The River Styx was usually black, silent, and clean. Charon prided himself on a tidy boat.
But today, the water was slick with a foul, viscous slime.
The Ikuchi, an enormous sea serpent from Japanese lore, was draped over the gunwale of the ferry. It oozed thick, black oil from its pores. Endless Oil Drip. It didn't want to fight; it just wanted to hang on, its sheer weight threatening to capsize the skiff.
Charon stopped rowing. He leaned on his pole, his skeletal face hidden by his hood.
"This is not a cargo ship," Charon rasped.
The Toll
The Ikuchi ignored him. It tightened its grip, the oil sloughing off onto the deck in buckets. Deck Smother. It intended to drown the boat in its own filth.
Charon sighed. It was a dry, dusty sound.
He held out a hand. "The coin," he whispered. "Pay the toll."
The Ikuchi hissed. It had no pockets, no coins, only oil.
"No coin?" Charon’s grip on his pole tightened. "Then you are debris."
The Oar
Charon lifted his oar. It was made of cypress wood grown in the garden of Hades, hardened by eons of misery.
Oar of Oblivion.
He brought it down on the Ikuchi’s head with a dull THWACK.
It wasn't a killing blow. It was worse. The oar carried the magic of the Lethe.
The Ikuchi’s eyes went blank. It forgot it was a monster. It forgot it was a serpent. Most importantly, it forgot how to swim.
The coiling ceased. The grip loosened. The massive beast slid off the boat like a wet noodle, sinking silently into the depths of the Styx, its oil drifting away downstream.
Charon picked up a bucket and began to mop. "Tourists," he grumbled.