The Librarian

A long corridor gives way to a massive cavernous room. The walls filled with shelving which in turn were filled with books. The Guildern Library smelled of leather, old manuscript and a strange stale smell mixed with the perfumed air. The dust particles hung in the shining sunbeams, creating intricate patterns throughout the mosaic glass. The sound of shuffling echoing throughout the cavern. Pages turned, slow footsteps, general muttering and light scribbling made up the delicate cacophony in the library.  A small man in dark robes notices Jim by the door and displays a slight smiles before beckoning him over. He draws open a large book by the desk and readies a quill. his voice deep and enthusiastic.
"Master Campbell, how can we assist you today? More on the history of the Icarus perhaps? Supposed Memoirs of Gabriel? Or perhaps a little more research on the history of the Titans?"
Jim smiled and shook his head,  "Something a little more dour I'm afraid. Do you have anything on the Red Death?"
The smile quickly soured on the librarians face,  and he recapped his quill. Jim thought he tapped a sensitive subject.
"There's nothing on that I'm afraid. We've scoured the archives and our scholars have travelled the entire continent looking for information."
"And?"
"Nothing. Not a damn thing. It's been the top priority ever since its return over the last few years. All we know is the symptoms,  the sickness and the end result. No treatments,  no medicine,  only quarantine and death. I assume you've been the one tasked with the retrieval of this miracle worker?"
Jim nodded, "Yeah,  they want my flotilla to retrieve him. They're sending two others as a show of force but it rests with us."
"I see. Well I understand you're moving to Cathedral to find his contact. Does he want to be found?"
"I assume so,  that's why he reached out to the church." Jim noted the genuine interest of the Master Librarian.
"Looking to encounter much resistance? Anyone in particular you're looking to avoid?"
Jim thought about the various nations and the tactics each one employs. His mind raced straight to one with a slight tweak of fear in his spine.
"The Chaladonians." he remarked.
The Librarian was strangely delighted with this answer, and his smile returned.
"Ah yes, the heavily armoured Inquisitors! The shield walls, the ancient piety,  zeal and religious fervour,  the honour of one on one combat and the constant knowledge that your fight is the right one!"
"You seem to be more than interested in the Chaladonians"
The old man smiled unabashed by his interest. He turns and draws a small piece of manuscript from the shelf behind him, and points to one of the notes.
An account of the White Dukedom, from the Great War to the War of the Fjords, by Magnus Hall. 
"Is that you?"
"Yes. It's the scripture that allowed me access to the Library in the first place. The former Master Librarian was impressed and commissioned it as a full work."
"Where's the White Dukedom?" Jim asked, slightly confused.
"The White Dukedom was at war with the Mountain Compact, and after the war they all found themselves believing they fought the war for different reasons. Most of the nation assumed they fought because they were trying to expand the Dukedom, soldiers were trying to prove themselves as knights to claim new land and try and start a fortune. The rest assumed they were fighting for the glory of their religion. The Order of Chaladon was formed by Duke Chaladon, and he instated a religious institution which stands to this day. They don't believe in a deity, but rather a unique presence that watches over everything."
"So the Baronies were unhappy with this."
"Indeed. They saw this as a rebellion, and as the religious moved to the East to form this new Order, the less religious moved West to maintain the secular senate. After the failed negotiation, war eventually ignited, and that's why the conflict is still raging to this day."
Jim took a moment to process, and grunted in acknowledgement.
"After all my experience with both nations, I never once found someone who knew why they were really fighting."
"Internal propaganda makes sure they just know who the enemy is, not why they are the enemy."
"Oddly prophetic from a secular scholar."
Magnus liked that, smirked a little and gave a slight wink.
"So what's your plan for the meeting?"
Jim took a walk to the bay window at the side of the library, Magnus by his side. He took a long look at the desert meeting the ocean in the distance, and the high walls of the city.
"I'll dismount and meet him in one of the outlying district. I'll send in Gaige to make contact, and to arrange a proper meeting with myself and my council. Then we'll make an arrangement, and we'll bring him back here."
"Is that what you think is right?"
"I'm paid to do a job"
A slight dissatisfied grunt was Magnus' response.
"Master Campbell, you'll never be overly successful if you just follow. Even as your own commander, you're still under the command of another. "
"Well I'm a mercenary right now, I can choose my own boss and turn down jobs, that's all I can do for the moment."
"Take a moment when you're finished this assignment. I feel this will either make or break you"
"Thank you,scholar."
Jim nodded and left Magnus to his work again, leaving the corridor and walking back outside to the fresher air of Vyshtorg. He took a deep breath letting the cool air fill his lungs before reaching into his jacket for his pipe and tobacco. Looking over the railing of the staircase back down to the city he was overlooking the market district, and could see the airdock several blocks down and could make out a few of the ships in his flotilla. He took some of the tobacco and rolled it into a small but loose clump before slotting it into the pipe. He lit the match against the railing and ignited the tobacco before taking a small puff and exhaling through his nose. The aromatic smoke ran around his jacket, into his collar and throughout the space around him.
A set of footsteps behind him announced the presence of another.
"Anything?"
Jim turned and saw Swallow making her way towards him, eyes slightly unfocused and breath hinting of moonshine.
"Not a damn thing. Mostly another lecture and some smoke about the Chaladonians and Baronies."
"Shame" She steps towards him and takes his pipe, taking a quick puff and handing it back.
"Looks like we're going to have to do this the way the Guild want it."
Jim takes one long draw and turns, his cloak whirling behind him, and Swallow following beside.
"Maybe something will come up when we get there"
"The way I think, everyone knows where this guy is, so we need to make sure we're the first ones there. Otherwise it'll be a scramble, and it might get violent."
"Exciting"
"Mmmm"

