There's a place no sailor goes, or ever comes back from... That's the start of every story here. Brave souls cast adrift after attempting to brave the maw and its terrifying winds. Some come through alright, others... Maybe it was the bells, the images, flung from the spray before our eyes? They're never the same again.
One thing's for sure here in the Nautilus. Magic has a hold, and nothing is ever truly calm under the surface.
~A lost soul.
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