There lied nothing strange about Scaleback Isle, save for the cold, haunting fog that sent all sorts of spooky chills through Cornelius's spine. When that spectral-like veil parted way for Redgar's ship, and the shaggy island of wild jungle and angry tower of earth spires revealed itself, the awe-struck impression seemed to miss Ricven and Cornelius entirely, and for good reason.
At least the chilling air faded. Everything was toasty, now.
"Seen it all before," Ricven said. He really did.
The warm and whimsical labyrinth of wildwood and serrated mountains that looked like carnivorous teeth held nothing exciting for him to marvel about, but the pirates saw otherwise. The island matched nothing they have ever seen before.
The Shivering Wastes hinted ghosts—there were no ghosts. The pirates whispered tales of Scaleback haunted by the mist; a mist haunted by the long, long lost. Out of The Shivering Wastes' cold spooks, they basked in the tropic waves of Scaleback's broad sun. The spectral veil of weird mists skulked long behind them, now, and not one saw a wisp more to linger across the pure blue seas. Redgar promised a prosperous journey unscathed. His words a stroke of ambition as his men prepared for the best...and worst, for when they escaped the island's wraithy fog, they discovered that others had reached the island, too.
Not the best of discovery, though, given what junked up Scaleback's sandy white shores.
Smashed and shambled upon the island's sandy bed rested the malnourished skeleton of a shriveled ship larger than life. Black. Rusted. Defeated. Half its impressive bulk was wasted to nothing and half of its bulk a missing mystery.
Azuren howled as he charged across the ship for a better look. "Shiverin' fuckin' sea hookers! It's thee god-damn Dirty Queen! Lank n' lean like a scrawny haggard!"
"Wow!" Fae added her own awed chirp. The ship, what was left of it, still managed to retain some shred of magnificence...despite how decrepit it appeared.
"Indeed. A darlin' o' a ship no more..." Redgar said, sadly.
"She's no Black Pearl... Looks like the raunchy queen of the seven seas has met its dirty end at the edge of shore," Ricven said satirically. "Call it 'The Last Sex on the Beach'," he puffed his elf herb for extra effect. "Long live the queen."
"What manner of force caused dis'?" Cornelius wondered. He gathered what was left of the ship to be an unnatural occurrence. "The rest of the ship's missing."
"Spoilers!" Ricven replied, then his brows furrowed slightly. "Or, one pissed off sea god."
"A fine ship she was," Redgar paid his respects, but swiftly sneered. "A scurvy-riddled buffoon be its captain once, Garland thee Black! Thee roughest, toughest, idiot since me pee soaked son o' a punk alley harlot lover o' a brother."
"Oh, blow it out yer hairy mud hole!" shot Azuren. He snapped quick from his position just steps away from Redgar, who manned the helm unfazed. "Ye screw eyed penny lickin' jack shat!"
"Oh geez..." Fae mumbled.
"And they're at it again," Ricven grinned. "Right on schedule."
The two pirate captains bickered a short fuse. Azuren the quick popper of tops. Quick to anger. Redgar the starter fluid to his brother's spark.
And not one pirate, not even Scarface, bothered to stop them. It was unwise to do so.
"Ye'd have to do better than that," said Redgar, "flap-mouthed fish bait!"
Azuren thundered. "As if ye can do any better?! Ye ill-bred shit-mongrel!"
"Pipe-totterin' DICK-HOOK!"
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FantasyWARNING! This novel is an unconventional work of fiction. Anything you may read in the following episodes is solely created out of sheer satirical coincidence and is NOT to be taken out of ANY context OTHER than it being RIDICULOUSLY entertaining as...
