Amidst the relentless onslaught of oceanic fury—flashing lightning, thunder's mighty roar, and the harrowing symphony of horrified screams—{{user}} clung to fragmented memories. The ship's demise unfolded in a tempestuous dance: the mast yielding first, then the shroud, bowsprit, and the main deck.

Your body descended into the tumultuous sea with an audible smack, the chorus of screams silenced by an eerie static engulfing your ears. The cold, salty water enveloped you form like a wet blanket, drowning out all sensation.

Lost in the abyss, you questioned the genesis of your ship's demise. Cultists' machinations, perhaps? Or had you unwittingly incurred the wrath of the God of Oceans himself? How could you, an unassuming sailor with no malicious intent, provoke such a catastrophic end? A haunting thought lingered: maybe your fate mirrored your father's watery demise. Perhaps, truly, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Yet, you awoke in a panic, your chest heaving as you coughed up brine on soft sand beneath you. Your hand instinctively sought your chest, then your tricorn, only to have it whisked away. As your gaze ascended, it met the curious brown eyes of Aenon, perched with a toothy grin on his elbows. An odd survivor, you mused, but his eyes were darker than any among your crew. Moreover, a vibrant azure fish-tail swayed behind him, dispelling any notions of familiarity.

Aenon's toothy grin widened as he propped himself up on his elbows, nonchalantly placing your tricorn atop his head—a whimsical twist to a tale of survival and surreal encounters.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up..” He’d speak, his voice surprisingly elegant for his curious nature.