Ho there - You've encountered the HMS Santianna.

I assume you are tired of all the barnacle-ridden drafts that clutter the straits, traveler? Those stories -  writing about beings that turn into monstrous creatures in the light of a full moon, Of the flotsam of carnal desires?

Well fret no longer. Twice a year, she sails the High Seas and docks at the ports of the flooded harbors, unloading her cargo onto the docks.

Any weary travelers are welcome to come aboard. Be it a fisherman, a farmer, a frog, or even the smallest of wrens.

She's a fast clipper ship, At her helm stands a single madman, with a single goal - To sink the Navy that pushed these stories up to the top.

Rest, traveler. Read the stories in her hull - They are many, and the Great Dying has not infected their pages. 

We carry no guns - the pen is mightier than the sword, after all.

I mostly write grimdark stories that attempt to respect the lore of the home port. Or, in crossover cases, Blending both lores with the one connecting thread of the tapestry.

Next Voyage: July 29th.

Last Voyage: January 29th. (Captain's note: We haven't unloaded all our cargo yet; expect that by February, landlubbers.)