I, Motuha of Albonia, former assistant professor of Royal Academy of Science, have decided to keep this journal throughout our expedition to the strange islands, which –except for one- are not featured on any maps we have seen before. A gut feeling that I have inside, leads me to believe that these islands have something to do with the meteorite shower I witnessed weeks before. I expect to see some remains of the outworldly rocks during our expedition. I am almost certain that we will stumble upon numerous curiosities and wondrous discoveries. I only hope that these will be for the good of our species and help us in unraveling the mysteries of our planet and universe. I shall dedicate my discoveries to my beloved son Rapu, of whose wedding I had to forfeit to be able to carry out this expedition, and with whom I couldn’t spend enough time all through the years to keep our family business and my scientific works afloat. I pray that Rapu and my family will one day understand and appreciate my efforts and hope that they will forgive me for not being present extensively in their lives.
Day 1
After witnessing a meteor shower during our rest & refit after a nightmarish storm along the easternmost coast of Ostia, largely secluded from Castellian bandits, I have decided to alter the course of our trade expedition to hopefully find the remains of these outworldly meteorites toward the direction which I calculated to be the possible crash site.
The meteor shower started with two very bright moving celestial bodies, becoming brighter every second. One of the bodies seemingly broke into pieces, with broken bright pieces scattering in a north-eastern course, while the other continued its course even further in the same direction, finally disappearing from sight.
When I explained to the captain what I witnessed, and asked for the course alteration, he was defiant. He argued that along that route laid only one small remote island, with no other ports or land, which would put our expedition into jeopardy since we were already running out of food and the crew already began whining due to the recent storm. After a short argument with him, I stood firm and ordered the ship to be sailed to the nearest port — Ruthia, all goods to be sold at once, without any profit if need be, and our hull to be restocked with food and materials for the expedition. I have also ordered the sum to be obtained from these sales to be distributed amongst the Captain and the crew, which I hope will quench any mutinous sentiments.
After two weeks of sailing, we arrived to the port Ruthia, a former Castellian colony now overseen by local merchants. The crew itself is working vigorously to liquidate the goods we have on board, hoping to gain as much as possible for themselves from this hasty sale. I, on the other hand, headed directly to the navigators guild of the city to replace the worn down parts of my sextant and hoping to find some additional information about the island my Captain talked about. The guildmaster seemed reluctant to sell any spare parts, but he was willing to sell me a newer model sextant — at a steep price. I nevertheless agreed, yet demanded information about the island from the guildmaster, as a token of a well struck bargain, to which he complied. He gave me some old parchments, apparently written by some “Miguel Rudez”, a Castellian explorer who stumbled upon this island many years ago. The parchment mentions some ruins on the island, which belonged to a civilization long gone. Some markings carved on stones in the ruins were illustrated on the parchment. A quick glance at them made me think that they might be of Novarian origin — a civilization of indigenous peoples located at the newly-found Novaria, very far further east to the island. This remote island, dubbed “Oceanland” by Miguel Rudez, between the continents Ostia and Novaria, is apparently in the middle of the ocean, with no other landmasses around. Rudez also mentions the treacherous waters surrounding the island.
During the remaining two days of making port, I spent some time in the city taverns to correspond with local sailors. Some superstitious ones believe that the island is cursed, most others do not even bother to discuss about the island due to its remoteness, and seemingly lack of any valuables. I also found some time to write to my son Rapu about the situation. I miss my home dearly, yet my curiosity and loyalty to my academic upbringing compels me to push on and unveil wonders in these godforsaken waters.
After making port for three days, we set sail along the course to the remote island, this so-called “Oceanland”. The crew seems well rested and eager, while the Captain seems indifferent and apathetic to the expedition. He just wants to get the job done, sail back home and spend his newly made extra cash on pleasures of the flesh, I presume. Nevertheless, as a man of honor, I am certain that he will do his duty well.