Sons of Icarus Chapter 2

The clouds gave birth to a large hulking ship. It looked like a ship that should be on water, but instead of sails, it had a large grey balloon and bristled with weapons from bow to stern. The buzz from it's engines was a deep rumble, and as it descended through the cloud cover it was followed by two more ships, all similarly built but with different colours, some greys, browns, reds and purples. All three ships pointed their bow down and their engines flared to life with tar like smoke billowing from the propellers in the rear. As they descended they broke from one group into three ships, and one headed for Jim's ship while the other two craft circled around to the rear.

Jim noted the crew freezing, and Ash was completely in awe of what was happening. As the ships drew close he could hear the whirr of the propellers and the hiss of the air in the balloon. Jim gripped his sword and ordered Ash to his side.

"Get the engineers to push the engines as hard as they'll go. More fuel, we need to be moving as fast as we can. Use the moonshine if you have too!" Jim barked at the large man, who scurried uncharacteristically to the engine decks below, to bawl and yell at the engineers.

Jim knew however, that they were not going to escape, they just needed to be moving as fast as possible, and generate some kind of smokestack from the funnel to attract enough attention. It was a shoddy plan, but it had to do.

Milano ran to the weapons locker, and collected the remaining rifles, and handed Jim his officers pistol, a long, well crafted, pistol, ornamented beautifully and adorned with golden markings and engravings. Jim checked the barrel, and loaded the cartridge into the breech, before snapping the breech shut with a flick of his wrist. He grabbed a rifle from Milano and did the same, snapping open the breech, and placing a small cartridge into the slot, and pocketing a few more of the charges into his pockets and bandoliers around his waist. He played with a charge before inspecting it. Universal ammunition for ballistic weapons was very common nowadays. They contained all the components for a bullet; wadding, powder and the projectile itself. All contained within a cartridge for easy transport and fast loading. Jim snapped the breach closed on the rifle, threw it to a crewman, and commanded the nearest crewman to take the helm and to keep the heading straight.

Taking a deep breath he approached the steps and looked at the two seas in front of him. One a calm ocean of water, slightly brushed by the wind., the other a sea of frightened young faces, clutching a mixture of rifles, hand axes and personal weapons. Jim decided now was a good time to try and draw some courage.

