Martin Jackal spat the salted water from his lungs, and pulled a stray piece of seaweed from his hair. He felt
vaguely proud that he had survived after his shipmates had left him at sea. But part of him felt guilty for betraying his
comrades.

        It had not been a tough decision. It was instinct more then anything else. Years as a sailor, swabbing decks, tying
off ropes, sewing up the holes in sails, had led him to madness. The boredom had been too much, and finally he had
snapped.
        In a fit of rage he had killed his captain and the first mate. His crew mates.....his friends...had tried to calm him. He
had killed 7 of them before the serpent had appeared. And by then it was too late.
        There was no panic from him. The serpent had swallowed him whole, but this only worked to enrage Martin more.
        The acids in the greedy beasts stomach had scorched his skin and clothes. But anger had over taken his soul, and
Martin ripped his way free with his own hands. When he surfaced he tried to swim back to the ship, but the crew merely
watched him. They raised the tattered rope ladder, and the ship sailed on.
        3 days in the icy water was too much for anyone. Martin had calmed down from the madness, but this only paved
the way for a new madness. With no fresh water to drink, he became dehydrated. With no food, he became starved.
Hallucinations plagued his waking life, and after what seemed to him as an eternity, Martin fell into an unconscious
sleep.

        But now he was on land. It was a wonder no other serpent had tried to swallow him. He was alive....but that didn't
help matters.
        "What have I done?" he managed between gasps. And once again, he collapsed and slept.


        Monkey sat on the deck with the other sailors. By heart he was a mage, though his skill was weak. His father had
convinced him that the ocean was the way to go. There was good money in Serpent scales apparently.
        Apparently.
        As a member of this crew, Monkey had never seen any of the gold. He got his wage like everyone else, but it was
small and afforded little.
        "We shouldn't have aught to leave him like that." Monkey said finally. "Its not right. He was our friend."
        "And what would you rather we had done?" Said Beck, the new Captain.
        "You saw what he did to the others. And I almost feel sorry for that serpent."
        "It doesn't matter!" Monkey cried. "He was our friend! You don't abandon friends! He was just sick is all. We could
have got him on board and looked after him. Locked him up until we found a healer. He could have been alright!"
        "He would have killed us all. Used to pick locks for fun when he was younger. We could never have kept him
locked up."
        There was silence from the crew as everyone though about the recent events. It was true that Martin had been a
friend to most of them. He had saved some of their lives in the past.
        But they were far from any healer. And cabin fever was dangerous, especially when it could not be contained.
        "...its not right..." Monkey said again. "...you don't abandon your friends when they need help...."

        "I was worried you would never awaken" said a kind voice as Martin opened his eyes. It was dark, and the owner
of the voice was out of sight.
        There are many things that run through the minds of the recently unconscious, as they awake. Such questions as
"Where am I?" or "Who am I?"
and quite often "How did I get here?". The human mind often needs a little time to adjust before it can move on from
such things.
        "I need a drink." Groaned Martin as he rolled and fell off the bed and onto the hard wooden floor.
        "I found you lying in the sand at the beach." Said the voice. "You looked as though you could use a little help."
        "What I need, is Ale!"
        "Well I'm afraid I don't drink." Said the voice as it approached. As Martins eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that
the voice had originated from a kindly old man in black robes. At least, Martin thought he was old. The man had the
appearance of a bald 30 year old, but the way he spoke, the way he moved gave the impression of many more years.
        "My name is John." Said the man. "But people around here call me Preacher."
        "And where is here?"
        "Papua."