The Seas of Docruth » Places

         “Have fun, handsome,” Richard cheerfully called after Jericho.

Alone, his expression soured. “Lords below, who makes their navigator fight?” He whinged, as he ran through his coat's many pockets. Half his stock was soaked through from the rain, and a good chunk of what was left was useless in the rain. He mixed the contents of three waterproofed pouches; copper dust, powdered pine resin, and dragon's breath. Splitting the mixture equally back into the bags, he stuck a slow fuse in two before tyeing them and kept the third in easy reach.

Marginally satisfied, he made his way back down the way he came, the rain causing him to nearly lose his grip several times before catching himself. One of the beasties climbed up the ratlines towards him, so he swung over the side brought his feet around and kicked it through a gap in the lines, causing it to tumble back into the sea. He let go of the ropes and dropped delicately to the deck only to slip on the wet boards, landing on his arse.

Another of the creatures was already hauling tail towards him. Richard rolled back onto his feet, at the same time, plucking a punk from his cuff and lighting it with his flint rings. He readied a handful of powder from his pocket. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he waited for the mer-thing to get closer.

When it was an arms reach away, Richard sprung forward, dipping between its outreached arms and blew the powder over the lit punk. A green flame erupted in the beast's face. Unfortunately, Richard had not taken momentum into consideration and the beast, now blind and gasping for air, rammed into him, pulling both of them to the deck in a tangle of limbs.

Pinning him to the floor, the thing tore at him with claws, it was all he could do to keep it from gouging him. He tried to headbutt it, but only managed to gash his forehead on its teeth.

“A little help, please?” he cried out.