(TL;DR= Bormont stood outside during the storm. He took a big dip into the ocean like the others and stayed awake till the shadowy man decided it was nap time. He woke up and looked around before deciding he was hungry. So he went out and Rifted a rabbit-like creature. Now he's cooking it. No he doesn't intend on sharing any of it.)
The rain doesn’t bother him. Neither do the howling winds nor vicious rocking of the boat. In fact, the man standing precariously close to the edge of the ship looked more at peace, standing amidst the raging storm than milling with the pampered nobles underneath the decks. He held a cup in his left hand that swirled with red liquid, while his other hand covered the glass from the pounding rain. Raised to his lips, Bormont took a deep drink without spilling so much as a drop, despite the unsteady movements of the vessel. With a sigh he finished and tossed the glass overboard and watched it vanish amidst the rolling waves before he leaned onto the railing.
The sun’s gaze beat down upon him as Bormont struggled to open his eyes. He danced a thin line between sleep and wakefulness for a few moments before the sounds of reality snapped him back. He groaned, his muscles protesting to even the most miniscule of moments, but eventually forced himself to sit upright. He recalled many things that had led to his predicament, but at the moment, cared little for such vague details. Instead, a few thoughts overwhelmed the rest and flashed in his mind, refusing to grant him any reprieve until they were met. Ow, I feel like shit. I’m hungry and thirsty. Screw everything else. He’d have to deal with these quickly. He didn’t feel starving or immensely thirsty, but who knew when such feelings would set in.
While feeling returned to his body, Bormont took the moment to look around. Nobles, in varying states, lay around him. Some are easily discernable as dead; others are like him, merely unconscious. Either way it is none of his business, for saving himself is more important than dragging soon to be corpses to a better place to die. With that in mind, Bormont finally forced himself to stand, feeling his bones creak after being out of use for so long. But stand he did and finally he examined himself. He could see no remains of the ship he had boarded a few days ago amongst the waters meaning he’d have to survive off what little he had on him. It seemed everything he had on him when he fell from the ship had stayed where they were placed though, from the knife in his boot to the thick leather gloves he wore at this moment.
Satisfied that he’d be able to catch something to eat, as his stomach was beginning to growl, Bormont settled for walking towards the trees further inland. There was a path, used likely only by animals, so he decided to follow it. He could have sworn he heard music in the air, but simply waved it away as a trick of his ears. He had more important matters to take care of, namely catching whatever had just rustled in the bushes a distance from where he stood. He could hear the creature dashing through the brush and had little desire to chase the beast through leaves and roots. Instead, Bormont took a deep breath and pulled on the magic he knew resided in him. He could feel it in his core, tendrils reaching out as he called upon it. With an outstretched hand, Bormont guided the magic, letting it flow through the world to his target before it manifested itself to bend the laws of reality.
A snap could be heard through the lush forest as space bent on itself bringing what was once far to right in front of Bormont. He smiled even as the blade whistled through the air, glistened amidst the sunlight that managed to pierce the foliage. Blood splashed through the air as the small creature fell limp, a quick and painless death. Catching his new prize before it could fall to the ground; Bormont examined the creature as he walked back towards the beach. It was about the size of a hare, but other than that bore little resemblance. Still, it had no signs of being poisonous like the brightly colored fish that were sometimes brought in by fisherman at the port. It’d have to do for now.
The fire pit had been built, dug out from the beach and filled with tinder from the forest. The flames had been brought to life with a bit of help from his magic, a make shift roast had been fashioned and his prey was turning over the fire at the moment. The remains were wrapped in leaves beside the pit, they would serve as bait to catch fish or lure out scavengers. Bormont simply sat and watched his meal cook, turning it occasionally or reaching out to catch some fat before it could fall into the fire. From what he had tasted, it would be an enjoyable meal, the drippings rich and tasty. Finding water would have to follow immediately after. Then maybe he’d help some of the poor saps still lying in the sand.