Skull & Shackles
A tattered old ship's log
The back half of this log has been converted into a makeshift journal. It’s pages are waterlogged and a blood stain mars the back cover.
I blame the accursed bells for my current plight. For three nights past we have heard them toll across the waves, disturbing our attempts at sleep. Their sound seemed to amuse the ghouls. They would cackle and echo the tolls against the bars of their cage, tormenting poor Hemlock. Now we have struck the reef and Hemlock, my friend, is dead.
When the ghouls escaped Hemlock was the first one they killed, tearing him apart and devouring his flesh. I cannot sleep for the echo of his screams. A few of us made it off the Infernus, no more than a dozen. I fear we won’t survive the night.
One of our number has taken ill. Though no expert, I am familiar enough through Hemlock to recognize the first signs of ghoul fever. The strange thing is that he bears no wounds from such creatures. A thorough examination revealed nothing more than an insect bite.
It is the mosquitoes. Another of our group has contracted the fever and is already beginning to succumb to its effects. Only six of us remain.
_We spotted a ship today, flying the skull and shackles of a free captain. I argued that our plight was desperate enough to take the risk of discovery, but my comrades disagreed. We hid ourselves and the ship passed us by. The strange sentinels _
A new threat has revealed itself today. We lost two in the night, but this time they were taken, not eaten. Taken by strange aquatic goblin creatures. Apparently there are caves beneath our feet to which our comrades were dragged. There’s talk of a rescue attempt, but in my view we’ve already troubles enough. Food is becoming and issue. We intend to plant some corn on the chance we’ll be trapped here some time. The ship that passed seems more and more like a lost opportunity.
I finally killed the last of the ghouls and stuck its head on one of the posts in the field. Now only the whores remain in their boudoir in the swamp. Three against 1. I’m traveling too far for water.
The palisade is complete. It will prove useless, however. I can already feel the chill of undeath creeping through my limbs and a hunger beyond any I have yet known forms an abyss in my stomach. I will not succumb. I will not. I have salvaged a hangman’s collar from the Infernus and will use it myself tonight, before the fever takes me. So much effort wasted.