Hundreds of years ago, our ancestors were lost within strange tides, fog on all sides so thick, they couldnt see from port to starboard, atop ships of war and commerce. Months had passed within this mist, catching only glimpses of the stars above, and fighting practically every half fortnight, from multitudes of tentacles seeking to grip the vessels and drag them under, to green skinned pirates attempting to seize the guns.

I finished entering my log, though the past several days have all been the same entry:

DD/MM/YYYY Captain Arthur Williams, HMS Titan.

The day has a thick fog looming over it, if this keeps up we might well slam into the new continent, if we even find it. as the days drag on, our food stores will continue to trickle away... of the approximately 900 souls within this convoy, I fear we may lose as many as half if this continues...

Honestly, I do not know why I keep doing this... just part of the day I suppose... something must be done of this mess we find ourselves, though what that is exactly, its doubtful even the lord himself can tell you at this point. This fog has dragged on for an unnatural length of time, by my own count a staggering three months. Honestly its astounding that we havent lost one another, as we can barely make out more than the lanterns of each vessel, and even then only when we get dangerously close.

At some point I may have to put a gag order on Father Lucus, as he seems to be getting increasingly nervous. Often he has been spotted frantically flipping through his bible, as if seeking something within. If he starts spouting something about damnation, I might well have to have him thrown over the side...

Standing from my desk, I make my way out of my quarters, to see the same sight as the past few months, men peering into the fog, trying to see any break within. Making my way past the fore mast, I gazed into the water below, looking for signs of approaching a coast. Instead, I see something writhing against the hull.

I seem to not be the only one who spotted it, as one of my men calls others over, trying to figure out what could be trying to grab the vessel. Our answer wasnt long in coming, as six black pillars erupted out of the water, three to a side.

"It's a bloody kraken!", my first mate called.

"Ready the guns!", someone called as the entire crew began to panic.

I had no idea what we were supposed to do in this situation, but I was going to be damned if they were gunna waste our powder firing wildly.

"Belay that! Ready the flintlocks! Somebody signal the brigatines! Those who have em, draw yer blades!", I bellowed over the panicking crew.

No sooner had I said this, then these pillars slammed down onto the deck, crushing several men. That sure as hell didnt help calm them down. I had left my sword in my quarters, on the other side of the ship. Grasping a saxe left on deck, I ran forth and stabbed at the black pillar, but its glistening hide turned the blade like chainmail. Several men joined in the effort, not a one managing to even scratch this monster.

A thunderous crack broke the mast behind me, looking back, a seventh pillar smacked it asunder. I left aside to avoid the falling mast and rigging, yet more of my men being crushed to death. A second crack sounded, this one more welcome, the first muskets were being shot, the pellets punching that damned hide, purple blood spraying from the wounds. Unfortunateley this blasted thing refused to quit so easily, as it thrashed towards the musketmen, thankfully most ducked under it.

Seeing an opening, I made for the swivel guns, though this would be an odd angle to shoot, a chain shot might be able to sever one of these pillars of black flesh. I loaded a powder charge, and chain shot, aiming practically at the ship's hull, I lit the powder.

BOOM!

The chainshot ripped through its target, if it hadnt deflected off the hull it would have ripped it in half. A deep rumble sounded from below, making the deck visibly vibrate. Suddenly the air was full of the sounds of two full broadsides, and water erupted over both sides of the HMS Titan, causing a rain of salt water over the deck. Looking at the pillars, they had gone limp, hopefully this beast was dead.

"Haul it on deck! Lets get a look at this bastard", at my orders, the crew threw grappling hooks into the water, and hand hooks into the arms, beginning the work of dragging its head into sight.

The ocean was black with blood as we finally saw its eyes. Like some chimera of an octopus, the eyes resembled a snakes, with a jagged beak larger than one of our cannons. It was too heavy to drag onto the ship, its weight causing the ship to lean to port as it was.

"This is one ugly bastard...", I heard one of the crew mumble.

