Captains Log - Jan 8, 1467

Cap. Slap of the Maidens blade.

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Every muscle was burning as I was treading water, spinning, trying to land eyes on my invisible attacker, which is near impossible in the pitch black of night. Frantically scanning the horizon, bobbing up and down taking in more and more water as my muscles burn with the fire lit by the devil himself. I hear a crash of water behind me, again I turn to face the sound... Nothing. This time I sink a bit deeper into the water and catch glimpse of it's bony structure cutting through the surface of the water. I summon all my strength to break the surface for one more breath and as I kick It grabs my leg with it's bony hands, I inhale a deep breath full of the black water of night as I'm pulled under. Choking on the water in my lungs, and what little air I have left, I see the top of a mast sailing by, 10 leagues beneath the ocean. A ghostly crew looks up at me as my vision begins to fade due to lack of oxygen. My captor sets me on deck, I can feel the waves on the devils ship as we bob back and forth. I look up at the Ghost as it plants it's flintlock right between my eyes... click

BOOOOOMMM!

A major collision rocks the boat and kicks me from my bed. Crashing to the ground I'm greeted by a forceful geyser that just formed in the side of our boat. Spewing water below deck I quickly grab tools, wood, and pitch and get to filling the the hole. After a few nails and some of lady lucks help, The hole is patch and only leaking a bit, We'll have to get that fixed at port. Heading up deck I find my first mate at the helm. Looking extremely nervous and alert, the mid morning sun is beating down on him is making him sweat far more than it should. I look over his shoulder and see a small atoll to our rear, then down at his feet to see half a case of rum gone, some spilled, most unaccounted for... though I know where it went. I give him a stern look, and he never breaks eye contact with the horizon. Grumbling I begin to make my way below deck to change, when he yells - "Cap. Gulls be circling. Might be something in the water off the portside bow." I grab my spyglass and spot the top of a mast sticking out of the water. A shipwreck... and fresh.

"Prepare to anchor, hoist the sails. It's a shipwreck... Galleon from the looks. We're going for a swim." That'll sober him up real quick...

Parking the Blade close ins't the problem. It's going down into the ship that's dangerous. At any minute she could just decide to sink and that's it, your taken down to the depths never to be heard from again. Some say the monsters of the deep feed on you, others say it's part of the deal with the mermaids and they pick your bones clean. Some even say the Dutchman will find you and offer you a life of Damnation aboard it's ship. No one really knows... but damned if they're all horrible.

Pulling up on the wreckage, it's a massacre. Between the bones of the ship and the countless bodies strewn across the waves it really is a sight that would churn even the most seasoned of sailors. Bob, The first mate, threw up enough for the both of us. Scanning the water for anykind of useful item it all begins to blur together. the bodies, the wreckage, blood, oil, wood, so on.. it becomes dizzying and then we see something we didn't expect. A survivor. Quickly we don the rowboat and go over to the guy struggling to hang onto the makeshift raft he has. We get there just in time as he loses his grasp. Together we pull him into the boat. "Bob, We best wait to dive down, let the sharks have their meal. Maybe our new friend will have something to say about what happened here." I say.

We row back to the Blade and put our new friend in the spare cot. Afternoon falls to dusk, then night, and finally the warm morning sun begins to heat up the cabin. I wake up to the survivor carving into the side of the ships hull with his finger nails. At first I want to stop him, but I've heard stories of things like this and I let him continue on. After 30 minutes of him babbling and carving he turns to me with eyes so wide you wouldn't think he had lids and softly exclaims... "Run." He then proceeds to rush up to the top deck, me tailing behind yelling at Bob to stop him, but the survivor is to quick. He gets past bob, jumps on the Starboard cannon and dives into the sea. Bob and I hit the rail looking for him 1 minute passes... nothing. 2, then 3. Still, nothing. I head back down deck to look at the carving and see 2 ships one that resembles ours, though on fire. and another bearing the mark of the Flying Dutchman. "Shit... BOB WE GOTTA GO!" I yell as I hurry to the top deck. Rushing through our jobs we raise anchor and lower sails as fast as we can, and then it hits. A deep reverb that shoots a ripple across the water. the ripple hits our boat and shakes our bones as the sound echos across the quiet sea. "It's too late. Shes here.."

Just then, Portside, the bow of the devils ship breaks the surface from the depths. The devilishly impressive ship breaks the surface greater than any creature ever has, as it comes crashing down creating massive waves that rock our little sloop. Drums begin to erupt from the deck of the Dutchman as she drops her tattered sails and begins to make speed with us. Before we knew what is happening another ship of equal terror surfaces on our starboard side. "A second Dutchman!? Great..." Just like that we find ourselves surrounded by the damned with nowhere to go. I look at Bob and he looks back, Not sure what exactly to do I trip the latch on the anchor. It takes what seems like an eternity to drop, each click of the chain echoing over the wails of the Damned. Finally the anchor catches and our ship slows way down just as the 8 guns split between the Two Galleons open fire. The sound is deafening, but the sight of the two forsaken galleons firing upon each other is enough to boost our spirits!

Quickly we raise anchor and put our sails in the wind and make chase. We're not faster than the Dutchman, so there is no running... we have to fight. At first it felt good... we landed plenty of shots... but the bigger ship proved more than our single cannon could handle. Eventually loading the cannons became futile.. shot after shot, maneuver after maneuver it seems like every shot we put in the side of the Dutchman, shes putting 3 in us... Fire is roaring across our ship, water pouring in from multiple holes as things look worse and worse. The ship groans under the added weight of the water as she begins to ride lower in the water... eventually she begins to break. The splinter of wood is a traumatic sound, so primal the cracking resembles that of breaking bones. This is even worse when it's your own ship making the sounds. The Blade cries her final cry as the mast snaps in half taking the front of the ship with it into the depths of the dark water. Quickly Bob and I made for the rowboat, killed the lantern, and began rowing away from the wreckage, praying that the Dutchman didn't see us. We survived on a small island, for a few days and are rescued by a merchant vessel. We lived an attack with the Dutchman… but at what cost... a week later I woke up with a black spot on the palm of my fencing hand... as did Bob.

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Thanks for reading my stories all!

Here is the first entry