The Fireball Gazette

The Traitor’s Choice
Black power seeped from his eyes and beard – Nalzagoth's essence, ancient and malevolent, was staging a hostile takeover of reality itself. Deva saw the internal insurrection tearing him apart and reached out with divine intuition, blessing Matt with Future Sight, hoping to stabilize the situation. But Nalzagoth had no interest in diplomacy. He spoke – not aloud, but directly into Matt’s soul. The god scorned Matt’s failure to command and poured his heavy-duty power instead into the broken body of King Valili, transforming him into something terrifying: a Depth Dragon, a monstrous blend of coral, scale, and unbridled, ancient rage.
Mad Matt, desperate and seeking any advantage, cried out to his dark patron. “I seek the secrets of eternal life. Let me serve your cause.”
Nalzagoth paused, amused by the low stakes. “Then you must join me in the conquest of all sovereign peoples.”
As the coral throne began to crumble like a poorly built outpost, Matt offered a false resistance, luring the crew into his range. But no one took the bait. They knew his brand of lawlessness too well – and they were right.
With a twisted grin, Matt summoned his shadowy tentacles, wrapping the party in a grip as inescapable as a border lockdown. The coral dais split, and they were pulled down into the abyss.
Deva, horrified by this breach of trust, rescinded her blessing and whispered, “I should never have trusted your brand of freedom.”

Falling Into the Dark
The party plummeted into the blackness for what felt like hours, deeper than any pioneer had ever ventured into the unknown. When they landed, it was in a massive chamber lit only by the low, volcanic glow of a subterranean frontier. A colossal pipe organ made of geothermal vents stood along the far wall, steaming and rumacing like heavy industrial machinery.
Mad Matt landed gracefully on the bench with the confidence of a man who owned the place. His tentacles reached toward the organ keys and began to play – a low, eerie tune that echoed across the rock walls like a funeral dirge for liberty.
His eyes were hollowed out, devoid of all individual spirit. The man they once knew was gone.
Above, the newly transformed Depth Dragon Valili descended, wings folded like heavy canvas sails. The final showdown had begun.

The Battle of the Deep
Merlin was the first to move, his fury unbound and unrestrained. With high-octane speed, he rushed Matt and impaled him with a single, brutal strike, shouting curses as he fought back the sting of betrayal. Matt responded with cold, unshakeable contempt:
“There is no good and evil. Only power, and those too weak to seize it.”
He slashed back with his blade, but as it struck Merlin, the barbarian’s wild magic erupted, a sudden burst of kinetic energy that teleported him out of harm’s way in a swirl of bubbles and starlight.
Meanwhile, Deva called forth a whirlpool, attempting to trap the enormous dragon in a localized storm. But Valili’s new form was built too heavy. With a lash of his tail, he tore free and crashed into the pipe organ, damaging the lower registers with a discordant, metallic blare.
Then he dove, fangs bared, and bit into Tiyana, nearly breaching her defenses. He followed with a devastating claw swipe at Merlin, raking through his armor like a heavy-duty breach.
Ainz stepped forward, lightning crackling from his jaws as he unleashed electric firepower at both foes. He summoned a draconic spirit to his side – Snivellius Saftkorn, sibling to the legendary Draco Malformed.
With Fireball magic weakened by the crushing ocean pressure, Tiyana switched tactics to long-range engagement. Channelling her deepest reserves, she launched dozens of Magic Missiles, a relentless volley of precision strikes pelting both Matt and the dragon.
Selah, though seething with righteous rage, couldn’t reach Matt through the chaos of the skirmish. She turned her full strength on the dragon instead. Only one punch landed, but it snapped the beast’s head sideways with the force of a hammer blow.
The tide of battle surged like an incoming flood.

Power Reborn
Valili exhaled a stream of pressurized water, throwing Deva and Selah back against the walls with enough force to knock them unconscious.
Merlin struck Matt once more – his blade cutting deep, no hesitation in the strike.
Matt collapsed… but death did not hold him. He refused to surrender.
A stream of black energy from Valili slithered through the water and into Matt’s corpse. He rose again – this time nothing but bone and rot, his body held together by a viscous, dark slime.
Realizing he couldn't win a head-on engagement, he began camouflaging himself into the surroundings, vanishing like a rogue in the tall grass.
Deva, now wildshaped into a great shark, caught the scent of blood and tore into the dragon’s flank. Tiyana continued to rain down her magical artillery, focusing solely on neutralizing Valili.
Selah, rising again, struck blow after blow into the dragon’s scaled hide, an unrelenting assault.
Though invisible, Matt’s scent couldn't hide from Snivellius. The draconic spirit shouted to Ainz, revealing Matt’s position. Ainz used Vampiric Touch to drain his strength and strip away his cloak of invisibility.
Merlin seized the opening and slashed him down a second time.

