The crew appeared to give him something of a wide berth. While he was used to that kind of reaction when he was among the general populace, folks who were hardened fighters tended not to.
He had a feeling they might have heard of his reputation, which begged the question of which reputation they'd heard.
It wasn't long before shouts issued from the hold and a familiar voice berated any and all who came into his path.
"You rabid sea-swine shitheads had no issues with transporting me to my death, did you?"
"We did not know you were traveling with the Scourge."
That explained which reputation they knew him as, at least.
"Who gives a godsbedammed pile of stinking goblin turd who I was fucking traveling with?" Brahgen snapped. "Am I supposed to act like all is forgiven because you suddenly no longer plan to kill me?"
They emerged from the hold and the results of the argument were immediately apparent. The sailor clamped his hand over a wound on his shoulder, likely inflicted by the dagger Skharr had given his companion. The dwarf appeared to have been sick a few times while belowdecks and was in a foul mood as he approached his friend, who had begun to clean the monster and human blood that collected on him.
The youth paused and tried to not show any reaction at seeing him looking like he did before he shrugged, chuckled, and moved to where Skharr used a clean cloth to wipe his weapons.
"You look like you…uh…"
The barbarian nodded. "Like I climbed inside a monster's asshole and cut through to the front end. Yes, I've seen my reflection."
"I intended to say like shit, but I suppose yours might be a more colorful and accurate depiction, yes." Brahgen shook his head. "I have a question for you."
Once the weapons were clean, the warrior picked up the bucket of seawater he'd used and emptied it over his head. He spluttered as the cold liquid sluiced over his body to wash away most of the blood and grime that had collected on his skin. "Will you ask it or wait for the heavens to open and answer it for you?"
"Why do they call you the Scourge? I've heard the saying that the Scourge took him or something like that since I was a child, but I always assumed it was a particular monster of the sea."
"A monster, perhaps," he answered. "But not of the sea. At least, not exclusively."
Before more could be said, the captain approached. He looked a little the worse for wear now that the fighting was over.
"Why do you call him the Scourge?" Brahgen asked before Skharr could say anything.
"Because that's what he was—for a while at least," Graves answered honestly. "Barbarian Scourge of the Sea. It’s been some time since I've seen him on the open water but there is no mistaking him. He hasn't aged a day either, I should add."
"This was not my finest hour," Skharr muttered.
"Think that if you like." Graves grinned. "Still, you came onto my ship, killed heaven knows how many of the godsbedammed mercenaries while fighting a fucking kraken, then paused to negotiate your passage in the middle of the attack, during a thunderstorm, and proceeded to not only to drive the kraken off but kill your enemy as well. If that ain't your finest hour, I'd love to see the moment when you climb to Janus' throne and kick him off it. I can conceive of nothing else that could possibly exceed what you accomplished tonight."
The barbarian smirked. "I might have told bigger stories in my day than the reality of what I did."
"You're on my ship, not in chains, and you say you might have stretched the truth? The last I knew, folk don't give a wagon-load of horse shit about the truth. You have to lie to make your reality believable."
"I had a friend in trouble," he answered.
Graves raised an eyebrow. "The dwarf?"
"Aye."
"Friend?" Brahgen asked when he realized that he was suddenly a part of the conversation. "No offense, Skharr, but you have an arrangement with my uncle."
"I told Ahverna you were my friend and one doesn't lie to a goddess," Skharr answered with a shrug. "At least, not to her face."
"You spoke to the goddess Ahverna?" Graves chuckled and shook his head as the warrior took another bucket from the crew who were still tossing water overboard. "I told ya, Scourge. Ya got to lie to make folk believe even half the truth, DeathEater."
"You spoke to the goddess?" the dwarf asked and narrowed his eyes.
"I have a feeling everyone's fallen under some kind of deafness spell," Skharr muttered. The slime from the kraken that had caught on his legs proved particularly troublesome to wash off.
"It’s odd how she hasn't heard any of my words for decades and now, she's paid attention to me twice in the span of a month."
"I have a feeling she's listened to you a great deal more than that," Skharr interjected. "She merely did not need to answer."
"I needed her before!"
"Not this badly, I suppose. Still, she heard your prayers and healed me from whatever trap they left for us in the entrance with a little extra besides. I think she had a mind to see me hasten my pursuit because I didn't need to sleep until I was a day out of Tacham."
"I must assume that is how you managed to close the distance between us," Brahgen muttered and looked almost impressed as he glanced at the crew who kept to themselves and avoided the conversation like their lives depended on it.
Skharr could see the questions still welling in the dwarf's mind, but he immediately had the good sense to move away from them.
"Wait." The youth shook his head. "What happened to the trap they left outside the cave? They left it there specifically in case you survived whatever they poisoned you with first."
The barbarian shook his head. "I think she might have tripped it or disarmed it. I kept it, of course, and have it somewhere in my packs. It annoyed me that they felt the need to kill me again."
"Is that why you gutted him and fed him to the sharks?" Graves asked.
"You what?" Brahgen snapped.
He narrowed his eyes. "I was angry. And I did have considerably more planned that I wanted to do to him, but after dealing with the kraken, I was more tired than anything else."
"Gutting a man and tossing him into the water is what you do when you're tired?" The dwarf shook his head. "I almost asked what you would have done to him if you weren't exhausted, but I have a feeling I don't want to know."
"I planned to castrate him, gut him, and make him watch while I cooked his entrails over a brazier," he answered.
"See, that is why I did not want to know."
"That's nothing." Graves laughed with evil amusement. "The most interesting story I heard was when one captain captured him and intended to see him buried up to his neck on a beach and marooned there. The Scourge escaped and impaled the crew on their masts."
"And how did I get off the island?" Skharr asked.
"Hmm?"
"If I impaled the whole crew on the island using the masts, how would I have left the island?"
The man tilted his head and nodded. "But I suppose there is some truth to the tale?"
"I did impale the captain on the stake he wanted to impale me on," Skharr answered. "It was a long, painful process for him and the crew agreed to take me to the nearest port provided that I did not kill them in the same way."