Well, I'll be blown to starbourd..

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This here piece is about gettin me ship all up and runnin after a fair piece in dry dock...

Farther than a fair piece

 Finally the sails stand full, a westerly wind pushin us hard to port to be sure, but we skipped along nicefully, tiller set strong to the north, and kept aur headin near as could be.  Five days with a taught jib. Won't be long a fore the walled city cracks the horizon, won't be long a fore the gold keeps us steady a keel through the turmutulus storms.

If once there were a Winter

 It fell, no matter.  There was a spell where we could tell the sky was bout to break, and teh wind coming fron the northe had teh scent of salmon.  And fell they did, that's what be meant by silent furey.  Quiet, but the cold and teh wind bite with frozen tooths.

Gimme teh crackelin' wood, and bottl o Spirits I say! Warms the skin, and the heart, no matter what shape they be in...

Moab

Late fer the Opera...

A wee spot of trouble back there, sorry for the inconvience.   

Thar be wind, and thar be teh Devil!

It were a tough day fer me n' my crew. Restless we be, fer the taste of adventure be rottin in our memories like a rum runners teeth. I can smell the wind, and it blows not fer us. It smells stale tellin me it be past our time here in this fetid port.

Time be nigh fer leavin, so a leavin it must be. Ports be many and scattered, so leave it to the wind we must, be it fair breezes, or be it the Devil! Away we must be!

Moab

There be 364 Talk like a Landlubber Days

Why there be such a day as this, the listing ninteenth of the ninth month, I will never know. Be it finally a time to appriciate the intracacies of our beloved spoken word? Or perhaps it be some sort of game down playin the role of an honest Pirate in these lawless times. No matter, the mockery don't bode well, and feeds the fire brewin deep in the Crusaders cannons!

This here mockery of the very letters that the lord cursed us with makes a true sea farin laddie such as meself sick to the depts of his very soul. Why these poor deluded pretenders stain the nobel persuit of plunder is as mysterious as a pair of giant squid a matin. Aye, that be something no mortal should ever have to see...

Cap'n Moab

If this be swill, then pigs be pearls

Puttin back a few o them sparklin barleys, and I be the first to say that it do feel good to have the blood a flowin with just that lil bit less o that resistance, as it were.

A few more, a, dear Davey, won't need no boat to be doin me floatin fer me! Tis a shame that the last little bit o' work fared so badly. Now we be left with ner a ducket for the next flaggon. No matter, tis not the frist my men and I have fallen into this sort of shiftless squander. If the God be a blowin' our sails true, we be not long in this squalid state of affiars. For, as the fires nurishes our corpses, we shall soon be bathing in the sparkle of gold. Bathing in a pool so deep one could easily drown.

Ahhh, to drown in gold! Tis the way to go for a man like me...

Moab

Avast ye, all who enter here!

Beware me hearties, for beyond these pages lies a dark and dangerous place where light filters through like we be swimmin 20 leagues under the sea.

Forsake thee, those who sign up to sail the Desert Seas with this scurvy crew of untamed curs, thy future. For we be ready to set sail, and what lays ahead might just change the way yer squarmy little live mean to ya!

Yers truly,

Capt'n Moab