Final Hour
The dragon, driven mad by the onslaught, perched atop Matt’s ruined body and let out a scream that shattered nearby stone. He tore at Merlin with both fang and claw, but the barbarian stood firm, soaked in blood but unyielding, an icon of pure grit.
Deva – now an octopus – lunged forward and bit off one of the dragon’s wings with a single, crushing snap.
Tiyana poured what remained of her strength into another flurry of Magic Missile volleys.
Nalzagoth, realizing the dragon’s form was consuming too much of his resources, made a final, desperate gamble. Despite Matt’s failures, the god funneled all remaining power into his servant, reconstructing him into a skeletal monstrosity – held together by shadows and pure malice.
Selah saw her chance and struck him with a Flurry of Blows, cracking his skull like an empty shell.
Matt retaliated with a Depth Charge, a blast of abysently energetic firepower that floored both Ainz and Selah, and disintegrated Snivellius into salt.
Merlin, defiant to the end, plunged his blade into Matt again. Deva followed, slamming him with a flurry of tentacles.
Matt faltered.
Tiyana had the chance to end his rampage once and for all.
He raised his sword at her with a trembling hand. “One last duel on your pirate’s honour,” he whispered. “You and me.”
Tiyana stared him down. “I’ve seen what your honour’s worth.”
She raised a hand, and the final volley of Magic Missiles struck home.
Matt’s bones shattered and scattered across the ocean floor like debris from an explosion.

Aftermath
Nalzagoth’s power ebbed away, sucked back into whatever dark rift it had emerged from. Merlin quietly gathered Matt’s remains and carried them to the base of the broken pipe organ. He buried him beneath the silt, planting Matt’s sword like a makeshift gravestone and setting his tricorn hat atop it.
No words were spoken; there was no need for a victory parade.
The crew swam upward.
Deva, with the aid of sea creatures, sent a message throughout the Nalua city: they bore no ill will towards the Nalua citizens, but had to neutralize the warmongering King Valili to protect their way of life.
Back on the ship, Marina welcomed them aboard. Without fanfare, they turned the rudder south.
The water grew warmer, and the vast, untamed horizon beckoned once more.

Obituaries

In Memoriam: Mad Matt – Pirate, Warlock, Mutineer, Cautionary Tale.

Mad Matt died as he lived: surrounded by the chaos of his own making, fueled by raw ambition, and opposed by those who once trusted his word.

To call him a hero would be inaccurate. Even before the corrupting touch of Nalzagoth, Mad Matt had long walked the line between rugged leadership and outright tyranny. Charismatic, cunning, and deeply dangerous, he commanded ship after ship with wild success and a total disregard for the individual liberties of those beneath his flag. Over sixty crewmembers perished under his watch – some to the sea, some to battle, and some to his own reckless decisions. Few ever left his service alive. Fewer still left with their trust intact.

His strength as a captain was undeniable; he could rally the broken and lead through the fiercest storm. But his loyalty was never something you could bank on. His tales were tall, his victories often pyrrhic, and his greatest talent was always surviving what should have been his end.

Mad Matt’s final chapter was his most damning. Tempted by the promise of eternal life and the heavy power of the Depth Dragon Valili, he turned against his own people in the deepest part of the ocean. He struck a bargain with Nalzagoth, the Star Devourer, and attempted to sacrifice the very people who once trusted him with their lives.

He failed. And then he rose again – undead, consumed, hollow.
Mad Matt died three times. Only the last one stuck. He died not as a captain, not as a warlock, but as a broken man seeking power in all the wrong places.

Buried beneath the seafloor beside a ruined pipe organ, Mad Matt's sword stands upright, his tricorn hat resting atop the hilt. A quiet grave for a man who never sought peace, only dominion.

He is remembered not fondly, but thoroughly. A pirate in the truest sense – free, reckless, and ultimately unworthy of the loyalty he demanded.