Ishmael picked up a Tyrion pilum and casually hurled it, spearing the offending Titanblood through the mouth.
Not even granted a chance to scream, the body collapsed onto the sands.
"Nicely done," Tycondrius nodded.
The shadow waved as if to say it wasn't anything worthy of praise.
Tycon looked on in amusement as the lime-green Coral Boy began to drag his body towards the ship.
"Sea god's... socks," Krysaos cursed. "What the hells is that guy doing?"
"Refusing to die," Tycon answered. "Respectable."
Another of the creatures, shirtless and with dozens of holes pockmarking his rocky, peach-colored skin was running towards them. He flailed his arms, carrying an axe and a military pick-- "MOVE OUTTA DA WAYYYYY!!!"
Tycon and his companions obediently moved, allowing the screaming monstrosity to run past. The fellow ran over the injured gentleman, stomping his back as he ran with unnecessary cruelty.
