You awake from a deep slumber and stretch. You immediately regret it, because your body aches in protest. You look around the small stone cell you find yourself in, and decide the interior decorator ought to be shot. The roughly hewn wooden floor and cobwebs don't accent the iron cot very well.
You sit and ponder your situation and try to remember how you got there. Better yet, you can't even recall who you are. You look down at your chest and discover that you are female, and that your name is Riley. You feel the contours of your face, and find a few lines and wrinkles, but not too many, considering that you are sixty years old, which you seem to remember without really wanting to.
Your mind is filled with bits and snippets of spells and incantations. You lie back on the cot and stare at the cracked ceiling, trying to sort out your thoughts. You think you were a mage, or sorceress before you got here, but where is here, and where did you come from? Your befuddled brain isn't giving you any answers, so you get up and go to the small barred window.
You cling to the crumbling masonry that is laughingly referred to as a window sill, and you survey the outside world, at least as much of it as you can see. The sun peeks its smiling rays over the ocean, just behind a massive ship, Its main mast tall and sturdy against the backdrop of buildings on the shore. The sails are furled, the ship at rest. Only the bow and part of the side are visible from where you are.
You vaguely remember this ship, or one very much like it. You suddenly have a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you think you might vomit - or did vomit - steadily, for days. You do not have pleasant memories of such a ship. You vaguely remember chanting some sort of spell to calm the weather. Perhaps it didn't work, and you were thrown in this cell as punishment. What should you do now? Should you ...