Aryx watches proudly as his crew builds camp. He spots the bow of a shipwreck and decides to investigate, taking a heavy silver lantern and one of his reliable sabres. Aryx approaches the decrepit vessel, seeing that it was once a very large, beautiful ship. He ducks into a wide hole in the hull, wading through the waterlogged underbelly of the boat. He sees several barrels of what he guessed was salt. "I'll have to bring some of the deckhands to get this. Gardey will be overjoyed." He says to himself. Aryx locates a stairway leading to the next level of the ship. 

This floor seems to be the captain's quarters, but Aryx is puzzled by the size of the furniture. He sees a barnacle encrusted couch that stands almost as tall as he is. Moving past it, he notices the doorways are twice his height, and he wonders who could possibly have been so tall as to need a ship so large. A glimmer in the next room catches his eye. Aryx steps over a huge rope and through the towering doorway, leading into a comparably small room with a large chest inside. Suddenly heavy footsteps can be heard on the uppermost deck. Aryx draws his saber, turning off the lantern. The room goes completely black, and the footsteps draw closer, now on the same deck Aryx was on. He holds his breath, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. The steps grow even closer, now right outside the room with the chest. Whoever the steps belong to is breathing heavily, and Aryx picks up on the scent of rot. The steps resume their heavy beat, headed away from Aryx's position. Leaning, Aryx looks out the large doorway, seeing that the room was empty. 

A small sigh of relief escapes him but he remains wary as he steps silently out of the room with the grace of a seasoned thief. He returns down the stairs, exiting through the hole in the hull and returning to his crew, who were now almost done setting up camp. 

"Men! Set aside whatever you're doing and gather 'round." Aryx says, sheathing his saber. The men set down their tools and tent poles and approach their captain. "Have any of you seen the shipwreck on the beach?" Aryx asks. The men look around among themselves. "No Cap, I don't reckon we have." MacFoley says. "Alright... Gather your guns and blades, we're going to investigate." Aryx says. The men take about three minutes to equip themselves with adequate weaponry, and the crew follow Aryx to the shipwreck. Aryx steps into the hull once again, beckoning his crew to come closer. "Wait here. If I see something I can't handle alone, I'll whistle for you." Aryx says. 

MacFoley nods and the crew check their weapons as Aryx enters the ship. Again, he finds himself in the oversized quarters, then passes the salt barrels and heads up to the second floor, lighting the lamp. Aryx sees six cannons bigger than any other he'd ever seen on a ship before, all made of iron, and with very little rust. He stops to examine one closer when he hears the sound of a flintlock being cocked. A low, rough voice says something in a language Aryx can't make out. Aryx raises his hands, trying to figure out where the man is. Suddenly a huge, dark shadow moves across the room with great speed, standing mere feet from Aryx. He can smell the figure's breath, rank with the odor of blood, and can see what must be a large blunderbuss in the figure's right hand. Aryx, at 6 feet tall, stands several feet shorter than whoever the foul breathed man is.

MacFoley, followed by the rest of the crew, steps in. The figure notices the men, bringing up his weapon. MacFoley's aim is quicker, and he fires his .30 caliber flintlock at the figure's hand. A heavy gun falls to the floor as the man bellows in rage, holding his hand in pain. Sickening squishing noises fill the air, and the men cringe. They watch as the already large silhouette nearly doubles in size, roaring menacingly. Aryx draws his pistols, firing both. He strikes the massive shadow in what looks to be the shoulder, seemingly only angering it further. With a burst of speed, the shadow charges, tackling Captain Aryx and bursting out through the side of the ship with him in its grasp

The figure, now revealed by the setting sunlight, is covered in thick, brown fur, layered over huge shoulders and a powerful body, and seems to be part animal. Aryx looks on in a panic as the beast lands on top of him, preparing to tear through his throat with its massive jaws. Aryx plunges his boot knife between the beasts ribs, and attempts to stand to his feet. The creature removes the knife from its chest and casts it into the sea, unaffected, and wrestles Aryx onto to the sandy floor, again going for his throat. 

The men emerge from the ship, about twenty feet away. Aryx desperately fights the beast's jaws by bringing up his sabre, pressing it horizontally against the creature's thick neck and sawing through. The beast does not react at all, though its blood gushes everywhere. As the men make their attack on the beast with their swords, the creature knocks them over with a heavy backhand. Returning to its prey, the beast goes for another relentless bite. Aryx pries its jaws away from his neck with his hands, and feels its teeth digging sharply through his gloves. 

In retaliation, the monster pins Aryx's arms to the sandy beach beneath its own massive, clawed hands. Unable to struggle further, Aryx takes one last look towards the sunset, sure to admire its beauty as the last thing he would ever see. A loud crunch echoes down the beach. 

Aryx blinks. The beast's entire weight falls on him, knocking the air from his lungs. He grunts as he pushes the massive creature off of him, catching his breath. He looks over at the beasts head, or what was left of it. A pile of fleshy chunks and brain matter spill from a massive hole in the beast's head. Aryx looks to his opposite side, seeing MacFoley holding the largest musket he could find on the ship, its .84 caliber barrel smoking. 

Gardey helps Aryx up. Aryx, unsure if the creature's attack had been successful, brings both hands to his own throat, feeling immense relief at the lack of any kind of wound. "Bloody hell." MacFoley says through his teeth, dropping the rifle and gripping his right shoulder. "Shoulder's broken." He says. MacFoley is helped by Aryx and a cannoneer back to camp, and Gardey sets his shoulder back into place. MacFoley whimpers in pain, but it sets nicely and should heal up well if given time. 

"You have my greatest thanks. You saved my life." Aryx says. "Aye. You alright yourself?" MacFoley replies, looking at the captain's blood soaked clothes. "I'm uncertain." Aryx replies. "I'd best have a look at ye as well." Gardey says, wafting Aryx into a small wooden hut and motioning to a roughly made timber bed with bearhides for blankets. Aryx peels off his bloodstained shirt and greatcoat, revealing four large scratches on his back. "Eeh, we'd best get that one dressed." Gardey says. 

He has a deckhand fetch a can of turmeric and he applies it to the captain's wound, then wrapping it with bandages. A few of the men bring buckets of water and a spare pair of canvas pants and leave Aryx to clean himself up. He washes the blood from his skin and hair, pulls on the fresh pair of slacks, and nestles into the bed. Gardey returns a few minutes later. "Rest easy cap, we'll get a wall up and stay on patrol all night until daybreak" Gardey says, blowing out the lantern that hung from the ceiling. Aryx drifts to sleep, hearing the gentle sounds of the sea and the muffled sounds of the crew's voices outside.