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Titus tightened the rope. The two friends acknowledged one another with a nod, Titus turned and headed for the four battling the mast and rigging. Taking hold and passing it to Gram they both helped to control the wild sails.
Just as they believed they were winning, it snapped, splintering the deck, sending pieces in every direction. Two dwarves lay under a huge hunk of wood, Titus noticed Gram slumped against the railing of the ship, he didn't see the barrel till it was too late. He was too slow, Gram and the barrel crashed overboard in an instant.
Titus felt a tug at his waist, forgetting he was tied to Gram, he was pulled towards the newly formed hole in the railing of the ship. before he had time to react, he was enveloped in a frozen salty void. Complete silence, floating there in the abyss, he began to pull on the rope, he needed to get Gram and himself to the surface. There was no slack in the rope, which meant Gram wasn't trying to climb to the surface and he was either unconscious or worse... dead. At the end of the rope Titus found Gram, not moving, he struggled to keep them both afloat as the waves slapped him from multiple sides. Titus found the barrel that fell off the ship with Gram, he managed to get them both over it keeping them above the water.
Titus couldn't tell how much time had passed, but the storm had calmed, the waves easing off. Titus scanned their surroundings... nothing.
Struggling to stay awake, Titus had lost all track of time, Gram had still not awoken. Titus was beginning to worry, Grams face was a light shade of purple and his lips turning blue under his black beard. Unable to do anything, he began to fear Stor's Sea would be the death of them.
Another night had passed, just as the sun was dawning, Titus caught glimpse of what looked like a ship, it was still too far away to see if was flying any friendly colours. A new wave of hope washed through Titus, he started to slowly push toward the ship in the distance.
After what seemed like forever, he finally saw the ship, fear hit him like a ton of rocks. the still dawning sun shone off the hull of the ship. The silver sheen blinding him. "Stormcaller Elves" Titus swore.
Titus had heard the stories told by older dwarves in the Wingless Wyvern, elven pirates that would sail Stor's Sea after a storm and loot any shipwrecks unlucky enough to be caught in the storm.
Judging by the meals the elven pirates had given him, he had assumed three days had passed. Caged in the hold of the Stormcallers' ship, Titus and Gram shared a pair of shackles, Gram still unconscious but confirmed alive by the elves. Titus had been listening to two Stormcallers talking about their captain and where they were headed. Captain Varrick had ordered the ship around after picking up the dwarf and the coneybogle.
Titus had figured that the Stormcallers must have been Redwood Elves, guessing so from the ship. No other race has access to silver trees to build silver ships, but most Redwood elves never left the woods unless trading.
Captain Varrick appeared out of the shadows, spinning a knife, on its point on the tip of his finger. His voice as shape as his knife, "The green one will fetch a fine price, the Dwarf... a nice stew," he laughed...