The sea was getting restless, the waves were lapping against the side of the haul, its salty fingers reaching for the main deck. An isolated cloud galloped across the sky, giving the crew a bit of shade before departure. It brought in a light rain coming along with brisk breeze, the specks of the rain like a spraying mist.

The Captain stood at the helm of the ship, draping his thick corded arms over the ship’s wheel, as he watched Aakhom welcome the elves from the Misty Isle. There were five of them, all dressed in thick, wooly, beige robes. Spotless, even with the light drizzle. Their steps were almost synchronous as they climbed up the ramp, their long hair dancing in the breeze. Their leader, Erdgo, was an older elf, the color of his hair lost to centuries, ghostly white in the wind and thin like needle thread.

The ship tilted a bit and the youngest of the elves shifted to adjust their balance, but overcommitted, nearly tumbling to the deck. The elf caught herself and recovered quickly, if not gracefully, the embarrassed elf declining Aakhom’s outreached hand.

“Thank you, I’ve got it,” Helengeth said sheepishly to Aakhom. The gray colored half-orc lieutenant grinned warmly, his broad and square jaw accentuated with his smile, creasing his face with deep contours. His crimson handkerchief rested just above his strikingly pronounced brow line, the strong, broad ridges complementing his rugged features. The heavy brow cast a bold shadow over his intense eyes, his deep gaze commandeering the attention of Helengeth.

Aakhom was a natural born leader, charismatic and resolute. He rose through the ranks of the Defiance quickly, commanding the respect of the crew for his bravery and daring exploits. His voice commanded respect, his loyalty unquestionable, the lieutenant ran a good bulk of the operations of the ship, and he did so without question or complaint. 

Next in line for captain, nothing made Aakhom more proud than being the best crewmate on the ship.

Aakhom clasped Erdgo’s forearm, welcoming him and his group aboard, they spoke a few words, and the group moved towards the common quarters. Erdgo’s eyes met with Captain Imsh along the way, and adjusted course towards him, telling the rest of his group to go on without him.

“Greetings, Captain,” the old elf said, “It cannot be overstated our gratitude for your commitment to see us through to our destination.”

“There ain’t many a crew that be willin’ to take ye to where yer goin’, and fewer that be knowin’ the way,” replied the Captain. “Ye follow me? As I said a’fore, if there be a way, the Defiance will get us there. If there aren’t -”

“I’m confident in your reputation, Captain,” Erdgo said with a slight nod, “I assume our advance is an agreeable sum?”

Captain Imsh raised his pipe to his lips, taking a sip of an intake, and met the old elf’s eyes. Up close and in the light, his eyes were a faded green hue, though falsely appearing to be milky white from a distance. He wore a stern look and a bone chilling gaze, time had etched its mark around his eyes and fine wrinkles lined his cheekbones. But, despite his wear of age, he had an undeniable intense demeanor.

Imsh returned a nod, and Erdgo left for his crew, barely waiting for his response. The half-orc captain watched him depart, blowing out the scented shimmer. He pondered then if he had been wise to agree to such an arrangement.

At the corner of his eye, Li approached.

“I see everyone’s getting along,” Li snickered, scribbling in the ship’s ledger. “With them aboard, everyone we’re expecting is accounted for.”

The sun crested over the passing clouds, and the rain subsided. 

Captain Imsh turned his head towards the quarterdeck, where Winslow stood, catching his attention. He fired his index finger at him, signaling him to ring the ship’s bell. Winslow reached for the bell rope and began clanging the bell in a back and forth motion for the ship’s final call for passengers, the five minute warning before departure.

“Final call! Final call!” Aakhom barked on the main deck, “Prepare to set sail, dogs! Hoist the mainsail and check the riggin’!” The main crew scrambled into place, preparing the ship.

Captain Imsh was hardly paying attention, still thinking of the old elf, Erdgo.

“He’s colder than a’fore when we pick ‘em up from Arcadia,” noted Imsh, “Imma havin’ second thoughts.”

“Don’t start it, Imsh. We need his coin, plus, maybe we can get him to aid us with the cleanin’ crew. With a look from that old banshee, he might scare half of ‘em to death,” Li chuckled.

Captain Imsh looked up at Li.

“I wasn’t gunna say it, but with his hair dancin’ wild like that, and the pale robes,” Imsh said waving his hands around his head, “Someone ought t’fetch a priest, a ghoul’s wandered from its tomb!”

Captain Imsh howled in laughter. He slapped the ship’s wheel and stomped his foot on the deck and even Joliat edged a wide smile, until he heard Aakhom’s voice again. 

