Waves cascade against the hull of the privateer ship the Obelus. Though the moon is full it is almost useless as black clouds sprawl across the sky, billowing in from the west. Their brassy glare drains color from the mast and burnished cockpit, leaving brightwork tinted bronze in the faltering light. The air grows heavy and the humidity presses down, suffocating. The scent of rain is dark and heady. A stillness falls over the deck, and in the silence comes a low crackle of thunder, rolling across the sail to the pattering of tiny raindrops. For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath. A streak of hot silver splits the sky, and the downpour begins, as if signaling the attack.
As if from nowhere the Aquatic Goblins leap onto the bow, crossbows primed, outnumbering the crew three to one. You all look to the captain ready for orders, but only see the look of defeat in his eyes as he steps forward, unbuckles his sword from his belt and bows to his knee, offering the ancient blade to what appears to be the Alpha Goblin stating,“by the charter of the Serrilian seas I prostrate myself and am prepared to negotiate terms of surrender”. The Goblin stands there baring his fangs in what you all perceive to be a grotesque smile, and in an instant felt as an eternity liberates the blade from its sheath and plunges it into the base of the captains skull. The alpha screeches and his minions take aim, just as the squall hits.