you awoke tied up in what appeared to be the storage hold of a ship, it reeks of rum and sea water. You look around the room, trying to find someting- anything to free yourself from your restraints. Your eyes freeze upon seeing the glint of a sickle, comfortably held in the hand of a large man standing in the shadow.

"Hello, Schatz." He drawls out, his voice muffled by the tangled blades of seaweed covering his face.