Turdmundaz was a castle-city like no other. In form, it resembled a colossal termite hive. Its spires soared high into the clouds; coiling away and back upon themselves into one massive tangled structure formed of a strange resinous secretion of its stygian inhabitants. It was said that on a warm day, the fetid stench that emanated from the towering dung-heap could reach to over 50 leagues away, and that was probably a conservative estimate. In fact, close proximity had been known to cause potentially fatal spontaneous nasal combustion is all but the hardiest of races.
Buttfuldore was surveying the sea from his lofty perch among the summit peaks of Turdmundaz. He enjoyed the view on balmy days when the warm salty breeze would add a certain delicate spice to the excreta. His normal lazy demeanour was broken when he saw a glint amongst the waves below.
“A ship?” His shrill cry cut the stagnant air like a knife.
Buttfuldore excitedly hurried over to the alarm trumpet. Pressing the sound piece between his cheeks; his buttocks erupted noisily down the tumorous instrument, eliciting a booming sound that reverberated and spattered through the catacombs below.
Running back to the window, he grabbed a spy glass and peered hungrily at the vessel below. The ship looked to be stricken; easy prey for the butt-goblin hordes. More odd than that, was that even from the lofty height he was viewing from, he could make out a large muscled figure on the prow of the ship, who appeared to be practicing some kind of martial arts movements with great speed and skill.
“Such a foul smell!” Bungo’s manly exclamation woke the whole ship as he bounded headlong from the cabin and landed firmly on deck.
“We must be surrounded by invisible enemies! Really stinky enemies!” Bungo delivered a brutal kick to nothing in particular, before back flipping across the ruined main sail and chopping the air with a grunt of exertion.
“Invisible butt-balls of Inferocropolis feel my wrath!” Bungo swirled his arms like a tornado; ducking and diving across the floor in a storm of roiling muscle.
“I’ll teach you to befoul the air around Donglore, Lord of the Underworld”. With this exclamation, Bungo appeared to deliver the coup d’grace, and he set to stomping his invisible adversaries with a rapid series of heavy boots.
By this point, the Excelsior’s crew had gathered in dumfounded silence; watching the bizarre spectacle unfold. It wasn’t until a large harpoon lanced through the deck that their attention was adverted from the delusional demi-god.
Sallica spun towards the new threat groggily; just in time to see a swarm of small shanty-ships speeding towards them. Like a shoal of hungry sharks, their filthy hulls were encircling the Excelsior. She could clearly see the profile of large harpoon guns mounted on the prows of several of the hulks.
Shallica barely had time to take cover as the sky blackened with a fresh barrage of harpoons. The oversized arrows sped through the air like hungry dragons in flight; before mercilessly slamming into the stricken Excelsior.
Seemingly oblivious to the assault, Bungo was standing his ground defiantly with his hands on his hips. He was just in the middle of gyrating his hips and slapping his crotch mockingly, when one of the spears found its mark. Like a thunderbolt from heaven, the oversized projectile pinged off of his chamber-pot helm and clattered to the ground. A moment later, the mighty Helmet of Donglore followed it; revealing a fierce case of helmet hair that Bungo had apparently been suffering with. He swayed unsteadily; staggering back towards the guard rail before toppling from the ship. He plunged into the murky depths moments later; swallowed into the filthy seas.
Without a word, Shallica followed after the stricken hero; diving wildly from the back of the ship. As she disappeared beneath the waves, she caught a final glimpse of the floundering Excelsior being boarded by swarms of dark goblinoid figures.