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. On a schedule most elusive, She docks at the ports and unloads her cargo upon 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.