Ah. Ah yes, of course, this day couldn't stay funny for long, could it.

"Why did it have to be more rotting undead?" he complains, begrudgingly pulling out a shortsword and dagger. "They always leave such a mess--"

A searing heat roars past him, and he leaps aside like a startled cat. "--Though I suppose that tidies things up a little." The flame has a sickening light to it, one he can't stand to look at for long. Oh hells, the man's a cleric. Well. Best not get caught up in that.

And now, blinking afterimages of holy fire out of his eyes, he finally notices the tentacle. "Oh no. Not again." Clerics, zombies, and--well, at least it's probably not mindflayers this time, but the tentacle's big enough to be from one of their ships.

Today has officially slid from aggravating to terrible. "This all has something to do with that tongue, right? Where's that demented captain got to?"