Taking out a sex pest...

I was already strapping my hook to my arm while the others argued on wether other not we should assist in the rescue of her crew; sitting about on the docks of the small port town, which I now know to be named 'Riptide'. We could use Zana's remaining money to get a different ship to Bounty, which would even have a rather great advantage should Fawks have somehow found out about our travels by sea. I, personally, saw no world in which I didn't hunt these sirens down and end their miserable lives for embarrassing me, and forcing me into that arousal filled frenzy...

I need to really look into my anger issues.

"We must help them, they need our assistance. It is our obligation." Gabriella argues firmly, now having had a short nap to refresh herself.

"But, s-sirens kill females who enter their territory..." Mutters Zana, shivering in place.

"So do I." Growls Priscilla, who shares my ideals of ****; she's tipping her crossbow bolts into some sort of goop.

Ashes, holding her fragile best friend, says. "Look, I think that helping them would be great and all, but we have no idea how many sirens there are, or if they're alone. I'm experienced enough with having to proactively cull monster dens as a guard to know this; you don't do it without enough information."

"I don't care..." I say through gritted teeth. "They made a fool out of me... they will pay..."

"Well, at least I know I got the fairy part right when remaking him..." Mutters the manifestation of Ariel sitting by his sister.

Its then that Osil hops his way down the ramp, pulling his pants up firmly; seems he was dressing himself as he left the captains cabin.

He then says a few words; words which make my vengeful nature perk up in delight. "Oh, you guys wanna know how many sirens are in the coven? I'm pretty sure I know."

"How..." Asks Cilla, doubting the seemingly dimwitted half-goblin.

Poking his pinky into his pointed ear to clean it, the Smuggler says. "Well, you see, when I was under their spell, me and the Captain went above deck while we were... whatever. I saw 'em, and one of 'em tried to grab me, but then Thrusk lashed out, and turned me to stone. When they grabbed me, I heard their little mind-speaky thing they do while they sing. 'Twenty strong fighting men, enough for each sister.', as well as a bunch of other stuff..."

"Mind speak?" I ask.

The answer was about to come from our encyclopedia in a red cloak, but then the voice of Captain Thrusk finds its place into our ears; the woman herself marching down the ramp of the ship. "Sirens cannot speak while singing, but have developed a means of communicating telepathically. It can be intercepted by touch, hence why I'm bringing this scoundrel... that, and we may need a doctor for my men after their time as 'breeding toys'; thankfully, his companion has offered his services."

Coming down the ramp behind the captain are two and half people, Ehur, dressed as dapper as ever. Marrow, of the Mohun, and a gigantic beast of a man; presumably the previously mentioned Whuthran.

Marrow, however, was dressed differently; seemingly armed for war. Metal coated bones formed moving armor across her body, laying over her uniform, glowing with the sickly green power of Necromancy. Her face was painted with a white skull; marked almost exactly the same as the mask worn by Mortigan.

This Whuthran fellow was almost seven feet tall, his face is clean shaven, and a bit on the lumpy-side. I had seen him before, during meals, but he was a quite sort; so I never took much notice to the mountain of muscle. He was dressed in the usual uniform of Thrusk's men baring a fur mantle added to the jacket. Strapped to his back was one of the ships cannons, removed from its rolling holster; wrapped around the barrel are large straps of leather...

He's using it as a club.

"So, you know how many. Do they have a matriarch, or is their leadership structure in flux?" Asks Ashes.

"It seems that there is a new matriarch, hence the raid on such a heavily armed convoy for mates, as the new leader would want to stake their claim with a show of ****. According to Osil, their cove is only half a days sailing north of here." Says Thrusk. "Eight on twenty... good odds for our group; against minor sirens. They'll have the home advantage, as well as a minor dungeon core, but seeing as they've come back from a successful raid, they will be feasting, enjoying my men's company, and so on... a perfect time to strike."

"So, why are we getting off the ship." I ask. "If we need to sail, shouldn't we be on the sea right now?"

The giant Whuthran speaks, his voice was... strangely higher pitch than I was expecting, like that of a very young man. "Cappy Thrusk say we use tiny boat."

Looking at the large man again, I see them. Small scraps of red cloth, tied around his belt. He must be some sort of giant; a... small one?

Patting her literally giant crew member on his back; having to reach high up to do so, the Captain speaks like the mother to a child, saying. "Indeed, Whuthie. A siren can see one of my ships from a mile off, but a smaller vessel, like the one I intend to use, will allow us to arrive undetected."

"Yay! me got it right!" Says the huge boy, smiling widely with his bumpy cheeks getting a gentle blush.

It seems to be decided then, we have the information needed; and according to Thrusk, the means. I wonder what the two reticent girls will say now. Turning to them, I see Ashes has definitely changed her mind, but...

Ashes looks to Zana, who still seems to be shivering horribly at the idea of fighting these sirens.

The Mohun girl sighs, asking. "Would you be willing to stay at a tavern while we go?"

"N-no!" Zana spouts out, then quieting down as she speaks; doing so mostly to herself. "If you go, I go... I just... I n-need to be braver..."

Then, her face shows that an idea had just crossed her mind; a horrible, awful, no-good, bad idea...

"No, don't you dare!" Ashes shouts, having noticed the face as well, but its too late.

"Anaz!" The Ballistress shouts; her body suddenly jerking stiffly as the tip of her hat turns the other way.

"Aww... man." The Artisan whines, watching on in horror as her best friend's 'sister' unbuttons her blouse by a few buttons.

"Hey, Ashie~ Maybe next time we get hypnotized by sirens, you and me could..."

"Nope!"

"Killjoy..."