Bones crested the hill overlooking Lullaby Cove, a fitting name as the only thing in the vicinity was a sleepy out-of-the-way fishing village. He’d heard the screams of the residents before making it to the top but now he saw the madness unfolding below.
Horrific creatures that were half-men and half-fish, or in some cases half-crustacean, were barging into the villager’s huts or chasing those making a run for it. Those unlucky enough to be caught by the tall, bulky and deformed sea creatures were dragged to the shores and had their heads forced into the salty water until they stopped trashing. That is if they weren’t gutted by rusty blades with barnacles for ornaments that some of these monsters had found at the bottom of the ocean on their way here.
The enemies were fewer here thanks to village being small and relatively hidden. The main forces of the invaders were coming in swarms from the depths but headed straight into the island center. The last island in the archipelago.
Bones himself had needed to take the long way around to avoid being spotted as he ran across the sea floor, chasing them. That delay may have cost the world everything.
Bones sighed at the display, or tried to. Even now, after months of roaming the world in his new form, he still forgot he had no lungs. Or nothing else for that matter. He put a skeletal, sun-bleached hand in the left pocket of his torn and faded blue knee-high watch coat to stroke the shell of the crab that had made his home there, an anxious gesture shared with his unlikely companion. He then began is descent.
As he ran down the slope leading to the village entrance, Bones looked towards the ocean’s horizon, more specifically, the giant shape far off in the distance.
It would be understandable if one initially mistook it for an island but it was no landmass.
The seas were places of power connected to the souls of people. Beautiful and bountiful with life. They were also places of loss and calamity. A lot of people died on them, or because of them; drownings, dehydration, hunger, storms, crushing tidal waves that swallowed land whole. As much as people love the seas, many a soul have cursed them.
Those negative emotion, those curses, just like water, pooled together and from beneath it’s surface came a being. Hatred and sadness taken form, surrounded by a mass of black seaweed bigger than an island and taller than a small mountain.
It was this dark evil thing that Bones was looking at with resentment, and it to, was undoubtedly looking back as it bore witness to the destruction it sowed. Even now, it’s weedy tendrils were reaching into the depths, touching any sea life it could, transfiguring them into something vile and twisted.
Behind the entity was the prison it had escaped, the Alteya triangle. It was as if someone had taken a knife and cut a triangle from sea level to sky and yanked out the piece, leaving a gaping hole blacker then a moonless and starless night sky.
But today might be it’s last. He only need one more. If he could find one survivor, he could make things right.
Bones picked up speed, one hand holding down his worn tricorn hat so it wouldn’t blow away in the wind, the other placing the knife he carried between his teeth. In normal circumstances, he’d try a stealthier approach but there was no time left to waste.
It took but a moment for one of those creatures to spot him as he reached the village. It had a humanoid body but from the neck up was the undulating form of an eel. It bellowed a warcry that alerted all the others of Bones presence while waving a cutlass over it’s head. Bones wiped out his own sword from the scabbard on his hip as it ran to meet him.
As they closed the distance, the feather on Bones’ hat began wiping back and forth erratically as if blown by non-existent gusts of wind. Once both fighters got into striking range, the feather suddenly became rigid and darted off Bone’s hat with incredible speed. It struck the Fishman in one of it’s eye with perfect accuracy despite the neck’s serpentine weaving, making it falter. In that defenseless moment, Bones slashed at it, separating head from slimy body. As the body fell, the feather returned to his hat as though controlled by invisible hands.
The dead Fishman’s allies, half-a dozen of them, were almost upon him. Bones ducked behind the nearest hut, made of wooden boards latched with jungle vines, then jumped and caught the edge of the thatched roof before hoisting himself up.
Ever since waking up in this current body, which technically was his original one but in a let’s say, “minimalistic state”, he was still perplexed by the fact the he could do all these physical actions. How could he do something that required muscles when he had none? Not only that, he was stronger now then when he had a beating heart. He was also very light, having no skin or organs weighing him down. It made him fast and agile. Strength and speed were a deadly combination, as the nearby Fishmen were about to learn.
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Bones ran along the roof, took the blade from his mouth and jumped down on three of the six advancing enemies that were directly below him. He slammed the smaller blade on top of the first creature’s head, killing it instantly, then the moment his feet touched the ground, he spun around the falling body, slashing his sword in an arc. The blade lobed off the top half of the second Fishmen’s head.
Bones’ back was turned when the third opponent struck down vertically. The feather burst forth and caught the edge of the blade with the tip of it’s quill, stopping the downward momentum like it had met a stone wall. Bones took that moment to yank his small knife from the corpse’s skull and swiftly slammed it underneath the Fishman’s lower jaw and straight into it’s brain. The other three rushed in and met the same fate.
