Chapter XIX: Sea Shores and Campfires

Tikinas had to literally be restrained to avoid attacking Menphis once she finally broke free of his shadowbind. Once Captain Kattrina had made it clear she was going to add a new air hole to the first person that made a move to attack anyone else, she had nudged the other Mithra free, shadowbinds being notoriously easy to break free of for everyone except the person caught in it, and not a second later Tikinas was going for the Ranger’s throat. The shot Kattrina fired appeared, to Zealot, much more of an unintentional miss than another warning, and as such, he had maintained his spot peacefully standing where he was. Ayn now held Tikinas by the arm, and Menphis stood a good distance away from her menacing eyes as Kattrina, her deadly hexagun still drawn, eyed the group suspiciously as she held it out, never lowering the barrel.

“Kattrina.” Ayn said, his voice at a steady timbre, “I’ve heard of you. We work for the same – “

“Aye, I know it.” Kattrina interrupted, eyeing Ayn with an untrusting gaze. “I know enough of yer description t’tell that y’be Ayn, th’ Boss’s own true favorite. An’ mebbe y’are, but mebbe y’ain’t. I remember hearin’ about th’ ninja, but none o’ these other scrubs is mentioned in anythin’ I heard ‘bout ye.”

“They are . . . an unfortunate development.” Ayn explained, looking disdainfully towards where Zealot stood with Greyheart. “I assure you they aren’t a regular part of the entourage.”

Kattrina scowled, turning her gun on Menphis, who responded by stretching out his fingers, lowered towards the holster at his side.

“An’ who’s this fool, then? Ye said yer name’s Menphis. That don’t answer much.” Kattrina demanded.

“No idea, he followed us here and attacked us.” Replied Ayn. “Feel free to shoot him.”

“Try it.” Menphis responded, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’ll have a bullet through your heart before you can even pull the trigger.”

Kattrina let out a growl, clicking the hammer on her hexagun back, and in that same instant Menphis’s own short-handled gun came flying out of his holster. Kattrina bared her teeth as she found herself staring down the barrel of Menphis’s weapon, and the wounded, unshaven man holding it seemed itching to pull the trigger. The two held each other dead in their respective sights, neither giving the other the slightest hint as to whether or not they would make that fatal squeeze or not.

“Ye seem t’have been through a lot, ranger.” Kattrina said warily, “ye c’n barely keep that hand steady.”

“You’re not far enough away that I’d miss,” Menphis replied, “and I only need one shot.”

“True, so . . . “ Kattrina extended her arm straight, the pirate lining her gun up level with Menphis’s head, “what makes this so important t’ye?”

The question hung unanswered for a long moment, and the tide sprayed a blast of icy ocean water across Zealot’s side as his gaze darted back and forth between the two gun-toting strangers in front of him. His long, silver hair hung down wetly in front of his face now, and most of them were beginning to feel the chill of the spray which had been battering them for the better part of an hour now. The tide retreated momentarily, and with a twitch in his eye, Menphis slowly lowered his gun, sliding it back into the holster at his side and shaking his head, not even looking at Kattrina anymore.

“A friend of mine was murdered. I thought these people might have something to do with it. I came down here to check them out, they attacked me.”

“We attacked you?!” Tikinas burst out, a kunai sliding smoothly out into her grasp. “You shot me!”

“Cry me a river.” Menphis shrugged, “I could tell you were going to make a move if I didn’t.”

“Drop it,” Kattrina warned, as Tikinas’s hand flashed back, ready to launch her throwing knife straight between the ranger’s eyes. Tikinas did not lower her arm at first, directing a baleful stare towards Menphis and then Kattrina, but finally let the weapon slide back down as Ayn gave her other arm a tug.

“Ladies, ladies,” Greyheart suddenly chimed in, stepping out from behind Zealot. The Elvaan man, amazingly, was still completely dry, and seemed to be radiating heat. Greyheart, Zealot realized, was using his magic to keep himself from getting damp like the rest of them. He stepped towards Kattrina confidently, scarcely restraining the way he was eyeing her. “We’re letting our tempers flare because of all this water. You both just need some place warm to cuddle up to, am I right?”

“Elvaan, ye’ve got about three seconds ta – “ Kattrina began, but Ayn cut her off.

