The sun beats relentlessly on the deck of the Stormbreaker. Her crew busily pulling ropes, raising and lowering sails, changing tack with the wind. And the wind blew, and as luck would have it at our backs. The billowing sheets filled with abundance and pushed us out over the waves.
Gentle splashes of the water against the hull make a rhythmic pounding and set the beat for the sailors’ choreography. Faintly, off in the fading distance, a siren song can be heard. Some of the crew pause and look, but the song is not strong enough to pull them in, and they quickly return to their work.
A bard strums a harp and hums and quiet tune. A pair of dwarves pace the deck speaking in muffled tongues. A warrior sits sharpening his sword. An ogre hangs head over the side of the boat, making horrid sounds and turning a bit green. Below decks, adventurers sit at the mess and share food, ale, and stories.
Occasionally dark shapes pass near and under the ship, some small, some frighteningly large.
And I sit with my pole, cast in the deep, trying to catch a bite to eat. And I watch as the waves and the sky and the islands pass by, as the ship heads onward to Freeport.
-2 Jun 2003