Raffles & Giveaways

@comicsans hi! btw, 34406361, 34406362, and 34406363 have breed bonuses (:

@comicsans no problem! :P thanks again for the fast acceptances :D

@comicsans

15 Level 7 PAs incoming :)

IDs as follows:

33537341
33961037
34103101
34131268
34131269
34131310
34161054
34149921
34177176
34181646
34181648
34193234
34214166
34215703
34256135

[BR]----- -----[columns][FONT=CAMBRIA][SIZE=4]SHIP'S LOG, DAY THE FOURTH; [/SIZE][/FONT][nextcol][color=transparent]++++++++++++++++++++++++++[nextcol][right][FONT=cursive][SIZE=4][i][b]discovery[/b][/i][/SIZE][/FONT][/columns]----- ----- [columns][nextcol][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33560339][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/portraits/335604/33560339p.png[/img][/url][nextcol][color=transparent]++++[nextcol][indent][font=cambria][size=4][b]T[/b][/size][font=cambria][size=4][i]his day began with brooding weather: a strong nor’westerly breeze (perhaps the same one that blew the day the galleon met her fate), choppy seas.[/i] Having kept a cautious eye on our blue-eyed competitors’ vessel over the past twenty-four hours, the crew and I agreed that they mean us no ill will; it would be safe for the four of us to hunt the wreck together. We made much show of merriment as we cast off to the day’s venture, though not even I could deny that the wreck’s very presence seemed to all of us an ominous portent. Not a word was spoken of yesterday’s trepidation. The wreck loomed afore us and the [i]Frosty Fortune[/i] dwindled into the distance - at times the swell rising to such a height that aught but the furled t’gallants were visible above the waves. The crew grew silent. I reminded them to each keep their weapons close at hand, that we could not be overconfident in assuming our competitors meant us no ill will. The lie rang hollow in the unnaturally still air surrounding the ship as we made fast the longboat and began the climb. The old ship’s hull made an easy ladder, her beams gapped and gaping where the caulk has been beaten away by the sea. One must be cautious, for barnacles yet cling to the silvery timbers, the wicked crustaceans primed and ready to open the flesh of any heedless sailor. Resolutely, I ignored the way the howling winds fell away as I stood on the ship’s twisted deck. Trick of the mind, as a surety - Laurentia’s theories and the odd happenings of yesterday were merely playing on my thoughts. Of course, Whipwillow lead the crew below, throwing back the rotting hatch down to the first gun deck with a fierce vigour that I know was not mere bravado. Were it possible, the silence grew in depth and texture the further we descended. Ancient cannon, pitted and green with rust and salt, lay haphazard about the deck where they’d slipped their tethers in the squall that put an end to the galleon. Neat piles of shot in places had rusted into tiny, strange pyramids - Beaufort mentioned softly that they put him in mind of shrines to some ancient god of war. As we passed the galley - a far cry from the dragonforged stove aboard the Fortune; here, the wreck’s cook would have made done with a crude construction of simple clay brick - the darkness only deepened, to the point where I had Laurentia light another lamp. It seemed the candlelight’s small warm aura could penetrate only so far into the damp stillness of the ship - it seemed, at times, that its range would lessen, the shadows creeping closer even as we huddled nearer one another. Our breath puffed from our mouths and nostrils in flightly little clouds as we descended past the lower gun deck, the chill and damp everpresent. When we paused at the landing to the orlop, Laurentia cast her lantern out in front of her, searching the dark with desperate eyes. She cried a greeting that was swallowed by the dark depths of the silent ship and never returned, not even as a disjointed echo. Her lantern illuminated naught but coiled and rotted cables, the great spare lines of standing and running rigging yet stored for refit that would never happen. The sight stirred a sorrow in my breast; for in the end, a wreck such as this is always a sad and somber tale. Finally, we reached the hold, and found the door barred. Whipwillow, Beaufort and I set to clearing the obstruction while Laurentia continued to explore what parts of the ship she could without leaving the light of our band of lanterns. She remained of a distracted and quietly determined countenance even as we let out cries of adulation as the final blow of Whipwillow’s boarding axe freed the old door from its weary frame. The sight that waited for us on the other side of that door was so unexpected, so surpassed of all expectation, that those of us at the threshold fell to silence. As