84 Flags On the Beach

The Voyage, the Voyagers, and First Blood

47th-61st of Spring

The seas of Ethlan are impossible to sail. Fortunately the Winter Wind does not sail, it flies by means of strange and foreign magic. Exactly how the duke came by such a thing is probably best not asked; even the captain, a man by the name of Nailoar who was given the position for his magical skill has no idea about its provenance, how it works, or -most worrisomely – where it’s going.

It was a harrowing journey. One man, a farmer named Lorin, even died, falling over the edge of the ship after having a bit too much grog to drink on the 55th. Besides of course the knowledge that there was no guarantee any of them would survive, the voyagers suffer from cramped living space, scant rations of bad food, cabin fever, spoiled water supplies, the terrible stench from so many people and animals living in such close proximity, and tremendous heat that grew day by day

Being Wreshtans, the voyagers are an extremely suspicious and guarded lot. No doubt there are many spies or worse among them and so they keep their heads down and try not to draw attention. A few people stand out though. The first is a man who calls himself ‘Ashkantir.’ No one has seen so much as an inch of him because he always wears a black, hooded robe that reaches down to his boots. Beneath the hood he wears a hideous mask of a snarling, red demon apparently at all times. By the sound of him, he may have chainmail on underneath and he’s clearly a warrior from the rare longbow on his back and curved sword at his side. Second is a friendlier soul by the name of Metaxas. Although he keeps to himself, he’s talkative and open enough on the rare occasions anyone speaks to him. These are particularly rare because he is obviously both a foreigner from his deep brown skin and red hair- neither of which are found in Wresht- and a mage of some sort from his iron-bound spellbook.

The ship flies roughly east-southeast for just under 14 days, out of any sight of land for most of that time. It is very swift and can fly by day or night as long as there is no land to avoid (apparently flying over land would destroy it), so by rough estimate it may have traveled upwards of 5000 miles from Markavia before land is again spotted at sunset on the 59th. The are far, far beyond known lands and presumably well to the south of the only known continent.

At Captain Nailar’s direction, the Winter Wind navigated around what proved to be a sizable archipelago for most of two days and on the 61st he called the expeditionary leaders together to decide where to settle. After much deliberation and even some squabbling as well as giving a name (Grahlt) to the archipelago and others to the major islands, they ultimately decided to settle on a large bay on the northeastern side of newly named Nucleith.

The landing is chaotic and disorganized and supplies and people are scattered about on the beach in the dark. It finishes a few hours before dawn and the Winter Wind departs unceremoniously, the colonists now have no way to communicate with the outside world or receive help of any kind for the next month or so.


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