San Salvadore island has seen a lot of wear and tear over the years—first it was a sand spit where Columbus landed back in 1492, then I was a naval listening post for the States before they split up. Finally, they built a Cub Med on the strip of sand a scant dozen miles long, sticking out of the Carib into the deep dark blue…but that got completely washed away during the storms of ’32.

Now San Salvadore is a smuggler’s paradise and a pirate’s home away from home. The smell of sweet tropical flowers mingles with the exhaust of T-birds idling in the clearings near the harbor. It’s early in the day, and the shops and stalls are just opening along the harbor front. Metas of all kinds can be seen waking up on their ships, stumbling out of cabins, and making ready to sail.

The Insert Name of Ship Here is riding at anchor in the island's northern harbor. Her cells are charged, the wind is fresh out of the east, and your stores are full with fresh food. The Carib is yours. It’s time to wind up any business you have on shore and set a course!

Noticing the sunlight slanting across the deck, Corinna glanced at her watch, wondering how on earth she'd let a sphere of hydrogen plasma sneak up on her. The time piece told her that it was half passed mai tai. which meant that it was half til margarita. That was an hour worth staying up for, and it'd been a good... night? Week? Month? She really couldn't remember. Everything more than a few hours old was fuzzed together into a warm sense of not so bad. Sven had wanted her to do something, but she couldn't remember if it'd been last night, or three months ago. Both seemed equally likely. She knew he'd said something to her before one party or another, but there'd been so many, and if it'd been important, surely he would've reminded her. Unless he'd told her last night, in which case he'd probably expect it to be done by today.

Hmm, that was a problem. She'd have to reflect on it over a mai tai. At least for the next twenty minutes. Then she'd start using margaritas to aid her cognitive functions.

It was already looking like another good day.

"The blood doth run cold....", Sven moaned as he walked up onto the deck in the too-early morn. The 10 o'clock hour was near at hand. The previous night party left a couple of rag-tag remnants sleeping on the deck, twas hardly a sight for heavy eyes. It was time to clean the deck, and nothing did that better than a full-speed ride into the watery heavens which surrounded them. "From me boat you scurvy dogs, tis time ye found yer home that nay be mine!", Sven cursed as he picked up some elf poser and his human friend by the collars in their sleep and started tossing them overboard. Fortunately for them, the docks were softened by left over netting that covered the section they landed in. Not the most pleasant way to awaken, but it didn't actually seem to awaken them, as they nuzzled into the netting for more sleep. Checking that the full 5 man crew was aboard, Sven woke the rest with a morning blaring of the horn. "We be off to yonder parts. Pack thy gear and set thyselves to thy duties, we make for the rivers of Asgard on this morn!", he finished in a bit of a slur, as the bottle of rum went ends up over his lips.

Iron Rodger Reed, bright green dreadlocks flapping in the wind stands atop the wheelhouse roof, master of all he surveys. The master takes a deep breath of the salty sea air, leans over the railing, and promptly barfs last nights drinking binge into the Caribbean.
"Nevea mix the Meister of the Jager and the Capt. of the good shhip Morgan. Dey will trade broadshides all night. Now dosh anyone know who turned that pretty girl I was with lashtnight into what ever dat ish?" Rodger points to the inflatable whale sitting on deck.

With all the acrobatic skills a hung over dwarf can muster, which is to say very little, Reed bounds (stumbles, trips falls) down to the main deck. Managing a loose salute to Sven Iron wanders in search of rum, and some coffee to dilute it with.

The morning horn several min. later rousts a much fresher looking (and smelling) Rodger, who having had the whole skin, never mind just a hair, of the dog, strikes a slightly saltier sight then most people around this part. As long as he dose'nt try and say that.
"Lets get this circus a sailing"

Mornin' already...?

Dusty crawls out from whatever had been sheilding him from the sun and peeks one eye open.

Yep. Mornin'. *groans*

Figuring he doesn't want to end up like the two loaffers Sven pitched over the side, Dusty struggles to his feet. In doing so, he notices he's not wearing shoes. Or a shirt. With a sheepish grin he snaps off a quick salute to the boss, "Mornin' Cap'n," before hustling off to find some footware. And take a leak.

