"Fire!" Came a shout from the deck, followed by orders being bellowed about putting it out, saving various things.
Oddly it seemed the crew had forgotten about Anton until he emerged from his cabin. "The ship just caught fire sir!" a sailor said, before throwing water over an ever growing fire. But ships don't just catch fire, there had to be someone around - a damn spellcaster. Anton's training kicked in, look for the culprit before saving yourself because if you don't, they won't miss next time. Running towards the port side the flames roared greatly around him, burning Anton's left side. Then he saw him, a lone figure on the docks.
Anton grabbed a cutlass from a passing sailor and then jumped into the sea, his robes flapping as he fell. Then the cold and harsh bite of the sea hit. But Anton didn't care, he was blind with rage, all he cared about was reaching the shore and catching the spellcaster!
[OOC: Do we have derogatory names for spellcasters? I can't for the life of me think of anything.]
