I must catalog this most extraordinary event. There I was in intrigued conversation with the large creature of chaos. A protean they called it. How such a being full of seeming wanderlust could be subject to such a structured hierarchy was of most interest to me. Although he allowed me to pursue this line of curiosity, it was at once a selfish endeavor as well as a means to detract him from his obvious objective: he means to acquire the living rune they call Vaghol. Though I have chronicled the captain’s logs which tell of their relation with Vaghol and the Pirate Queen, the captain’s intentions were still unclear. If Master Torrentail has imparted in me no stronger message, it is that a crew remains loyal even in the face of the storm itself.
After the conversation grew stale, and the creature’s ire and ambition overcame it, I offered to guide it through our ship in the hopes that I might prove to it Vaghol is quite a wily fellow not so easily coaxed to one’s palm. This deception proved eventually unfruitful.
Although I would like to say that I fought bravely, and with great tenacity, I’m afraid something much more mystical happened. Upon the onset of clenched teeth and fists…upon the spark of war in the air… as the first blades were borne, I felt my form shift under the waves of chaos. My hands no longer full of phalanges, but writhing feet. My form shrank and my eyes detected more than they have ever beheld before. A kaleidoscope of what I can only describe as colors came to view, though no colors that are beset in any rainbow nor sunset. Amidst this strange background, I managed to make my way across the deck. Though combat was rife and much larger than I have ever experienced, I climbed amongst the warring giants. To the banister I had just moments before used as an armrest to speak to the creature of chaos I climbed. A foe now I knew him to be, and did my best to drum and squirm forth a dirge to weaken his resolve. Even now, I can see the magic emanating from my prawn fingers. So many colors. It must have found purchase in his heart for he stayed paralyzed as the boxer planted a fist firmly at his temple.
The rest for me was a tempest of movement. Thrown from one hand to the next, then thrust into the waters of the maelstrom. Swimming had never come so easily, and to breathe…to breathe water…what a strange sensation. As my body and the kaleidoscope settled, I found my mind lost in the tides of magical auras surrounding me. I may have been lost for ages had it not been for the fortuitous visage of Master Torrentail coming to view. Thankfully it only took a bit of strumming my feet against his forearm for him to recognize me.
After him swimming around for a bit muttering something about saving the writings, we emerged to a grand vessel that would prove to be our salvation. Amidst the new vessel, ten times larger than the deep sea current, the hellknight was able to restore me to my human form. Though I am relieved to feel like myself again, able to write and chronicle this amazing experience, I fear I will never look at a shrimp cocktail in the same light as I once did. Truly, I have been transformed.