A huge ocean-going vessel laid out deck by deck, top to bottom, locked in icy water on every side. It reads as a whole world afloat — a working warship up top giving way to crowded living decks below, and finally to the dark cargo holds at the keel. The cold sea pressing in around the timbers sets the mood: isolated, self-contained, nowhere to run but down into the ship or out into the freezing dark.

The weather deck is broad and bare — open planking lined with mounted ballistae and winches along the rails, hatches dropping into the dark below, and an armory of racked weapons aft. It feels exposed and martial. Run it as the boarding fight or the standoff, with the open deck as a wide killing ground and the rail-engines as objectives to seize. The two middle decks are a dense warren of cabins and quarters — dozens of small berths packed with beds, chests, rugs, and personal clutter down a central spine. Claustrophobic and lived-in, they're built for a running deck-to-deck fight, every door a fresh threat and every cabin a place to search or hide.

The lowest deck is the belly of the ship — a vast hold packed with lashed-down cargo, crates, and bales around the masts, plus a tiled compass-marked chamber set apart at the bow. The mood here is gloom and weight, far from daylight. Run it as the climax level: cover everywhere among the freight, tight sightlines, and that worked chamber as the prize or boss room at the heart of the cargo.