I thought I would write a back story about where the eleven townspeople came from. If you guys like these, say so and I'll keep doing them, enjoy. Prelude to Towns – Part two
It is said, those who venture into the Great Southern Ocean never return. Its storms and currents throw even the hardest crews of the sturdiest ships off the edge of the world. The skies were as black as coals, the seas like cliffs of broken glass, coming crashing down before us. We couldn’t tell night from day. Many onboard prayed, as we were lashed, battered and hounded by the God of the sea. Our rigging was removed to prevent the sails from being destroyed. Our direction was no longer our own. All we knew is we had escaped the warships of the God King.
The lanterns from the other ship are all we had to tell they hadn’t been swallowed whole. Was it days or weeks that passed before the storms finally ceased? The ocean mountains of glass finally flattened into dark rolling hills and we could cast sails again. It did little to help us. The stars are still obscured from us. We were directionless and lost.
Months passed as we drifted endlessly into the unknown. We lay out our line and bring in ever stranger catches. We find fish and beasts of the sea that only ever existed in legend until seen by our own eyes. Creatures with tentacles, clusters of eyes and snapping jaws, fish as large as cows. We eat whatever we find, but we can never catch enough. We have to pick our fishing times as a large shadow, the size of both ships combined, circles beneath. It closes with the surface whenever we try to bring things in.
The sheer size of the southern ocean is oppressive. Are we miles from land, or have we only scratched the surface. People are losing hope. We lost a crewman a few days back, no one knew why or how. Some believe he just walked off the edge one night rather than go on. Others say it was the thing lurking below. The thought had crossed my own mind more than once. I’m not sure what we have left that makes us continue.
Then some hope. A strange small green bird is caught on the ships railing. It creates great hope in us all, but fear in our ship’s navigator. He believes it is a special type of bird, used as a messenger by the fleet of the God-King. But how could they have followed us so far? Was their hatred of our Perussian Kingdom so absolute, they would press against the wind and rain toward certain death to finish us? True or not, it had been lost for a while, as it was without message or harness. We hoped it would lead us to land and not golden sails.
On three occasions the bird returned immediately. A fight broke out onboard about diverting our little amount of food to keep feeding the creature to send it out. Finally it pays off, a chain of islands was found in the distance. We find them rocky and lifeless, but there’s hope as each leads onto the next. Eventually we sight a great land mass we believe to be the great continent.
Once close enough, we are able to make out wildlife and fruit trees. We make the decision to take the smaller ships to the shore and set both larger ships ablaze. We send them back out into the ocean, in case the navigator had been right about the little green bird being from a nearby warship of the God-King. The fires would be seen far and wide, drawing off any pursuers in the wrong direction.
We step onto sands for the first time in what could possibly been beyond a year. Weak, skinny, in rags of our original clothes, we drag the smaller ships off into the land to hide the fact we had made landfall there. We find a rock with writings upon it, symbols long forgotten as the language of the old world. As we begin to move inland, I hang back to take a last glance at the sea which had been our prison for so long.
We look towards the dark jungles ahead and feel apprehension.
We feel eyes watching us.