“Captain,” the thief said, careful not to let go of Tikinas lest blood be spilled, “you command the Sea Horror, right? Is it around?”

“Aye,” Kattrina replied, adjusting the brim of her three-cornered hat with the barrel of her hexagun, “she be about.”

“Listen, that’s the reason these idiots followed me and Tikinas. That unconscious Paladin, who is by far the most useful of the three, needs help, and we can’t give it to her here, plus, I’ll be honest, we just want to get the hell away from here. We’re looking for passage to Norg, and if you can provide it, I’m sure the boss will be indebted.”

“Ha!” Kattrina barked. “Th’ boss ain’t likely t’admit a debt t’anyone f’r any reason. But I see yer point, Ayn, yer tryin’ t’tell me lettin’ you lot on deck won’t go unrewarded. Well,” she said, trailing off a bit, “I’m afraid that’s not as easy as it sounds anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Ayn asked, warily.

Kattrina exhaled slowly, and for the first time, she turned away from the group, her hexagun spinning around on her finger before landing in its holster by her side. She said nothing, and the sound of the ocean spray coming in on the rocks was the only noise for quite awhile as she looked out across the waves, face unreadable. Ayn appeared just about ready to speak again when Kattrina finally broke the silence.

“The Sea Horror, she be a good vessel.” The Captain began, idly kicking a stone out into the foam. “Aye, sound as a stone, she is, and quick as th’ wind. She’s weathered many a storm out on those open seas, and me crew has felled more than one strange ‘n ferocious beast roamin’ th’ waters. A good vessel, aye.”

“Captain,” Zealot cut in, realizing what she was saying, “did something happen to your ship?”

Kattrina let out a laugh, a brief kind of bark that died quickly. The pirate looked down, shaking her head, one of her fangs peeking out from her mouth and overlapping her lower lip. “The Sea Horror? Nay, she be as seaworthy as th’ day her sails were first unfurled. She’s got ‘er anchor weighed a half mile down, ‘n another one a’ the caves ‘round here. I was out scroungin’ fer food when I found you lot screamin.’ The ship be fine.”

“Then what,” Zealot started again, but Kattrina was already continuing.

“When those things came, out fr’m th’ sky, they swarmed all over. Thems in my crew what wasn’t torn apart got cast down inta the kraken’s bed. The Sea Horror . . . she ain’t but a ghost ship now.”

Kattrina sighed, looking wistfully out to the waves, as the others all exchanged a glance, save for Menphis. The ranger only stood with his eyes on the pirate, fingers tapping the handle of his gun with a dead look on his face. Ayn let out a breath in frustration, throwing down Tikinas’s arm, who immediately went for a blade. She no sooner had it in her hand than looked up and found Menphis’s gun already drawn, and pointed at her, though the green-cloaked man still looked forward towards Kattrina. She let out a low growl, but did not release her kunai.

“I had thought that this be it for me, truth told.” Kattrina said, still looking out towards the waves. “I only heard th’ lot of ye carryin’ on such because I was out searchin’ for a good spot t’lay these bones t’ th’ sea. There ain’t much use in th’ world for a pirate what ain’t got no ship, an’ without a crew, that’s what I am.”

Zealot grimaced nervously as the Mithra suddenly turned back around, a glint in her eye and a grin on her face as her hexagon spun around on her finger, and with a sudden slash through the air the dagger at her side was drawn in her free hand. She laughed that harsh, sea-air weathered bark of a laugh again, and cast a sweeping gaze over the contingent of those gathered in the small alcove, the chamber of her weapon spinning and locking into place as she leveled it menacingly forward.

“Little did I suspect, me wanderings would bring me t’my brand-new crew. Ye want t’go t’Norg, ye miserable land-lubbers? Then I suggest ye all start learnin’ how t’trim th’ sails, ‘cause yer th’ newest deckhands a th’ worst scourge e’er t’ sail th’ ocean blue. Fr’m now on, yer werkin’ f’r me, so get yer waterlogged hides in gear, an’ let’s get a move on!”

Ayn, Zealot, Tikinas, and Greyheart all exchanged looks of shock and rising terror as it became clear that they were the new crew of the Sea Horror, and the cackling Mithra in front of them was suddenly very much in charge of their fates.


