Vox Populi Forum
The crew set off from Cairo, seeking a fabled isle in the east that held a spring that was the cure for all our ills. I was secretly hoping it was rum filled. We left Cairo with two warships and four cogs. Supplies were comfortable, but some of the masters were still recovering from wounds.
No ship on our bow is a friend. The boys loyal to Jonson came at us with a fireship. Easily dispatched, Wildemoon boarded her, set a charge and led our escape. Now to the harder task, to find the Pepper People.
Heading east we sailed into seasonal problems: typhoons, severe tidal swells and utter darkness. Much of our very souls were tested. The blame often fell on Henri La Tombe. Beetles, pretty little things, until they gnawed at our shipboards and swarmed over several men, injecting the surprised w/ toxins. Wildemoon himself seemed a bit aflutter, when encased by the scarabs. Fire seemed to burn them off his frame.
A passage, straits to the east was discovered. We defeated a Cantonese Junk, but just as soon lost that vessel navigating the shallow waters of the strait. We headed out for months in open water and reached the very end of the world. A hand of Poseidon rose from the surf and grabbed hold of each ship in our fleet, hurling one by one into the rocks. Men lost their minds; some even sitting to dine, while support ships were sundered.
The tales concludes in limbo. We have one warship, the other returning to Mandar to await our fate. Of the support ships, only the Sea Cow remains. The men feel cheated, of which I do not blame. Much of the world has been traversed, but we seem no closer to our goal. Yet a second look at the Jonson Swirl, a palette of colors drawn by our former blind patron, may be a clue to the mythical spring we hunt. That or we wander like Odysseus, avoiding the ancient hazards that hero and ourselves must face.
More to follow,…
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