Curse of the Witch Prologue

  Footsteps echoed eerily throughout the ship's rancid smelling cargo hold. I held my breath as one of the ship's crew walked a little too close to my hiding spot for comfort. I had been aboard the vessel for many days now, and we were too close to our destination for me to be discovered now, and likely tossed overboard by the merciless crew. The ship herself, aptly named the Wanderlust, was a two-masted vessel that cut through the water so quickly that it must have been aided by magic. Indeed, there was something fishy about the crew.

  The crewman dug around in the crate I hid behind. I lay still under my tarp, my lungs burning for air. I assumed he found what he was looking for, and the footsteps faded away slowly.  I breathed a sigh of relief. I listened for a few more moments to be sure, and then threw back the tarp.

  Checking to see if the coast was clear, I climbed up a few crates and peeped out the porthole. Dusk was fast approaching and the rolling clouds told me a storm would be upon us that night. I sighed. I loved the rain, but by the gods, it was a pain when one was at sea. The stuffy hold had me wishing for sea air, so I inhaled deeply. The stench of decay assailed my senses. Gagging, I turned to the source of the horrid smell. I almost screamed.

  I awoke silently in a cold sweat. Looking around, I took in the familiarity of my quarters. Sighing, I got up and walked quietly to the upper decks. Another nightmare, I thought to myself.  That could only mean one thing. An adventure was coming.