Preface: Yep. Finally doing some fucking writing on the forums that isn’t a partial shitpost. This is gonna be AO related. Mainly doing this as a test. Give me every damn item of criticism you can, because fucking HELL do I want to improve, and work on my craft as a writer. With that said, here comes a written at 1 A.M. short story. (even though it’s sleep deprivation hours, I seem to write better at these times lmfao)
You make landfall on an island, somewhere between the eternal tundra of Frostmill, and the dangerous to navigate spires of Redwake, all to escape the wrath of a storm that is so strong it makes you tremble, wondering if this came straight from the abominable Dark Sea itself. Whilst you anchor down your ship, and hop off of it, you spot a book on the sandy shore. It is faded and worn, yet you cannot tell why. Was it worn down by the ocean’s magically saline waters, or perhaps by the winds and storms which must’ve battered this old piece of knowledge for Creation knows how long? It smells of must, and has the markings of water damage, leaving no clear answer. No seaweed profanes its pages, neither is there intense amounts of sand in it. All you find is the writings of an adventurer with less than even mediocre life events. You decide to pass the time by reading this person’s tale, as this storm may last for hours. Cracking it open, you find the diary lacks any name as to who it belonged to, either because of the beaten down cover, or the simple lack of need for a name to be transcribed, as this was a personal writing of someone. Regardless, you read the first entry…
“Dammit to hell. The Navy’s after me. They think I’m some major criminal all because I wore some purple robes? Who the fuck employs these imbeciles! I’m just returning from the Dark Sea, with incredible, lost treasures to be inspected, unlocked, or preserved, and I get this in return?! Those cultists may have had a point… Chaos hates all that dare enter its domain. Perhaps if I just sit this out, the Navy oughta calm down, or lose me. One more day without my haul being sold… I’ll bet the shipwright’s gonna confiscate my ship again. Another fucking interest rate increase just because of that. I’m never taking a loan again…”
Having finished that first entry, you hear the storm become stronger. A hurricane is spiraling into Redwake, tearing chunks of the stone off of the spires. Horrifying. So horrifying, that you take refuge in your ship, where you’re safe from the elements, but can still see out of the cabin’s windows, keeping you from being caught off guard by a wave. As an experienced sailor yourself, you know to – and naturally do – keep an eye peeled during a major storm like this.
