Agonizing pain.
That was the first thing Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun felt from his character after logging in.
His head felt ready to split, and his shoulders and back felt as though they had been smashed with a giant hammer. Every bone protested. He struggled to open his eyes to the familiar, loathsome sight of the lower hold, but something seemed different.
The light seeping through the gaps and holes in the hatch was still dim, but it was no longer the despairing darkness of the storm. Instead, it had turned soft and faintly gray.
What was more, the deafening roar of the storm outside, the screaming timber, the thunder... all of it had vanished.
In its place came the relatively calm swish of seawater gently lapping against the hull, along with the groans, panting, and murmurs of the players and NPCs around him who had survived the ordeal.
The rocking continued, but the violent lurches that threatened to shake their organs loose had become weary, rhythmic rises and falls, like the breathing of an exhausted giant.
"Is that fucking storm over?"
A player beside him spoke shakily, his voice inexplicably hoarse.
"Looks like... we made it through?"
Another voice answered uncertainly.
As though those words had lit a spark, the survivors in the hold began struggling to their feet. Supporting one another, they staggered toward the stairs leading to the deck, unease and anticipation mingling in the air.
Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun also endured the aches throughout his body and braced himself against the cold hull to stand. He followed the crowd, laboriously making his way up one step at a time.
With every step, he felt his bones creak.
The hatch was pushed open from outside, and brighter, almost dazzling light poured