Lightning flashes and thunder roars as the Sea Breeze barrels down a steep wall of water, driven forward over the edge by gale force winds. You find yourself lashed to the wheel, unable to fight the violent pull the water exerts on the rudder, tossed and battered by the whims of the storm. The Sea Breeze suddenly reaches the bottom of the trough and the icy spray washes over you.
Suddenly you are awake, being dragged soundlessly from your bunk by hands roughened by brawls and weather. Screams or cries for help are met with absolute silence, some may identify the feel of a spell of silence in the damp sea air. Hands quickly and efficiently bound by rope behind you, and a sour cloth roughly shoved in your mouth, you can make out three or four assailants in the dim light as the dream fog leaves your mind. Quickly you are hauled out of the darkness of the lower decks and onto the relatively bright, moonlit deck. Sounds once again rush into your ears as you are hauled topside, the gentle creak of rope and timber, the flap of the half-furled sails, the splash of the water against the ship. No storm here, at least none of nature’s making.
Arrayed along the starboard rail sit others, bound and gagged as you are, some with a bewildered look in their eyes. The unmistakable form of Rytur, lounging against the mast, watching the proceedings fairly leaps to your eyes. Roughly you are forced to sit against the rail and the reason becomes apparent. The belaying pins are forced through your bonds, efficiently and effectively pinning you into position at the rail
The muffled cries of a terrified halfling draw your attention to the door as Mosir emerges, manhandling the halfling surgeon.
“That’s the last of’em, Cap’n” Mosir reports, trying to figure out how to pin the small crewman to the rail. He gives up the attempts and simply clocks the bound halfling, knocking him out cold. Turning back to Rytur he gives an apologetic shrug. Two more crewmen emerge from belowdecks, hauling a large bundle between them. They deposit their burden unceremoniously in front of Rytur, the sheet covering the bundle dropping to the deck. The still form of Captain Kaleas stares sightlessly at his captured crew.