After the last Fishman fell, Bones noticed his quill scratching words on one of the corpses forehead. “Hurry it up. And watch your back, fool.”
“I’m faster then you ever were,” Bones replied. “And my back is safe as long as you don’t mess up.” The quill flew towards Bone’s skull and hit it lightly on the side; the equivalent of a flick.
The conversation trailed off as another group, double the size of the prior one, was already on it’s way. Trailing behind them was a brawny giant of a crustacean with a crushing claw half his size. Bones’ best guess was that it had been a lobster before it’s transfiguration. Crustacean-men like it where not only stronger but their shells was a tough as armor and made it extremely difficult to get a killing blow. They were on the slower side fortunately.
Bones ran to them and jumped into the fray, blades and feather whirling in swift and deadly arcs. He managed to dispatch eleven of them in short order, with only one Fishman, and the crustacean who had finally reached them, left. Both attacked at the same time.
Since starting his journey, Bones had come to understand his opponents. Although they were many and strong, they had lived as simple aquatic animals before they had been turned into monstrosities, and that transformation had been recent which meant they weren’t used to their bodies and they had little experience in combat, especially on land. Their tactics revolved around swarming their victims and using brute force.
On the other hand, Bones had been fighting all his. From nasty brawls over scraps of food against other street urchins to cutthroat bladed combat as a pirate before his untimely demise. And he’d jumped from one battle to the next in his crusade against this threat after his resurrection. Through all that, one of the many things he’d learned was that often times, simplicity was the best policy.
Bones grabbed the hand of the Fishman before his blow landed while simultaneously shoving his other hand into the gill-slit on the right side of it’s neck then jumped back, pulling it into the path of the incoming crusher claw. The creature shrieked has the claw slammed shut on it’s upper body, snapping it’s spine and making internal organs erupt out of it’s mouth.
Bones used that opening to dodge-rolled between the Crustacean’s legs. In the time it took it to let the dead Fishmen drop to the ground and slowly turn around, Bones had wiped his coat open and reached inside his thorax. There, nestled inside his cage of bones, were two things; a small coin purse containing a flint and a memento from his old life. The other was a heavy sledge hammer he’d found in a stone quarry on another island.
He slipped it off the metal hooks he had attached on his shoulder girdle, then, once free, wound up and brought it down as hard as he could on the nearest leg joint. The limb snapped with a sickening crunch. Hurt and unbalanced, the Crustacean fell to the ground. Bones rushed to were it’s head was then struck twice more; once on the protective outer shell and the second on the now exposed softer flesh beneath. It’s skull crumpled inwards, leaving it to jerk and trash for a moment before it died.
With roughly half the total force of the sea monsters in this area taken care of, Bones ran around the rest of the village to finish the job. It was quick and dirty work but with that finally done, he’d bought himself some time. Now came the hard part. He needed to find someone still breathing.
“IS ANYONE ALIVE,” Bones screamed. “THE ENEMY IS GONE FOR NOW. YOU CAN COME OUT AND REGROUP.”
Nothing.
He dashed from one end of the village the other repeating his message but there was no response nor any movement from anyone. Everywhere he looked, he only as saw bodies littering the streets. He ran in the shacks were residents had lived but the same story repeated itself. The few villagers that had managed to run away would surely die soon when they’d stumble on other groups of Fishmen.
With a sinking feeling, he ran to the shore praying for some luck but the only people there were floating face down in the water.
“You were too late,” he told himself. He fell to his knees on the sand, defeated. He punched the ground in frustration then sat there for a minute to recompose himself.
Eventually, he stood back up, resigned. He’d have to head further into the island and wade through countless enemies in the hopes of finding a singular person left untouched. If he couldn’t, he’d never be able to keep up with the hordes as they spread from this chain of islands to the rest of the world as their numbers continually swelled up. He could fight smaller groups of Fishmen but wading through throngs of them was a different game. He didn’t like his odds.
Although Bones didn’t have eyes anymore and wore an eye-patch over his right socket, whatever magic allowed him to walk around also allowed him to “see”. It was more akin to sensing the world and having it reproduced faithfully in his mind.
From were he stood on the shores, he scanned the dead village one last time then began to march forward. He stopped a moment later when he noticed a peculiarity. On the beach was a upturned rowboat. That in itself wasn’t strange but the trail of blood leading under it was. He made his way to it and lifted it up.
“Please, don’t kill me,” said the man hiding beneath it’s shade. The man weakly held a hand up in a defensive position while the other clutched a nasty gut wound trying to stem the blood leaking out. He was injured and scared out of his wits but he was still of the living.
Thank the gods.
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