Sitting up sharpish Ralph or Clump as he was known to most groned and placed a hand to his forhead before completely coming to his feet, glancing down he was impressed with himself somehow he'd had the mind to make a pillow out of his great coat. Picking it up and putting it on he took a good look around the deck, must have been a hell of a party he mused he started for the way below decks,

"Mornin Ca'tin it be ah fine day for salin wouldn't ye say"

he called out as he passed out of sight below decks.

Charlie jumped up to his feet when he heard the horn blowing, before realizing it was simply the morning wake up calll. "Cappin gets me e'vry time with that." Grumbling, Charlie heads up to the deck where he makes a quick dive in the water and climbs back out to rinse off whatever it was on him that smelled so foul. "Tha's a bit better. Mornin Cap. I'll jus go down n check that we still got all our stuff in tha hold." Walking on down to the cargo hold Charlie begins lacklusterly checking that nothing got stolen last night.

"Clump mate, hows pickings fer ya?" Rodger shoots across the decks to his old shipmate.

Corinna stood back from the railing, rubbing out the stiffness in her arms. Her head was twinging a bit so she decided to hit the sickbay up for a couple of aspirin. "Hey Charlie," she called out as she crossed the deck, "y'know, that's maglock really doesn't do us much good if you don't close...the... damn it." She remembered what it was Sven had told her to do, and it had been last night. Bugger. She hoped that nothing had wandered off, for her sake.

As she went below deck and headed for her 'office' she rummaged around in her pockets for her keys. Whenever it was party time, she kept the door double padlocked, ever since coming to the rather irritating observation that drunks found scalpels to be irresistable playthings.

She didn't come back out until a little after margurita o'clock. The aspirin had taken care of her headache, but she still felt a tension behind her eyes. She'd been looking forward to mixing herself up one, but the thought of having another drink made her stomach twist slightly. Otter was sending her a subtle message that he wasn't happy with how she'd been treating herself. When one's totems begins speaking directly to someone, one was wise to listen. She'd already learned once the penalties of ignoring the Power that touched you.

She felt a twinge of jealousy when she saw the mostly empty bottle of rum at Sven's side. Although her stomach disagreed, her gut was telling her that a swig of that was exactly what she neeed (it always amused her when the two disagreed). "Morning, captain,' she said casually. "Everyone got all their bits and pieces with 'em?" She didn't really wait for an answer, leaning back against the rail and looking over her shoulder out to sea.

The purr of the motor goes almost unheard against the background noises of the ocean and harbor. Sven waits for everyone interested in a morning dip to return to the boat, then starts belaying the ever common, and usually ignored since they're usually already being done anyhows, "We sail to the northeast this day, Ralph, pull up the sails, this day we go by wind, Rogers, give him a hand. Corinna get us some wind will'ya. Rusty and Charlie, hoist the ropes, na'ar yonder regions we sail. Ralph, I shall need a hand with the navigations shortly.", Sven pulls some of the ropes to help hoist the sails with Ralph and Rodgers.

Charlie finishes a quick-check of the inventory, and everything still looks in place when he hears the motor start up. He climbs up on deck and starts helping Rusty with the ropes.

"Yarr Sven, I'm hoistin away. Everything below decks looks like its still about. Where're we haulin' off too this day? I can help out with the navigation as well, 'less you want me to make a better check of the hold. Might have a stowaway."

Dusty strains against the ropes but he reigns them in. Not familiar with rigging he relys on his lessons from Sven.

Stowaways?

"Wha'sa matter Chuck? Too much to drink last night? Or is that ork stripper still cloudin' yer mind?" Dusty laughs. "You was just down there, hombre." He smiles. "Gimme a hand with this." [does something sailorish]

Corinna gives Sven an affirmative nod, and then waits for he, Ralph, and Rodgers to finish with the sails before she closes her eyes and reaches her mind out to the sky. She felt the need to push herself, just a little. "No rain, no sleet, no snow, no hail, just a gentle wind to fill our sail."

