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The waves rolled onto the wide sandy beaches.

The gentle crash plainly audible is short distance out to sea.

High dunes blocked the interior from view as the trio of ships move slowly along the shore.

Looking for the river mouth, the lead vessels navigator knew lay a bit further along the shoreline.

There it was. A thin plume of grey black smoke hard to see because of below wind marks the main channel.

Finally, about the man standing near the prow of the first ship, emergent from the city of Tire,

his heart thumped in his chest, excitement overcoming his normally placid disposition.

He had been on many voyages, had seen many different shores, and had dealt with many different people,

but this was a different proposition entirely.

It had been a long journey to get here, a full year of travel across every known sea and beyond.

The ship's sails were patched and a bit ragged after that last storm,

a true thunder and lightning filled howler that had blown up from the southwest and claimed the fourth vessel in their little fleet.

The ship's fine seater timbers sourced from the mountains inland of their home city,

creaked in sway, but hadn't burst.

This was a good place the man thought, surveying the shore with a practice die,

where the dunes were low enough he saw flat plains and low rolling hills perfect for wheat, olives, and grapes.

The river was broad and slow moving and at least one island lay just offshore at its mouth.

A fine spot easily defencened with a harbor that offered protection from the winds blowing out of the west.

The man himself had never been here before, but he had talked to people who had.

He wouldn't have come if he had.

...