I live in a small village surrounded by walls of ocean and trees.
We are not known on many a maps or by many traveling merchants.
But we are known through lore, in songs sung by drunken sailors on lonely nights and to kings by the finest voices.
Masireen Masireen the town by the sea with beauties as far as thy eyes could see,
Masireen Masireen the town past the trees,
Masireen Masireen the place thou shalt never see,
Masireen Masrieen will be the death of thee.
We are known because the seas one must sail to find us are impossibly deadly.
We are known because woodlands one must pass to see us is cursed with a power so dark it leaks into the very land we try to keep.
