Been all about tha streets a hell, all in our likin’, meanin ta figure tha likin’ a Merk’s business. Bein’ stung an’ worked up upon by tha devils therein. A bit worse for tha weathar an goethe-y boy lookin’ like a wind what had too many sails been washed in tha waves.
Outa nothin’ comin’ tha liken a’ old Myrhh, sight for soar eyes that bein fa’r me, woulda been liken ta have him around for a spell or two. Tricksy he ‘is with a lock or a shuddered window. Entreated I was, yet noddin’ ta tha way a thar naked form, and lookin like a fox sort a fella. Wet they were, and learnin from Master Goethe the way a tha waters down in these ways, I looked to give ‘em shelter. From the rear I ’eard tha captain call, “back to the boat!”
Double time thar was in tha’, with me bleedin’ the whole wary. Up, on tha boat, an we be bein a happy crew once more. Yet sailin’ through the Malestrom not sittin’ well in ma soul. Gneshi bein a soar soul ta be missin’ we played, an’ I told a ma travels on tha land waves. He be liken an treatin’ me tha same. Suddenly, at tha aft a tha ship tha old clockwork fright be wakin’. A message from Apsu? A liken a foe? I didn’t ta reckon, so I looked ta ma captain. Like a cat he pounced upon tha large clocklike-crank at tha back a tha fiend. If tha captain be liken, I be liken ta help tha captain. So I aim ta lend me arms ta tha struggle. Meanwhile, I be watchin’ master goethe spakin spells an handerin tha way in which ‘is likin, about tha spirits I imagine. Then as me an tha captain be tearin’ our muscles apart, old myrrhh be pullin up right underneath us. He be givin a pull of a pin, a shrug an’ a wink, an’ he be gone again. Against tha wind an tha waves, tha old clockwork fiend seemed ta falter and shut down.
Aftar tha mood calmed like an ocean spray ceasing ta a quiet sea breeze, ma calm mind pondered tha future. About this time I be wonderin’ “what’s next? Where did Myrr come from? Did we accomplish what we needed ta in hell? Do we confront the Infernal line, or chase this Slate fellow?” And as we need to answer these questions as a crew…where is Myrr? The one that could have been so helpful.
Goethe be comin up from undar, with tha look on ‘is face in a dissapointin’ way. Best ta Myrr ta be rightin tha likes a tha crew an thar destination. Be comin about him in a personal sort of affair. He an ‘is sisters want’n ta ‘ave thar privacy. Likin ta tha’ n a showin’ respect, but tha likin’ a tha crew an thar captain bein’ of a bit more import. I spake, “tha captain be wantin a word” yet all I be getting’ was tart eyes. Back ta tha captain then, an’ tha plan at hand.
Tha Captain in ‘is bravin sort a way be meanin’ ta’ traverse the maelstrom a Hell. Not sittin’ right with me thar in. A compatriotism thar bein’ in the ship a devils, with tha captain’s permitten’. Spakin a spell with tha Captain a tha devils, wantin a sea fairin’ folk what could attest ta’ our way in tha waters. ‘Just tha fella’ he be spaken, without a spell.
Upon ma he brought a devil what would lend a sea fairin parley ta show our kinship with tha Chinstrap. “Goes by tha name a Balbaal.” As I reasoned ta spake with his liken, all in response be bein’ “Balbaal.” As I entreated his likin’ ta our ship, all he be spaken be “Balbaal.” Unliken ta this I introduced him ta tha Captain, what might take ‘im off my hands. Still, all he be spaken be “Balbaal.” Entreated he bein’ ta tha likes a tha presto oozes, I entreat ‘im ta tha liken thar in. Thinkin’ a bit a washn’ be good far tha old sea dog. He be liken ta eat tha thing instead.
So thar I be…hope’in’ tha Captain be entreated with ma’ new acquisition, and ‘im….thar….chompin’ on a presto ooze. About this time, Master Goethe be touchin’ the devil’s head an spakin a spell. Ol’ Balbaal be getting’ tha liken ta spake a word what any man might be comprehendin’. Time ta dissapear an let the liken a which play out whithin’ tha Captain’s presence.
As ta tha Captain’s liken, we sails down ta tha bulges shore. A bit a hell what hell be tremblin’ about. Not liken much ta tha’. Meetin’ up with tha Chinstrap thar bein a bit a parley with tha captain an Balbaal all entreaten’ ta our liken. Upon this parley I hear ma Captain spake. Now mind ya, never ta let anyone say ‘Ol Finn not bein’ a right sailor. I follow ma’ Captain’s orders, but this sailin’ inta tha Sea of Strange got me hairs all standin’ at attention. Then I hears him call out ta the Chinstrap, and as it appeared ta the wind itself, and any other sortin a thing might try ta stand in ‘is way. To traverse the unknown, to chart uncharted waters, THIS, or death be no greater loss than cowardice.
Well I tell ya, the swell a pride be wellin’ up indeed. Into the unknown, or death. These words be ringin’ true in me indeed. The Captain had so much bravery, it seemed ta be as infectious as tha Plague itself. If we be makin’ it outa this alive, thar be bein’ stories ta tell indeed. Reskafar the Brave, Reskafar the Unwavering, Moxt Darastrix, the little dragon.
‘Twas about this time I noticed Goethe-y boy blinked outa sight. Not too strange a his likin’, but then another blinked away, then another, until it was only maself an’ tha Captain. Figurin’ it bein’ about my turn, I thinks ta maself, “Inta tha unknown is right.” I gives ma Captain a knowin’ sorta grin an a wink, and spake, “See ya on tha othar side.”