Tycondrius rested his elbow over his opposite wrist and spun his finger.
"The fault, Krysaos... is yours.
"You killed the sea god.
"And then... you absorbed divine powers you had no business absorbing."
Tycon shoved his open palms towards the incredulous human.
"Therefore, you... O' Captain, my Captain, must suffer the aftermath."
"Well..." Krysaos sniffed... "I didn't do it on purpose!!"
Wroe crouched down by the corpse on the deck.
"Most gods don't grow holes in their foreheads on their own-- not including mine, I mean."
What? Tycon squinted his eyes at his Hexblade.
Krysaos frowned, "Okay, so maybe I *did* kill him on purpose... but c'MON!! That guy was a prick!!"
"That point," Tycon steepled his fingers, "was *never* in contention. The death of the sea god was the *objective* of our quest here."
Did he forget? ...It had certainly been an action-packed sun.
