ESO – Stirk, same old same old
Every time I go to Stirk, and I’ve been there at least ten times, I almost always arrive at nearly but not always the same time – the magic hour just reaching its last tendrils over before the evening ends and night begins. The sun nears the horizon; night gathers above, bejeweled and waiting. I imagine that the sea breeze is balmy, and perhaps I can taste sorrow in the air – the Crimson Ship carried its burden hopeless into that endless Abecean Sea and were lost. Who mourns them?