The Carribean Terror

Personal artwork I did in my freetime.

It's about mercenary characters in 17th century settings, these duo oftenly hired by Dutch East Indies to hunt pirates or get stolen artifacts.
Previously, I posted the Bajoman (the little one) here. Now, his companion called ShaakMon.

Here's a short story background both of them :

The Carribean Terror 1717
In the golden age of piracy, when the Caribbean was a lawless expanse littered with broken empires, a pair of mercenaries carved their name into the hulls of both myth and dread: The Caribbean Terror—ShaakMon and BajoMon.
Unlike most pirate hunters, these two don’t wear uniforms or pledge to any crown. Their loyalty is leased in gold and blood, and their most consistent patron is none other than the Dutch East India Company, operating far from its usual holdings in the East Indies.
ShaakMon
A monstrous relic of both nature and alchemical engineering, ShaakMon is a towering, shark-like titan of the sea. Legend tells he was dredged up during a VOC-funded expedition into the cursed Mariana Trench, a living weapon meant for naval domination. But the project was deemed too unstable—until one rogue company agent saw potential.
Fitted with rust-forged Victorian mechanical arms crafted in the VOC’s hidden foundries, ShaakMon became a blunt force tool in covert operations: destroying pirate flotillas, sinking smuggler ships, and recovering lost artifacts believed to hold arcane value. His silence is chilling; his violence, surgical.
BajoMon
The talker of the two, BajoMon is a cunning, amphibious scavenger born in the slave docks of Batavia and raised in the underbelly of Caribbean trade. Equipped with salvaged armor from VOC prototype programs, he speaks dozens of creoles, knows every backwater port from Tortuga to Willemstad, and has an instinct for betrayal.
Where ShaakMon brings terror, BajoMon brings finesse. He sets traps and silences witnesses. His mechanical harpoon arm isn’t just a weapon—it’s a calling card.
A Weapon of Empire
To the world, they’re mercenaries for hire. But in truth, they are the VOC’s ghost blades—deniable assets used to disrupt Spanish treasure fleets, recover forbidden relics from indigenous tombs, and crush rebellious island factions before they rise.
Their missions are never recorded. Their failures are buried. And their successes are repaid with crates of gold and the illusion of freedom.
While pirates sing shanties of ghost ships and cursed waters, colonial captains know the real terror sails without a flag, answers no questions, and leaves no survivors.
If you see rusted chains dragging in the sand…
If you hear the sound of a mechanical anchor echoing from the depths…
It’s already too late.
The Caribbean Terror has been paid.