“You know,” Hubby said, rubbing a whetstone against the edge of his blade, “we really ought to start calling you something else. You know. Considering.”

Demyn looked up at his comrade from the fire he had been staring into. Ever since their daring escape from Buburimu, they had been trekking carefully northward, trying to avoid traveling at night, when the demon patrols were at their largest. Hubby had regaled them with the tale of his narrow brush with death at the hands of the beast which had attacked Mhaura, the battle against demons to help Jinxie escape with the blindfolded Mithra, and how their new ally, Luma, had spotted the duo just in time to save them from the demon attackers which had nearly overrun them. Together, Demyn, Dantrag, Hubby, Luma, and Qwid had managed to make it relatively to safety; or, as safe as the Labyrinth of Onzozo ever was.

The fearsome den of beasts was home to dozens of tales about killer monsters and things of horrible, murderous wrath which would lay low any travelers who ventured too deep into the twisting, catacomb-like tunnels of the maze. Some said there was a torama which could kill a dozen men, others spoke of an old Goblin wizard who wandered the caverns, luring people in with trinkets and then burning them up for soup stock. Some even said that there was a manticore living in the labyrinth that feasted upon human flesh and rested upon a bed made of the bones of his previous meals. Whatever the truth was, be it the tales about enormous mantas or mutant toramas, it was impossible to ignore the fact that the Labyrinth of Onzozo was a dangerous place to be, whoever you were. For the five survivors of Buburimu, however, this had become their only refuge.

“The demons, right.” Dantrag said, roasting a chunk of cockatrice meat over the open flame they had set out, watching its juices glisten against the light. “It really doesn’t make a person feel at ease to be around someone with that as a name these days.”

Demyn scoffed, but gave no response. He didn’t care particularly what people called him; “Demyn” had been a result of his prowess on the battlefield long before the plague which had swept forth from the other realms came down and blighted the land. Luma, standing watch at the mouth of the cavern they had hidden inside, curled up her lip and rolled her eyes upwards thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her mouth as her tail idly swung back and forth.

“Hmmm . . . “she said, pausing to consider her words. “They are right, you know. Doesn’t sound happy. Demon? Bad! I couldn’t trust a demon.”

“She makes a good point, you know.” Qwid spoke, walking over to the fire with his tiny legs, warming his hands against the damp chill the labyrinth provided. “It’s always been pretty sharp before, but I think you’ll find it’s gone slightly out of fashion.”

“Ugh,” Demyn grunted, slamming a newly-fletched arrow into his quiver and setting it down beside his bow, “is this seriously an issue? Are we really talking about this right now?”

“Hey,” Hubby said, as if uncaring, “just trying to let you know how it sounds. If you want to have the same name as the enemy, that’s your – “

“Bongo.” Demyn finally said, exasperated. “I used to be called Bongo. Before I met any of you.”

“Bongo.” Luma replied, rolling it around on her tongue as if trying it out. “Bongo. Bon-go. Bahngo. HA!” She nodded, turning back out towards the cave tunnels around them and nodding. “I approve of it! Bongo it will be.”

“Your name is really Bongo?” Dantrag asked, looking over at his old friend curiously.

“It’s a name, isn’t it?” Bongo responded. “Can we just forget about it?”

“I just thought – “ Dantrag was about to continue, but halted when the sound of something skittering away caught his ear. He turned quickly, and saw that Luma’s nose was twitching and her eyes were wide. She had heard it too, and her hand had gone to her great katana in an instant.

“What? What is it?” Hubby unfolded his arms and leaned forward, looking around cautiously.

Dantrag motioned for silence, his elongated ears probing the cave for more sounds. Distantly, he could hear it. Something moving away from them, rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that if he could still make out the sound, it meant that it must have been very close indeed when it started running. Dantrag stood up, looking vainly around in the dark for some kind of clue as to what it was, but found only the uninviting depths of Onzozo looking back at him.

“Whataru, er, dammit, what?” Qwid demanded, looking nervous at the sudden shift between the Elvaan and the Mithra.

“Something down here,” Luma responded, “very fast, too.”

“It was here.” Dantrag added, not taking his eyes off of the dark. “It was right on top of us. There’s something in this cave with us . . . and we’re being watched.”

