In the depths of the open ocean, the serpent lost all sense of size. From a proper distance, it looked no more than a discarded necklace, curling and twisting ever downward into the ever darker blue.

　　Deeper and further it swam, leaving the distant shore and the light of the surface in favor of the ocean`s crushing underbelly. Before long, it came in sight of a curious sunken spire.

　　The package the serpent carried, curled in the small of its tail, was all but imperceptible at this scale. So too was the change in weight as the bottoms of both barrels popped off and floated upwards. Each spilled its secret contents, which went completely unnoticed by the contented serpent.

　　First out of the barrel came Amerigo. He was caught by the serpent`s slipstream and sent tumbling before he could right himself and continue on in vain after the serpent.

　　Next came Chicken. He had a rope tied around his waist, which was in turn secured to a small keg he was carrying. It was rather heavy in the water. Putting it under one arm, he kicked off from his own barrel and sank like a stone.

　　The kobold and the gnome proceeded down in this fashion, the gnome swimming furiously after the sinking kobold, neither of them particularly bothered by the pressure of the water, the dark of the depths, or the lack of air. In minutes, they reached the bottom, a stone`s throw from the base of the spire jutting from the sea floor like a black pithing needle poised for a slow and agonizing insertion.

　　Amerigo hovered about Chicken, who was weighted by the depth charge tied around his waist. It would be a rocky crawl to where he would shed the weight. He tucked the keg under his arm and, calling on a lifetime of living in the shattered and rocky wastes, set off along the bottom of the cold and dusky sea.

　　Step after step, the kobold moved like he was on the surface of a small planet. Amerigo scouted ahead, clearing the way for his tenacious friend of disguised or lethargic wildlife, some of which were unaccustomed to moving so much in a single decade.

　　Slowly, steadily, secretly, they trekked towards the sunken stronghold, until finally they were within blast radius.

　　Weary, the kobold finally set down the keg amongst some rocks and undid the rope tether. No longer weighted down, he began to slowly rise from the bottom up. He touched two spots on the lid of the keg which looked like any other two spots on the lid. The two spots lit up and began to lazily blink.

　　Chicken nodded at Amerigo and pushed off from the keg, the two of them making their way to the nearest doorway into the structure.

　　The stone walls, though sandy colored, gritty, and which looked like they had flowed into place from on high, were quite solid. Occasionally the two of them would encounter pairs of guards equipped to handle much more than the two infiltrators, but were clearly not expecting to use them. Merfolk didn`t yawn, sleeping much like dolphins or fish, but they could get bored. These had the glazed expression shared across evolutionary branches which was reserved for such an affliction.

　　There were plenty of nooks for the infiltrators to hide in. The merfolk could see much better in the dim twilight, but the organic and flowing aesthetic of the walls provided curves and bends to block line of sight.

　　At the center of the labyrinth, they found what they were seeking. The narrow halls gave way to a spherical room with a flat stony floor, many levels high. Multiple dark entrances lined the walls, proving to them that finding this room was inevitable. A small host of merfolk stood guard around a raised spike in the floor which was capped with a stone throne. Seated there, hunched over, was a fidgeting and mumbling miasma of dark scraps of skin and cloth.

　　Chicken signaled Amerigo to wait.

　　Minutes later, the building shuddered from the explosion outside.

　　Before the dust cleared, most of the guards emptied to investigate. This left two guards and the old merfolk on the throne, who Chicken thought looked as unperturbed as before. The old merfolk looked as though he were rocking back and forth as his hands moved in steady patterns.

　　Chicken looked back at Amerigo with a pained expression, indicating the two remaining guards. Amerigo nodded and set off to peel away the last of the armed forces. Luckily, these two looked rather nervous.

　　Amerigo subtly grabbed both the guards attention by making faces at them from a doorway in their field of view, and they took off after him. After watching them go, Chicken approached the throne, skimming close to the ground.

　　Entering the throne room proper, he noticed new things about it, the first being the pale blue glow from above, which wasn`t coming from the sun or moon filtering through the depths, but rather from the second thing Chicken noticed. It was a watery imitation of a ball of plasma, roughly big enough to engulf a decent sized minotaur, bubbling chaotically like rapid underwater explosions. It hovered several feet above the throne itself. It seemed comprised of smaller orbs, measured in inches as opposed to feet, which orbited and merged with and split from the main body.

　　He could feel an unsteady current rushing from it like the underwater equivalent of a windy day. The old merfolk was still busy with his muttering and hand motions. Chicken`s creeping approach went unnoticed and unchallenged. His eyes found again the roiling ball above him. He slowed to watch it, and to watch the old merfolk.

