Do you have a taste for risk, a curious nature, and a daring spirit? Then come, join The Seeker on a singular wine adventure!
The Seeker is a lively line of wines from all over the world. Our wanderings yielded distinct wines from disparate lands, delighting the senses on a global taste journey. It is a carefully curated collection of the best wines from where they grow best, each wine lovingly crafted by a different family winery.
For The Seeker, it's all about the journey. Simply glance at the labels and you'll see; the mid-19th century flying machines embody an era of wonder and mystery, of explorers out to conquer the known world... and beyond. The Seeker speaks to the unknown, the unknowable, and the thrill of discovery. Cheers!
Welcome to New Zealand, Home of Captain Cornelius Weatherbee.
Here you hop aboard the Scallawag, Weatherbee’s splendiferous flying machine. The moment your heels land on the creaking planks of knotted wood, you already have a quest: a manhunt for one Mr. Rudolphus Benedict.
“But he’s your second-in-command!” you protest. Weatherbee remains unconcerned. “That honor now falls to you. But fear not; your predecessor was a traitor, so you can only be an improvement. What is this, your second pack?”
Before you can agree, he tips it overboard. You rush to ship’s edge, following your pack’s progress as it hits the water and disappears into the deep.
Weatherbee dusts off his weathered hands. “Only one pack allowed, stow the rest. We have a strong northwesterly wind approaching and it shall take us just where we need to go.
“How can you possibly know – ” But already you feel it, the wind stirring the straps, bright scent of sweet summer herbs enveloping the flying machine. You scramble to tie down your remaining belongings, for this man did not speak lightly.
“The search is underway!” Weatherbee declares. And it is.
Gusts sweep the Scallawag over snow-capped mountains and twisting valleys, leading to an endless ocean. When Weatherbee hollers his thanks at the wind, the air swells and swirls in return. Yet his perfectly curled ‘stache never sways.
A whisper wafting its way to the Orient confides in Weatherbee. “We’re getting closer,” Weatherbee says, though the endless waves below remain unchanged.
A grinding roar confirms Weatherbee’s claim as a surfacing sea creature reaches its metal tentacles toward the ship.
“What is that!” you cry, eyes wide at sunlight glinting off sheets of alloy.
Weatherbee sniffs, unimpressed. “Merely an overgrown octopus.”
“Its tentacles are fifty feet long, easily! It’s made of metal. Someone made that,” you realize, only now appreciating the cleverness of your adversary.
Weatherbee is unruffled as ever. “I’ve fought bigger. That traitorous Rudolphus will have to do better than that.” A citrus-scented gale suddenly swirls around the Scallawag, capturing his attention. Weatherbee cocks his head to the side, hearing what no one else could. As the wind imparts its secret, his eyes gleam with anticipation.
The journey had only just begun.