how many years have you waited…. Back in the your sailing days you took to the Great Lake to hunt the crimson whale… and ever since a stray wave cast you into the waters you where never found again, drew another breath? Nay… forgotten as just another poor soul swallowed by the waters, as the tides dragged you ever deeper, stealing the air from your lungs you’re last thoughts where not of family nor your crew only your conviction that one day you’d be the one to fell the crimson whale, attain glory, riches, peace of mind… as the light faded and you ‘died’ beneath the lakes vast waters those thoughts of an everlasting hatred and desire for glory would run rapid in your mind till the gaslight lantern you called your heart flickered to life once more, pure conviction being your guide you clawed your way up from the depths to the shore, you bare your eyes upon a ship docked “The Pequod” was engraved into the bow it was much like your own ship “The Morgan” similar size design, all to familiar you wandered from the shallow tides to the ships port side in which you find a woman with a harpoon in hand, a gas lamp in the head of the harpoon, you both locked eyes… her face was so familiar … as if you’d seen this woman before but even as you racked your mind no bells rang to chime a memory…

her glare was hostile, her appearance that of a well acquainted sailor, her pointed gaze laying upon you evoked a sense of mutual hostility towards each other as if a primal instinct where telling you to kill her.

“Another one of you bastards aye? It seems more and more pale dead sailors keep rising from their watery graves, the dead shouldn’t comeback, so I’ll only ask you this once. Keel over and go back to the lake, I don’t have time for drowned corpses.”