<em>Darkness.<br/><br/>Shouts.<br/><br/>The crash of water on the deck, and screams of those caught beneath the flail of the sea.<br/><br/>Your recollection is fuzzy, as memory and consciousness war. The feel of the sun on your skin contrasts with the freezing spray that chills you to the bone. The raucous shrieks of gulls overlays on the roar of winds, the creaking of timber stressed almost beyond endurance and the hum of rope and canvas. <br/><br/>Slowly consciousness prevails, driving the memory of the storm back where it belongs, and you manage to stir. <br/><br/>The sand under face is drying, but still bears the marks of the tide that laps at your ankles. Pushing yourself up right your can look around, seeing other figures stirring up and down the beach. Two score of yards from you, a rocky headland shelters the cove, rising only a few meters, but enough to cut your view of what might lie beyond. Behind you, the ship you had been traveling on lies gutted on the rocks perhaps fifty yards offshore, listing to one side, a hole clear and visible from here driven through the hull that sits far lower in the water than it should.<br/><br/>The storm that blew down on your from the North carried you for a day and perhaps part of a night. The darkness of the tempest made time almost an abstract, and survival a matter of each moment at a time.<br/><br/>Now, though ...<br/><br/>Now you need to figure out where you are, and what options are open to you.</em>