The ship adrift at sea,
A sea in perpetual tempest,
Wind whipped waves crash down,
With the weight of mountains.

Flags flap frantically,
Begrudgingly bearing the Sigil,
A lone wolf, looking onto shore.

Howling without mercy,
The wind forces the ship ahead,
As if wrought from steel,
Its sails snap,
Barking back at the wind.

Alone at the prow of the ship,
An unwavering wolf figurehead,
Baring it's fangs at the oncoming onslaught,
Its menacing gaze set,
Somewhere in the distance.

Like a rose detesting harm,
Thorns adorn the hull,
A vain attempt at defence,
To deter the Kraken's caress.

Above board in sight of all,
The crew stands on deck,
Strong, defiant, ready.

Below decks, willpower wanes,
Those that can sleep,
Dream of sailing into the abyss.

Comfort from asylum harbour,
Drains away into the void,
No one feels this more than the Captain.

Sat at his desk topped with sand,
He lets his fingers explore,
Grains take new form,
Wearily he smiles.

Near him,
Hammer,
Chisel,
Marble,
Unfinished,
A painful pursuit,
But necessary.

Like a second skin,
He equips his armour,
Stepping out from his shadow,
Taking the helm in hand,
Face now determined,
Ready to battle the storm.