2E 304, Abecean Sea.
At the rate at which my crew is shrinking, I doubt anything of our accursed and ill-fated voyage will survive beyond this record. Tu’ whacca, give us the strength to avoid such a fate.
For all the days I neglected to write the happenings on my ship, I’ll recount the major events.
We set sail from Summerset and headed east across the waters. A fierce wind kept our sails filled and our course calculations has us making landfall in Khefrem a week early. The crew rejoiced, for our time at sea was long and everyone was eager to sail in familiar waters once again. The sun was high, and no other sails or storms were visible from the crow’s-nest. Everything was calm and idyllic. Tava looked upon us favorably. Or so we thought.
We awoke one morning to find ourselves trapped in the clear eye of a storm. A league on either side, was dark clouds and troubled seas. But we rested in windless pocket of clear skies and calm waters. At first, we thought it was a Sea Elf raid. The crew spent three nights armed and prepared for battle. They slept in shifts and got little rest at that. When no ships broke the storm clouds and no wind filled our sail, we thought of the Daedra and wondered if we somehow drew the attention of their frightful number. Still, with our stores emptying every day, we could not wait to starve. I ordered all rested hands to put oar to water. If the winds would not propel us to Stros M’kai, we would do it ourselves. That was my mistake.
The moment the first oar breached the still ocean waters the sea grew violent. It rippled and roiled with the bodies of a hundred sea adders. Their thick serpentine bodies lashed out and leaped onto the deck. Those with oars in the hands suffered the greatest, for the oars were too long to be used in combat. And those below deck, resting after their shifts of watching for Sea Elves had little time to gather themselves before the adders found the stairs. Somehow, we managed to slay the adders, but it was with heavy losses. The waters were still once more, and the boson ordered a day of rest to tend to and care for those who remained on this side of the Far Shores.
The night was filled with the song of pain from below deck and rest was sparse. Still, the morning broke with clouded skies and a great cheer arose. The sun rose in the sky and the winds rose with it. Finally, the doldrums we were caught in dissipated and the sails dragged what remained of my battered crew from those accursed waters.
I thought that would be the end of our troubles, but while the wind returned, the storms did not dissipate. We sailed into their midst and, with a sizably smaller crew, we set out to battle the worst squall I have been unlucky enough to see.
Two experienced sailors pushed overboard by the arms of imps who careened out from the clouds. We lost their cries below the waves as we struggled to defend ourselves against tempest and imp. The call to arms erupted from all sides as the imps fell on us and my daring crew protected their stations and somehow kept the ship to rights before the imps fell back.
We cheered and cursed the clouds around us with equal fervor, doing our best to concentrate on battling the winds and not look about for more attackers. None came, that we saw, but the storm had worse for us in mind. When we least expected it, the lightning fell. Circular and swirling, unlike any I ever encountered. The crew let out a horrid cry as they saw great, hulking figures before us. Creatures of stone and storm who hurled tremendous energy at our vessel.
Still, we had no way to avoid them. My ship was quick, but she can’t outrun the wind. Her deck is sleek, but she can’t turn from lightning. We fought to keep her from tearing herself apart, there was nothing more we could do. And so, my brave crew, half of the sailors who remained, stood at their posts and performed their duties until such time as the lightning drained the life from their arms.
I was the worst captain in seas. In two days, I’d lost over half of my crew to unforeseen creatures. Each time we were attacked, I rushed to defend my crew, and each time I could do nothing. I do not know how we escaped the atronachs. I could not tell you where we sailed nor how. It was luck alone. Tu’whacca blessed their passing and cursed ours for our journey is not yet over.
The distance between our ship and the safety of Summerset feels insurmountable. Our journey is doomed by the sea and the sky. Enemies spring from the waters we must travel and even now my beloved crew succumbs to the pain of the past few days.
I know not how these accounts of our sorry may be remembered, but I know they will survive us. If, by some blessing from the gods, we survive. I will renounce the waters I once loved. They have turned against me. May Tava see us home or end us quickly.
