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The Wine Dark Sea

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Sunwolfe

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     Gods! 
     Suwolfe unconsciously tightened his grip on ship’s rail. The roleplaying seas change yet again. He shook his head in wonder gazing sightlessly out at a horizon he could not see but where he knew sea and sky met. 
     “Around and around and around we go; where it stops, nobody knows,” he chanted under his breath to the rhythm of the bireme’s oars.
     “Orders, lord?” his first mate asked softly. He acknowledged the man with a slight turn of the head but said nothing. The crew was nervous. 
     Orders indeed.
     They’d been without support, or even the promise of it, for quite some time now. Separated from the fleet during the last great storm they, along with two other galleys, had maintained visual contact but an unexpected squall around dawn had scattered even that tiny squadron. Now they were alone with the seas still shifting and unpredictable. 
     Where to, indeed. Eventually they’d eventually need provisions—even if they foraged for themselves, as they had done for so long before the fleet had gathered, sooner or later they’d crave support.
     Glorantha? Out of the question. Though its particulars were fascinating to some, they’d never held much allure for him or his crew.
     Another rune quest? He mentally sighed. What was the definition of madness? Something about expecting different results? He couldn’t remember, besides, there was really no point, considering its ties to Glorantha.
     BRP? Again, there was the issue of support. No doubt the scattered fleet, or what was left of it, was just as much at a loss and concerned for supply and supplement as he was.
     There was treasure off to the east and though he knew it existed, eastern landfall was distant and he wasn’t sure his crew could last the journey without some sort of respite.
     There was also rumor of a new group of islands to the north. Though they were closer, he suspected they were some they’d already visited and had simply been renamed. He’d enjoyed them, but his crew had not.
     “Can a leopard change his spots…?” he murmured.
     “Lord?”
     “West” he said, “turn her head to the west”
     “West, Lord, but there’s nothing—“
     Sunwolfe’s sharp look cut off the man’s protest.
     “Yes, Lord” he amended quickly and began relaying orders to make his captain’s wishes reality.
     His gazed about lovingly at the battered ship.
     “It’s my fate; I suppose,” he whispered. Sailing with the old and outdated, taking what was needed, solving their own problems, it was really nothing new. 
     So, pirates once again, he smiled ruefully…though there had been a time when he’d hoped they’d finally found a home port—he shook off the thought with a shrug and turned back to face the blurred and unknown horizon.
     It doesn’t matter, really; for now, we yet sail.

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