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...What was that?
You feel a weight in your chest at the very memory. What you saw back there was unexplainable, but clear; evidence of the power of the supernatural.
"That was the Scurvy-Death lad." Squint whispers. "Nasty work..."
<span class="mu-r">"I think- I think it didn't effect me. Though I plugged my ears to be sure."</span>
"The Scurvy Death may not have been after you this time, but trust me, it doesn't take prisoners. Destruction only follows those who follow that Death..."
You remember the raving man beating his fists against the coral docks and writhing around, as if possessed. You felt as though your very soul was at stake in that moment, like some great and unconscious evil was sweeping over you. You are very fortunate you didn't break out in hives yourself! But then again, you wonder... what could drive someone to worship something some evil and wretched. Greed? Or desperation?
You realize, of course, you may be on the same path. Not of the man, but as the tormentors, the one who lorded their wealth and privilege over others. You never considered it, you were always in the upper class of Guyot, but that was a humble place. So many desperate souls, just needing a drop of Sweetwater to stave off the suffering of the Scurvy-Death, yet denied it, all to stay in power. Should those people really be who you are jealous of? You look down at your whale skin coat, feeling a bit guilty. Even if you had split it to your crew, you'd be the same as those guards and those officials, giving mock charity to the desperate and needy. You've been so focused on getting on your feet as a Captain of your own ship, a great and lofty position, you never thought about them. But what good could you even do yourself?
Do you think you're going down the right path?
>Yes
>No
