"Above the filthy waters, you can already see what waits for us," the captain's cry, lightning gracing the sky.
A mighty beast is upon us, drawing across the water.
No sword or shield could prevent the approaching depths, rising to crush the lost and wayward souls who oppose its vengeance.
A voice thunders, though to my ears alone;
"Who is this who, without death, can journey through the kingdom of the dead?"
Fifty dead men walking chanted to the inner soul of the sea,
"Consider what impetuous force turns stars and planets in a different course.
I steer against their motions; nor am I born back by all the current of the sky."
Ill giving and ill keeping, the ocean swells magnify.
Has the sky turned against us?
Have the gods cast us aside, Shepard abandoning sheep?
Black clouds and black thoughts, black waters and lost hope.
Lonely ghosts in the shadow of a hollow hearted sun.
"Have faith men, stand together!
For dark dreams have overcome the reality of this moment;
the sea lives and the devil walks with him.
Remain strong at heart and the tremors will pass,
remain strong in mind and you will conquer the sky."
And we sail on; "let us descend into the blind world now."
Stand together!
The vessel shakes, willed apart by the deconstructor around it.
The hellish hurricane, which never rests, drives on these spirits with its violence, wheeling and pounding it harasses them.
White knuckles, clenched teeth.
The heavens crash; I fainted as if I had met my death, and then fell as a dead body falls.