The wind howls outside the wooden walls of your cells, shrill against the hull of the ship, the cold finding its way in through every nook and cranny. The faint scent of ocean air wafts in from time to time, bringing with it memories and emotions that wash over you in the lonesome dark of the brig. You can hear the others that are held there with you; criminals, dissidents, prisoners of war, or just those unlucky enough to have found themselves in shackles. Some of them spend their time in the dark cursing their captors, while others have spent the days crying for themselves, their loved ones, or their souls.
What have you done?
Captured and bound, you were thrown in to these cells some days or weeks ago. You are not sure exactly how long you have been held prisoners; days, weeks, possibly months have gone by since you were taken. This may not have been your only cell, but all of them start to look the same.