Seeds of Destruction
We each dwell upon an island forged by our ignorance amidst the black seas of infinity. Should your feeble mind correlate the seemingly disassociated contents of your skull, thus affording you an opportunity to leave your island behind, terrifying vistas of reality will entomb you and you will never know peace.
It was only a matter of time...every species can smell its own extinction. The last ones left won't have a pretty time of it.
Horrific reality tears the flesh marionette, that you call “you”, free from its slumber as cruel conscious returns.
A myriad of sensations:
..frozen
...screams
...fear
.....hunger
...weariness
...pain
It is all you can do to keep yourself from curling into the fetal position and crying. Only then do you perceive the tight grip of the rusted iron manacle, which binds your wrist to a pipe running along the length of the ship.
Perhaps a dozen lost souls sit awkwardly on your same side of the ship, bound as you are bound, facing the other hull where another group of scared, malnourished, mistreated, filthy, naked, and seasick slaves are similarly incarcerated.
Confusion is the norm, for you have only vague memories of your past and no idea how you got to this place.
An epic storm tosses the boat about, but there is ungainly heaviness to it, as if the anchor had not been fully retracted in time. Howling winds carve a path through your ears, but even it cannot block out the screams. Something, unseen from your position in the hold of the ship, has gone terribly wrong and from the heavy impacts you are feeling on the wooden skin of the ship you imagine that the vessel has run aground, or is about to.
Ice-cold sea water leaks in from the non-battened hatch which opens to the broken ladder that leads down into the hold. It is this flood of frigid liquid that woke you as it firstly pooled about your feet and has since risen to your sternum. The ship sits dangerously low in the water due to all the extra water weight. The storm’s fury bounces the hatch about, and with each movement you can hear the heavy chain that seals it snap back into place.
All is darkness below, save for what is revealed by the flash from the occasional torch beyond the portal when someone stumbles past.
The slavers of Kunark await.
