Plumes of salt water burst up from the oceans surface as dozens of deep blue tendrils shot out from underneath. They coiled in the air, quickly extending up and plunging into the fog.
The tentacles, composed completely of a viscous blue slime, coiled around the ships hulls forcing the rotten ghostly ships to creak in pain. The pirates who had not been marked for death, were instead forced to face off against the legend of the depths.
They gripped their cutlasses tighter and charged towards the tentacles, beginning to hack away at the slimy skin in desperate hopes that if the beast released their ships it would somehow mean they would get to go free.
It was utterly delusional, but fear often did not play on logic. Just desperation as it clung to every possibility, no matter how illogical and impossible they were.