“Hail ye, hail ye! Are ye seekin’ passage?” Ackhom inquired.

Imsh looked over and spotted a young, petite, female halfling, her arms crossed behind her, her hands tightly gripped around the handle of a cart full of luggage. She tugged with all her might, letting out a deep, guttural growl, straining against the weight. The cart was overflowing with bags and cases, the wheels on the cart groaned in despair at the grievous encumbrance. She pulled with all determination just as Aakhom snapped his fingers at a couple of crewmates, who jumped to assist.

“We got ourselves a straggler,” said Imsh. Li reopened the ledger.

The halfling, exasperated from the haul, leaned up against the rail near Lieutenant Aakhom, who waited patiently for her to recover.

“Yes… I’m seeking… passage… to Evelus!” she panted. “Please, pray tell… that you’re bound for it… and I didn’t mishear the harbormaster!”

“Aye, lass, we’re bound for it,” Aakhom confirmed.

“Don’t… call me, ‘lass’! I ain’t your mistress and I ain’t no lass,” the fiery halfling rebuked. “If you’re to address me, it’ll be with ‘miss’ or ‘missus’!”

The lieutenant offered a toothy smile, but obliged the small lady with a salute.

The two muscular grunts behind her finally got the cart to roll up onto the main deck, and gruffly called out to each other to lift the largest case on the cart. After a small countdown, both strained, and hoisted it barely an inch off the cart, before setting it back down.

“Careful now! That equipment is very delicate!” the female halfling scolded.

“Tis no trouble, missus,” Aakhom assured her, “Mind ye, there’ll be an added charge for ‘em delicate items, standard rates, ye savvy?”

The halfling nodded her head, and passed a heavy purse over to the lieutenant, who felt the excessive weight of the pouch. He untied the knot, reached in and inspected the coins, before biting down on one to attest their authenticity. He pulled the drawstrings to tighten it once again, and tossed the purse into the hands of one of the grunts.

“Count it, lad. I’ll show ye the proper way to move a box,” Aakhom teased. Aakhom and the other crewmate successfully lifted the large case and started away towards the cargo hold. Along the way, both the lifters labored their breaths, as the other crewmate tried to guide them carefully below.

“Wonder what’s in the case,” Li remarked. 

*                         *                         *

Moments later, the Defiance sailed past the port of Cillo and broke onto the North Winter Sea, bounding west for the Norrhavat Pass. It was cloudless, clear and open skies, with the sun beamed its warmth down upon the ship, drying up the residue of the morning drizzle in Cillo. All clear save for a darkening in the distant west. The skies were always cloudy in that part of the world, dressing the treacherous isle of Jalla’s Eye with ash and smoke.

Captain Imsh was at the wheel, wearing a black, leather tricorn hat, wreathed in the smoke of his latest blaze. From the quarter deck, he could see the crew making the necessary adjustments to the foremast, capturing the wind for the long haul. He raised his compass up to eye level, and kept it level as he held steady. After a moment, the sail crew called out for his approval. He began to speak but was caught by a fit of deep coughs, hacking fiercely, finally he dismissed them with the wave of his hand.

“I dun know how ye smoke this dank, Gummer,” he said through gritted teeth, slamming his compass shut. The sailor, Gummer, smiled a toothy grin next to him, his hands on his hips, taking in the draft of the sea. He was a human, like most of the crew, lanky and only in his mid thirties, but the kind of sailor that was usually mistaken for someone being in their fifties. He had dirty, blonde, thinning hair on his head, and he was missing a lot of his teeth, but could he steer the ship nearly as well as the Captain.

“Ayo, Capt’n,” replied the cheerful Gummer, “It be a stink’r that one, but it’ll keep ya loose when ya need t’guide the Defiance! She’s true now that them rain clouds b’gone!”

“Aye, there ain’t a mornin’ where Cillo don’t wake wit’ a shower, unlike ye!”

They both shared a hearty laugh at that.

The Captain blew out another batch of smoke and waved it from his eyes, when he saw Li making his way up the steps from the main deck. The wizard carried his ledger and what would be the castoff summary, the Captain took the pipe from his mouth, and called back, “Take the wheel, lad, ye kno’ the way.”

The Captain held a sturdy hand on a spoke, his corded forearms holding the ship a-course, until Gummer took the reins. He deftly placed his stogie deep in his mouth and firmly held the wheel. He looked back towards the aft, where the crew handling steering awaited his command, he waved them to one side to lean the ship starboard.