Lamps came into view as one brigatine came to help repair any damages. Thankfully we only lost one mast, but as far as the crew was concerned, we were down to a skeleton crew. This wasnt the first time I've seen crew members die... but it never gets any easier...

"whats the final count of casulties?", I asked the men behind me as I gazed out the aft windows of my quarters.

"Eighty six crew dead, ten cannons are beyond repair, and our rations are all but gone through a hole it chewed into the hull", This was listed off by my recently promoted first mate, Jackson.

"Jackson... see if you and the other men can begin fishing up some food. Have the doctor start trying to figure out a way to make the ocean water drinkable", if this kept up, we were doomed within the week.

Thankfully the waters here were rich, the men pulling up fish faster then they could butcher them in some cases. But the fish we were pulling up were strange. More then once a large fish, almost three men long, with an armored skull was brought aboard, the first time a man nearly lost an arm to its beaked mouth, but after that they stabbed it to death before bringing it aboard.

As the water supply between the ships trickles away, people are getting worried. If the doc dosen't figure something out soon, we will have more to worry about than some damned monsters. I caught that Father Lucas whispering with some of the crew, quieting when he saw me looking. Have to get some eyes and ears on him now. I'd hate to get rid of our priest, but I can't have discontent and ideas of mutiny be left festering.

The next day, we anchored all the vessels, and tethered them together, so that we may convene, and take stock of what remains of our supplies. It seems that we were the only ones attacked by that monster yesterday, but a few people have been lost to sickness, with one having died from falling from the crows nest. This conference consisted of all eight captains, their first mates, and five of the colonists to inform the rest of whats going on.

"The Titan took a huge breach to her storage, meaning all we have left is our water. I suggest the lot of ya move yer own food away from the hull, seems to be what attracted that bastard in the first place", addressing the other captains, I gave them the run down of what happened, causing the lot of them to get grave looks.

"If the Titan, with it's iron wood hull, was so easily cracked open, what chance do the rest of us have against something like that?", John, Captain of the HMS Maria, asked, looking at the other captains.

"Hopefully those things are rare here abouts, but even if they arn't, we will have to come up with a method to signal the other ships through the fog", came the calm answer of one of the colonists present, I think his name was Dock Potter.

"Well, as far as temporary measures go, we should drape rope between the ships, if something goes wrong, we have somebody shake it wildly, letting the two nearest ships know of their plight", this came from the oldest captain here, Leonard a man used to sailing the area around london, so this fog is something he has more experience with.

This much we all agreed apon, as it at least allowed us the chance to inform the others around us more quickly, while also assisting in keeping us together more reliably. Though, personally, I think it would make it more difficult for us to come to eachothers aid.

"Now, to the matter of rations. We in the HMS Lara have run out of fruits, but our water is plentiful", came the slimy words of one of the colonists, looked like a fat merchant.

"We wont be bartering here. The supplies were for the entire convoy to begin with, I wont be having any oppertunity for there to be factions", I told them sternly, earning a shrug from that tub of lard.

"Regardless, we need to avoid any unrest, as a mutiny way out here would be catastrophic", Leonard added, his point sinking in like a two tonne block.

Talks turned to maintaining order aboard the vessels, most of the worry centered on the colonists. The crews of the ships were far less likely to mutiny, wouldn't be the first time they would have had to go a bit on low rations. Still, we had to keep an eye on the crew as well, the colonists may have had numbers, but the crew had access to weaponry they were trained with. This situation was bad on all sides, but it was far more likely that we would get out of this alive if we all cooperated.

The next week was more hard going, as we tried to figure out where on gods green earth we were, while also watching for other vessels to try and ask somebody who knew anything which may help. These waters continued to prove themselves fertile, but the doc was having difficulty purifying the water, as it seems the water was so full of life that the water often burned before boiling off. The doc says it has something to do with plant matter, kind of like seeds from dandelions, but in water. Honestly I have already forgottn most of it due to how busy we have been with these star charts and maps.

