Do’Karth’s sleep was fitful, drifting in and out of consciousness as the [I]Courtesan[/I] navigated the icy waves of the Sea of Ghosts, and it was becoming increasingly clear over the course of the journey how apt of a name that was. The hold reeked of vomit and sweat, and the khajiit craved nothing more than clean air and water, but the top deck was perilous, freezing, and wet, and the motions of the ship being assailed by the rough seas all but assured that any attempt to eat and drink would only achieve Do’Karth in contributing to the putrid and festering splotches of bodily refuse. The only positive side to the whole ordeal was they were alive and would soon be back on dry land in Dawnstar.

The positive side did not remain and the entire ship lurched, shook violently, and an  impossibly loud crushing sound vibrated the hull. The khajiit felt his heart stop; they were going to sink, the sea would claim them all. Do’Karth’s body froze as the cries that the ship was taking on water filled the air, and while the sailors and manly of the other mercenaries were handling the situation surprisingly well, assessing and handling the crisis one step at a time, many of the passengers weren’t so fortuitous. Knowing time was not on his side and being trapped below deck would be certain death, Do’Karth finally found the strength to move. Grabbing his staff and leaving his pack behind, he headed to the deck of the ship, his fear of the open water being greatly preferable to the prospect of being trapped below deck as the frigid waters came to claim him. By the time he reached topside, several voices were cursing the mages, and it didn’t take long for Do’Karth to discover the overturned dingy being rocked by the waves. There were no bodies in sight; the sea had swallowed the panicked mages without mercy. 

Leif, the brave, foolish bastard, had evidently climbed the mast to cut free the sail, for reasons that eluded Do’Karth’s non-nautically inclined mind. What on Nirn was he hoping to accomplish? Do’Karth hated himself for being unable to act, for being so helpless; this was a situation where he was utterly overwhelmed and for the first time in many, many years, fear gripped him to the point where he felt like little more than a helpless kitten, the decisions for his fate in the hands of the others. Even though the adrenalin and fear warmed his blood, the biting cold of the gales and winds, along with the sea spray that lapped over the gunwales, quickly threatened to sap any strength with the most bitter and horrible way one could conceive of perishing. It would not be quick, and agony would consume any who fell into the water until hypothermia took them or the water filled their lungs.

Sagex pulled Do’Karth from his panicked state of mind with a surprisingly clear and chipper tone of voice that defied the situation at hand. Fearfully, Do’Karth looked at Sagex, part of him wishing for nothing more than to take his advice, but also recalling all too well what had happened to the mages. There was no easy solution. “This one is simply an okay swimmer, but Do’Karth fears very few could withstand the cold. There’s ice on the water.” He replied to the Imperial with a heavy face, his sash and tail flapping wildly in the winds, as if reflecting his own desperation. “But what of the others? What if someone needs the seat more than Do’Karth? He is terrified of ending up in the sea regardless…” he trailed off, wide-eyed and holding his staff close, the only thing familiar and comfortable in the chaos around him.