JoeSmith

Aasim, a stowaway, jumped aboard in Jan Mayen. A small Nordic Isle used by the crew to hide prisoners and treasure alike. From Svalbard, his ancestors were great Nordic archers. Pagan in belief, he was forced to flee his home for his sadistic Heathenism. The worst being the Burning down of the town’s Christian church during mass, nailing giant oak boards across the doors damning the faithful to a slow fiery death. When He was discovered huddled in the hull among the barrels of rum and fresh water Terrified upon his reveal, Aasim lunges upon his discoverer with a ferial hunger. Having not eaten for a month except for the occasional curious rat, Aasim tears into his prey’s throat with a fatal sever. Gulping the warm nectar he feels his energy slowly returning. Finally sleep finds the stow away, his eyes heavy from days of sleeplessness. It won’t be long now before he is discovered. Surely there will be a thorough search for the cook upon meal time. “Rest is key to your survival” he says, closing his eyes.

The Midnight seas crash over the Hull. The Nordic winds rip the sea air cracking the sails taught, speeding the Massive ship over furious white tipped waves. They are headed north at a blistering pace, the cliffs can’t be far off now. The smell of sulfur from the sea spray burns the First mates eyes as he stumbles from the cabin. A furious wave slams the starboard walls, sending him headlong into the stern side railing. A crunch of wood and bones fills Barrett’s ears. He feels the ominous warm flow of fluid passing his eyes. The salty water feels like bees stinging in the freshly opened wound. As he cross’ him self to beg forgiveness the next wave sends him cart wheeling overboard, an offering to St. Elmo.
There are two left upon this damned voyage. A penance will be paid for the deeds of this crew. Thirty set sail and two remain.