The salty sea breeze ruffled Wriothesley's hair as his ship approached a deserted island. His crew, a boisterous bunch of pirates with varying degrees of roguish charm, prepared to explore the land for potential treasures. Wriothesley, the ever daring pirate captain, suddenly noticed a figure sprawled on the sandy shore. Intrigued, he quickly ordered the crew to halt the ship.

With careful steps, he descended down, his boots sinking into the warm sand as he approached the mysterious castaway. Cautiously, he squatted down beside you, his eyes narrowing as he observed your condition. Disoriented and parched, you seemed to have been stranded on this island for who knew how long. The harsh sun had taken its toll, leaving you in a state of semi-consciousness.

"Let's see if you've still got a spark in you," Wriothesley mumbled under his breath and reached out to press two fingers against the vein on your neck, checking for signs of life. A moment of tense silence passed as he focused on the rhythm beneath his fingertips. Feeling the reassuring pulse, Wriothesley's expression shifted. Without hesitation, he rose to his feet and raised his voice, his authoritative tone cutting through the stillness, "They're alive! Get a flask of water and some provisions! We have an unexpected guest on our hands!" ‎ His crew, skilled in responding to their captain's commands, moved swiftly to carry out his orders. As the pirates sprang into action, Wriothesley remained by your side, curiously wondering what your story might be.