She felt the spirit coalesce before her, but at the last moment something twisted inside, making her sag back against the railing with a grimace of discomfort. She'd pushed herself a little too far. However, at her command, the air spirit made the sails billow out and the ship leap forward. A little pain was a small price to pay for that.

------

Emerging from below deck Ralph calls back to Iron,

"It be fine Iron lad but there still be room for improvements."

Looking up as Sven yelled out orders Ralph doesn't wait to ackknowladge them but leaps straight to it the sails slowly unfurl.



"I'll be with ye in just ah few ticks' Ca'tin"

With a sudden gust of wind from Corrina's spirit of the skys, the good ship ShipNameHere leans into the breeze, and starts cutting the surf out of harbor. Thanks to the good steersmanship of her crew, the vessel avoids any hazards of navigation in the harbor (which is crowded, but by no means packed, with other ships--most of the smaller of which dodge out of the way).

The day is fair and the spirit's movement power backs a gentle, but powerful breeze behind you, which seems to turn with the ship. You sail north out of the harbor (the only way to go). To starboard is the deep, inky blue of the Atlantic, with naught in between but water, traders laden with goods from exotic Africa, and a bit of the blue water navy. To port is the Carrib-- rich with islands, mystery, and intrigue (not to mention Karnival Kruise Lines--the premier party boat of the CAS). The bow of the ship is pointed more or less towards Bermuda, a few days' sail north, and to aft is San Salvadore again, and beyond, the tip of Amazonia (eventually).

Sven looks to the northeast, as he pulls Ralph towards him as he gestures the rest of the crew inwards, "Yonder way be the triangle of Bermuda, it doth pull me as a place of plundering, many a ship hast been lost in the sea verily enough. What say ye, that we do polt for ourselves a course into that nether region, and find for us either deeds of heroism to accomplish, or a graveyard of lost boats to plunder?" He then stands, pointing to the southwest, "Yonder waters be nary a sight for the weak, tis a near limitless place of plundering, but filled with enough pirates as to make it seem less than visually desireable. But the chance for battle be greater, and the honor high as the pleasures that can be garnished. Each victory having a reward in innebriation and other loot. ", he then points westward, "That direction doth have a place of true battle, Aztlan. No battles would be greater, and no reward smaller, but the honor would be immeasureable. Battle doth pull me forward with a yearning I can but barely resist, to plunder the verily endless number of Aztlan patrol boats would yield us a name that would go down in history forever.", he then turns, facing the crew with a serious face. "You may choose our path, Exploration and Adventure to the Northeast, Riches and Intoxication to the Southwest, or Honor and Fame to the far west. Or perhaps you have another suggestion...."

Charlie leans in to listen to the Captain speak. "Well, I be liking the sound of the triangle. Plenty o' plunder thats down in the deep, and naught another vessel to be botherin' us."

Dusty may not be close enough to hear the captian's voice but he can see the big man's lips moving. He can only imagine what Sven's saying to the grizzled sea dwarf at his side but judging by the look in the shaman's eye, it was going be a pretty damn good day.

I love my job...YARRR! Dusty smiles to himself.

Corinna visibly flinches at the mention of Aztlan. "Let's not go west, ne? I hear that the Yuctan is particularly toxic this time of year, and that's put everyone from the peninsula to the coast of old Texas in a bad mood. Not to mention that, "Hey! Look! Aztlan!" is one of the biggest buzzkills this side of catching an APDS with your face. I think that Northeast is the place to go. Karnival should be gearing up for the season, making them easy pickings for party crashers. Tourists are always dropping things." She begins ticking off points on her fingers. "Trinkets, knickknacks, wallets, jewelry, kegs, small children, large dogs, medium sized boats..." She stops, realizing her hand has started shaking too much to keep counting on. Guiltily, she pulls a flask from the pocket of her lab coat, and takes a long drink. "Northeast!" she urges, sounding refreshed. "Too party and plunder! Yarr!"

