06-15-2020, 12:44 AM
Off the coast of Segeltorp, Berg, Northwestern Gnejs
“Good omen, that,” shouted Svein, nodding towards the crashing waves as he was cleaning the bowl of his pipe and spitting tobacco flakes on the flooring of the small smack. “Ye, remember last year?” his friend Karl replied over the wind. The ship was reeling violently, but Karl was maneuvering with ease as he made his way by the cutter rig. “Almost had us one with the drowned men she did, and sure enough, the boys pulled through.”
After the two men eventually managed to get the smack more upright, and on a course towards their home port, Karl brought out his old radio. While fiddling with antenna and knobs, he said “It was that Omar boy, down Briskeby-way, who did’em in. Never knew what hit’em New Englanders did.” As voices engaged in pre-game commentary faintly began breaking through the static, Svein had his eyes on the tempest while he sat down and said “The sea was angry that day.” Karl nodded in agreement.
Karl started preparing his own pipe while they were listening to the GPR IDUFC-broadcast, and before lighting it he said “Southron cup this one, places you nearly couldn’t place on the map like.” Svein spat on the floor once again and answered “Gonhog is North though.” Karl nodded in agreement once more as the referee blew the whistle to start the first game of group B.
...
The two men sat in silence as the final whistle blew and the game came to a close. Summer hail had begun falling and was hammering into the flooring as the ship slowly made it into the port of Segeltorp. “Fool’s errand playing Gonhog on a tempestuous sea, anybody with half their wits could’ve told you,” muttered Svein. Karl nodded in agreement.
“Good omen, that,” shouted Svein, nodding towards the crashing waves as he was cleaning the bowl of his pipe and spitting tobacco flakes on the flooring of the small smack. “Ye, remember last year?” his friend Karl replied over the wind. The ship was reeling violently, but Karl was maneuvering with ease as he made his way by the cutter rig. “Almost had us one with the drowned men she did, and sure enough, the boys pulled through.”
After the two men eventually managed to get the smack more upright, and on a course towards their home port, Karl brought out his old radio. While fiddling with antenna and knobs, he said “It was that Omar boy, down Briskeby-way, who did’em in. Never knew what hit’em New Englanders did.” As voices engaged in pre-game commentary faintly began breaking through the static, Svein had his eyes on the tempest while he sat down and said “The sea was angry that day.” Karl nodded in agreement.
Karl started preparing his own pipe while they were listening to the GPR IDUFC-broadcast, and before lighting it he said “Southron cup this one, places you nearly couldn’t place on the map like.” Svein spat on the floor once again and answered “Gonhog is North though.” Karl nodded in agreement once more as the referee blew the whistle to start the first game of group B.
...
The two men sat in silence as the final whistle blew and the game came to a close. Summer hail had begun falling and was hammering into the flooring as the ship slowly made it into the port of Segeltorp. “Fool’s errand playing Gonhog on a tempestuous sea, anybody with half their wits could’ve told you,” muttered Svein. Karl nodded in agreement.