"We are not safe. I'll not lie. Some of you are possibly going to die. Let's not pretend that we are children. I'm not your mother, and I'm certainly not going to tell you it's all going to be alright. What I will do is protect you all as much as I possibly can. We are not soldiers. We are not hardened men, ready to jump into the gates of hell to fight the devil himself. We are sailors. All we can do is our best. So all of you get ready to either die fighting for your miserable life, or find new purpose in how you live. Are you with me?!"

"Aye, Captain!" came a rousing chorus of hardy voices. They looked less afraid, but no more intimidating. Faces were hardened, aim was steady and voices were loud and deep. Some of the boys had just become men. Ash still looked afraid, but he had a new love for living in his eyes, and clutched his rifle and began to take aim.

"Ash, get the Captain," said Jim, not wanting any shots fired yet until they knew what the raiders were up to.

"Aye," and off he went down the steps.

Jim took position with some of the men at the starboard side where the primary ship was heading. Jim stood leaning on the railings, trying to see what the ships were about. They looked like they were forming a perimeter, ready to surround and sink the ship if not compliant. They had every advantage; height, speed, maneuvering, weaponry, crew, training and worst of all; nothing to lose. Jim's men had families, lives, loved ones and dreams. Jim was hoping they'd fight hard to save what they had. Jim's sweat ran cold down his face and back, soaking into his long johns, leaving his still neat dress uniform only specked with some of the wash from the sea. He removed his hat and threw it to Milano who scuttled off to put it away in his quarters. The boy was only in his mid teens, still wet behind the ears. Time seemed to slow down as Jim watched him make his way down the steps, bumping into Ash who was returning from rousing the captain, however empty handed. Ash opened his mouth to say something but was drowned out by the sound of a dull explosion which rocked the Aurora. The ship swayed to the side and the deck buckled, smoke and flame rising from the staircase leading to the decks below. The young hopeful was blasted out of the hatch, smoldering and lifeless. The crew were all shook off their feet.
"Report!" Cried Jim as he came to his feet.
"A shot into the side, sir! Topside aport, not taking water yet." yelled a crewman from the side of the ship.
"Should we return fire, Sir?" Ash asked from the ground.
"No, twas a warning shot, we won't stand a chance at range." Jim replied without looking
"A warning shot? They hit us directly! A well aimed and lethal hit, Sir!"
"That's their way, For them the fact that they didn't kill us all is enough to warn us."

"Sir, we need to -"
"Enough!" Jim needed to take control, Ash, as large as he is, was starting to panic. As loyal as a guard dog is, you need to show it the chain to allow it to bare it's teeth.  

