The creature was massive. The lightning that flickered and flashed around them as the storm grew more intense might have exaggerated it in his mind, but the beast attempted to climb onto the back of the ship and its weight had begun to drag it into the water. It hadn't quite managed to gain sufficient purchase and the larger tentacles slipped often but quickly reattached themselves.
There was no doubt in his mind that it would be able to drag the vessel down, especially once the larger limbs were able to reach the deck and wind around the mast.
More of the smaller tendrils flailed and writhed with increased determination to find something to take hold of. They began to wind around anything they could grasp and pulled until the wood strained under the weight of the monster.
That left only one possible option. The smaller appendages wouldn't be able to drag the creature up on their own. If he managed to attack the larger ones, it would need to sink into the water.
Hopefully, it would be enough to force the smaller ones to withdraw. It was a far cry from killing it, but perhaps something closer to its overall size would have a better chance at that. He had a feeling that such monsters were not uncommon in these waters and merely didn't bother to come to the surface due to the lack of food.
"Oh, this is not a good idea," Skharr muttered, moved to a coil of rope that was tied to the mast, and wrapped it quickly around his waist. He reinforced it with a loop over his shoulder and between his thighs. He was able to work uninterrupted as more battles had broken out when the sailors and mercenaries alike were driven away from their tasks to fight together against a common foe. They were in no immediate danger, and there was a greater threat for him to deal with while they were engaged elsewhere.
He knew he would regret this idea, one way or another. Either it would go wrong in the worst of ways, or he would be left with extreme tenderness in a place that was only meant to be treated well.
Whatever the outcome, he was now committed. The barbarian drew a deep breath, lurched toward the side of the ship, and looked down to where the closest of the larger tentacles still attempted to gain purchase on the Redress. He jumped before he could change his mind.
His descent was stopped less than three yards down when his feet caught on something thick, fleshy, and slimy. He realized that the appendage had already moved up from its original position and he tugged the rope to find better balance. It was difficult as his boots slid constantly on the slime but the rope afforded some measure of stability to stop him from slipping off entirely.
"Get…off…the fucking…ship!" Skharr roared and tried to adjust his position so he could do more than simply remain where he was.
His balance was threatened even more when something wound around his left ankle. He scowled at one of the smaller tentacles that attempted to drag him off. It spoke of the sensitivity of the creature, given that he was smaller than a gnat by comparison.
Almost without conscious thought, he retrieved his ax and swung it into the hull so the blade bit deep enough to provide a solid handhold. He swung his sword with his free hand to sever the tentacle and pulled himself into a more comfortable position.
His hold on his sword tightened as he looked around and tried to determine what he should do next.
"Get off the ship!" he bellowed at the creature when he finally decided to drive his sword down with as much power as he could summon. The blade met with more resistance and he felt something almost like tendons working within the fleshy appendage. Even so, the reaction was almost immediate.
A nerve had been struck and the entire creature twitched with enough power to knock him off his perch so he dangled precariously with only a single rope between him and the roiling, murky water below.
He groaned as the rope tightened painfully around his groin, but the blade had no doubt injured something because the beast jerked in pained response and tried to withdraw the affected tentacle while it maintained its hold on the ship.
"Don't you fucking dare, you godsbedammed slime-oozing bag of stinking troll shit," he warned and let the pain fuel his anger.
The rain had begun to lose some of its fervor and the wind seemed to have died down a little as well. This left him with nothing else to focus on but hacking the fleshy tentacle with his sword to open the wound even more until the beast finally tried to move away from his vicious assault.
"And where in all the hells do you think you're going, you gormless pus-pudding?" Skharr shouted and used the rope to maneuver himself to where one of the other appendages inched over the same portion of the hull. It didn't get far before he stabbed his sword deep into it.
This time, he was sure he heard a roar of pain from the monster. Lightning flickered again and the writhing mass of tentacles whipped wildly, torn between trying to hold onto the vessel and to determine what had caused it so much pain.
The barbarian thrust repeatedly and pushed his blade in as deep as he could—which wasn’t as much as he would have liked due to his awkward position on the side of the ship—until finally, it fell away.
In the next moment, wood splintered as planks that were still grasped by the massive suckers were suddenly dragged free. The smaller ones retreated as well, and the vessel above him rose sharply when the weight that had dragged it down was suddenly released and it started to move normally again.
The yank tightened the rope between his thighs again and he groaned as he hung over the side of the ship for a few moments. He tried to recover by drawing a deep breath and turned his focus to where his ax was impaled in the side of the ship. After a few attempts, he managed to work it free and began to pull himself up slowly.
Some said that Samor was capable of sleeping through a storm. They were right about that, of course, but the exception was when their ship was being attacked.
The way the ship jerked from side to side was enough to wake him and almost upend him from the hammock he slept in. Something was wrong, that much was clear, and they needed his help to deal with it.
Of course they did. He was the only one aboard with sufficient intelligence, experience, and skill, after all.
He emerged from the hold and hesitated when he realized how large the problem was. The rain and the fury of the storm were what he’d expected, but it was far from the greatest threat. His hasty scrutiny of the scene revealed his men mixed with the sailors and he assumed they had banded together to fight a mass of tentacles that had begun to invade the deck.
Although he'd heard that these waters held numerous sea monsters, he hadn't ever thought he would have to deal with them himself.
"Son of a godsbedammed pox-ridden whore!" He growled, drew his sword, and rushed to the group that held most of his men. They were surrounded by three of the tentacles and attempted to drive it off with a collection of spears, hooks, and oars. Despite their concerted efforts, neither he nor the sailors would last very long given the sheer number of slimy adversaries they faced.
Without hesitation, he entered the fray. He vaulted over two of the appendages that tried to stop him, flipped smoothly, and landed firmly on the wet deck as he swiped his blade in a wide arc to sunder one from the body of the beast.
The remnant jerked in pain and withdrew quickly. Samor twisted and flicked his sword to his left hand as another of the ghastly limbs slid across the deck to catch one of his legs.
It fell away when he severed it deftly and left him clear to turn his attention to the two that were harassing his men.