“Mercy be upon us, look at thar blue skies! By Lothandar’s shiny rear-end, it appears to be clear sailin’, Captain!” Aakhom called out from across the quarter deck. Captain Imsh and the wizard Li, were finishing the end of half-elf’s departure log as he joined in.

“… Countin’ the lady halfling, Gwinda, that’s four impromptu passengers… couple of them with delicate cargo, a bit of a boon there… well within nominal expectations for the season,” Li reported. Lieutenant Aakhom loudly popped his shoulders from moving the halfling, Gwinda’s belongings.

“Lieutenant,” acknowledged the Captain, “Speakin’ on the elements, a’sides the Nearmoon tonight, any tell on sea conditions for the voyage from the ol’ Skyseers?”

In Jalla, there was no better weather forecasting than the Skyseers Conclave, an ambitious network of casters that tracked and studied weather conditions worldwide. Known to be the only organization to have a presence in every single continent – including the Hordelande – the conclave ran a tight crew as any regimented military unit, reporting nearly precise weather in near real-time.

As such, sailors and shipping companies were the primary beneficiaries to the Skyseers Conclave, paying good money for the most accurate weather information; for a sum. Every major port city and town housed at least one Weather Fort, a conclave establishment normally near the docks where officials, sea officers, and other subscribers would be given detailed bulletin for areas of interest. However, information can only be acquired through a Weather Fort, as once a crew hits the seas, there is no way of knowing what may have changed since.

“You should pay closer attention to your calendar, Cap. It ain’t no mere Nearmoon. Tonight’s the night of the Mesmer Nearmoon,” the half-elf, Li corrected. Captain Imsh frowned and blew a loud raspberry.

“A damned Mesmerglow, by Lothandar’s rear-end indeed,” Captain Imsh moaned, shaking his head, then abruptly stopped after noticing that Li wasn’t done. “Why arye – Are ye serious!?”

“There is another matter, we got an update this morn, from the Skyseers. There’s a development -”

“Son of a -” Imsh started to say before breaking out in another string of hacking coughs.

“To the dead south, over Fairwynne Sea” revealed Li. “The Skyseers Conclave are callin’ it a possible tempest, barreling north. Southernmost island of Escalon was hit, then it tilted north and west and last I heard, gathering strength. We won’t know for a couple of days.”

Captain Imsh dumped the rest of his dank off the side of the ship, to Gummer’s amusement, then cleared his throat and spit a thick ball before returning to the helm.

“Ye sayin’, first, the mornin’lord’s gunna moon us, then we’re in fer a proper full moon, then Lothandar’s gonna take a piss on’r heads!?” heated up Imsh.

“Well, it wouldn’t be Lothandar taking the piss,” Li corrected him. Imsh shot him an eye.

“It’ll be alright, Capt’n, nothin’ we ain’t seen!” Ackhom tried to reassure him.

“Dun ye start! Ye kno’ what ye did, ye tempted fate!” Imsh said, not giving an inch to Ackhom. “How long could we afford to tarry the booty, Li?”

“You know what’s at stake, Imsh. Approximately twenty percent of our cargo are perishable spoils, plus we’d suffer fines on Cillo’s stash of shimmer for each day we’re late. We can spare a day, but two mightin’ be pushing it. That’s with me depleting a portion of my spells to keep the perishables fresh.”

“Look what ye put on us, Aakhom, I told ye dagnabbit! DON’T. TEMPT. FATE.” Imsh said, jabbing at Aakhom’s chest on each word. “No after a cast off, ye dumb dolt!”

Captain Imsh ran his fingers through his already sweaty dome, then rubbed his hands over his face, deep in thought.

“Gummer, bust out yer dank, we’ra gun need the Defiance to fly, while we still got the light,” Captain Imsh called out.

“Ayo, Capt’n!”

“Ye got anythin’ else to add, elf!?”

Li shook his head.

Captain Imsh stomped off, raking his beard with his rough hands, cursing up his own storm. He yelled out a couple of orders to some standing crew, causing them to scramble.

“Well done, Lieutenant,” said Li, rubbing it in, then leaving Aakhom behind.

Lieutenant Aakhom stammered to respond, but stood there, mouth agape, hands wide, realizing what he’d done.

“Bah! Don’t tempt fate, lad,” mocked a red-headed gnome named Aloysious Fumblebuck. He watched the Captain disappear around the mainmast, then looked down to regard the rivulet of blue smoke rising from the stem of his pipe. The potent weed made his head swim. He turned and spit over the nearby rail. “Who’s afraid of the big, bad moon?” he muttered.