Shipwreck
#1 of Shipwreck
Treasure hunter Scalion is in for one wild ride as he learns of an island that is said to hold ancient treasures and artifacts worth millions. Sadly he was not informed of the storms, but those are the least of his worries as he learns of the island's true purpose...
Shipwreck
All characters belong to: David Wesker
Story elements belong to: David Wesker
Everything in this is copyright (c) Black-Tyrant Studios 2014
WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING ELEMENTS
Cub
M/M
F/F
Gangbang
Trafficking
Drug Use
Necrophilia
Strong Violence
Strong Blood and Gore
Strong language
War
Rape
Suicidal Themes
Poverty
Slavery
Torture Elements
If you do not like, are uncomfortable, and/or disturbed with any of these then leave now. This is not the place for you. If you wish to read on then go beyond the lines below
....
...
...
...
...
You have been warned.
Enjoy.
The Island of Meruda, a large eighty kilometer piece of land situated in the middle of the dark sea. Surrounding it were several smaller islands with small almost abandoned villages, and settlements on them.
This island is extremely hard to venture to, given its location across the storm filled areas surrounding the place in a two hundred mile radius. The seas around the island about two hundred miles away were nothing but storms, intense hurricane winds and monster waves prevented most ships from coming through as well as planes, making this area ideal for hiding criminals and the like.
Law enforcement such as Interpol or ICHO or even the CIA have a hard time getting to this place, due to the storms and the waves.
It's impossible... but that didn't stop one boat from sailing into the fray.
Sailing the dark sea was a small fishing boat, dark gray with rust accompanying the sides and fogged up windows. The tower on the back stood ten feet and had a small crow's nest of sorts for someone to stand in, lines and other fishing equipment was strown about on the deck from the raging seas rolling around and hitting the walls of the cabin.
Inside of the cabin stood its captain, a young twenty something treasure hunter named Scalion. He was a somewhat short orange Fox anthro with a nicely built body and balls of steel, or so he liked to tell people. He gripped the wheel of the boat, trying his best to keep it steady against the intense waves that battered and rocked his small vessel back and forth.
"Come on!" he bellowed, trying to steer through the torrent of rain and thunder. Lightening hit the stern of the boat causing him to briefly let go of the wheel out of fright, it was enough to cause it to steer to the left where a massive wave hit the side, and made him capsize into the dark water.
"Darkness can be one's salvation" ~Unknown
It was morning, the sun just breaking the surface over the horizon of the islands shining through the palm trees and casting light onto the sandy beaches.
On one of the beaches was a body, the body of Scalion the treasure hunter. His shirt was ripped in places and his arms and chest covered in sand, his pants were soaking wet from water. He would have looked dead, if his chest was not moving up and down slightly with each ragged breath.
He groaned lightly as he started to wake up, he gripped his head in pain and twitched his ears. He wondered briefly what happened to him for a moment, until the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. His boat was capsized, and he was shipwrecked on an island. He didn't remember there being an island on the charts he had gotten, had he discovered an unknown island? Or did the ocean currents take him back to the mainland somehow?
He shook his head at the thought, he was too far out to be taken back to the mainland.
Looking around he only spotted several rock formations near the water, a few mountains and the sea all around him. In front of him however he spotted a tree line, mostly palm trees and some fatter trees he knew not the name of.
Getting up slowly, he winced at the sharp burning feeling in his right leg. He fell to the ground and crouched, he spotted a hole in his pants leg and ripped it open and looking he saw some of his leg fur was gone and replaced with a large bloody gash a couple of inches long. He cursed as he knew no doubt his medical kit was on board his boat, at the bottom of the sea.
He ripped of a little more of his pants and fashioned it into a makeshift bandage around the wound, satisfied he stood up, there was pain still but it would last until he could somehow get his hands on a first aid kit.
Looking around the dense forest in front of him, he wondered if there was any way of leaving this island. Perhaps a boat hell maybe even a port, he had heard of some islands having an abandoned radio tower of sorts, maybe if he found one he could use it. He trekked across the sand, all the while keeping an eye on the dense forest next to him. It didn't take long for him to build up a sweat walking, the heat was intense and he could tell it was an easy one hundred-twenty degrees in the shade.
His feet sank beneath the sands with each step, the grainy feeling getting in between his toes told him he lost both of his shoes. He paid it no mind, walking through the sand was a good feeling sometimes.
He looked out ahead, his eyes catching the sight of what looked like a small building in the distance and his hopes of getting recued soared as he started to run to it. it was a concrete building, so it meant there was possibly a radio inside! His leg burned and stung with each step but he could care less. He trampled across the sand and nearly tripped on a small rock as he fell onto the pavement?
He looked down and saw the area in front of him was paved, he also saw a road of sorts going through a cut down area of the forest. When he got a good look at the building he ran over to the door and gripped the handle, he pulled on it and was greeted with a good wallop to the head.
He fell back onto his ass hitting the ground, "hey wha-" he was cut off as he stared down the barrel of a gun.
"Well well well," the man in front of Scalion murmured, a short Armadillo wielding a short barreled shotgun. A solid black tank top with a blue shark logo and cut off khakis with tennis shoes were his attire, half of his torso Scalion saw was tattooed heavily with tribal markings, "looky what I got."
"Whoa, dude," Scalion started, backing up some, "let's not get hasty here."
A disturbing laughter was all he heard as the butt of the shotgun was smashed into his skull, shrouding his world in darkness.