Two hours later, the foredeck of the once-lively *Narwhal* was now a complete mess made by the crew. Empty bottles and plates were scattered across the cluttered tables, where a bunch of drunk, red-faced crew members staggered about. Some were new, while others were old hands about to leave the ship, but all were lining up for the first mate to tattoo a narwhal somewhere on their bodies.
Each narwhal tattoo was on a different part of the body, and none of them looked the same. Don't ask why—the *Narwhal's* first mate was so drunk he could barely tell people apart anymore.
Everyone was in high spirits, and they had every right to be. After all, who else in the entire Abyss-Sea could say they'd gotten so close to a God and still returned alive? For the first time, when facing the Gods of the Abyss-Sea, they hadn't just run for their lives in terror. They had fought back, and their hearts were no longer filled with endless fear.
