Through the murky cenote Bart and I swam forth, to a fork wherein we passed right, A cavern lit by pink-purple light, we witnessed a witch’s bloody sacrifice.
Voices whispered upon the wind drew Bart forth toward worm ridden pool, I awoke Bart from his stupor, detected then we fled beneath the waters.
The passage left revealed another fork but we returned to Cap ‘n’ crew. No way forth through deep waters and so to town we did return,
Where Jacques stood orating ‘neath smoldering factory. Townfolk calmed and soon dispersed, tale told to us of the Choir of Worms.
Sent by Jacques to church, where “Lucy” spends her days in care. She stood before us in the square, lead us on to burnt-out mansion.
To parley, she relayed her choice to flee her family with their rum on stolen ship since lost, the rum a poison to the worms secreted away on land.
With no wish to return home, Lucinda awaiting her love’s arrival. A deal struck, to free the town and send a message to the Mother of Worms.
Her cultists stood four strong at rotting hut, as we made ready to unleash hell. Pierre the first to fall, his cookbook dropped, “I hated the Mother” his last lament.
Tentacles rose by sorceress command and our crew set upon by a four armed man. Each stunned in turn by sleep and burp, from hut burst forth a bomber futile.
Their nimblest laid on body pile, as Lucinda appeared an executioner. Fear now shone in cultists eyes, surrender came as Bart and I found sumptuous repast.
Hut set ablaze we warmed ourselves to set our wounds, spurred forth, Lucinda drove us on to church’s nave, wooden altar and chalk-drawn glyphs.
Prisoners freed from rectory, rum brought forth a hail of worms from altars keeper, Transformed to fish by Bottlesmith’s wand, gutted swiftly by Cap’n’s thrust.
Hark! Ship of the line approaches, and haste is made to clear the town, Its people set to sea in waiting vessels, Lucinda declared shepherd.
Our return to submerged caverns interrupted by discovery of forgotten corpse. Weathered map taken, to show the way to hidden ship.
Wand of the Merpeople used, gills sprouting on our crew, Set to breathe water for three hours, pondering what to do!
Pirate Björk 