Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24685738-20170719030306/@comment-5543592-20170722175017

The following weeks carried on much as that. The Royal Party would spend their days on deck, and then sleep below amongst the crew. The coast of Valenwood gave way to the coast of Hammerfell, and the waters became warm and the sun hot. Each day blended in with the last, and soon they were just a day or two out from Cespar.

Then, one night, they shared a dream. A dream of the crews' hammocks being empty, with blocked exits, and smoke pouring in, filling their lungs. A dream of panic and fear, and almost certain death.

The party members woke up. Mostly sound, perhaps weary and exhausted, despite having just bedded down that night. Sun peeked through an open doorway, into the room.

The group would realize they were on the third deck of the ship, or at least a ship. In the brig-- locked and barred. They were stripped of their gear and weapons, some of the more armored party members were primarily naked. Taeris had fared the worst, wearing only a pair of loose trousers that cut off at he knees, shirtless, blindfolded, and shackled to the back wall by his wrists with little slack on the chain. He was slumped on his side, unconscious.

It was Meilir who awoke first, sucking air into asphyxiated lungs.

"How did we end up here?" He wondered along, his voice scratchy, and he spat out a cough. It was difficult to stand. "Hey!" He beckoned the others, prodding Rhaela and Ollie, the nearest to him. "You alive?"