With a turn of the wheel, Sven is able to angle the ship NE, setting a course for mysterious northern waters. The prow of ShipNameHere cuts through the lightly rolling waves, leaving a glistening spray in its wake. To port, small green islands are visible, just along the horizon, and San Salvadore is rapidly diminishing behind you.

Who is on what watch, and who is maning the lookout/sensors/big spy glass?

Sven mans the Steering wheel, relying on Ralph's navigational skills at the sensors to get them to the Bermuda coastline in the fastest way possible, "We'll be pullin inta the port of Hamilton a'fore I do grace the gods of sleep. Keep the sails full, and eyes open for oppurtunity my friends, Tis a long path til we come hither.", he leans over to Corinna, "Why don'tcha head down to the cabins hon, and rest thy body as thy mind scouts ahead for us...?", he asks of her quietly. "Dusty! Charlie! Watch that line, that pole comes swingin around and we'll be havin to pick you out of the water."

By now the boat is going at full speed, the Hydrofoils starting to show themselves above the surface of the water, reducing the friction further as the boat is pushed by the ocean wind and the spirit which visibly keeps the sails filled. The water is being skimmed over, leaving almost no mark as it flees along at top speed.

The wind and mist sprayed from the boat blows through the captain's long hair, and presses his silk shirt tightly against his body revealing one of the most muscular physiques a human could ever hope to attain. The smile on his face ruins it though, it's like a kid's smile at his own birthday party, but with sharp fang like teeth.

Charlie looks around before heading to the bow of the ship and looking out over the ocean as the boat skims along it. He grips the rail, not because he is worried he will fall off himself, but to reduce anyone elses worry of the same. I hope that theres something worth hauling up from the triangle. Last salvage we tried was terrible, wouldn't want that happening again. Fraggin' old boat fell apart as we pulled it up. Have to make sure to get a big net next time we're in port.

Corinna took the captain's hint, and headed below to her berth. She grinned and shook her head as she heard him bellowing at the spirit for, "More winds! More speed!" He'd let the thrill of rushing wind and looming plunder go to his head again. She'd made sure that the spirit at least knew to stop blowing well before it risked tearing the masts from the deck.

She took one last nip from her flask then tossed it onto the formless bean bag chair in the corner. She settled in comfortably into the nest of tangled sheets in her hammock, zipping up the top, just in case Sven decided to make any drastic course adjustments while she was out.

Then she closed her eyes and let her spirit slip free of her body. Almost immediately, the ship began to draw ahead of her, its walls passing through her astral body until she popped out the aft hull. It pulled away at more than twice her 'slow' speed, and she gave the spirit a friendly acknowledgment before going fast.

With a thought, she went up about half a kilometer, high enough that if there was anything weird in the water, it couldn't just rear out and snap her up. The sea was lit up below her like a starry night sky, the ShipNameHere a small gray shape cutting across it's surface. She sped ahead of it, passing over a kilometer of sea every few seconds, her 'eyes' searching for any other dim, large, moving shapes passing over the 'stars.'

She hoped there was a cruise ship somewhere ahead of them. She could still taste the alcohol from that last shot of rum like a coating of slime on the back of her throat. It'd be nice to get her throat around something top shelf. Maybe she could even get her pockets around an entire bottle or two.

She checked back on the ShipNameHere to make sure it was where it was supposed to be. At the rate it was going, it was going to take an extra long day to get to Bermuda. The captain wasn't going to be getting any shut eye any time soon, at least not until long after she'd taken over the night's watch.

That reminded her that she was due for her usual fifteen winks. She never had gotten around to sleeping last night. She could take care of that when she got back.

Ralph checked sytems sun postion time of day glanced at maps and rechecked yelling out course changes towards the Captain. God he loved the thrill of sailing and the prospect of richs was only icing upon the cake.

The ship appears to Corinna on the astral long before it grows much beyond a speck on the horizon. From a cursory inpection, it seems teeming with life. Forms move about her deck quickly, in a frenzy of activity. The ship itself is large, but not particularly larger than the ShipNameHere. It is moving slowly through the water, in no particular hurry, towards the west.