　　He thought he saw a cycle in the old one`s hands. Every time this cycle started anew, another explosion of bubbles surfaced on the ball, like the top of a fountain if it could be smoothed into a living marble.

　　His attention was yanked away.

　　Amerigo`s diversion had worn off and the two guards had returned. They were making their way to Chicken with their weapons drawn.

　　He turned back to dash for the old one on the throne.

　　With his head start, he got there first and put his hand on the old shoulder threateningly.

　　The guards stopped, shocked and wary.

　　Their leader`s movements halted, a puzzled expression coming over his face. He suddenly looked at his hands like he`d never seen them before.

　　The roiling ball calmed, the light began to steady.

　　Haltingly, the old merfolk tried to start up his mantra, but he lost the rhythm again and seemed unable to remember how it started. He slowly dropped his hands like one in a daze and stopped moving.

　　The guards still did not dare come closer. As Chicken looked at them, he heard a voice through the water. It was distorted by the water, but it also sounded clipped and crackling. He realized the merfolk on the throne was speaking to him.

　　Chicken didn`t understand anything the aged merfolk mumbled, but he did notice the creature`s thousand yard stare and cloudy eyes. The guards floated nervously still, hanging in the water hallway from the base of the spike and the throne. They were looking up at the formerly roiling ball with an expression not unlike fear. A black dot like a tadpole embryo hung inside of the now clear sphere, and it was growing.

　　The merfolk laughed wryly as if he`d told a dark joke, and suddenly the ball hatched like a liquid egg, the creature roaring a bubbly roar.

　　A massive blue grey entity with four arms and a catfish head hung halfway out of the ball that had shattered and reformed. The fishy face scanned the room, it`s gaze landing on the guards. They had started fleeing, but too late. The leviathan pointed at them and a stream of bubbles and intense heat streaked out in a line, enveloping them.

　　The next moment, they were gone.

　　The thing laughed, then sighed. Chicken`s heart froze in fear. He was unable to move. He realized that he was next to earn this thing`s attention.

　　It spoke to him in the voice of a whale, one pair of muscled arms folded and the other on what part of its hips came out of the ball. Chicken merely stared on in horror as it vocalized, the sounds dying away as if the great thing were suddenly unsure.

　　It coughed and tried again in actual words this time, but Chicken`s confusion still mingled with terror and incomprehension on his face.

　　The third time was the charm, and the monster boomed in frustration.

　　"Is this the language thou speakest? Damnable plane, with mercurial languages. Ah, I see comprehension scuttle across thine countenance."

　　It wasn`t lying. Chicken had reacted to the old form of his own tongue, and the creature continued.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

　　"I ask again: What purpose doth thou have here, land walker, here before this sunken throne by magic, alive and undrowned? Thou hast disturbed my vassal Tritus in his work, which shall bring my wrath upon him shortly. He has served me in the recent centuries, in hopes of exacting revenge on denizens of the land, but thou hast made him break his part of our bargain."

　　He turned to address the ancient figure on the throne, speaking something fishy and smelling of salt. The words did nothing but worsen the blind merrow`s disposition.

　　The behemoth resumed talking in Chicken`s own language, saying, "It is a pity. He started with nothing but a spell to conjure water. When I noticed the leak from my own plane, I came unto him to punish his greed, but I found instead a delightfully black heart and a precision-stubbornness. So we struck a deal. I would suspend his mortality so long as he continued conjuring water."

　　The creature leaned out of the underwater orb of water like a neighbor leaning in through a picture window. It gesticulated one of its hands as it spoke idly like one would about their trip to market.

　　"I even aided him. He held the window open and I collected other rends and gathered them here. In exchange, I would be awarded his life and soul whenever he stopped." He smiled upon the wretched old merfolk sitting on the throne. "Now, while I`m here to collect on our agreement, I think I`ll wreak a little havoc."

　　The catfish mouth twisted into a horrible, toothless grin. Its eyes centered on Chicken. With all four hands, it gripped the edge of the orb of water and tried to pull itself the rest of the way through.

　　"I think not," came a voice that shook the throne room.

　　Chicken, freed from petrification by this new voice, could finally look away from the doom before him. Amerigo was behind him, a stern look fixed on the demon.

　　Behind him, against all known laws of meteorology, was a host of clouds. From them was a robe, hundreds of feet in circumference, worn by what looked to Chicken like a giant gnome. Its gut stuck out at the middle, and the robe partially opened at the chest. Wisps of cirrus poked out from its chest beneath a beard of cumulus, which was stuck to what looked like a normally jolly face which was, in a rare moment, contorted into a look of consternation.