That priest seems to be gaining ground despite my best efforts, and so I have ordered him to be confined to the patient room in the galley, under the pretext of having diarrhea, which is mostly true since we intentionally gave him too many shellfish the past few days. Hopefully he stays isolated long enough for folks to calm down. Folks say sailors are superstitious, but they always seem to overlook how superstitious they themselves are about the words of a priest.

No blasphomy intended, but in my experience priests tend to be the worse cut of humanity due to the privilage of their stations. The lord knows I'm a righteous man of the good book, I just have a few issues with the ones teaching it. Honestly, the things some of the more zealous of them will spout just to attract a crowd, I have heard it all, from burning brimstone, to the oncomming end of days. I had thought our man Father Lucus a even headed sort, but stress can bring many men to extremes I suppose.

Even as I write this in my log, I hear the call of the spotter in the crows nest.

"Sails spotted, I'd say eight masts!"

So we have either two or three ships of comparable size to the HMS Titan, or eight ships, making them about even with our count. None on my crew were stupid enough to assume these vessels were friendly, pirates arn't exactly a rarity on the vast waters of the world. Still, we have to get out bearings, or we could run aground, or at worst be left to starve or die of thirst. But once again, caution is a sailors best friend.

"Load the cannons! Let's see if they got anything useful to say", I bellowed as I exited onto the deck, the crew rushing to follow my orders.

I call up to the spotter for a more detailed report, learning that three were fixed together, but the rest were swaying independantly. This meant one large vessel and several smaller ones, a typical whaling convoy, possibly meaning we are closer to shore than we thought. We wont let our guards down yet, but at least we may finally be able to go ashore.

The HMS Titan broke away from the convoy, leaving them anchored to avoid losing them, the brigatines flanking us. In the past several hours, the fog grew thin enough to see out a good few paces, so I wasn't worried about slamming into the vessels without warning, however to be sure I had the cabin boy sound the signal horn so we didn't surprise them to badly. The vessels began to come into view, a collection of sloops the lot of 'em, low seated, and sleak, their hulls giving a black gleam. Pirates... But the worst part was one could see human skulls of various sizes decorating the nearest of them, so they were sick murderers as well. It was too late to turn around without being noticed now, so I had the men aim the guns at the vessels as a warning, hopefully we will be let by without incident and circle back to the convoy.

As we continued to draw near, we saw the hulking forms of the pirates, a full head taller than any of my own men, and a sickly shade of green. This was a god damned lepers fleet, and they got the green sickness! This was very bad, I couldn't allow a single one on board my vessels for fear of illness, but they looked like they could take six men each, and there was about eighty of them on the small ships alone. Luckily they seemed to know a warship when they saw one, and eyed our prow warily, obviously aware of the forward ram. The brigatines stuck close behind us, as we steered clear of the larger vessel, not wanting to tempt fate, but despite our efforts, a large harpoon came from the fog and slammed into our mast, pinning a man in place, before beginning to drag us sideways.

Not giving the rest a chance to take this opertunity, I ordered the men to open fire, filling the air with the sound of iron being flung through the air, followed by the crash of splintering wood, and the cries of deep, harsh voices. The HMS Titan unleashed a full broadside as the larger vessel, but instead of splintering wood we heard metal smash against metal. The bastards have an armored hull!

Finally they reached landfall, however they had run six of the eight vessels aground, killing the majority of those who survived the initial journey on impact, or soon after to their injuries. Very little was recovered from the wreckage, resulting in the already few survivors with barley enough preserved food to last the month.

From there, little is known as the only surviving documentation was written in the back of our oldest holy book, and the record book of the captain of the Warship. However, what is known, is that our kin grew to spread across the continent, meeting many other races capable of conversing, from the grey oriks of the north, to the Kinderfalk of the south. There are tales of lost settlements on far lands, and ancient civilizations of men from long ago, but we have yet to find much evidence for these claims.

But who knows? It is known that the maps only cover the surrounding nations, with land stretching far beyond that which has been charted... who are we to say we know all which exists within this world?