|A silent wreck|
Encrusted protrusions of coral fix the wreck's anchor to the zee bed. The bow has shattered on the rocks. The anchor chain groans in the current.
After approaching the wreck on the map. Currently unknown where it may be found.
|Leave well enough alone
There's something off here. You want nothing to do with this wreck.
|Enter the wreck
Judging by the progress of the decay and its outmoded plating, this ship has lain here since soon after London's Fall.
This may not be wise.
|You don your diving suit...
Your airline is extended to enable a thorough exploration. As you pick your way across the zee bed to the wreck, you notice a weak light shining from within the ruptured bow. It illuminates a shoal of fish skirting around and away from the wreck. The cargo hold is yawning wide, offering easy entrance.
Your bo'sun is to remain outside while the rest of you go in. She will sound the time in sevens. "Be out in fourteen minutes," she warns, "After seven, the fear sets in. Twice that, the hallucinations. Thrice that, you'll go dark. No coming back."
The ship shudders. Something large must have passed by. Go deeper.
|You make for the port stairwell. The compartment, the bulkheads, the portholes are revealed in pale milk-white. A ship passing in the waters above? The light goes as suddenly as it came. You are plunged into abyssal darkness.|
|You press on through the murk. An old lantern crashes down an iron stairwell. Your foot must have caught it as you turned a corner. You follow it down, and find yourself on an unfamiliar deck.|
|A way out
There - a steel ladder shines in your lamplight. Was it always half-wrenched from the wall? Do you care? The cargo hold is just below.
|The ladder cannot take your weight. It hangs loose from the wall. You float down to the ship bottom, where those crew you brought with you wait. They acknowledge your return but offer nothing. The groaning of the wreck accompanies your return to your zub.|
Alone. When this ship went down, at least a dozen died together. You do not have that comfort.
|Retrace your steps
Which turning was wrong
|The wreck lists at a pronounced angle. Something groans; something shudders. Did the ship shift?|
|The wreck lists at a pronounced angle. You are forced to crawl along a ladder that quakes with your weight. But this deck seems familiar.|
Somewhere there has to be an escape. You entered through the hold. You cannot be trapped forever.
|No, not here. You have not been here before. The deck below you is rent and ravaged. A chasm gapes before you. Above you, a bulkhead. This too is unfamiliar.|
|You know this deck. This carpet - iridescent with fungus - is familiar. Those lights just ahead are surely those of your zub. Just a little further. Just a little longer.|