Judgment
Something is wrong here.
I am not familiar with this place.
Its dark… and wet.
My fingernails scrape cruddy damp filth off the long boards I sit upon, I am leaned up against something, a tall round pole of old lumber. There are numbers and names cut into the pole, all the way up it, at least as high as my vision permits me to see in the low light. The floor under me sways back and forth a bit, causing my vision to spin as I lose my balance, pressing my body back into the poll for a moment before raising my eyes to look at the grime encrusted rails and stairs, the long deck that stretches for hundreds of feet in every direction.
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