Captain Dawn stands on the deck looking far more hard-faced than any of you have ever seen him, wielding a massive, curved blade in his hand. Anyone who looks at it for a moment might recognize it to be of orcish craft. He is not the only one on the deck ready for battle, many of his men stand on board with cutlasses, rapiers, spears and tridents. A bolt of lightning strikes the mast and the rain begins to fall again...
The ocean boils around you as something larger than your ship surfaces. Two tentacles as wide around as a horse rise above you, and then slam down on the deck, gouging long tears in the wooden planks with the sharp barbs at the ends. Six shorter arms reach up, and you can see that rather than barbs, these end in long claws. One latches onto a sailor, hooking him like a worm, and carrying it back. Lightning strikes the mast, and for a moment, you can see the green-grey scales that mark the skin like a mosaic, blending to the slimy, smooth flesh of the undersides. Then the head rises from the waves, and you forget the arms. Water streams down the mangy hair of the head, down to the scales and the slimy flesh. The eyes are larger than you are, and look like a feral dog's. Two mouths are mounted side-by-side, too close together to be used separately. They gnash in unison. They look like the mouths of hyenas, but instead of teeth, only a smooth dark hook extending past the lips, like the mouths had swallowed a pair of gigantic parrots beaks. It flings the dying sailor into those mouths, and he doesn't have time to scream.
Captain Dawn's eye bugs as he sees it. "****"