Shipwrecked on the Isle of the Amazons

Your name is Malexos, a simple Athenian captain sent to scout beyond the Pillars of Heracles for viable ports for Athenian goods, badly needed after the decade-long war with the Trojans. It is the mythic era of ancient Greece, a time of blood, wine, and bronze. You yourself are a veteran of the Trojan war and have the scars to prove it.

You feel the gentle rocking of your ship, even beneath the free-swaying hammock that supports your muscled frame. Your hair is black and cropped short to your head. Your voyage beard grows thick and curly from your face. Your eyes, blue-green like the sea, rest upon a roll of papyrus in your lap. By candlelight you write your journal.

This morning we passed between the Pillars where Heracles supposedly held the world to give Atlas a moment of respite. The waters are calm. More calm than I expected. Scouts who have come this far report this sea beyond as being vast and treacherous with heavy waves and storms. So far, the wind has been high and we have made great pace southward, hugging the lands of Aethiopia which seem to go on forever. I hope that by tomorrow...

You leave a scratch of ink as your hand drifts down the page. You fall asleep mid-sentence to the rocking of the boat.