The last thing Sinbad remembered was falling into the ocean. The water engulfed him, carrying him deeper and deeper, leaving his ship and crew behind to fight the storm without their captain. The dark water burned his eyes, but he continued to stare toward the surface as he sunk deeper. It was funny really. A man who conquered seven dungeons, revered as Sinbad of the Seven Seas, and loved by those poor souls he endowed his treasure upon; drowned in the very sea he had come to love. He didn't lose to his enemies or meet his end to an assassin's blade, but died in the arms of the sea. He supposed that was good enough. At least he was comfortable there. There was a figure coming toward him and he closed his eyes, welcoming it with open arms.