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Graring sputtered, coughing up seawater in heaves, as he was pulled up onto the deck of the Might of Realge. He hacked for a few moments, then collected himself and stood slowly.
"Grog, wine, I need something - I'm freezing!" His request was answered quickly, and after a few gulps he was properly collected.
"The Diy, its gone! The Gondorians did it - curse them, curse them to hell! They murdered the whole crew, I'm the only one left; knocked overboard during the battle. We thought we had 'em beat, but they used arrows, and once the mast fell they overran us."
After listening intently, a corsair asked, "How did he kill the whole crew? Them were good boys, good fighters, all of them."
Graring clenched his teeth tightly, fierce hatred flowing through him. "They tricked 'em, they did! The fat idiot who calls 'isself a captain made a treaty with my mates. Then locked them in the bottom, and sunk the boat! Murdered, all of 'em!"
"Murderers! Murderers!" Cries rang out on the deck of the Realge, as the corsairs mourned for their dead comrades in the only way they knew: violent expressions of rage.
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