The thunderous crashing of the waves against the ship hurl it with a wrenching tilt to one side almost as if to bring the great vessel to topple. Yet, as it tilts, another massive wave surges from the other direction and slams into the hull hurling it back into balance. Surges of water rush down the stairs once more coupled with the persistent torrential rain managing to pierce through the opening from the deck of the ship into the bowls of its lower levels. The water rushes between the boots of this man, this figurine in the dark, whose white flesh stands out as the very light of the thunder itself. His dark eyes glance around the room with his left leather gloved hand nestled in an idle position upon the hilt of his sword.
In the moments of observation by those within the room, he turns his head back toward the stair with the rising of screams and hollers. Men of the crew previously slumbering below per orders from their Captain are seen rushing past behind him and up the slick, water drenched stairs heading up to help with the challenges of the storm. The hull itself wretches as if coming apart against the crashing waters. The thick wood groans as if in pain; as if desiring an end to its own miserable torment. The man turns his head back upon hearing the words of those within the room. His lips remain stern and solid; narrowed with no emotional state to express.
"You may wish to obtain your valuables and quickly. More resides within the depths of this storm than mere wind and rain." He comments as if somehow aware of an unknowable threat to the vessel. Suddenly, another boom reaches through the air, but no flash is coupled with this resounding echo. A great crack is heard from above as if a tree has been harshly shattered. More screams and yells rise into the air as the crew calls out in fear and panic. 'Pirates off the aft! Man the guns!' A figure of authority cries out before a sudden explosion of wood rips through the hull of the very room in which the group is residing.
The figure of a man, previously seen as stern and formidable in the doorway, is thrown to the side from the explosion as the air is ridden with splinters and shrapnel from the blast. The assault had streaked straight through the hull of the ship through the room and beyond leaving a gaping hole in both walls. The torrential rain spears through the opening immediately after penetration by the assaulting cannon ball. The man in his fine armor and intimidating garb rests against the far wall, half delved in water with blood upon one side of his face. Despite this, he clambers quickly from his position in a tilting manner, grasping at a chain dangling from the ceiling with the remnants of a lamp now dimmed to darkness by the swift air of the attack and the water of the rain.
"Quickly!" He shouts toward the others in whatever state they may now reside after the attack. "We must get topside!"
In the moments of observation by those within the room, he turns his head back toward the stair with the rising of screams and hollers. Men of the crew previously slumbering below per orders from their Captain are seen rushing past behind him and up the slick, water drenched stairs heading up to help with the challenges of the storm. The hull itself wretches as if coming apart against the crashing waters. The thick wood groans as if in pain; as if desiring an end to its own miserable torment. The man turns his head back upon hearing the words of those within the room. His lips remain stern and solid; narrowed with no emotional state to express.
"You may wish to obtain your valuables and quickly. More resides within the depths of this storm than mere wind and rain." He comments as if somehow aware of an unknowable threat to the vessel. Suddenly, another boom reaches through the air, but no flash is coupled with this resounding echo. A great crack is heard from above as if a tree has been harshly shattered. More screams and yells rise into the air as the crew calls out in fear and panic. 'Pirates off the aft! Man the guns!' A figure of authority cries out before a sudden explosion of wood rips through the hull of the very room in which the group is residing.
The figure of a man, previously seen as stern and formidable in the doorway, is thrown to the side from the explosion as the air is ridden with splinters and shrapnel from the blast. The assault had streaked straight through the hull of the ship through the room and beyond leaving a gaping hole in both walls. The torrential rain spears through the opening immediately after penetration by the assaulting cannon ball. The man in his fine armor and intimidating garb rests against the far wall, half delved in water with blood upon one side of his face. Despite this, he clambers quickly from his position in a tilting manner, grasping at a chain dangling from the ceiling with the remnants of a lamp now dimmed to darkness by the swift air of the attack and the water of the rain.
"Quickly!" He shouts toward the others in whatever state they may now reside after the attack. "We must get topside!"
