Ahar! Tis likely ye’ll be wallowing in a surfeit of sugar and approaching a life-threatening coma. Enjoy then these tales of fear on the high seas (and nearby)!

The Gelatinous Adventure

A tale of nightmarish were-creatures:

Ye clouds clustered about ye swollen moon, like octopi menacin’ an expectin’ merwench (gaargh, memories…). Twere an ill omen, for ye lunar cycle breeds anxiety ‘mongst even the saltiest seamen, who prefer to be docked and drunk midst full moon. But we’d no chance of makin’ land fall for we’d lost both map and anchor in a bet over who were the most superstitious: ourselves or the crypto-astrological whalers of Gullible’s island. Read more…

The Terrified Adventure

The crew are whipped through time to a time that time forgot, a time o’ brutish reptiles:

We were, naturally enough, a-drink and adrift in a mysterious fug. Twas cloying and clung to me beard. From the densest o’ the fog came a dull roar and a twinklin’ sound such as ye might associate with frozen fairies tumblin’ to a floor o’ tiles. I made to alter our course but me peg leg’d been wedged in ye wheel as part of a curious game. We’d no choice but to boldly plunge deeper into the growling smog. Bolts of pink lightning sizzled into the seas about us. Read more…

The Triffic Adventure

In tribute to The Day of The Triffids we’re attacked by devil plants from beyond the stars or surf:

Gaargh, I awoke from a night o’ disturbin’ dreams. We’d been swiggin’ vodka for a change, since takin’ it off Danish merchants just after dawn. Me final memory o’ that night were haulin’ Billy aboard after ‘e leapt from the bow to catch a shootin’ star. Yarr, all night the sky’d been full o’ light streakin’ down as if aimin’ for the giant crabs crawlin’ across ye sea-bed. ‘Twere pretty, like a rainbow on fire, though technically it boded ill for us all. Read more…

The Orthodontic Odyssey

Wizards, magic and miniature pirates in a tale of ensorceled teeth:

Gaargh, once more I were bound against me will. This time it were not, strictly speakin’, me own fault. Ye see I’d fallen for the beauteous but eccentric Discombobula Dentata, Queen o’ the tiny island o’ Munt.

Of course, she were not aware of me adorin’ until I broke into her bedroom and offered her me hand. Yaarr, she took it, along with me teeth. Them she returned these to me mouth after sowin’ each tooth in the volcanic earth o’ her magical realm. There they gained the power to sprout into dinky homunculi – little versions of meself with twice the cursing. In reciprocative devotion I were to slay her nemesis, the wizard of Ars’Hole; bein’ young and on pain o’ death I agreed. Read more…