Memories of the previous night fade in and out of your thoughts; the rowdy tavern, laughter ringing in the smoky air, ghostly scents of strong perfume and sweat meats, and the lingering flavor of cheap wine on your lips. Your head is pounding in rhythm with a strange creaking noise as you slowly come-to in a dark, damp unfamiliar room.
The floor beneath you is hard, and sways a bit; feeling a bit sick, you wonder if you're still drunk.
Before rising, several heavy steps approach and your eyes are seared by the blinding light of a lantern. Standing at the door are seven armed men, and you find that your own weapons and belongings are missing.
A tall, dark haired man wearing a long coat and heavy boots stands out from the crowd as he sneers, revealing two full rows of gold teeth, and looks over the lot of you. Not a man of strength, but backed by the six other burley men carrying saps, it is clear that he is at least dangerous.
His thick, oily black hair is pulled back beneath a red bandana, and his beard is braided in several places with beads woven into the braids. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
He motions with a whip gripped expertly in hand for everyone to get up and follow him, the fellow men with saps spread out at the door, watching for any queues from the man with a whip.
A perception check please. :)