Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160801233042/@comment-5543592-20160801233543

22nd Morning Star 3E 393

The ship coasted along calm waves, it and the ocean around it awash in orange under a rising sun. The vessal was tilted on it's side slightly, keeled over as the wind rushed powerfully through it's sail. It was making good progress, and just over the horizon, the coast of Hammerfell came into sight, and along with it, the vaguest etchings of a city. A port, a wall, and the great domed and sandstone buildings the desert province was known for.

"Land ho!" The look-out in the crow's nest called down, although he'd caught sight of it long before with a spy glass.

The last three months, and the new year, had been drawn out and boring, which was to be expected of a long voyage, and spent recooperating from the bitter sweet ending of the journey in Summerset.

Scire had spent it more or less doing absolutely nothing of important, but had been more silent recently, and lapsed into long periods of thought every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. He stood now on the deck, peering of the side of the ship.

The crew was in a bustle, preparing to come into dock.