Yeah, I really think Locxa made the right decision. It really did just snowball on tick this last day. I just don't see how he could be real (his character).

'Night all!

During the day's discussion, a dense fog has gathered around the ship. Nothing now can be seen further than a few steps away. Even the voices of the remaining crew members had started to sound more and more muffled during the last couple of hours. Nevertheless, a decision has been reached, and tick is pushed into the middle of the gathering circle. "You lying zombie scum!" someone shouts, while one of the younger pirates mumbles "Magic amulets! Whoever'd believe such nonsense..."

You all grab tick, and while you go about your dismembering business, tick can be heard laughing quite madly. "But I have an amulet, you brainheads!" he cries, and after another spout of laughing, all is finished. There he lies, dead as he can be.
A breeze begins to blow. The fog lightens. And the dusty remains of Reeking Rob the Greedy*, a once great pirate obsessed with the idea of treasure even beyond his death, are blown away; leaving only a small amulet lying on the planks, twinkling in the first rays of the evening sun breaking through the murky air.
General relief abounds, and just as someone mentions the last remaining barrel of rum under deck, a cry goes up from the crow's nest: "Land ahead!"

A few days later, back at the harbour town, merry singing can be heard from several pubs, and whispering can be heard from the men working at the docks.
"Aye, zombies, I heard...the worst kind. Still after the gold they had hidden so long ago."
"Real zombies? I don't believe in that old superstitious stuff."
"Well, my lad, of course you don't. There is no proof for you scientific young men. Just a bit of dust and magic baloney/magical trinkets."
The younger man nods.
"Ah, but use your head, lad. Hear them singing? Saw the coins glinting in their hands? I bet you, that ship is filled with treasure."
"I don't get it," the young man mutters.
"Those were old coins. Real old coins. Those lads found Crossbone Island alright. After all those years, they found it, and the original owners of the gold have finally found their rest."
"A nice story, to be sure."
The old man grumbles, but says no more.
"Aw, don't take it to heart. It was a good one. Anyway, let's go up there as well. My turn to pay your grog today."

THE END!

*A name attributed to him by historians and not entirely correct.