Awakened to a restless town, as Duke’s ship once again made ground. Smoke rising in the distance, to the dock our attentions turned. Attendants rushed the Duke by us, seemed a fire in his belly churned.
Harbourmaster under siege by the shuffling undead hordes. Whistle blown upon the wind and to me the undead swarmed.
Pathway cleared by Bart’s grenade, entrails raining down.
Little victories short lived as Adam’s ritual shook the earth. Luciferno and Grimtide gone, the landslide brought them down.
A group of nine lost in darkness’ grasp, spirit makes Cap’n bolder. And I see the changing of the ocean tides, Morven lost on shaky ground. Still the hordes came, limitless in their undead lust.
Our ship close now as we held the line, my frenzy reaching heights unknown. Vera splitting torsos in twain, retreat at last within our grasp. The Storm’s Eye sucked t’ward deep’s abyss, my hands upon bulkhead.
As Bart at last did don his crown, atop his undead head. First claws, then fangs and peace awash, as changing as the sea.
Adam steered us straight and true, through the heart of the tsunami.
Pirate Björk 