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You kneel between two praying acolytes and begin to mumble along with their sonorous prayer-dirge. A shiver runs along your spine and you begin to feel queasy; a strong aura of evil surrounds the group and your psychic senses are struggling to shield your mind from its insidious influence.
You notice that some of the acolytes are shaking uncontrollably, and sweat drips from their faces despite the icy wind which howls across the deck. You recognize that they are suffering the after-effects of using Adgana, a potent and highly addictive potion which increases skill and ferocity in combat. You hazard a guess that many of the acolytes were made to take this narcotic before the assault on the quay, to stir them into battle-frenzy.
You have been kneeling among the praying acolytes for barely a minute when suddenly the war-horn blares a long, discordant tone. All eyes turn to the east where the shoreline can now be seen on the horizon. The longboat is speeding towards the wooden jetty where a large group of red-robed figures are awaiting its return. The prayer-dirge ceases and everyone gets to their feet in readiness to disembark as soon as the boat docks at the jetty.