 "Boson! Get to the Flak gun, get them sighted and ready to fire, but only on my mark. If I see you cowering and silent, you'll wish they captured you. Now get a move on, man!!"
Ash nodded, a shameful but angry nod, and turned to walk to the bow. As he walked on he gathered momentum, rolling his shoulder and unsheathing his baton, a long knobbed club, and began rapping it against the deck railings. Jim couldn't hear the words, but the crew's faces were as good a transcript as any. No other man could speak an incantation to rally men like Ash Thomas.
Leaving them to it, Jim returned to the helm, and took control of the radio. Setting it to local broadcast he took a look at the ships still bearing down, now beginning to surround the Aurora.
"This is the," Jim paused and thought about the explosion below decks.
"This is Captain Jim Campbell of the Middle Ancient, vessel from the Merchant Navy of the Order of Chaladon. We are a peaceful ship, however we are armed. We can and will defend ourselves if fired upon again. You have been warned. However we will peacefully surrender any supplies we have that are valuable to you. We are carrying trade goods from the Mercantile Guild that will fetch fair pri-"
A suddenly deep, low voice interrupted the broadcast.
"Your lives are ours. You are the cargo. We will take what you have. You will be sold, or you will die protecting that useless piece of machinery that you-"
Jim slammed the handpiece into the speaker, shattering the coils within and breaking the whole thing.
"Nichols, retake the helm and keep swerving port to starboard. Be unpredictable. I'll get you the greatcoat."
Taking the greatcoat from the weapons cabinet, he fixed it around the waist of the helmsman. "The clips fit into the trousers, and then the upper section is worn like a regular jacket, now arms in. Good lad. It's heavy, but it'll feel natural, and it'll protect you from any shrapnel. Now haul arse and get busy moving", and with that Jim slammed the Middle Ancient to full ahead and returned to the centre of the ship.
"Right. We're fighting. Noone fire until I give the order. Anyone without a weapon, either be ready to pick up a rifle from someone who falls, or keep a supply of ammunition. Ready your rifles."
He could see the men loading their rifles clumsily, looking at each other and starting to rally themselves. The raider ships were getting closer and closer. The main ship bearing down on them was now less than five hundred meters away, with the other two moving around to the sides and rear.
Jim decided it was time to act.
"Ready." The men tok positions at the edge of the ship, clutching their rifles.
"Aim." The crew took aim, a dozen rifles, plus the flak cannon.
There was no sound apart form the spray of the sea and the steady hum of the airships. Jim grabbed his telescope from his belt and peered through the lenses. The ship came into focus, and his heart sank. The vessel was a massive junker with open decks and a steel bottom. Ropes hung off of the sides like tentacles. Crewmen were hanging off of the side and from the ropes, waving around weapons. The other two ships seemed like smaller versions of the same class.
"Fire!"
The crew rippled with a short burst of fire. The air stung with the smell of gunpowder and smoke.
A dozen tiny smoke trails flew towards the ship and all of them fell short, dipping below the hull.
"Charge arms!! Aim higher! Flak, open fire! Now!"
A mix of confused gestures and scrambling was the response before the position started firing. A single shot was met with a massive jump from each crewman, before they regained their composure and started firing for full effect. A sharp, steady booming rumble shook the ship as the flak sent timed explosive shells into the sky. The shots sailed for several hundred metres before bursting into a black cloud. They were failing short, exploding too soon, but the raiders started weaving already. Buying more time is all.
Jim ordered another volley and the shots still fell too low. The ship was growing ever closer, now around three hundred metres. Jim snatched a rifle from a crewman, loaded and took aim. The sights were rusted and fill of grime. Jim wipe it on his sleeve and tried again. He could make out a crewman hanging off of the bow cables. The wind was behind him, but the ship was moving, as well as the momentum of the enemy ship. He aimed about ten feet above and five to the left. the trigger was stiff as he squeezed, and fired a shot. The shot curved right against the momentum of the ship and began to dip, but found its mark. The target was surrounded by a red spray and was blasted off of the cable, falling hundreds of metres into the sea. He threw the rifle back to the deck hand and ordered another volley. This time the shots found their mark. More crewmen either disappeared from view or fell from the ship itself. Splinters and sparks exploded from the bottom of the hull. Two more volleys and the ship was starting to smoke. Heavy black smog began pouring out of the bottom of the ship. The crewmen started to cheer as they were reloading faster and even trading places to shoot. a small grin teased Jim's lips as he saw them enjoying it, but he knew it can only get worse. He was right. Muzzle flashes began coming from the top and middle decks. Steady regimented fire began peppering the ocean and walking it's way towards the deck. The smiling crewmen stopped laughing and began panicking. The deck began exploding in splinters. Several crewmen were bleeding from splinters and bullet wounds alike. To their credit they kept firing. The flak gun was finally hitting the ship with bursting shots, shots smashing into the deck and sending more raiders tumbling into the sea. The junker slammed into full speed and within mere moments was directly over the Middle Ancient. the flak gun continued firing into the belly of the ship but the shells were bursting on the edge, showering the deck in shrapnel.
"Cease Fire!!" Jim yelled over the cacophany but they couldn't hear. Ash was already heading over, ddging the red hot shrapnel comin from above.
"Make ready! They're about to board. Anone with a rifle stay as you are and fire as they come in, everyone else use your hatchets and anyting you can find!"
Jim's commands were falling on ready ears as they realised the gravity of what was happening. The riflemen stood in a line and aimed at the hatches above, with the rest clutching hand axes, crowbars, grapples, fishing spears and anything they could find. Some had old momentos from home in the form of knives, daggers, old cutlesses and the occasional shortsword, but most had what they could find. Fear, anger and a range of other emotions were plastered across the faces of them all, all of them baptised in a hail of fire thy hadn't signed up for. Jim felt anger, with hints of sadness and fear. He was not afraid to die, only afraid to let the men under his command die. He undid the clasp on his scabbard and gripped his sword handle, fixing his right fist under the hand gaurd and gripping it tight.  The black smoke that was billowing from the rear of the engine was now funnelling through large pipes at the bottom and began to flow onto the deck, swamping the entire ship in black smog.
As the bottom hatches of the intruders burst open above him and the sounds of shouting took up and became louder his knuckles grew white, and he suddenly realised, with all his training, all of his command and combat experience, he had never fought, let alone killed another man with his sword. Loud thumps annouced the arrival of his foe, and they emerged through the darkness.