　　"You will leave, water demon. And take your thrall with you," the fat man said. He crossed his arms for emphasis, lightning webbing about him in random, crawling flashes.

　　The creature hissed. It struggled harder to pull itself free of the orb, which wasn`t large enough to accommodate both of its shoulders.

　　Stormhaegen charged. He moved swiftly, unimpeded by the water and his rotund stature. Clouds appeared before each of his besandalled footfalls, providing him with flat terrain.

　　He grabbed for the leviathan`s neck, but his hands were deflected from their mark by the four arms of the fishy thing, its great muscles moving like oiled lumps in a leather skin.

　　Lightning crackled off the two of them, striking the throne room walls and cracking them.

　　There the two were, caught like titan wrestlers, one standing on clouds and illuminated by St. Elmo`s fire, the other four-armed and half trapped in an orb of water.

　　Chicken felt something grab his hand. It was his friend, who now wore a look of serious panic on his face. He gestured frantically towards the exit, pulling the kobold.

　　Looking back at the immense struggle, Chicken saw Stormhaegen trying to push the demon back into the sphere of water, the demon using all four hands to push right back. It adjusted its grip, pushing against the storm god with one set of arms and against the orb of water as though it were the frame of a window with the other set.

　　The gods eyes glowed with a hot light the color of static. His beard turned grey and thunderous.

　　Beneath the pair, sitting exhausted on the throne was the old merfolk, resigned to his fate and seemingly unaware of the might contest above him.

　　The god screamed powerfully and incoherently. Chicken watched the room crumble in slow motion around the two of them, great chunks of stone falling as slowly as leaves in the water.

　　Another tug at his arm and his head swiveled forward again. The exit they were shooting for was slowly being blocked by a piece of the building. It sank steadily, cutting off the access through the doorway inch by torturous inch.

　　The pair swam at full blast, mentally synchronized and focused on racing the boulder.

　　But it was no use. With only a foot of doorway left, and a yard left to their beeline, Amerigo pulled back and sought alternatives. He looked up.

　　Behind them, Stormhaegen was peeling a grey-blue hand off his shoulder, trying to break the demon`s grip and sunder its advance through the portal. A pulse of water beat from the orb. It disrupted Chicken and Amerigo just as the gnome had discovered their way out.

　　He made a grab for his friend and began swimming upwards, towards a great hole in the ceiling left by yet another sinking chunk of spire.

　　Led by the hand, Chicken looked back down just in time for a lighting swift blow from Stormhaegen, directly into what would have been the ribs of the water demon. It recoiled, allowing the storm god to gain the upper hand.

　　Chicken shook himself. He redoubled his effort to rise with his friend. They slipped through the hole in the ceiling and out into the deep water.

　　Clear of falling debris, the two of them rested, floating next to the swiftly crumbling building.

　　A shaft of lightning breached the dark stone. And then another. Great holes in the spire were appearing, decimating the structural integrity of the whole.

　　Chicken became aware of movement. The spire was collapsing, and the needle point that extended up yet another couple hundred yards was tilting towards the two of them like a falling tree.

　　He grabbed Amerigo`s hand and jolted him, swimming in the direction his panicked brain had chosen at random.

　　The building loomed ever closer, an immense watery doom that was overtaking them in slow motion.

　　Amerigo registered the threat and tried to pull away from Chicken. He was swimming directly away from the thing, and the gnome indicated they move at a right angle to it. Kicking and crawling through the murk, they dashed to relative safety, barely clearing the edge of the spire as it passed. It sent the two of them swirling in its undertow, dragging them back down.

　　The walls of the building were mostly gone now. The two of them, utterly exhausted from fighting for their lives, re-oriented themselves. They could see the ongoing struggle for control of the world`s seas.

　　The demon had a strong grip of the storm god, using him as leverage to pull himself further out of the orb. Stormhaegen had one arm pinned to his side, his other hand pressed against the leviathan`s face, feebly pushing it back. Vortexes of water formed and circled and died. Lightning bloomed to light the battleground. And between the struggling figures, arms covering his head, was the decrepit old merfolk still sitting in the throne.

　　The hateful, ancient, salt-dried old fish refused to budge, and in time he`d be stepped on by a god or swiped up by a demon. And Chicken recognized in that moment the plight of "the little guy". To the left, unfathomable blind power. To the right, a bully`s malice.

