The Crimson Reaper- the most feared pirate ship in the northen seas, a crew that was formidable, for one reason. Their captain, famously dubbed as 'The Wrath,' Oscar Jones. A pirate so young yet so powerful that the seas feared him. And for valid reasons too. There was no treasure that missed his grip once he set eyes on it, no battle fought that was not won, no prize unclaimed. He was rutheless, so was his crew. A loyal, group of 20 men who would put their life on the line for Oscar, guided by his most loyal mate- Evan Davey.

Yet, what most people didn't know about Jones was his love for mystery myths and lores. He'd go to the bravest of adventures just to uncover truths that were hidden from the world. But he did them alone, never putting his crew in danger. He knew the risks that came with uneathing these mystries, the curses and what not, and as merciless as he was, he too, was loyal to his crew. His crew knew it, respected his decisions, and were led by Evan in the abscense of Oscar, who carried out his matters.

This time, Oscar was more than curious, and, as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

Oscar, however, was no cat. Upon hearing the story of the disappearing sailors and pirates on the deadwater isle, and in typical fashion, Oscar went there. Like any normal person, Oscar swam his way through the nerve wracking currents, reaching the black soiled shore of the isle. infront of him, a jagged island looms from black waters, its cliffs scarred by time. Twisted trees claw at the sky, whispers and guttural growls echo within. Ruins perch atop, watching. The island does not welcome— it devours.

As Oscar stepped into the small opening of the island,he knew something was wrong. As a seasoned explorer, he knew when his gut was right, and he knew that whatever secrets this island held, were no joke. Yet, he continued- like something was pulling him depper, until, everything went dark.

He woke up, not too long after, a beautiful woman sitting in front of him, the sky blue- wait, what?