Sons of Icarus; Chapter 1

A cool ocean spray through the open porthole awoke First Mate Jim Campbell as he snoozed through the late evening. A light, tuneful whistling could be heard over the light hissing of the sea as the Middle Ancient  passed softly through the gentle waters. The light trickled through the cracks of the old but tested wood of the deck, cutting straight yellow lines in the rough brown panel. Jim swung his legs out of the bunk with a soft grunt, feeling well rested and lightly hungover from the festivities of the night before. It was the lookout's birthday. Jim thought hard for the man's name, but it eluded him, as did the majority of the frivolities. A faint memory of the captain using a bucket as a boot and trying to kick one of the deck hands up the arse with it drew a small smile from the young man's mouth. A small muffled voice announced the presence of Milano, Jim's servant.
"Mr. Campbell, Sir! Captain awaits!" His youthful enthusiastic voice giving away his constant seek of approval from the officers on board. He didn't need it, he's in line for Midshipman when the time comes, a full officer rank. Jim liked him, he treated him well and let him dine with him and the Captain when it was appropriate. Highly frowned upon in the Chaladonian Merchant Navy, where the peasants were to know their place in the layer cake. He appeared at the door with a steel catering tray, and placed it down on the desk. He's already been up for hours, even with all the rum Jim fed him last night, he was still eager and awake. He knew his duties. He'll do well.
Upon the tray was a plate, adorned with eggs, some bacon medallions and, as Jim was secretly delighted to see, some fried mushrooms. Alongside the plate sat one of the steel jugs, and a small wooden cup. The young man filled the cup with a dark red liquid and handed it to Jim, who nodded and took a deep gulp. The warm red wine hit the back of his throat faster than he expected and drew his breath from him. After a brief cough, he filled the cup himself and handed it to Milano, urging him to drink. He took a modest sip and set it back down.
"Captain is waiting, Mr. Campbell, Sir. Will there be anything else?"
"No, Mr. Milano that's all. I'll see you topside."
Jim looked for his bicorn, and felt the light felted fabric under his posterior, and drew the hat from within. It came forth rather crumpled and more like a croissant than a mighty command staff hat. He peeled it over his head and staggered to his feet, the taste of honey mead on his breath and the fire in his chest from the rum. Still in his dress uniform from the night before, he looked around his modest quarters for any clues of the sort of entrance he made into the bunk. A quick scan of the desk revealed a knocked over inkwell, with it's contents dried over the scouting reports, and the inventory he had taken the morning before. Captain Yira won't mind. He can write them up again this evening.
His life on the merchant vessel was a relaxed one. He woke usually before the captain, leaving him sleep, and had the boson rouse the men and set them to work with getting the ship underway. In this case however the captain awoke first, and was on deck by the time Jim made his way shakily to the helm, full of a warm hearty breakfast.
"Afternoon, Mr. Campbell", laughed the captain, as he squinted in the early afternoon sun. the captain's large grey beard and bicorn framed his round, red face, and his unofficial uniform was as well-pressed and tidy as always, with the exception of the sweat stains around the chest and armpits. The captain was a short, jolly and friendly man, and there was no man on this ship who carried more respect from the crew than Captain Yira. His grey uniform was dotted with service pins from the Chaladonian Navy, and his old sword was perfectly polished as always. His purple suede bicorn was adorned with the symbol of the Chaladon Merchant Navy, a mermaid with a tricorn and a compass.
A proud man, who respected the seas and knew how to capture the movements of nature to propel his modest vessel through the open seas.
Jim nodded and took his place at the helm, wiping his brow as he grasped the wheel. The crew were dotted around the ship, either talking in small groups or lazily going about minor tasks.
