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Kaptain’s Log

(The following is my own transcript of the Kaptain’s scrawl. Apparently he was drunk at the time of this entry. C.G.T. Rubinstein)

24. of sngain, 729

Just came home from party! Real funny! There was this GORGEOUS lady/woman all over the place! Her name was layla! Yeah… She was GORGEOuUSS! (picture of matchstick figurine with large…) And mr. Mayor’s me bestest friend! Sooo nice! Oh Commander-up-his-arse was there! And his cow. Such nice peple. Very nice (unintelligible due to stain)

KAptn JJB

(Picture of breasts)

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Kaptain’s Log

23. of sungain, 729

Morning
Strong winds from starboard side this night; I fear we may be hit out of course, not because of the winds though. Due to the hard winds we were forced to go lower, and a flock of seagulls felt like soaring at starboard side in the upwind. Now these latent creatures with aggressive bowel disorders tainted the starboard wing, letting the Sunhawk lean a few degrees to the North, due to the weight of their… leavings. It is absolutely crucial that we reach our destination in time. The crew does not get that many chances to party and live life. Sure, we got our festivities onboard, but it sure lacks the company of “landlubbers” and girls. Cook had been ordered to jump down with the first mate and scrape the leavings off.

Whenever we go for shoreleave I am often invited by the crew to some of their wild parties, but often I simply have to say no, because of official duties, like tea parties and banquets with the local aristocrats, mayors and ambassadors. Not this time; the Mayor of Leaf, Ulrich Welles (or as the townspeople know him “Willie the Whale”) is often seen hammered in the pig sty at festive events, and with him as Mayor, those events happen frequently. It is a mystery how he became mayor, but I guess it’s that “Man of the People”-attitude that keeps him well regarded. Besides, infrastructural demands and other day-to-day political matters in Leaf are taken lightly; the city never looks the same from day to day anyway.
But getting back to the topic, I am delighted that the Mayor has invited me and the entire crew to his private bloom festival-party. It is said to be the party of parties in all of Moldh, so we are all very excited, but I can’t let the thought slip that we are not invited because of our status in the Moldhian fleet, but because we are illegally shipping all the booze needed for that particular festivity. Whatever the reason, I am sure we all need this, which is why we must get back on course as soon as possible!

Evening.
We are now back on course. Apparently the wind threw us farther off course than expected and we had to do some sickening maneuvers to catch up. I radioed our status quo in to my superior officer, Commander Lawrence Williams. Apparently he is meeting up with us in Leaf and frankly I am not pleased (unless he steps too close to the edge of the city and accidently falls, perhaps crippling himself). Well’ I’ve got a surprise for him; the bridge in Leaf, connecting the aerial harboring area to the rest of the city is out of order (because the leaves grew further apart overnight) so we are going to land the Sunhawk in another part of town where he isn’t, then disguise ourselves as merchants and gypsies and we’re off the hook. We need to do so anyway, just to get the booze out of the ship. Yes I know it is illegal, but my paycheck have been shrinking over the years and it is the least of crimes compared to the work of my fellow Kaptains.

Kaptain George Brown was last year arrested, accused for piracy. The official story is that he invaded the embassy of Matzelburg, robbed the place and left with the daughter of the ambassador. The unofficial story is that Kaptain Brown was in love with the daughter and vice versa, but that the ambassador was somewhat overprotective. At a banquet, Kaptain Brown seized the opportunity and kidnapped the daughter and flew away with his soon-to-be bride. But after a successful escape, his airship was seized by pirates. They took over command and steered back at the banquet with the intent of robbing the place. Of course the place was swarming with troops, now the daughter was missing and despite a rather dramatic entrance through the glass façade of the manor, the pirates and Kaptain Brown was captured. Kaptain Brown is a man pure of heart (like me) and took the full blame, leaving the pirates off the hook. Few days after the judges had decided to decapitate him, the pirates, intrigued by his outstanding leadership, came back to rescue him. Now he is their Kaptain and a pirate mastermind in Holmmark.

