75

A tall blond woman comes running up the stairs that lead to the galley, her right hand wielding a slender short sword and her left wreathed in flames. Without pause, she rushes to the railings farthest from you and bursts of fire shoot out of her palm.

She lets out a yell, and her fingers stop producing flames. Instead, her hands begin to move around her body in cyclical movements, guiding the flames she conjured to start spiraling around the ship's hull. Ungodly screeches of pain and anger fill the air, the smell of burning fish strong.

But it's not enough to kill all of the sirens. The ones closest to you finally make it onto the ship, their strong legs propelling them toward you.

Huh. You'd have thought they'd have tails instead of legs, your mind helpfully supplies before you are forced to fight for your life.