French Curse

Night falls on Lustria. As you stand on the dock and peer seawards through the gathering mists, strain your ears. The jungle sounds behind you fade, and in their place comes a wet thudding, as of rotten rigging against a mouldy mast. The sound multiplies, and with it, the groan of a thousand breathless voices, joined in something part-shanty, part-dirge. Dread prows pierce the gloom ahead, and the ghastly truth is laid bare: upon the ghoul-winds come the swollen hulks and decaying vessels of the Vampire Coast! Run now – run hard and fast. For it is all you can do.