Thormirís glee is unbound as he places his hands on the wooden chest. He salivates at the thought of the gold inside. He relishes in the feel of the smooth wood beneath his hands and then he blinks in sudden blindess as electricity flares before his eyes. A trap? No everything else is different too, except for the fact that his hands still touched wood. As his eyes recover from their ailment, he sees he is not where he was. Also, his hands are no worse for the wear. A jungle lies off to his left, and an endless ocean off to his right. The wood he was touching appears to be a ship of some sort, half-buried in the sand. More ships are nearby, and yet more are half sunk in the reefs off shore. A figure is seen in the distance, too far to tell sex or race, but they see you too.