I have been spending too much time on writing this log entry; I really should get some sleep so I won’t be all groggy at the welcoming party tomorrow.

-The Kaptain
J. J. Butterscotch

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Kaptain’s Log

22. of Sungain, 729

Morning.
The refreshing smell of morning dew was tingling in the air, when we first set sail into the sunrise. Leaving no one behind this time, the Sunhawk ventured forth and upward, accompanied by the sounds of fresh, squeaking wood as it tried to settle in the newly constructed parts of the ship. The crew roared with glee as we first lifted off. We were heading on towards Leaf.
I was more than eager to leave Harbour behind, as it still hurts to think of the disastrous mistake I made so many years ago. Gods forgive me, for the lost souls for which I am responsible. I will always remember. Perhaps someday I will share it with my readers too. But this is a log, not the mind of my shrink. Stories for later.

We are still under way towards Leaf, the city of seasons, home of the maple root beer. It is indeed one of the most peculiar places in all of Riptide. It is said that in times long ago, the city of Leaf was built in the moldy soil of an ancient celestial tree, which was presumed dead centuries in advance. It was a mediocre town in the middle of nowhere, not even close to a harbor, but only decades after its completion, the ground started to shake, tearing the pavements apart in the streets and leaving roads cracked and useless. Only a short time hereafter, green sprouts appeared all over the town and over the years, the roads were covered in green lush. It is now a long time ago and the lush is now replaced by a gargantuan plant, and upon its leaves is Leaf.
Stubborn as stupid horses, the citizens refused to move somewhere safe and they now inhabit this really big Lotus Blossom Plant, where the city districts of old now are scattered throughout the leaves and on the earth below. Every winter the Lotus dies and all of Leaf are grounded, until the spring where it slowly grows again, lifting up as much of the city it can bear. It is a sight to behold, but I wouldn’t want to live there, mainly due to various insurance reasons.
We are going there to deliver a large shipment of pharmaceutical instruments and perhaps take part in the “Blossom festival” where the Lotus flower finally blooms for the first time of the year.

I’ve had a talk with my crew about the fire and it seems everybody blames Cook, since he was in charge of the kitchen. Although Cook claims that he had nothing to do with it, I have personally mentioned for him that a new kind of Tuesday dinner special might soften the crew and help them forget all the hard work and lost possessions. I’m looking forward to see what he has come up with. Nobody has questioned the whereabouts of my parrot (luckily).

In other news; I have received a letter from my Superior officer, Commander Lawrence Williams (one of the inbred apes, yes). He wishes to make an inspection round on the ship, as he might want to “maximize the Sunhawk’s potential”, whatever that means this time. Last time he wanted to turn it into a luxury cruiser for him and his darling wife. I’d rather die than hand my beloved ship and crew to that fat cow. Luckily miss Williams rapidly changed her mind when she inspected the ship accompanied by the Commander. Either it was just a weak stomach or the fact that I had given the crew shore leave one day in advance so that they could go and dress themselves up as lepers and walking dead, and later bathed the ship in tar and week-old shrimps (nothing quite beats that smell I was told), that she felt seasick all of a sudden. I could’ve sworn that she lost 50 pounds just by vomiting. Bottom line is that she felt she could live without that stupid cruiser idea of hers.
Perhaps I should let Chelsea, the first mate’s monkey, steer the ship on next inspection round? It might do the commander some good to see the world from a different and very steep angle.

 

James J. Butterscotch – still the Kaptain of this vessel


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Kaptain’s Log

21. of Sungain, 729

I am in this calm hour of the day writing down the everyday happenings of me, Kaptain Morningblood, my crew and my ship, the Sunhawk. I am sorry for the inconvenience of forcing my readers to jump straight into the middle of my tale, but the former log was lost in the recent fire upon the ship and I do not have the time to re-write all log entries. I have a ship to fly and no time to spare. I will of course tell you of my past experiences should I see it necessary for the full understanding of my future entries.

