The misadventure of Captain Imsh and his ship Defiance

Interlude

The skies were a wash of faint orange and yellow, scraping over the faint dark glob of the heavens, serene and beautiful.

There was hardly a cloud in sight, and the wind was brisk. He heard the crisp whip of his banners flapping, the air pulling westward over the expanse of the Norrhavat Pass, the North Winter Sea. Still though, the morning gale brought warmth from the Eosorian Sea Current, and he could almost smell the spicy ale of the great capital, almost feel his eyes burn from the Ember Eye Chili of the Arcadian Spicewharf.

As the daystar continued to breach the horizon, the added warmth was welcome as he lowered his pipe from his mouth. He sucked in the morning breeze to capacity as the sun bathed the realm with its warm rays. He loved the smell of the ocean. The ocean was freedom. Freedom from any laws of man, and to any prejudice of men. His ship was a moving plot on the high seas, and the seas were his home.

He cracked his eyes open, watching the blushing of the world, as it painted deep purple blues above like living art. He loosened a couple of buttons on his blouse, welcoming the embrace of the sun. A blessing he knew would soon change. His thoughts drifted with the wind, and his eyes slid to the end of the horizon where the heavenly orb was already lifted above its curtain. His eyes stared far, beyond the end of what his sight would allow, beyond the scope of his eyeglass, to what he knew waited out for him. Where he was hired to go, and the thought of it made him shiver as he remembered the red canyons, the city crowned atop the conjoining rivers. He could hear the roar of the rapids deep in his soul, the crashing rivers meeting below, the thought made his hands shake starting at his ring-like tattoos banded around his wrists.

He brought his pipe back to his lips and inhaled the local shimmer, home grown in Cillo. The intake calmed his nerves again, and he turned away from the dawn. He cursed under his breath, damning his betraying thoughts that spoiled the moment. He exhaled hoarsely, the faint gray smoke escaping from his lungs, stinging his eyes. He forced himself to relax his tense shoulders, and cupped his pipe with his calloused hands, and stalked his way up the ramp to his ship, Defiance.

He stomped his feet up the ramp, trying to stamp out the sand from the soles of his boots, waking up his hamstrings. He groaned as he massaged the back of his upper thighs, they were aching from sitting through a long night of gambling. He hadn’t been lucky with his cards and his coin-purse felt it, normally he would feel the weight of the bag slap against the side of his hip. He scratched through his thinning beard, on the side of his chin, snorted and spit a thick pouch of phlegm over the side of the rail.

He continued his way up the ramp, leaning hard on the side rail up to the ship’s upper deck. A sailor at the top of the ramp, in the middle of polishing the rails, heard him coming. The young seadog nodded at him with a curt nod, and quickly stepped aside for the captain.

“Ye usin’ beeswax now, Winslow?”

“Aye, Cap,” responded the young sailor, “I be on the second coatin’.”

“Don’t ye pull me leg, boy,” responded the old dog. “Ye gambled in the same house as I, and I ain’t got time fer lies. Ye best double it a’fore the passengers board, or I dock ye pay.”

The captain continued to rub his hamstrings, and brought his feet across the deck, for it to screech to a sudden stop. Imsh glanced down at the freshly lacquered deck, its shine unrivaled. The lad hadn’t lied, but he was new to the crew and yet to earn his place, even the old seadogs put in the work. He caught Winslow’s eye, who edged a smirk and continued waxing the rail.

A crate held overhead by a crane shadowed over the captain, catching his attention, its long pulleys straining against the weight of the heavy cargo. A gruff voice called out from the hatch below, a couple of sailors yelled out to the crane operator to hold. He was so distracted that he bumped into his well-dressed sea wizard, nearly knocking over the leather bound book he held.

“You’re early,” the wizard stated flatly, reopening the manifest ledger. “You get bailed out this morning?”

The wizard’s hair was neatly trimmed, the fringes of his hair combed over one side of his head. His eyes expertly lined, complementing his dark eyes that seemed unassuming, yet hid a hint of spark nestled beneath his inquisitive expression.

Not to be anyone’s fool, Imsh knew Joliat was not all just appearances. On the outside, Li, as he called him, was posh and as mild as a forever priest. But, underneath his act was a volatile magician, who’s heart is as fierce as an ocean tempest, yielding the power of an angry demigod. Most that had mind to his reputation, ever argued with the man, even when he genuinely wouldn’t care one way or another.

“Ye thinks I ain’t got the sense to care fer meself? I’ve man the Defiance fer longer than ye been alive, boy.”

“Wrong by a few decades, Imsh,” corrected the young wizard.

“Captain Imsh, I done told ye!” countered back, Imsh, wagging his finger at his face.

A chippy voice silenced the pair, “Haul the cargo off the landin’, a’fore I flog yer arses off the lots of ye! It’ll be mid-sun by me countin’, and we got a whole other pallet o’ goods! Now, git on with it!” A couple of concurring grunts are heard from below, and the sailors hand signal the crane operator to lower the next crate. The crane careened as it loosened its hold on the crate, lowering it down through the hatch.