There was not much work for a sailor for the Merchant Fleet, not on the water anyway. With the new fuel driven propellers the need for sails was lessened, and unless a ship was caught without fuel, the sails were more for decorative reasons and antiquity.
The real reason for numbers was the manual labour involved in loading and unloading, that led to a lot of inactivity, and it was perfect for the lesser educated of Chaladon to turn to as a long term employment. The majority of the Middle Ancient  were uneducated. Some were farmers, some were ex convicts, some were invalids from military life, and some were just out of schooling, and wanted a solid job with benefits. Many men followed their fathers, many of those men followed into the sailors life of alcoholism, sickness and a lifetime of hardiness. the crew of the Middle Ancient were quite a young crew, with very few of them over the age of twenty. The only exceptions were the Captain who would be approaching his sixties, and the boson, who is in his thirties. Jim was the oldest next to these two, at the age of twenty-four, which gave him an edge of respect with the lower ranking men of the ship.
Jim sank his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, and felt the silk lining as he fumbled for his compass. He drew the small golden item and set it on the palm of his hand.
"Why are we heading south, Captain?" asked Jim.
The original plan was to head west to pick up the shipment and return it back east to home port with no deviation.
Yira frowned and removed his hat, fanning his red face.
"We drifted off course last night, whoever set the anchor never left it run deep and we drifted West. We need to proceed back North-East and return to our course heading."
One of the crewmen at the weapons locker was listening, and turned around swiftly.
"So we out West? In the black channel?Wiff raiders?" he said, shaking his head in fear.
Jim looked at the captain and could not tell if the calm on his face was artificial or natural, and faced the young crewman.
"We're not too far west, just a little of course, aren't we Captain Yira?"
"Right you are, Mister Campbell, we should be back on course within a few hours and we can return to our original heading."
Jim glanced back to the crewman, and again noted the fear in his eyes, and the sweat on his brow.
"If it's all the same to you, Captain, I'd like to have more men on lookout, just to be on the safe side."
"By all means, Jim," returned the captain. The captain never referred to Jim by his first name. Not in front of the crew anyway.
"I'll be in my quarters, Jim," the captain slurred as he took his leave."Not feeling the best. You have the ship until I return." He staggered clumsily to the stairs and his foot never took his weight as he made the first step, and he collapsed down the stairs, crashing awkwardly to the main deck.
"The Captain's down!"
"Is he hurt?"
"Mr. Campbell, what happened?"
Jim recognised the rumbling voice of the boson, and caught sight of him, head and shoulders above the crowd of concerned crewmen. A giant bearded lion of a man, who was dressed in his practical deck wear, like the rest of the crew, but with the addition of a hardwood cudgel, and a small sabre. He pushed through the line of men to find the captain lying on his back at the foot of the stairs. Jim shouted over the panicking crew.
"Enough!"
The crew all stopped and looked to Jim, with total silence aside from the hiss of the sea. He took a solid breath and projected over the sound of mother nature.
"The captain slipped and fell. He had a lot to drink last night, as did we all I'm sure. If the boson and some volunteers would kindly escort the captain to his chambers we can get back to work."
A few short moments later the boson made his way to the top of the deck, with a few harsh words to a few crewmen on the way, and put his giant hand on Jim's shoulder as he steered.
"Is he alright, Mr. Thomas?" Jim referred to the boson by his full name, and never by his title or his nickname, "The Lion."
"Yes, Sir. Just a little under the weather. Which we may be soon," the boson said as he pointed towards a rapidly darkening section of cloud.
"Indeed. I need you to station crew on lookout, all sectors of the ship on high security, and one on each post needs to be armed. Take the weapons, one rifle between five." Jim nodded his head towards to locked weapons cabinet.
"Just for the moment. The rest can rotate and keep and eye on the horizon. Get the flak cannon ready. We may need it"
