"Half of them died before we sighted the broken red cliffs welcoming those who would visit the Far Continent as it is called.
Sickness, in-fighting, poisoned by a school (or would one say flock) of small fish that fly over the waves like birds, landing in the hundreds across the deck, pricking any they touched with toxic quills.
Two thrown overboard by gusting demon winds.
The quiet Tyvian navigator simply dead in his bunk, wrapped in his white furs, eyes wide with terror.
Few have crossed the Ocean and the distance to Pandyssia is greater than most would imagine."

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