Davvie awoke in the grey of dawn. She dressed, detangled her hair using her fingers, and then hurried above deck. Salty seaspray greeted her as she breached the surface. The sun was cresting the horizon, casting the sails in golden light, an eastern wind drove them away from the rising sun. She surveyed the water stretching out in every direction.

A small collection of ships bobbed in the middle distance. Beyond the horizon, lay a bustling port metropolis. The ships in the distance sailed onward towards that horizon with the port city, likely laden with goods. These ships were not Miss Fortune's target, currently. For their mark, they were to bypass the port city, round the coast, and descend into labyrinthine sea caves. A stolen map showed where a cache was said to be hidden in the maze. However, Davvie eyed the bobbing ships; curious what they may hold in their bellies. Taking one certainly held promise for an interesting afternoon. Her fingers twitched in anticipation.

A large smile split Davvie's face, and she called to Miss Fortune's crew, "Shall we take one?"

Beorgric had been up since dark, fussing over the holds and inspecting the maintenance and cleanliness of the ship. There could be no room or excuse for shoddy craftmanship or lazy handiwork; he was a dwarf, after all, and some kind of standard had to be upheld. As Davvie came prancing upon deck, he tipped his hat in respect for his captain. Beorgric was of royal blood among his kin, but out here she was boss. He wasn't about to spoil the chance she'd given him by acting uppity. Alberich knew that had cost him enough in the past. Besides, Beorgric liked her. Davvie had a way about her that made him smile, their differences nonwithstanding.

As Davvie spoke, Beorgric raised an eyebrow and scratched his beard. Most of the crew were still fast asleep down below, but then again, that hadn't stopped them in the past. The mention of loot and plunder had an almost magical effect on pirates, he'd found. He hobbled up beside the captain along the railing where she was standing, putting his thumbs in his belt and spitting down into the foaming waves below.

Feelin' like a bit o' mornin' exercise, Captain? he said, shooting the captain a side glance and a sly smile, We could all do with a wee workout, I'd say. Besides, I’ve been lookin' at our stores. They’re not empty, but there's surely room fer more, if ye catch me drift.

On a ship not too far away, there stood a grayish-blue Dragonborn on watch with his looking glass, billowing a puff of smoke from the pipe leisurely hanging from his mouth. Around Phazmun was the usual bustle of their ship’s operation - deck being cleaned and tarred after their loading at port, some were eating some of the fresh apples, can’t let those go to waste, and then there were those few brave but unlucky new souls turning their stomachs inside out at the edge of the ship in between curses and pleas to whatever deity they fancied most at the moment.

The morning had a favorable breeze in store for them, and they had set off well on schedule to the next port of trade. And a good trade it would be - cacao and tobacco, mahogany and pelts, salted pork, and peas and plums in excess, even some silver. And of course the rum, can't forget the rum. Yes, they’d get more than enough profits from it that he’d be able to send some back to his family. That'd be a good day.

And there, in the distance, coming out of the morning dew, he saw a flag. It was one he knew well from all his time at sea. The black flag never bode anything but misfortune, and this one would bode even less judging by the ship's mangled figurehead. He bared his teeth as a grimace came over his face. "Captain! Two points off the starboard bow, in the fogbank, pirates!"

Liatra greeted the rising dawn with a skeptical stare, as if maybe if she stared hard enough, in just the right way, the sun would slip back below the horizon and the world would offer up another hour to sleep. The sun remained unblinking, and so with something that was halfway between a yawn and a sigh, Liatra gave in to the inevitable and finished taking the last steps above decks.

The captain was already awake, unsurprisingly, and Blackbeard had likely been up for hours. He got the pardon, for the night work, but Liatra thought the captain was a bit too chipper for the hour. No harm in it, though, she supposed.

The topic of the thing that claimed it was morning seemed to be the other ships in port, visible off the side of the ship.

"Do you suppose any of them are carrying tea?" There was usually tea in the ship's stores, even on the Miss Fortune, but the longer it had been since they'd acquired some, the weaker the drink was brewed. A good strong cup would go down well, she thought, wandering over to lean against the railing and glean what information she could from the ships and their flags, watching for the bustle of anyone else who might be sorry enough to be up at this hour.

"Could get a little rough if the rest of them nearby get involved. Might be better to see if one of them detaches and follow it out."

---

Davvie looked to the dwarf beside her. To her, he seemed to be somewhat an oddity. Davvie hadn't been sure what a dwarf was when she met him. While she still didn't know very much about them, she did know that they mostly lived in mountain ranges; that they rarely made the sea their home. When she was young, Davvie's mothers had told her that sea life wasn't for everyone, she hadn't believed that then and she still struggled to understand what could hold someone inland. She liked that, as she saw it, Blackbeard had been called to sea life.

Davvie chuckled and looked back to the distant ships as Liatra, sleepy and hoping for tea, joined them. "Only one way to find out, really." the captain chimed, "If we get on with it Miss Fortune can have a full belly before sundown."

She weighed Liatra's caution against her own impulsivity. She wanted to act, to hit hard and give no chance for the ships to get anywhere near port. Davvie checked and rechecked that her flintlock was loaded as she considered the ships.

"Alright," she conceded, slightly, "let's get the sails trimmed up a bit though. We won't gain too much on them for now, but we certainly don't want to lose them."

“Hmmm, it’s a fast one, Captain. Sloop, about 70 feet, and I think I see spells on the mast. I don’t think we’ll make it back to port in time with this one.” Phazmun said to his captain, a burly man with a moustache any sailor would be jealous of, curled up and down in an almost S-like shape. It was only most fitting for the captain of the Sea Serpent, as he himself said. “I wasn’t planning on it, Chief. We have no man-at-arms, there’s no way we’d fare well in a full-frontal attack. And even if we'd make it back to port, the harbor’s defenses haven’t been the best since the last time pirates got to her.”

“So what is your plan? Make a break for it, safety in numbers?” The captain shook his head. “No, we meet them headlong. We draw them away, give 'em the biggest challenge we can, and the others a chance to get away...”

Phazmun snickered. “Never saw you for a hero.”

“... then we give ourselves up for ransom.”

“Grand.”

“No arguing, Chief Mate Phazmun. And look alive, we’ve got some pirates to outsmart!”

“Fine,” the Dragonborn grumbled as the captain ordered the alarm bells to be tolled in a pattern coding a message to the other boats. Turning to the rest of the crew, Phazmun started barking orders. “Crew! Offload our valuables to the rowboats and head for the other ships! Helm! Make sail and turn to starboard, hard! We’ll meet them headlong, and give the others a chance to escape!” He paused for a moment, and stroked the graying scales on the underside of his maw. “And shave some of the mahogany into tinder and stuff them with the rum! If the Serpent's gonna be captured, the least we can do is give them a fiery surprise…”

The captain smiled. “Now we’re talking.”