OnTheMountainTop

A harsh wind blew across the Western Sea, whipping the water into a seething tumult. In the middle of the storm sat a large fishing trawler, the Livelier. The ship rolled violently from side to side, reeling with the waves like a drunken troll. Night had fallen, but the elven crew still scrambled about the deck, hauling lines and dropping anchors to keep the ship steady in the waves. In the middle of it all, from a bait tank on the aft deck, a young merman watched the chaos unfold. On his boyish face was a permanent scowl, sneering at the sailors with contempt. I hope the storm sinks this rotten ship, Samu'el thought darkly. It would serve