We have left the Abecean Sea behind and entered the Sea of Pearls, the waters that surround the Thrassian Archipelago. Never was a sea so ill-named as this one: the enthusiasm of my earlier entry ends here.
For two days we have been wracked by storms more foul and terrible than any I have ever seen. They seem to grow worse as we approach Thras. The crew talks of terrible whispers on the air and glimpses of rotting things moving in the water. I myself have been too sick to see or hear anything other than my own illness. In all my years, I've never suffered the sickness of the rolling sea before. That doesn't bode well for the rest of this trip.
We were a mighty fleet with sails as numerous as the trees of my native Alten Corimont. Now I cannot know our number. The fog, with its stench of rot and terrible foulness, obscures our vision and makes it hard to see beyond two lengths of the mast. We passed rocks as we approached that were only a few paces from our hull. We hear the cracks and screams that indicate our sister ships were not so lucky.
The fog ended today. We emerged from what appeared to be a solid wall of cloud that extended in an unbroken circle around the islands of the Sloads. Our first view of the largest island was awe-inspiring: a tower, taller than any I have ever seen and made of blood-red coral, reached into the sky. A terrible blue light flickered at its apex like an strange bud upon the tower's stalk.
|Journal of Tsona-Ei|
|Journal of Tsona-Ei, Part One||Journal of Tsona-Ei, Part Two||Journal of Tsona-Ei, Part Three|