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<blockquote data-quote="JoeNotCharles" data-source="post: 4664740" data-attributes="member: 79945"><p>Continued from the <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/249944-office-harbourmaster.html" target="_blank">Office of the Harbourmaster</a>:</p><p></p><p>The <em>Kraken's Grasp</em> rolls heavily on the waves as night falls. The wind increases, whipping dark, tattered clouds across the sky and sending brief sprays of rain spitting across the deck, which quickly grows slick and treacherous. <span style="color: DarkRed">"Best keep your heads below!"</span> roars Captain Torain. <span style="color: DarkRed">"We've two more days of this, an' the crew don't need you lubbers in the way! Hell, this ain't even a real STORM!"</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">By the morning the air has grown bitterly cold and the sprays of rain have turned to ice. Your breath comes in frosty clouds and every drop of ocean spray stings like glass. Around midmorning you spot the first ice chunks bobbing in the water. <span style="color: DarkRed">"More, an' bigger, where those came from,"</span> says the Captain, darkly.</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">By evening the sea in every direction is dotted with drifting white specks, most no larger than a man's head but a few the size of a dinghy. Two sailors with long poles are stationed in the bows to deflect any that come too near to the ship. <span style="color: DarkRed">"Little threat yet, tho',"</span> says Captain Torion. <span style="color: DarkRed">"That'll come on the morrow."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">Just before the light fails, you spot your first iceberg. It's away off to port, though - no chance of running aground. Not yet.</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">The next day the cold, the weather, and the ice are all worse. Sailors curse as they rip their skin against exposed metal. The chunks of ice are now too big to deflect - the lookouts must keep a close eye, and the ship is forced to tack around the most biggest and most dangerous approaching masses, and plow through others. Several times during the day you hear a terrifying <em>crunch</em> and the ship shudders, and shouting crewman leap to inspect the ship for damage. But Captain Torion's crew is among the most skilled in Daunton, and you slowly make your way through the ice field without springing any leaks that can't be easily patched with hot tar. (For once, the sailors on this duty don't grumble - shoveling tar may be backbreaking and foul-smelling, but at least it's <em>warm</em>.)</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">Just before noon, the lookout in the crow's nest cries, <span style="color: Silver">"LAND HO!"</span> You rush to the gunnels and see nothing ahead but a sea of white. A few birds wheel in the sky. Captain Torion comes up beside you. <span style="color: DarkRed">"Ye won't see it yet,"</span> he says. <span style="color: DarkRed">"It was the birds she spotted, not th' shore itself. We won't be able to get in to shore anyway."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">As the ship slowly moves through a slurry of ice pellets, you see what the Captain means - the white horizon grows closer and you realize you are gazing on a sheet of solid ice. Finally a jagged black line of land appears on the horizon, thrusting out of the ice sheet to meet a swirling vortex of heavy cloud. You can also see a smaller speck at the base of the cliff - straining your eyes, you can make out the hulk of a ship, listing sharply to one side, entombed in the ice. Captain Torion sees where you're looking. <span style="color: DarkRed">"'At's the <em>Little Celia</em> - so far the only ship to be lost in these waters, a week ago before the ice got so bad, an' with luck the only one."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkRed">The <em>Kraken</em> grinds to a halt as the ice grows too thick to continue. <span style="color: DarkRed">"We'll launch you in a pinnace,"</span> says the Captain. <span style="color: DarkRed">"That'll get you a bit closer, but ye'll need to trek across the ice eventually."</span> He squints at the sky. <span style="color: DarkRed">"Looks like ye've got a few hours of light left - ye should be able to make it to the wreck at least 'afore dark. Ye want to set out now, or shelter here fer the night an' set out in the morning?"</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="JoeNotCharles, post: 4664740, member: 79945"] Continued from the [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/249944-office-harbourmaster.html"]Office of the Harbourmaster[/URL]: The [I]Kraken's Grasp[/I] rolls heavily on the waves as night falls. The wind increases, whipping dark, tattered clouds across the sky and sending brief sprays of rain spitting across the deck, which quickly grows slick and treacherous. [COLOR=DarkRed]"Best keep your heads below!"[/COLOR] roars Captain Torain. [color=DarkRed]"We've two more days of this, an' the crew don't need you lubbers in the way! Hell, this ain't even a real STORM!" By the morning the air has grown bitterly cold and the sprays of rain have turned to ice. Your breath comes in frosty clouds and every drop of ocean spray stings like glass. Around midmorning you spot the first ice chunks bobbing in the water. [COLOR=DarkRed]"More, an' bigger, where those came from,"[/COLOR] says the Captain, darkly. By evening the sea in every direction is dotted with drifting white specks, most no larger than a man's head but a few the size of a dinghy. Two sailors with long poles are stationed in the bows to deflect any that come too near to the ship. [COLOR=DarkRed]"Little threat yet, tho',"[/COLOR] says Captain Torion. [COLOR=DarkRed]"That'll come on the morrow."[/COLOR] Just before the light fails, you spot your first iceberg. It's away off to port, though - no chance of running aground. Not yet. The next day the cold, the weather, and the ice are all worse. Sailors curse as they rip their skin against exposed metal. The chunks of ice are now too big to deflect - the lookouts must keep a close eye, and the ship is forced to tack around the most biggest and most dangerous approaching masses, and plow through others. Several times during the day you hear a terrifying [I]crunch[/I] and the ship shudders, and shouting crewman leap to inspect the ship for damage. But Captain Torion's crew is among the most skilled in Daunton, and you slowly make your way through the ice field without springing any leaks that can't be easily patched with hot tar. (For once, the sailors on this duty don't grumble - shoveling tar may be backbreaking and foul-smelling, but at least it's [I]warm[/I].) Just before noon, the lookout in the crow's nest cries, [COLOR=Silver]"LAND HO!"[/COLOR] You rush to the gunnels and see nothing ahead but a sea of white. A few birds wheel in the sky. Captain Torion comes up beside you. [COLOR=DarkRed]"Ye won't see it yet,"[/COLOR] he says. [COLOR=DarkRed]"It was the birds she spotted, not th' shore itself. We won't be able to get in to shore anyway."[/COLOR] As the ship slowly moves through a slurry of ice pellets, you see what the Captain means - the white horizon grows closer and you realize you are gazing on a sheet of solid ice. Finally a jagged black line of land appears on the horizon, thrusting out of the ice sheet to meet a swirling vortex of heavy cloud. You can also see a smaller speck at the base of the cliff - straining your eyes, you can make out the hulk of a ship, listing sharply to one side, entombed in the ice. Captain Torion sees where you're looking. [COLOR=DarkRed]"'At's the [I]Little Celia[/I] - so far the only ship to be lost in these waters, a week ago before the ice got so bad, an' with luck the only one."[/COLOR] The [I]Kraken[/I] grinds to a halt as the ice grows too thick to continue. [COLOR=DarkRed]"We'll launch you in a pinnace,"[/COLOR] says the Captain. [COLOR=DarkRed]"That'll get you a bit closer, but ye'll need to trek across the ice eventually."[/COLOR] He squints at the sky. [COLOR=DarkRed]"Looks like ye've got a few hours of light left - ye should be able to make it to the wreck at least 'afore dark. Ye want to set out now, or shelter here fer the night an' set out in the morning?"[/COLOR][/color] [/QUOTE]
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