Some time ago…
Off the coast of Southern Brissaud…
Water...Water...all around us, How does so much empty vastness exist?
A schooner broke through the crashing waves, its sails whipped around the stormy winds. The lone ship was thrown from side to side, but consistently stood on course. Her experienced crew moved about the vessel, ensure the rigging held firm in the face of such adversity.
It flew a single flag from its halliard; bearing a sigil of a roaring bear; and continued propelling its way through the stormy seas. It was once a beautiful vessel, with darkened lacquered beams lining it. Age and neglect have done its toll on the ship, and now only peeling paint could be found all across its sorry state.
In a lone cabin beneath deck, a figure stood hunched over his bed with a paper bag in hand, he had vomited out days worth of meals and dreaded the wretched torment he had been placed in. Each time the ship lurched, the poor soul was flung from side to side.
Over the span of an entire day, the schooner bore its way through the stormy ocean towards the shore. Soon, her captain directed her to lie hove-to. She slowed in the wind and came to a placid stop. After a pause, she dispatched a quarter boat towards the looming isle covered in multiple silhouettes. On it sat, Hamelin, with nothing else but a single bag to carry all of his personal belongings.
Picking a lone mooring at a quiet part of the city, a quick glance upwards revealed a twilight sky enveloping the pastel-blue that remained with beautiful golden streaks stretching as far as the horizon. However, a frigid chill remained in the air, and only urged movement.
" I absolutely detest rain squalls…"
