In the month of Miraman, 548 years After the Fall,
Lord Neraeos Rage came upon Sapience to call.
The seas began, in the most wretched of ways,
To lay waste to all the good ships on those days.
When the tumult began none knew what was to pass
Not singer, nor wise man, nor gypsy with glass.
Before the darkness would part o'er the land,
All men would stand with their chin in their hand.

The waves arose and oh, how they crowned.
Before its time, The Darkwind had drowned.
The Great Captain he felt a deep crack in his heart
When The Maelstrom was ravaged and torn part from part.
A helmsman did try with all of his soul
To keep to his station and his master's ship whole.
But the ships so stunning all would break deep
And find their own ways to Lord Neraeos's keep.

The Sunray, she steadied, and meant long to stay
But it was not long before her brave hull gave way.
"Oh pity Us great Lord," so cried an old crone
'Grand Neraeos, please let the ships stay in safe home.'
As the ship took on water and did so too fast
The Sunray did give witness to light for the last.
Cries sounded out from across all the ports
As they waited so anxiously for loved ones' reports.

The harbors, they gave no shelter or hope
And the crews did their best with canvas and rope.
But the raging gave no care unto them
As sailors were whisked from 'neath sail's hem.
Main masts and riggings rang out a sad sad cry
And soon it was time for The Waterwytch to die.
A brave set of souls did keep up that ship,
And narrowly from sea's grasp did they slip.

"Oh Vastar! Please aid us," came fishermen's wails,
'Save us from the Lord that dampens our sails!'
But no aid came from above to save from the plight,
As all that seemed day had turned into night.
Ships fell in number too great for the mind,
Many sucked deep with their sails finely lined.
But this would not slake the seas as they roar,
As even the gull and albatross, inland would soar.

The crashing and moaning of ships screamed aloud
'Til many a fine fleet by destruction were plowed.
Next came the waves to take The Passing Dawn,
And surely by morning that fine vessel was gone.
Sailors were nervous, not much more could they abide
But the ocean did relent, and waves did subside.
So people from all places, from Mhaldor to Hashan,
Felt riddled and pondered the folly of man.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Scarlatan, in the year 548 AF.