Kevan Smith - Unleashed

The Brigantine lurched to starboard, sails filled and beams creaked their pain, snapping hard against the rigging, straining the beams as the sailors danced around the flailing ropes, trying to slow the snapping. Backs, hard against the winds. Torrents of water smashing into the hull and spitting over the railing and onto the deck that is awash with men, ropes, sweat, blood and pain. The captain pulled his tricorn deeper onto his skull as the wheel nearly spun out of his grasp. He bore down on the beams to gain leverage, his back straining till nearly snapping, trying to hold the wheel from breaking his arms and snapping his wrists. Then, a tentacle like a tree trunk smashed onto the deck swiping three crew and breaking the neck of another. Then two, then five. Its gargantuan form hauled itself off the bottom of the hull and bragged its form up to 15 feet above the shattered deck.

Men stared. Men cried. Men cried out. Men shat their britches involuntarily. The cry was unanimous.

“It’s the KRAKEN!!”

The sea has unleashed the Kraken. Neptune’s revenge has grasped another sorry score.

‘WE ARE DOOMED’