peered down the hall, "However, that ghost appears to be mopping the deck."

"Everyone swabs the deck," Krysaos groaned. "That's just something that has to be done."

"Eh?" The ghost suddenly ceased her swabbing... and her translucent figure seemed to... invert. Her face appeared through the back of her head, then the rest of her body faced towards them. 

"A... a man on the Jade Rabbit?!"

Tycon pointed casually, "She seems to have noticed us."

"Ya don't say?" Krysaos narrowed his eyes. 

Ghostly green, with short and sea-damaged hair, flat as a plank, the ghost stared at him with cold, lifeless eyes. 

"A man?! A LiivVinNg MaNNnn?!?" She moaned. "YooOUuu don't beLoonNngg HEEEEERE!!!" 

"It sounds like she's going to try to kill you," Tycon chuckled.

"Ya DON'T SAY?!" Kryasos glared. 

The ghost dropped her ghostly mop and drew a ghostly dagger as she drifted closer... "This... is a sAAacrEd women's garden!! A man... can't be here... you'll... impregnate us all!!" 

Krysaos twisted his lips to the side... "Given enough time and hydration, yeah... I guess I'm up for the challenge."

"I think it was veiled threat, Captain," Tycon remarked... "not an invitation."

The shadow nodded enthusiastically in agreement. 

"You got a plan, Tycon?" Krysaos asked, "You said you were a Tactician the other night, right?"

"I also told you that Elven wine was not to be underestimated, especially after all those shots of Nemayan vodka."

The ghost came towards him with her dagger and he deflected a predictable lunge with his sword. 

"Get me a PLAN, Tycon!!!" 

"Interesting," Tycon rested his weapon upon a nearby wall as he placed his hand on his chin. "The ghost appears to be more corporeal than immaterial. Combat is a viable option."

"I mean OVERALL, guy!!" Krysaos snarled. He managed a shallow slash on the ghost woman's chest, but it only seemed to make her angrier.

The ghost stretched her mouth to scream, far wider than a living person would, "DiIiIiie!! MaAAAaLe!!" 

Tycon snatched the dagger out of the woman's hand with his left, then kept his right palm gripped on her face to keep her away. 

"G-give it baAaaCkkK!!!" She wailed. 

Tycon looked up in thought, completely ignoring the ghost. "Perhaps we should speak to the ship's Captain to see if they can help us?"

"You can't negotiate with ghosts, Tycon!" Krysaos shouted. "They only want one thing!!" 

"...And what is that?" He stared at the ghost as she flailed her arms, trying to recover her weapon. 

Krysaos furrowed his brows... "Attaining their final wishes..."

"...I'd imagine that would be different for each ghost we encounter," Tycon shook his head. 

"Wait, what do you mean?" Krysaos shouted. "There's more than one ghost?!"

"...Yes," Tycon frowned as he shoved the female ghost back. "This being a ghost ship implies a ghostly crew, does it not?"

The girl fell upon her arse and thunked the back of her head against a wall. Then... she curled up and began to sob... "P-please don't kill me... I don't... I don't wanna die a virgin."

"Tycon... you gotta be nicer to women," Krysaos frowned. 

"So I've been told..."