Yesterday afternoon, the Wench's Arrow put in at the village of Willowithy. There was some nervousness among the sailors. You may have overheard mutterings about sea monsters in this harbor. Nevertheless, the cargo of horses and the local pilot from Arngold Quay were put off the ship at Willowithy without incident and the Wench's Arrow soon set out again south along the coast.
Late that evening, the ship passed lights marking another settlement. Anyone who bothered to ask would have learned that those lights belonged to the village of Marcantine, where the Wench's Arrow was built. The voyage after that was unremarkable, with no lights or landmarks visible in the dark of night. Surely, the passengers took this time to sleep, either above or below decks, depending on their preference...
During the night, each of you experienced what seemed a dream of terrible crashing and rocking. In the dream, you grabbed what possessions you could before being plunged into turbulent water. You thrashed about, clinging to whatever you could in the darkness before finally finding what felt like solid ground beneath your feet.
Now it is dawn and you awaken, damp, on a sandy beach. Pieces of ship's timbers and shattered cargo crates are strewn up and down the beach. Apparently, that wasn't a dream! A horse (Sefera's) is running loose up and down the beach, but other than the people you dined with yesterday morning, there are no other signs of life.
The beach slopes up to the west onto a wide, grassy plain. Farther to the west, some miles away, there are signs of hills. Miles to the north, there is a glint of sunlight off water, suggesting a river lies that way.