Rain was coming down in sheets over the wild waves of the northwest sea. The wind was howling, tearing ropes from sailor's hands and tugging threateningly at the billowed sails, spiriting away voices as they tried to shout orders, demands, and warnings across the deck or into the ear of the person next to them. Lightning flashed, illuminating the galley in stark relief and briefly blinding its crew, followed by a roll of thunder so loud and so immediate that many were left momentarily deaf, as well. The ship rode up the waves, shuddering as they crested and plunged them down into the trough, only to drench it as the next wave broke over the deck, as if the sea were trying to sweep the sailors from it and into its own hungry maw.

Cath Goldstein had never seen a storm like this, and he'd been sailing for over nine years. Lightning crackled what seemed like every few seconds, though time seemed to flow awfully fast as he struggled at the tiller, trying to keep them on a southern course, away from the shoreline with its dangerous rocks. He'd been captain of the Windchaser for only two years, he didn't want to smash her already! He didn't really want to smash her, at all, but now would be a particularly bad time to do it, if it were foreordained that it had to happen someday.

Jeran Smythe staggered up to Cath at the ship's helm, clinging to the deck's nearest railing. "We ken't-- mech more, cap'n! Weh've gotta--" The rest of his words were lost in the wind, which despite already being ar hurricane proportions seemed to still be rising.

"Not much choice!" Cath bellowed back, hoping he would be heard. "Nowher' ta go, s'too late now! Gotta ride it an hope fer the best!"

::The shore is getting dangerously close, Cath,:: came a familiar voice, its audibility completely unhindered by the cacophony of wind, rain, and thunder.

::I know!:: he growled back, flinging the thought back across-ship. ::I'm workin on it!:: The galley rocked abruptly as a wave crashed into its starboard side, lashing the men there with stinging, freezing spray and sending the little man at the tiller reeling, clinging desperately to the wheel just to keep from being thrown from his own ship. He fully expected that the crew had been diminished by all the tossing around, but there was nothing he could do about that, either. There might be a way to save the rest of his men from being tossed overboard, lashing them to the masts and railings and letting the storm carry them where it would, but this close to the rocky shoreline of Adcoa, it meant they would probably loose the ship, and they might all drown, instead. Without hands at the ropes, manipulating the sails, and at the wheel, guiding them, the waves would carry them right up to shore and the jagged teeth just below the waterline.

Of course, they might do that, anyway, because the men they had left were fighting a loosing battle against the elements.

::If you'd hired on that weather-mage back in the islands, I'm sure we wouldn't be having this problem.::

::Oh, shut up! It's probably tha' bloody mage's fault we're in this mess teh begin with!::

Sam always sounded so calm and easy-going, even in the midst of a devastating, deadly storm. More often than not, lately, that irritated Cath, his twin brother and the only person on Vere who was the recipient of Sam's commentary. Sam didn't mind if Cath was irritated, though, so he didn't bother doing anything about it. He knew he'd be forgiven, and he knew he couldn't change who he was, so why bother pretending when Cath would probably see right through it, anyway?

As it was, however, Samuel Goldstein was feeling less than calm, even if his mental "voice", the only voice he had at all, seemed at ease. In fact, he was very close to panic. His mind was whirling from possible outcome to possible outcome, but very few ended pleasantly. It was quite likely that, even if Cath's usually masterful piloting saved them from death by rocks and riptides, they would all be thrown overboard or the hull would breach, and the sea would win, anyway. If only Cath wasn't so obsessed with sailing, they could be safe in their attic room at Port Kahlon, dry and warm and not in danger of death by drowning, or any other method!

Though, truth be told, Cath would probably end up strangling something or someone if he was cooped up for that long, so there was a little danger. Hence, why they were currently at sea-- to keep Cath from going mad out of boredom. More mad than he already was, at least.

Currently, Sam was using his superior height-- while Cath was unusually short, Samuel was unusually tall, being nearly six and a half feet tall-- to reach for ropes that others of the crew couldn't get to, grabbing them and securing them, or tightening them to make for firmer support for the mainsail or other canvas. He, too, had never seen a storm this fierce-- though most of his sailing experience had been with Cath, so that was hardly surprising. Still, it was like they'd flown right into a hurricane, the worst one the Adcoan coast had seen in decades. All the elders and fishermen would be sitting in their safe holes, peering out of windows at the mercurial ocean and exchanging stories about the worst storms they'd ever been in, each trying to outdo the other. Right now, Sam would just love to be one of them, even if it meant Cath was bored and irritable. It would be worth it to know he'd see the next dawn.

The galley creaked under them as yet another swell lifted them, and Sam caught a glimpse of the depth of the trough they were about to be hurled into and paled beneath his olive complexion. His urgent warning to Cath, the only powerfully telepathic member of the crew, resulted in a loud warning heard in everyone's head: ::Ever'one grab onto somethin! We're about teh go down a big one!::

All over the Windchaser, what remained of the crew dove for the nearest source of support. Cath clung to the wheel, as if unwilling to give it up no matter what happened to him, but Sam took the wiser choice, grabbing a spare length of rope and coiling it rapidly around his waist and the nearest support, which happened to be the low railing surrounding the hole, and just prayed that it would hold. All around the ship, others were praying the exact same thing.

As the ship moaned and sped down into the horrifying depth, water towering all around it just waiting to crash down, one might have heard the sound of laughter before the wave came thundering down, and the ship went under.