The Boson nodded, a small trace of fear in his face as he processed the orders Jim have given. The crew had not trained for this, and none bar the captain and Jim had any experience with combat, and both were rather limited.
The Lion took a look around at the ship, taking in what viewpoints there were, before nodding and taking off, bellowing orders and pointing people in various directions. A short while later he returned and unlocked the weapons cabinet, taking out six rifles, before moving to lock it again.
"Leave it open, Ash. Just to be safe." Jim said, as he kept his eye on the storm, using the Boson's first name, just showing him how serious the situation was.
"Aye, Sir," he grumbled, and set off distributing weapons.
Jim could see the few men that were hastily assembled into a weapons crew were gathering at the bow of the ship and slipping the grey tarp off of the flak cannon. They tossed the tarp aside and began debating about who gets to sit in and shoot. Ash was present and informed them that whoever was sitting in the cannon would be targeted first if there was indeed anything to shoot. He then grabbed one of them and shoved him into the seat, advised the rest to help with loading, and turning.
Jim took a long breath and cursed whomever had led them to this situation, as well as the captain for not taking this seriously. The reason Jim stayed up to work on navigation, was to avoid this exact situation, and with the ruined maps and notes, he was not sure exactly how far North they had drifted, and how they would know when they are back on the right path.
"Navigation Aid! Off the Starboard bow! Just a mile out!" the lookout shouted down to Jim, who breathed a sigh of relief. the navigational aids were set for this reason, off course piloting and ships in dense fog. Once they found out which beacon it was, they can correct course and get back to land.
Jim peered up to the lookout, up in the crows nest atop the mast, and grabbed the radio next to the wheel, using the internal ship channel.
"Lookout, First Mate here, can you see what the markings are?"
Jim could see the lookout craning his head in the crows nest, leaning around to get a better angle on the bouy. The radio crackled in response a few moments later.
"The markings look slightly off. They're looking pretty rough, Sir."
Campbell was beginning to sweat, even more considering the heat and hangove combination. "Rough? Rough how? Are the regulation?"
"Hard to say, they're not the right colour. A kind of dark red."
That settled it. The merchant fleets used a regulation dark green paint for marking navigational aides, and this broke procedure. The fact that is was difficult to read aroused suspiscion, as they were always positioned for ease of access. Now that the paint is different, it presented a new threat; bait.
Jim slammed the ship into full reverse, and watched the crew lurch forward as the powerful engines turned and stopped the ship almost dead before pulling the ship around. Jim then lurched the wheel to the right, dragging the ship left and turning the giant craft around. A sharp wind waught the mast and turned it towards the turn, nearly capsising the vessel, but Jim put the Middle Ancient into full ahead, creating a large wake of white water and smoke from the engines. The ship was now heading full speed back North.
"We're not up north, we're far south. Captain was still bloody drunk when he woke up this morning." Jim was enraged, and terrified. They drifted south rather than north, and continued south to raider territory. Cloud cover was descending and made long range visibility more difficult. A faint rumbling could be heard over the sound of the roaring engines.
"Thunder?" asked the Lion, who appeared beside Jim.
"We can only hope", he replied.
"I can't see any ships for miles, what else could it be?"
It was then that Jim noted that the boson had only ever been on this ship, with this captain, on this route for almost his entire adult life, and had never even heard of a ship that didnt touch water.
"You think you've seen a lot in this life, Ash?" he asked with a slight smile.
"What's that supposed to mean?" returned a confused and slightly afraid Lion.
"Arm the crew, they're coming from the skies this time"
And with that, the skies opened, and hell descended from the heavens.