Re: Wreck of the Direption
You swim upwards, coming over the top of the fractured top deck.
The cabin door is the only thing of interest. As you pull on it, it actually comes away from the frame. It was hard to tell before due to the general murk, but it had been ripped from it's hinges. And then placed back.
Mercifully, nothing comes lumbering out at you. Ruined bits of furniture scatter about the floor. Bed sheets bob in the current like children dressed up as ghosts for a night of pranks. A dead man lingers amidst the wrecakge. He does not stir. He just hangs there limply. His face is covered by a mask. It is like one of the doctors masks you saw in the Palace square earlier. A full leather facial masks with the eyes covered up by thick goggles sewn into the leather and a long, thin beak of an appendage jutting out from the mouth. He appears as a giant misquito, long since dead from it's unfuflfilled thirst for blood. It appears at least pne of the Queen's plague doctors came aboard this ship. Though whether he was here when it sank or he came along since, there's no way of telling. At least there isn't by just staring at him.