Where to start… The fire, right…
It was nearly a week ago. I was taking a nap in the crew quarters, as usual, when the first mate yelled about smoke rising up through the kitchen chimney. I’ve always had my doubts whether or not he lost his marbles back at the Eternity Cyclone, so at first I didn’t feel like bothering. I remember how I thought that he should be lucky we didn’t drop him off at the nearest port, leaving him at the grace of the Commanders (those inbred apes). I’m trying to form some military discipline around here, but being too long away from harbor can make even the most battle-hardened, Moldhian soldier sloppy, so I let live.
Alas, this time he was actually to some use. His exclamations might have sounded peculiarly stupid, but the smoke was thick and black as death. Not that it was any different from Cook’s “Potato Tuesday” dinner special, but this was early morning and flames seemed to burst out of the chimney every once in a while. And it was definitely not Tuesday.

The crew was fast to seize the cloud sprinklers, but the fires were already too strong and we could only vaguely hold back the fires. I ordered the ship down to water level, when the fires neared the rear wings. At that time half my cabin was engulfed in flames, with it my log.

We managed to bring the Sunhawk down to water level and the crew and I fetched the buckets. The fire was put out approximately 10 minutes later, but we had lost all flight controls. Luckily the hawk is able to sail, thanks to the alteration engineer Simmons made, shortly before he fell overboard two weeks ago. The drunkard deserved no less.
We sailed to the nearest harbor, which, coincidently, was the small town of Harbour. I never thought I’d ever set foot in that cursed town again, but ‘tis a tale for later.
An arson expert told us that it was my pet parrot that had caused the fire. It was the finest phoenix-parrot from the desert of Hulmin, a rare species I had picked up in one of the oasis marketplaces. The salesman told me it was dangerous, so I thought I’d put the bird in the kitchen. I can’t really remember if it was because I wanted to kill the cook I put her there or because it was the only place she wasn’t annoying anybody (besides Cook). Anyway, good riddance, I bid the parrot. It was only a matter of time when it burst into flames.
Better not tell the crew or I’ll risk mutiny… Again…

We finished up repairs today and I managed to buy a new logbook (and some in spare) and we’re heading towards Leaf in the morning.

 -James J. Butterscotch
The Kaptain

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Foreword

by Caspar G. T. Rubinstein

"Dear reader
By opening this first page of the Tales of Kaptain Morningblood, you have begun an adventure into the realm of Riptide, an alternate dimension, which seems like our own world, yet twisted into something alien.
My story and the origin of these scrawlings, starts in 1958. I was visiting my old grandfather in his house, dead center of Queens, New York. As always my mother and I had brought him dinner and some company, which he seemed to enjoy, living alone in this dark house of his.
Being young as I were, I still had to learn the gift of patience and instead of sitting by the fire with mother and Grampa, I played burglar in the house, trying to dodge invisible enemies in the low-lit rooms, while mother and Grampa was sitting downstairs, drinking tea after a well-tasting meal. As I leant towards an old bookcase, trying to hide from someone who wasn't there, an old, dusty book fell down from the top of the bookcase and hit my head. Aching and annoyed by this misfortune, I turned to what had caused my head to hurt only to find a book with the title "The Tale of James J. Butterscotch - Kaptain Morningblood". Strangely drawn to this book, I picked it up and hurried down to my grampa, to tell him about my discovery.
"That old book? My, I thought I'd disposed of it? Why don't you keep it. Reading it might do you good."

Later that night I began to read. The book seemed to be a captain's log of sorts, but its stories seemed to depict an alternate world. I began to understand that this was no ordinary book either, it seemed to have a life of it's own. After reading all 300 pages of scrawlings I went to bed, only to find that during the night the book had added another page.
This was a living diary.

Now 51 years have passed, and I think the time is right, to tell the tale of the captain, who tells us the story of his seemingly long, if not eternal, life.


Yours truly,
Caspar G. T. Rubinstein

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