Twenty Seventh Entry.
By Odin's beard! I am caught in yet another gale somewhere between Greenland and Vinland! Although this time, the air feels somehow more sinister and I swear by Mjölnir that I hear dark laughter on the winds! This does not bode well for us. We seem to be deep into the belly of a maelstrom of the Gods!
Twenty Eighth Entry.
I am weak. Moments before being lost to the storm, as a last act of defiance, I uttered a curse lifted towards the God's as I truly realized the futility of it all. Suddenly, the storm cleared and we emerged through the fog and sea spray into an area of relative peaceful calm. The eye of this unholy storm. We stared around with bewilderment and nervous fear. Quickly the crew began to raise the alarm as they realized a figure hooded in black was standing among them.
"Fools." came the silent whisper from underneath the hood. "Foolish little humans always charging headfirst into danger." it laughed quietly.
Steeling myself with resolve in front of my crew, I roared out "By the God's what are you demon? Give me your name or begone from us and torture us no more!
"By the God's indeed," The figure cackled, pulling back the cowl and revealing the snearing visage of Loki. He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth.
"Caught in quite the conundrum are we? How delicious." he spoke with giggling laughter
"Begone Trickster!" I commanded. "We will not fall for your foul play here! Leave us to die and journey to Valhalla in peace!"
"There will be no journey." he replied, staring fiercely at me. "Did you already forget your abandonment of the Gods you spoke mere moments ago?"
"You are mine now, And I will do with you as I please." he said. "In another time, you will be remembered for discovery, but I have also been given glimpses of the future, and I now know that the God's will lose their influence over the world of man, thus we become no more. We simply cease to exist. I cannot allow that to happen. You, Leaf Ericson will bring the old God's to the New World, several centuries from now, but for now you are cursed, cursed to wander in this storm for four hundred years, you cannot die, you will always be reborn, you will bend to my will, and follow my wishes! I will not become a memory in the annals of history!" he fumed, the very air around him coalescing into blackness as he faded from view.
"I will come to you when it is time" Loki's voice faded away, barely a whisper. Then there was nothing but the howling wind.
I pray for my soul and for the souls my men.

Longship log of Leif Ericson, Once Proud Hirdman of King Olaf Tryggvason, King of Scandinavia, but now a cursed fool, lost in the howling wind. Time Unknown, Year Unknown.
The time has come. Loki has come and bade us to travel east and He has removed the enchantment of the storm upon us. It appears he has been busy, gathering other ships as well over time. I am to lead them to victory in this new world. The time has come. If we follow our God's wishes, one day, just one day, we might be free of this curse and finally be allowed to join our forefathers, but for now, I will show them to fear the Viking Horde!
This will be my last entry, and may the blood of my enemies run cold at the sound of our approach.
-Leif Ericson