Avast, ye Archaeologists!

Caleb Chow writes:

Yarrr, it be dawn and high time we got ta work ta find our precious booty. The Skipper be a tad too busy surveyin’ the sea o’ sand we call Megiddo, so tha First Mate steps in ta fill dem boots of authority. But we be no rookie crew, and eb’ry man and woman be at them masts ta raise dem trusty sails o’ tarp to keep ol’ Helios from sendin’ us all down ta Davy’s Locker.

“HOIST THE SAILS” bellows tha First Mate, and we be raisin’ them masts like thar weren’t no tomorrow.

Arrr, the tarp be up and we be ready to dig in! Down we dig through Gaia’s dry embrace, with our faithful Cap’n tellin’ the mates where and when ta drop and haul anchor…an anchor that look mighty like a blue pickaxe, I might add.

AHOY THERE! The millipedes be havin’ a few too many legs, the lizards be a tad feisty and the spiders be a tad large. Thar be all manner o’ strange critters in this hold of ours, but that scorpion be no match against me trusty treasure pick! HAR HAR HAR! Let that be a warnin’ to ye feisty critters, for many a foul beast I’ve slain with me trowel and brush and that fer sure ain’t gonna be the last!

Landlubbers we are, aye…but make noooo bleedin’ mistake! Our dearest Area K be the finest vessel on the Megiddo sea rested upon the highest tides of sand and stone—our booty we find with her be first class compared ta any in Poseidon’s realm, n’ our greater treasures be only farther down under this mighty sea o’ sand.

Our booty be a varied lot; vessels o’ mud, cloth-spinnin’ tools, weapons n’ leftover meals worked by dem folk already taken by the Flyin’ Dutchman.

But YAR, it be true; we be thirtyish folk in a dead man’s city, YO HO HO and a bottle of juice!

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