Chapter XVI: Taking Action

Day broke over the sweeping spires of Castle Oztroja, chasing away the shadows which had crept over the dust-swept peaks of the Meriphataud Mountains, the sun casting the rays which had bleached white the Spine of the World down into the valleys and bringing what light it could to the world through the shroud which entrapped the sky. The wildlife of the area began to stir, creeping out from rocky nooks and well-concealed holes dug within the ground to begin the day anew. Wild rabbits poked their heads to the surface, noses twitching as walking saplings bounded away nearby. Though the area appeared a waste, it was indeed teeming with life, and perhaps no bed of activity greater than that of the enormous walled construct of the Yagudo stronghold.

On the top floor, high enough yet that the rays of sunshine had just now begun stretching through the windows, Rykoshet sat with an expression of concentration as he pored over maps of the area. The Yagudo war room was an impressive site indeed; shelves lined all four walls, containing scrolls describing ancient battles, detailed maps of all the Yagudo territory from Sauromugue to Sarutabaruta, books, classical war manuals, plans for the defense of the castle, even recipes for using crystals to infuse items with powers which would be beneficial in the course of battle. It was all situated around a massive stone table, carved, as most things were, from the core of the mountain itself. Around it were positioned several regal, high-backed chairs, each carved in ornate detail to bear the forms of important figures from Yagudo history, or in some cases, the figures of the terrestrial Avatars could be made out, represented in some form of battle. This was a room designed for the discussion and planning of war, and every inch of it had been designed to facilitate that action.

Today, as the early morning hours broke away the darkness and gave way to light, it was the place where the excursion to Garlaige Citadel was being planned. In the room with him, Danienne stared out one of the high-framed, narrow windows, hands clasped behind her back. Documents splayed out in front of him, Baeladar drew lines with ink and quill connecting miscellaneous items to one another, then going back through the voluminous sheets of parchment stacked before him and cross-referencing whatever it was he had just written down with something he had read hours ago. Rykoshet concerned himself with only one thing; trying to figure out how he was going to reach Garlaige Citadel and return with an unknown number of refugees without being spotted by the demons.

“It would be utterly disastrous.” Baeladar had told him when he had informed him of the planned rescue. “Should you be spotted by the demons, you will be attacked, make no mistake. We’ve seen that the boorish things will go after anything that moves and breathes, they see you leading a pack of the weak and hungry across those open hills, Rykoshet, you might as well start digging graves that moment.”

“They’ll die anyway; the chance needs to be taken.” Rykoshet had responded. “We’re going to do it, so help me figure out what the best chance for survival is.”

“Well,” Baeladar said, rubbing thumb and forefinger against his chin, “I did just find the most remarkable room on the upper floors the other day . . . “

That declaration had brought them to now, where, with Danienne’s help, they had examined every possible avenue they could take. The first decision that they had made was that they could only take in a small group, and it would have to be entirely composed of Those Guys. Too many people would be more difficult to keep hidden, and bringing any of the Yagudo along could lead to miscommunication on both ends. They couldn’t bring all of the senior members along, however, because they still needed people to run things here in Oztroja. They had still not completely won the hearts and minds of their new housemates, if they were to leave now they might return with a slew of Jeunoans behind them and discover the castle doors locked and a new Manifest on the altar. That being the case, some would have to be left behind.

“Remind me again who we’re sending,” Rykoshet asked, not looking up from the map he was examining.

“You’ve volunteered yourself, naturally,” Baeladar said, casually glancing up at the other Elvaan before returning to his work, “as well as Liyah to help with the survivors, since Odessa must remain here with the good Lieutenant.”

“I’m going,” Danienne chimed in, still looking out the window, “and so is Decay. Vile and Baeladar are going to remain here.”

“Okay,” Rykoshet said, nodding. “Get me Konstantine as well, and we’ll bring Fated.”

“Fated?” Baeladar said, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“He’ll be up for it.” Rykoshet assured him. “He came to us with the best recommendation from Captain Emblim, and he hasn’t let us down yet.”

“Fated it is.” Baeladar replied, acknowledging the endorsement. “So, that makes six. Shall the rest of us wait here and discuss what to say at your funerals? I believe Vile will deliver a very eloquent eulogy for you.”

“We’ll make it back,” Rykoshet said in a tone which did not inspire argument. “Now get your damned nose back in those books and help me figure out how.”