　　He recognized himself on that throne, Ashley still caressing his mind, his people ready to be swallowed by the underdark and their own fear. Two planes of contact which grind coal into diamonds and dust. Either uniting the components under the pressure, or driving them apart.

　　He looked at Amerigo and realized everything that Tritus lacked.

　　Without giving his friend or his own body a chance to protest, the little kobold swam as furiously as ever towards the wrestling titans.

　　The sudden charge stirred Amerigo, whose first instinct was to stop his friend from this obvious attempt at suicide after all the effort they had spent to keep themselves alive. His second thought occurred when he saw where Chicken was headed. Amerigo realized that Chicken would have to do this, and would have to do this alone.

　　Kicking and crawling furiously, the little kobold made for the feet of the two giants. In his sights was set firmly the elderly, sleepy figure of the old merfolk Tritus.

　　He swam up to the ancient creature, looking all the world like a broken and old man sleeping carelessly in his chair. Chicken shook his arm to no effect. He lightly slapped the merfolk on the fishy cheeks to get him to stir and won a look of contempt from the old and tired lich.

　　Chicken took his hand and tugged, attempting to pull the old merfolk away from ground zero. Grumpily, the merfolk tugged back his hand.

　　Chicken pointed at the astral struggle playing out just above their heads, but Tritus just regarded it sadly and sullenly.

　　Finally, Chicken cut straight to the point. He picked up the merfolk in both arms and kicked off from the throne.

　　Tritus struggled and convulsed, but Chicken pressed ever onward. He grabbed Chicken`s head for leverage, but his old and tired muscles could do no damage.

　　Chicken kicked and swam with the merfolk in his arms, hoping desperately. He had no specific outcome in mind, but continued hoping anyway.

　　"My vassal!" the demon cried.

　　The moment`s distraction bought Stormhaegen much needed relief to turn the tide. The storm god deflected all four of the demon`s arms and made a confident grab for the thing`s throat. He pushed, crackling with the effort.

　　"You can have this damnable plane!" the leviathan shouted, "But I will have what is owed me!"

　　One of his hands came free of the orb. He held it aloft, even as he was gradually sinking back into the portal, and then pointed the open palm at Chicken and the struggling merfolk.

　　A swirling vortex of water grew forth, crossing the span between them in mere moments. Tritus, unaware of this in his struggle with Chicken, was surprised to have suddenly be freed. Only, now, he was being pulled backwards with a gradually increasing force.

　　Panic-stricken, he flailed wildly. He made a grab for Chicken, who shrugged him off. Slowly, gradually, despite his frantic swimming, he slid backwards towards the demon being shoved back into the watery portal.

　　Stormhaegen`s hands, beneath the surface of the orb, were the only thing besides the vortex to be coming out of it. In one final chaotic instance, Tritus was sucked into the orb, Stormhaegen removed his hands, and the orb promptly vanished.

　　****

　　Trevor was back again at the railing. In a somewhat uncomfortable pose, he lay draped over it, his arms crossed, his knees locked, and his chin against the wood. He was staring at the surface of the water.

　　Tris floated up beside him, and the two shared a moment of silence.

　　This silence was interrupted by the faerie pressing into his one exposed hand a scroll of vellum.

　　Trevor took it and stood upright again, puzzled.

　　"What`s this?" he asked, pointlessly, as humans sometimes do.

　　Tris gave a happy warble and bobbed slightly.

　　Trevor undid the scroll and opened it. There was a single dot in the middle of the sheet.

　　He looked curiously at Tris, but then back down at the paper. The dot was gone. In its place was a scintillating display of kaleidoscope shapes. They swarmed and unfolded and shifted in unison, before fading away. Lines appeared, creeping upwards from the bottom of the sheet in meandering paths before they stopped and blossomed into a variety of flowers.

　　He was transfixed. Ever more complicated shapes and ideas flowed across the page. Some things he recognized, like running animals and people. Others were more abstract, or wholly unknown to him.

　　He looked up from the paper and gaped at Tris. He turned the paper, the shapes still forming and reforming on the page, looking at the bare underside, trying to comprehend.

　　"How-?" he started, but then started again, "Where are the spells? How are you doing this Tris? I can only do the word formatting in my spellbook, backed by sheets and sheets of auto-casting."

　　Tris trilled.

　　"This is amazing," he said dumbly. "You have to show me how you`re doing it."

　　But before Tris could even utter a single more warble, there came a shout from the crow`s nest.

　　"Man overboard!"

　　Trevor turned to where he had been watching before. Nothing was there.

　　He ran to the other side of the ship. There, in the water, was a seaweed-clad gnome and a golden scaled kobold.