Days like these really make me understand why so many ancient cultures started a new calendar with every significant event that happens. Hell, even the modern calendar starts counting with Aroden raising the Starstone and becoming a god. I feel a little like making my own calendar right now.
The Mists of Dread has been sunk at sea.
Well, run aground, really. When the spotter announced that the ship following us was running a skull and crossbones, the current of fear that ran through the ship's crew was palpable, almost a tangible thing that could be split with a knife. The crew recovered well, though the wind didn't seem to be in our favour. From what I could tell, the pirate ship was somewhat larger than ours, and so the captain hit on the idea of losing the ship in the shallows of a nearby island.
He didn't count on their being a reef, however. If you have never experienced it, gentle reader, and I sincerely hope you never have to, the sound of a ship breaking apart is a terrifying thing. Wood creaking to its breaking point and snapping, horrifying groans that accompany every shudder of the ship, and the unstoppable gurgle of rushing water.
It was sheer luck that I had my book satchel on me at the time we struck the reef, and I barely had enough time to grab a coil of rope, one of the ship's spears, and to jam the axe I was using to cut lines into my belt before the water was upon us. Still, most of the crew made it off the wreckage before it finished going down, and I can't help but think that there would be more of us alive if not for the cliffs, over a hundred feet tall, that stretched for miles in either direction and served as the final gatekeeper to those who would be admitted safely to land. The climb was the most difficult and the most exhausting thing I've ever had to endure. I don't like to think about it too much. In the end, only three of us finished the climb.
Of the others, the first is Anna. She's shorter than me by about two stones, and I guess kind of good looking, if the hypothetical male is into the whole blonde-petite-and-slender-but-busty look.
It's possible that there may be a little bit of jealousy there, upon reflection.
She's claimed the ability to use magic, or, at least, the ability to conjure water. I think she might be a cleric of some kind, but if so, I don't know of which god. Still, Anna seems nice. A little quiet, cheerful enough considering the dire straits we find ourself in, and I'd almost say shy, but she doesn't seem to have trouble speaking her mind. It's more like, she'll talk if she has something important enough to say, but otherwise she doesn't mind keeping to herself.
The other survivor from the shipwreck is a man named Flick.
Where do I even begin to write about Flick.
To his credit, he's a snappy dresser. I'd bet he'd look actually quite debonair if I ever got to a chance to see him cleaned up. On the other hand, he got in an argument with our campfire and lost. There is definitely something wrong with this boy's head. I don't think he's dangerous, precisely, but perhaps incapable of responsibility? I predict that Anna and I will be doing a lot of babysitting until we're rescued. I've seen him actually demonstrate his ability to use magic, but not the same way that Skeeve did, so I don't think he's a sorcerer or wizard, but if he's a priest I will personally stew and eat my own boots. Still, there's just something compelling about him...
As to the island itself, it seems to teem with life. Even as unaccustomed to hunting with a spear as I am, the foraging came easy. Still, one of my first priorities is to find a suitable branch or sapling and make myself a new bow. I shouldn't have much trouble finding something tensile enough, even if all of this wood is unfamiliar to me.
Our current plan is to explore into the jungle interior come morning. The weather seems to be nice still, we've got a bit of a stockpile of meat, and water's not going to be a problem, so we have time to shop around, as it were, and find some place to make a shelter of some kind. Maybe we'll get lucky, and this island will turn out to be inhabited. Of course, given the sailors' tales of tropical cannibals, maybe that wouldn't be so lucky. A grisly thought indeed.
Still, keeping this journal, a record of our explorations, will be a priority. This is exactly the kind of adventure I set out to find - well, maybe not exactly, I could have done without the sinking ship and loss of her crew. But still! There's something important on this island. I have a feeling there just has to be.