“The tunnels,” Danienne suddenly chimed in, still not turning back around.

The two Elvaan turned to regard the Hume woman in the room with them. Danienne was so slight in form that sometimes it was easy to forget that once she donned her armor and scythe she became the figure which had been dubbed The Black Death by those who faced her on the battlefield. The Dark Knight unclasped her hands and turned back to face the pair, brushing a stray strand of raven-colored hair out of her eyes as she did so. “The tunnels,” she repeated, seeing the blank expressions on their faces, “or have you two forgotten?”

“Of course,” Baeladar exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet as he suddenly scrambled to examine the notes he had made. “the tunnels!” Danienne nodded, and Baeladar rushed to where Rykoshet was seated, slamming his hand down on one of the maps and tracing a line with his finger to where the Citadel was marked. Looking back and forth frantically from the sheet of parchment in his hands to the map, he slowly started to draw a line leading out into the deeper part of the Champaign hills.

“What are you two talking about?” Rykoshet demanded, even as Baeladar practically pushed him aside.

“Garlaige Citadel was originally a San d’Orian base, Rykoshet, you knew that.”

“Right,” he said, “but the beastmen destroyed it during the Crystal War. I don’t see what – “

“It’s why they destroyed it that’s the issue here, Rykoshet.” Danienne interjected, coming around to where Baeladar was standing. “The Citadel was a monument to when the Elvaan had controlled the region, before Jeuno arose. San d’Oria sent soldiers in . . .”

“ . . . so that they could dig a tunnel from the Citadel to Oztroja.” Rykoshet finished the sentence, his eyes going alight as he suddenly recalled. He had been scarcely a child during the Crystal War, but tales had been passed down the intervening decades and stories heard in passing now came together in his head. “They never finished them, but if we can find those tunnels, we can lead the refugees out deep enough into the Champaign that no one will ever see us before we get to Meriphataud.”

“This is no cause for celebration yet, Rykoshet.” Baeladar warned. “We don’t know what’s down there. This avenue may prove just as dangerous as walking the lot into Jeuno itself.”

“Even so, Bael,” Rykoshet responded, rising from his chair as he snatched the map out from under the Paladin’s hands, wrapping a cord around it to keep it bound as he walked from the room, “we’ve got a plan now, and that’s all I need to get the job done.”

“I often wonder if following him around like we do is going to land us all in Hades.” Danienne mused as Rykoshet exited the room, the heavy oaken door closing firmly behind him.

“Why is that?” Baeladar inquired, looking up down at the smaller Hume woman.

“Because I was always taught that Altana detests suicide.” She responded wryly, and with that, she gave a sigh and followed after Rykoshet, to make for the cursed ruins of the Garlaige Citadel.


“So we just wait here?” Greyheart said, looking out at the waves lapping the rocky shore of the cove hidden beneath the Gustaberg lighthouse. The trek down the slopes had been easy enough once Ayn showed them the hidden footholds that lined the cliff face, though Zealot had struggled to hold on to the slumbering Pinkfae and make his descent at the same time. The inlet was barren and rocky, home to only a few fish which quickly darted out of sight, and a crab which hovered near the back of the cave, keeping its distance from the unwanted visitors.

“Sweet Altana, I hate crabs.” Ayn muttered under his breath, dark eyes fixing on the blue-shelled crustacean sharing space with them. “And yes, for the last time. There’s a ship here every few days at least. People are dropping things off and picking them up here all the time to avoid the, uh, more unreasonable trade laws Bastok has in place.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything here to pick up.” Greyheart responded, looking around the cove. “Are you sure – “

“I’m sure!” Ayn snapped, rounding on the Elvaan. “Don’t you ever shut up?”

“Easy there, friend, I was just trying to – “

“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” Ayn said in a dark tone, “you’re only here because you provide a service which I don’t even necessarily find valuable, but I’ve been forced into accepting. I would’ve left you for the demons given half a chance, being asked questions I’ve already answered over and over is not the way to make me think this isn’t still the right course of action.”

“Lay off, Ayn.” Zealot said evenly, Pinkfae’s form still cradled in his arms. Despite his boasts, he had to admit that the armor weighing down the slight form of the Mithra was starting to take its toll on him, but he hesitated to put her down here with freezing waters spraying up on the shore. Along with his own mismatched pieces of gear and the ferocious axe strapped to his back, he was quite encumbered. “He was just asking a question, you shouldn’t be so hard on him.”