far as the dim torchlight would allow, between every one of the ship’s great ribs, in every space the eye could see, there lay a great and glittering treasure. As the ensnared ship yet managed to heave and sway a little with the swell of the sea, so too did the hoard glitter and gleam. All along the length of the hold - here and there where the torchlight failed, gold and precious things gleamed back at us through the darkness - it lay in abandoned splendour. Laurentia had been speaking when she came up to our backs, but but her litany left no impression on us as we beheld the bounty of this find. Her words stuttered to a stop, and I managed to turn my eyes from the gold and silver to look at her: her very face was lit by the soft gold hues of the treasure before it, I swear by my pride as an Ice dragon of the Southern Icefields. I am a simple dragon, long acquainted with the sea. I lack, I fear, the words to do justice to the multitude of riches that lay before us, their splendour not diminished by the sea that had struggled for unknown eons to reclaim it. Even now as I recount my memories to the page, it seems impossible that this wreck - splendid though the vessel was - could have held such unimaginable wealth. The fear of earlier in the day was entirely forgotten as we made all haste to gather up some of the trove; small fancies we took, unequipped as we were to move the cumbersome sea-chests of hardwood, filled with gold and riches. It left an ill taste in the mouth, turning our backs on that which we had found and felt was ours by right of blood and history, to say nothing of our finder’s claim. And yet even then I knew this wealth of gold and silver, as well as culture, of history, would fill the hold of the [i]Frosty Fortune[/i] more than twice over. As we departed, the eerie, unnatural silence of the ship began to fade, the sounds of sea and swell returning once more. I do not know that I preferred her sounds. Our footfalls were responded to with deep, foreboding groans that seemed to carry through the very bones of the ship as though she were a beast alive: some ancient, sleeping creature slowly stirring from sullen slumber. Yes, I would concede if asked that these were common sounds upon a vessel; timbers are wont to creak and groan with movement. Ask any sailor and it would be immediately and emphatically agreed; a ship is a thing alive. And yet for all my years upon the water… the groaning of the timbers loomed large in my mind. We were silent as we climbed up through the decks to the surface. Silent, that is, until the yelp that Mr Coxswain emitted as one of the ancient cannon suddenly broke free from its rotten tether only to roll across the sloping deck toward him! The old wheels, however, were just as rotten as the cable, and the gun stopped in its path before it could do dear Beaufort any harm. Our chuckles of relief and mirth at his overreaction were small, thin sounds that quavered and disappeared into the ship, swallowed by the dark. The warm, soft smells and sounds of [i]Frosty Fortune[/i] have perhaps never been so soothing nor so welcome. Feeling that we all could use some extra warmth after the ominous portent that had gathered aboard the wreck, I dug out the last of the Icewarden’s Tawny, much to the ardor of the crew; I might daresay we were all eager to smother our lingering trepidation from today’s trip with the liquor’s unique warmth. We set up boards among the guns to serve as tables, uncorked the wine, and spilled our spoils upon the surface to examine by the hearty light of the ship’s lanterns. We drank to the good health of each of us, our clans, mates and to the glory of the Icewarden, in whose name this treasure so surely would be claimed. And then, in the spirit of good spirits, we drank to the good health of the Water crew anchored somewhere nearby as well. Truly, such fine company was well deserved of such fine wine. We plan to return to the wreck at the first light of dawn, and to carry such supplies as would allow us to remain on the vessel until we have determined, at last, her secrets. [/indent] [right][br][br][font=cursive][size=5] - [i]Captain Frost Hallowind[/i] [/columns][br][br][center] [img]http://flightrising.com/images/cms/trinket/3395.png[/img][img]http://flightrising.com/images/cms/trinket/20120.png[/img][img]http://flightrising.com/images/cms/trinket/262.png[/img][img]http://flightrising.com/images/cms/trinket/5916.png[/img][/center] [br] [br] [right]-----[b]credits[/b]: ithika (46361), jetfeather (279801) and squidragon (48487)[/right]-----

Online and ready to go!

@comicsans in line 1116, i have been bestowed the honor of being a dragon id. unfortunately, this honor is undeserved :P i'm pretty sure you meant 34405807.