The Marcus Logs: Chronicles Of The Western Edge
The following chronicle, recorded on brittle, salt-damaged parchment, was retrieved from a shipwreck discovered off the western coast of Solara. Scholars estimate these findings date back 249 years. The original manuscript required two years of linguistic analysis and translation due to the archaic hand and maritime slang. The original logs remain securely stored in the Royal Solaran Vault.
Entry 1: Day 1
I, Marcus Finn, Navigator of the Endeavour, record this passage. My duty is to chart the course and claim the secrets of the sea, and today, that sea is the unknown West. We cast off from Port Veridia, the southernmost city in the Kingdom of Nexus. Ten souls comprise our crew, each a seasoned hand. Our Captain is Emora, the first woman to hold the master’s commission in Nexus, and my best mate since we were dock rats. She pushes the Endeavour harder than any old salt I’ve known. The vessel is sound, but this self-funded run requires speed and luck. We sail along known coastal currents for two weeks before turning into the vast, blank charts. My hope is not merely for gold, but to break the map entire, to prove the Western Barrier is not impassable. Morale is cautious, but Emora’s confidence is our anchor. We push into the wide sea now, leaving the established world behind.
Entry 2: Day 14
Routine Log. Two weeks of stable weather and fair winds. We’ve kept the mainland in sight, mostly. The crew’s discipline remains sharp, thanks to Emora’s rigid command structure; no slackers allowed. The last known landmark is behind us now. Our charts hold true no longer. Emora and I fixed our sights, we turn sharply west at the first bell of the morning watch. I took a fix on the stars tonight; they are the only reliable compass we have left. Emora fears the calm won't last, and she's ordered the mast stays checked twice over.
Entry 3: Month 2, Day 1
Land sighted! Two months out, and against all odds, we’ve found new ground, not marked on any chart I’ve ever laid eyes on. They rise from the turquoise sea like emerald sentinels. The crew felt a brief surge of relief upon seeing solid soil again, and even Emora admitted the land was pristine. I ordered the longboats lowered. I claimed this discovery for the Kingdom of Nexus. I named the largest island Emora, after the only Captain who would trust me on this voyage, and the smaller island, Easton, after my son, who waits for me back in Port Veridia. We secured fresh water, took essential samples of the local flora and strange rock, and secured the mast bracing before the next leg. The keel is sound, but the rudder has taken a fair bit of punishment from the constant wake. We set sail immediately; no time to linger in these quiet waters.
Entry 4: Personal Log
I miss my Sam and Easton something terrible. I pray they know I think of them and that they miss me, too. I hope Easton still remembers me when I come back home after this long journey, as he was but a baby when I left.
I informed Captain Lyra of the naming convention just before the evening watch. She merely smiled. We shared a measure of spiced rum, sitting on the quarterdeck under the stars. It was a good moment, easy and honest, reminding us of our days back in the Nexus training yard, when we were just recruits dreaming of a ship of our own.
Entry 5: Month 2, Week 3
The smooth sailing is over. The sea has turned foamy, foul, and utterly against us. Currents are violent, unpredictable, and run deep. This is not just a storm; this is the extreme border turbulence the old salts feared existed. The Endeavour is fighting every wave, and the mainmast groans with every pitch. Emora has ordered a double crew on deck, but the constant wildness is draining the men faster than the rations restore them. We spent yesterday securing the canvas from the unpredictable winds. We sail with extreme caution, struggling to hold a course. Crew morale is compromised, confined entirely below deck, battling fear and sickness.
Entry 6: Month 3, Day 6
We endured a catastrophic storm, a savage squall that lasted a lifetime. The ship held, thank the stars, but the sea claimed three good men, swept overboard by rogue waves before a line could be thrown. I record their names with sorrow. Arthur Moor 34, Kirtus Moor 27, Alex McHorus 41. Their absence is felt keenly, they were strong hands. Crew remaining: 7. Emora is solemn, but her resolve is iron. She ordered the deck cleared of all non-essential gear and the yardarms lowered. We continue west, every remaining hand focused on the next hour, praying the wind holds.
Entry 7: Month 3, Week 2, Day 2
Land sighted. It is stark and terrifyingly silent. Bone-white and barren. Not marked on the chart. I claim this coastline as new discovery and name it Terra Mortis. We see no life, hear no wind, and the water near the shore is unnaturally still. The unnatural silence unnerves the crew, and Emora refuses to bring the ship close; she fears the very air near the shore. We follow the coast, maintaining a safe distance.
Entry 8: Month 4, Week 1
The coastline has changed dramatically. Terra Mortis has given way to vast desert terrain. We passed several small islands with human structures, likely old watchtowers or failed outposts, but no port. The crew’s morale has improved slightly with the sight of something recognisable, but the endless desert on the mainland is disheartening. We are severely low on fresh food and water. Emora has us rationing hard; the men are restless.
Entry 9: Month 5, Day 3
We have arrived at a large, active dock. This town is odd, and it feels primitive. The buildings are simple stone and timber, and the attire is cloth, lacking the advancements of Nexus. The crew is openly confused, speculating that we have sailed back in time. We require immediate resupply and maintenance. Emora reclaimed the anchorage as Dustfall.
Entry 10: Month 5, Day 5
We restocked and secured necessary repairs. The locals here are prudent, but trade was successful. We depart, following the desert coastline west-northwest. Emora and the men remain convinced this land is strange and somehow cursed.
Entry 11: Month 6, Week 2, Day 4
The land has begun to curl sharply North. The desert is gone. We sail past open, green land. It is beautiful, virginal. We continue following the mainland north.
Entry 12: Month 6, Week 4, Day 1
We sail toward a massive island off the coast. It is unlike anything encountered. Even though the sun is high, black, unmoving clouds perfectly hover over the island, casting it in perpetual darkness. The island is completely obscured by a black shadow. The crew is gripped by a terrible foreboding. Emora and I held a council. We unanimously agree to turn the ship around and sail south immediately.
Entry 13: Personal Log - The Inevitable North
I feel a profound terror. The wind has dropped entirely, yet the ship is driven forward as if by a massive, invisible hand. The currents are no longer natural; they are a mechanism of the island itself. The Black Island pulls us toward it. We are not sailing; we are being summoned. My curiosity demands I know the nature of this cold, black heart, but my duty screams for retreat.
Entry 14: Month 7, Day 1
The sea is against us. The currents are impossibly strong, violent, and relentless. We cannot gain ground south. The ship's rudder is unresponsive. Crew morale is shattered. Emora has given up. We held a desperate vote. We are preparing to abandon ship and jump overboard. I name this island Thoom, for the inevitable sound of our doom.
Entry 15: Month 7, Day 1, 12 Hours Later
We are lost. The ship is unmanageable. Thoom is large before us. We can start to see shadows and shapes moving on the shoreline, waiting for us. They are not natural.
Entry 16: Final Log: Month 7, Day 1, 13 Hours Later
The ship has crashed on the rocky shore. I am alive, hiding in the hold. I hear screams and the sounds of combat. I saw monsters and tall humans with crimson skin and bones protruding from their skulls.
Entry 17: Personal Log:
I am sealing this journal in the strongest cask. My end is near. I hear unholy sounds of slaughter on the deck above. I don’t know who of the crew is left. I am hiding. Tell Sam and Easton I love them.