In the beginning, there was thunder, but it was not thunder. It was the roar of the gods, the roar of infinite power. It was the snarl of the heavens opening. When it was again silent, when the sound had circled the horizon twice, only then was the true dominance of the gods in full display. In the area where the sound had been, was a ship of the line. It had holes in a thousand different places. It was bubbling, as the water, denied entrance to the ship for so long, rushed into the ship with a vengeance.

          In a small port, on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, a frigate sailed in. It sailed slowly, barely moving fast enough to make a bow wave. Its sails shivered in the weak wind. They were more holes than cloth. It was a miracle that it was still afloat. On the stern, painted in chipped black paint, was the name "Avenger."

          "Avenger, eh?" said the old man. The man's skin was a hunk of leathery meat caused by years of exposure as a sailor. "She always was a strong ship. Looks as if she had a run in with a big one, fifty gunner at least."

          The man's voice rose with a bit of pride as he commented about the ship with the man next to him. "I used to sail on her before I lost me leg." The man gestured to where his leg should have been, but only a peg, a stump of rotten wood, remained.