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Showing results for tags 'Bay of Seals'.
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The Bay of Seals. An inhospitable body of water even in the midst of summer. In the early weeks of spring, it is a positively murderous expanse of icy blue. It was not a particularly inviting place to come ashore, but it was not dusk of the second day since the Blanchefleur had foundered east of the Bay of Seals. The wind had driven hard from the north, and rather than fight against it to reach the mouth of the Bearclaw River and the port of Nordheim, the castaway had rowed south, coming ashore in an inlet on the east bank of Gronnfjord, the westernmost tributary of the Bay. The ground was hard rock - sheltered for the most part from the weather by the steep sides of the fjord, there was little sand on the beach, merely a rugged slope of gray stone, broken somewhat by small plants, and no doubt exposed by whatever cataclysm had cut the Gronnfjord into the into the land. A chilly, damp wind, bearing with it an icy tinge of the bay, swept up as the lone, weary traveler laid the oars on the rowing bench and climbed stiffly out onto dry land. He lifted a wooden staff from the bottom of the boat. It was taller than he, completely smooth and straight save for a large knot at one end. He settled the staff in his left elbow as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and pulled down his weather-beaten hat. He reached back under the cloak and checked the position of several items strapped to his back, then stood erect and looked around him. The failing light of the sun revealed a path, not perhaps comfortable but at least safe, winding its way up the side of the fjord. Gripping the staff in his gloved right hand, the traveler climbed the beach, leaving the rowboat hanging by a few rocks under its keel. The first good rain or strong wind would dislodge it, but the traveler did not care. Where he was going now, he would have no need for this rowboat. Many long leagues lay between him and his destination, and doubtless many perils and adventures. The fate of one small Avalonian rowboat mattered little to him. At long last, he returned to his homeland, Mitgardia, but for how long and to what end remained to be seen.
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