“It looks like it’s gonna be a damned coup the way Aakhom’s running the decks, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t send you to the plank on the ‘morrow,” noted the wizard, scribbling down on his book.

“Aye, and ye’ll stay aboard when I sail for the sun, eh elf?”

“Half wrong, half-elf,” the wizard quipped.

“Better than me half, all bronze and olive as the brine o’ the Bay of Night! Me dwarven roots asides! Our ancestors be rollin’ in their graves at this ‘ere union of orc and elf, and we’re a-sailin’ yet!”

“Us elves weren’t meant for the high seas, Imsh, my kin are of the shrub and trees. My coin purse is more elven than I am, light as it is. The tides are changin’, and you know it. I’ve been ‘ere long enough, with you retiring, Aakhom having a solid hold of things, there ain’t much reason for me to stay. I want to explore my prospects in this world,” said the half-elf wizard.

“Bullroar, Li, yer a gull if I e’er seen one, and the best darn wiz’rd this side of Norrhavat! Ol’ Aakhom is gun need ye talents, ‘sides, yer purse looks more glutton than meself,” Imsh said gruffly, grabbing his gut.

“It ain’t the same seas we sailed before, Imsh. Aakhom’s seafaring tenure stands to be pitied next to yours, he ain’t you for a hundred leagues, but it isn’t his name that is the problem. Our renown in the seas ain’t what it used to be, not since the dragon turtle incident. The word’s out, the Defiance is losing its edge with the competition.”

“I won’t be reminded of it, says I! I forbid it!” growled Imsh, gritting his teeth almost looking to chomp down on Joliat’s hawk-like nose. The half-elf stepped back a step, putting his hands up in surrender, but mostly unphased.

The half-orc captain, his face hot with vex, adjusted his sagging belt at his waist, setting the golden pommel of his cutlass comfortably at his left side. He leaned over the edge of the rail, looking out to the city of Cillo. The bells of the city struck, and slowly the hum of civilization came alive. Down the street from the docks, a pair of shutters opened and an elven maiden poured out a bail of water onto the street. Imsh could see the beautiful maiden with tousled, golden hair, even in spite of his worsening vision from old age.

“Lucks gonna change, elf,” grumbled the Captain. Joliat hesitantly approached him to his side, putting his perfectly delicate soft hands on the rail.

“It’s not luck that keeps this ship from keeling down into the sea. It was our ability to deliver product through difficult territory, protecting precious cargo, and meeting our contractual obligations. We took a hit, a hard hit, Imsh.”

“Captain.”

“You know what I mean! We lost our most valuable clientele in the last year, and while this shipment is the best we had in months, it won’t be enough,” Joliat bluntly said. “We’re barely sailing and the lads haven’t had a proper break in all that time. I haven’t had the touch of a good set of hands and proper massage to work out the knots I’ve had on my back and we’re out here delivering weed.”

Captain Imsh raised his pipe to his lips, and inhaled the rest of his puff, still staring at the woman at the window. She finally turned from her window and removed her blouse.

“I bet honey be comin’ out of them tits,” another voice interjected. Imsh and Li looked over to Winslow who was leaning over the rail and shot them a grin.

“Mind yer business, lad,” Captain Imsh warned, jutting the end of this pipe his way.

Winslow nodded his head slightly, and tied a couple of pieces of cloth together and lifted the bucket of wax to head down to the lower decks.

A moment passed as Captain Imsh took it all in, knowing deep down, Li was right. The crew had been picking up jobs from all sorts of characters, for better or for worse. Taking shady deals and crooked passengers for the sake of survival. He wasn’t used to doing jobs at a loss, even dibbling out his own finances for his outfit.

“All I have is loyalty,” he reflected to himself, but Li’s sensitive ears heard the words. Their eyes locked, Li’s eyes suggesting sorrow.

“That ain’t nothing… Captain,” Li said with some conviction. Above, the wind pennant changed directions. A small chilly gust of wind from Norrhavat’s Pass blew through them. Still, the Captain held his gaze, until Li lowered his head. Did he see shame? Captain Imsh couldn’t be sure, but he knew that his own words haunted him more than he expected.

“Quit yer mopin’! Put yer backs into it!” Aackom’s voice echoed from the cargo hold, another crate lifted overhead of the pair, Joliat scribbling in his ledger then slamming it shut.

“Ye kno’ that proper elf o’ the Misty Isle?”

Joliat looked up, “The one called Helengeth?”

“She doubled the offer, a’fore she left,” revealed Imsh.

“So, you’ve agreed to her terms? I thought you pulled out.”

“I had.”

“I thought you said you were never going back.”

“I did.”

“I don’t understand,” Li said, confused.

“No, lad. Ye be knowin’ why,” Imsh said, looking to the seaward horizon. Joliat nodded his head grimly.

“So, we’re going to the worst place on the planet, to the one place you swore you would never sail back to?”

The half-orc captain turned his head, his eyes meeting Joliat’s. “Aye, lad, we’re going to The Hordelande.”