The Airship
Hargjorn was the last one up the chains. He stayed below until mercenaries have secured their way up before making the climb himself. Two more adventurous sailors followed Hargjorn's lead, making the dangerous scramble up the golden chains. When they reached the airship, Hargjorn noticed the mercs have already established themselves on the misty deck. They were cautious (with the exception of Sadri), which was justified by the near blanketing mist in the air. Tsleeixth was acting funny on his knee, and Sagax somehow brought up one of those exploding jellyfishes, on a harpoon, no less. Several sources of light emanated from lanterns, with several being dwarven and some resembling the shells of sea creatures (all had some sort of gold plating). Hargjorn sniffed the air, finding the scent of oil, sea salt and the stench of rotten flesh.
"Full ahead, but stick to the shadows." Hargjorn whispered his order. He drew his falchion and inched along what could be containers and smoke exhausts. Their destination was uncertain, but from what Hargjorn could guess, it was a cabin-like structure with a blue glow around it.
"There's nothing up here on this chockablock floater." A sailor remarked, poking at a discarded dreugh appendage.
"Is this truly the golden slug of legend?" The other sailor wondered. "That's all gold, but where are the infernal war machines? The coral fortress? Aren't we facing an all consuming Slo-"
The sailor was interrupted when he tripped on a chain on the deck. It was golden like those that pierced the
Kyne's Tear, but it was also smaller, similar in size to something that would be tethered to livestock. The sailor fell, the chain rattled loudly, and something stirred and shook on the other end. It was as if a large creature had risen from its slumber. The chain began to move towards the boarding party as the sailor scrambled back up to his feet, tightly holding his axe in cold sweat. A heavy thud bounded off the airship deck, then another, and another closer than before.
"Uh, Hargjorn!" The sailor panicked. His shrill scream brought on several lights around the cabin structure, but his attention was locked to the chain. "Help, there's something-"
Bursting through the mist was a gigantic human like being over two meters tall, with mismatching patches of skins and flesh sewn onto a rotting, muscular body like used pieces of clothing. The chain ended with a golden collar on the being's neck. Tattered cloth covered its body, and one notable element was a heavily damaged tabard bearing the emblem of the Paladins, the premier gladiatorial team of Windhelm's fight pit. Another sight was a large club of pure gold in place of the being's right forearm. And if one looked upon the being's head with memories of the Reach and Windhelm, they would be seeing the broken facial features of Tennant Ibnazh.
"Stuhn's might, what the fuck?!" The otherwise strong sailor was suddenly puny in caparison to zombie Tennant Ibnazh. He no longer had any illusions of fighting and decided to run.
Unfortunately, the large zombie could run as well. It more than matched the sailor's stride with long paces. It swung it's heavy golden club arm into the sailor's back, sending him flying with such force that he went over the side of the airship.
If the group thought the zombie was their only threat aboard the airship, they were sorely mistaken. Fog parted from the cabin when a pair of coral adorned doors opened, revealing none other than...
"The golden slug!" Hargjorn gasped.
The golden slug is a familiar creature from sailing myths; a Sload. It was fat, round and of similar height to the zombie. But unlike the stereotypical depiction of the Sload's frog skin, it wore dense golden plate armor. Dozen of necklaces made from different gold alloys and jewels wrapped around its thick neck, and each of its stubby fingers bore an exquisite ring. These jewelries gave off blue glows when the Sload lifted its arms, a thin line of magic traced to the zombie. As a response, the zombie stopped just as it was about to charge against a second target, and placed itself between the boarding party and its Sload master.
A split second before the zombie could take up defensive position, the remaining sailor hurled a knife against the Sload. It flew right on target, but instead of striking true, the knife bounced off a shimmering ward projected by two conch-shaped sconces and nearly caught the sender on return.
Hargjorn wasn't aware of his sailor's attack, instead, he saw opportunity in the Sload commanding the zombie. "Throw the jellyfish at that big lad," he pointed Sagax to the zombie, "blow him back to Lyg before he touches my ship."
"Oi, you daft, mate?" The sailor had another idea. "Run by him and cap them Sload; zombie ain't a thing without the magic."
"Or just blow up the balloon." Sadri pointed up.
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