Your Ship

{if Utility Variable > 1} The Demeter is quiet. Empty. The Cerulean Titan pays some ruffians to guard against theft but– safe their occasional patrols – you are alone on deck. A breeze brings the taste of salt to your lips. There is work to be done.

{else}

You walk along the wharves, the bustling waterside throng too thick for any cab to navigate. A hawker grabs your arm, and a whore stops their animated chat with a prospective john to wave at you. The air is thick with salt and smoke, the smell of frying fish and human sweat.

You tear yourself free with a rude gesture and continue your stroll towards the Demeter. {endif}