“I did not just hear the help try to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” Ayn said, directing his view towards the sky in exasperation. “Listen, you – “ he began, but suddenly Tikinas was there, her lithe form appearing and pressing a finger against the Thief’s lips. Ayn stopped short as a katana flashed into the Mithra’s hand, and she narrowed her eyes, scanning the cove.

“Someone’s here,” she said warily, her eyes still flashing about from side to side. Taking a step forward, the Ninja cautiously surveyed the confines of the cave, not sheathing her katana as slowly, she tilted her head upwards.

“Tiki, what’s – “ Ayn started to say.

All in a flash, the green-cloaked figure dropped from the same cliff face they had all just descended from. Tikinas was instantly upon him, but in an impossibly quick motion, a gun flew from his side, and with a flash of light the Ninja stopped in her tracks, falling face-first to the ground. She struggled to rise, but found herself held fast by her own shadow. Ayn wasted no time as twin daggers slipped out from under his sleeves into his palms, spinning in the air as he twirled with precision grace towards the new enemy. Knives met knives, and the two clashed blades so quickly they appeared as little more than sparks in the air where steel collided.

Ayn spun backwards, cartwheeling in the air and nimbly directing a slash towards the newcomer’s side, but he moved with trained agility and countered the blow with his own daggers. In a flash, his gun came up again, and he fired a shot at Ayn’s unprotected head, but the Thief dove to the side, avoiding the sudden hail of broken rock and debris. As soon as he rolled to his feet, he tossed one of his knives forward, shooting like a firebolt towards the green-garbed man’s chest, but with another echoing boom from his gun, the knife was knocked out of the air, and the attacker leveled his gun on Ayn once more.

“Hey,” Greyheart said, rushing to Zealot’s side, “we have to help him!”

“ . . . . why?” The silver-haired warrior replied, turning to look at Greyheart with a confused expression.

The two fought on, even as Tikinas struggled to break free of the binding snare she had been caught in. Ayn escaped yet another shot directed at him, running up the side of the wall and coming down with his remaining knife to slash at the Ranger assaulting him even as the latter danced backwards. He dropped his gun to his side, bringing his own knives up in defense again, countering and parrying Ayn’s guided thrusts and slashes with expert timing.

“Are you with them?” the man in green demanded, even as he took a swing which narrowly avoided cutting Ayn’s chest open.

“With who?” Ayn demanded, spinning his knife in his hand and deflecting a thrust even as he lanced out his arm, the shove catching his attacker by surprise and sending him off-balance. “The people who aren’t trying to kill me? Yeah, I do hang out with them now and then.”

“Demons!” he said, a haunted look in his eye as he cried out. He came forward again, but Ayn swept him aside, and the Ranger lost his footing on the wet, rocky ground, tumbling over. Ayn was on him instantly, but even as he dove at the man, coming down with his knife against his throat, the audible click of the Ranger’s gun being primed resonated through the chamber. There they lay, Ayn with a gun in his face, the Ranger with a knife to his throat.

“Alright,” Zealot sighed, shifting Pinkfae’s weight in preparation to try and hand her off to Greyheart, freeing one hand to reach for the axe on his back, “I better break this up before – “

He was cut short as a shot rang out, and Tikinas gasped, struggling to see what was happening. Greyheart spun around, and then gasped himself, his eyes going wide for entirely different reasons. The shot had not come from the Ranger’s gun, but from outside the mouth of the cave. Both Ayn and the Ranger had frozen, turning their attention towards the smoking gun now aimed at both of them.

A Mithra in a long, resplendent coat, wearing a three-cornered hat, stood at the rocky shore of the pirate’s cove, her form barely concealed by the impossibly tight black pants and high leather boots she wore. Zealot turned when he heard Greyheart, who had begun sputtering as spray from the tides shot into his open mouth.

“That there be a warnin’ shot.” The Mithra said, her six-sided gun still fixed on Ayn. “The lot of you are gonna be tellin’ me exactly what’s goin’ on here, because it’s the only one yer like ta get from Captain Kattrina of the Sea Horror.”