Excerpts from an anonymous sailor's diary

[omgFIREBALLS]

Day one: I'm sailing under the colors of the famous Watcher of Caed Nua. This will be something to tell the grandkids!

 

Day three: We boarded a Vailian vessel. I guess that's who we're picking on.

 

Day eleven: Never mind, we're apparently just boarding every vessel. Dead men tell no tales, eh?

 

Day thirty: We seem to be out of vessels to board. The captain seems to be muttering something about wanting to get a bigger ship, but has no way of training sailors.

 

Day forty: I and my trusted mates been transferred to a junk! While we all thought a galleon might be better, the captain reasoned that the junk had to be superior because it cost more.

 

Day forty-one: We've taken on some more crew to help man the larger ship.

 

Day forty-eight: Just got out of our first storm. That wasn't fun.

 

Day fifty: Our mast broke in the latest storm, but apparently that didn't require repairing afterward.

 

Day sixty-five: I think the storm count is at eight now.

 

Day eighty-one: I've lost count of how many storms we've been through. I haven't had shore leave since I got on this junk, and it doesn't seem like I'm getting it anytime soon, as the captain seems intent on sailing through storms and then changing course completely. Morale is peaking, of course, and the new blood have acquired the saltiest sea legs I've ever seen.

 

Day ninety: We caught some sickly fish and argued whether we should eat it or not. Our resident druid determined the fish was diseased, but cast a spell to cure it, and the captain judged it edible. We all fell sick, but the same druid cast the same spell on us and it worked this time. Apparently this made us very happy and when all was said and done, crew morale was soaring.

 

Day ninety-five: We ran across a plague ship. Against our wishes, the captain offered the crew aid and we of course contacted their sickness. However, our resident cleric cured us and this made us very happy. We forgot entirely that it was the captain's fault we got sick to begin with.

 

Day one-hundred-and-forty-three: My life now consists of constantly sailing into storms that the captain finds with unerring accuracy. We are only ever served water and hardtack. This is disappointing, but the captain will occasionally raise morale by getting us sick or poisoned and then curing it. We love our captain, as always.