The relic hunter leaped from the column of rock onto the weedy main deck and made his way to the captain's quarters piled to the hilt with a hoarded embarrassment of riches. Before him sat the remains of the pirate commander armed to the teeth: tresses of woven hair draped in neglected curls with long narrow candles tied to the ends, flanked by a sword smelted from a fallen star sheathed in a mastodon tusk, rings decorated finger bones that clenched a flintlock in one hand and a magic wand in the other, both at the ready to shoot, and all of her shadowed by a broad-brimmed tricorne hat.

Transfixed by the truly spectacular sight for a moment as if under the influence of some mystical spell Northwest gulped, "Seems like not much of a people person."

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