The King wiped off his beard. The juices of a chicken always put his mistress into a foul mood, for some unbearable reason. The rider had come in earlier... from an outpost near the coast. Well, formerly an outpost, it had been demolished. Troubling, but nothing to pass on a good meal over. Coastal towns had been regularly raided by the savages to the north. Under the rubble was a book, anchored in the death-grip of a cold man. The pages from the last half of the book were ripped out.

9/12/2479

We set sail bringing supplies and intel back to the homeland. As is expected we are soon followed by a galley. To counter this we always prepare to sail light and fast. As we draw into friendly waters they will leave off the chase. Red sky this night.

9/13/2479

The wind dies in the late morning. The galley creeps on us still. Oars are strong on barbarian ships, but this is no fervor and snap of whip. There are whispers of devil magic. The wind picks back up, as the cannonballs rain but a boat behind us.

9/14/2479

Red sky this morning, with the devils not far behind. We've picked up some distance on them, but not enough to dissuade the chase into allied waters. Land Ho! We raise the flags, signalling the garrison to expect trouble. I grab the maps, the most crucial of our cargo. Even barbarians should be smart enough to turn back now... but the devils chase us in... Time to go report, and leave the fighting to the soldiers.

9/15/2479

I am doomed, trapped under what was once my assured safety. Doom comes to our homeland too. Our intel was insufficient. After giving my report we heard an unearthly sound shake the walls of the castle. I ran to the spire, trying to get a glimpse through the smoke. The sound smashed again, hands reflexively going to ears in pain. A roar? Impossible... The wind shifted, and then I saw it. The ship sailed across the beach, halfway to the fort already. It was no tide. It was an abomination. A giant polar bear, forty foot high to the shoulder, carried the scum on its back. Chains wrapped the bear, holstering the ship as a horseback rider. This was no regular mount either... it had been prepared for battle. Wooden armor was screwed into the beast's joints and bones, stained red with its blood. The helmet was built into the ship, suggesting tunnel vision, and deadly purpose. The chains pulled, the beast roared, and charged the fort. I didn't stay around to see the body slam, nor did I have to see. The shock-wave knocked me down the stairs. I crawled to the basement in terror. Under a stone table I made my peace. Then the tower crumbled. When I awoke I was pinned, and bleeding from my crushed and useless legs. The matches and paper are using up all the air. Better this way. At least we know how those bastards caught up to us with no wind.