Saline Soul
The sky runs black ahead, brutal horror lighting strikes assault the sea. The waves in turn, churn and burn. Brutal salt violence frothing with anger. It swells and swells, rising and rising.
Gripping onto the wheel he grits his teeth. He feels the ship start to buckle and break beneath. His crew race to and fro, pulling in sales and lashing down supplies. The sea a murky death green it looks to grip the side of the ship, dragging her in.
A scream comes from the crowd nest, all eyes look towards the heavens and see a pointed finger. Ahead of the ship, towering higher than buildings, making mountains minuscule, a wave. It spans the horizon, eclipses vision, becomes every sense. An ending wave, a roaring death.
As the rogue wave towers over a ragged face rips open amongst the foam. A cruel wicked vision that smashes down upon the mortals.
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