Lost Uzzog, alone on the quarter-deck, fussed over the thaumaturgic compass.
The wardokk navigator adjusted several of the small dials that lined the outer
ring of the brass frame. The crystal sphere within the metal case swirled with
cyan and white energies. Uzzog shifted one of the brass hoops around in its
track, it clicked softly as it spun. The red-gold pointer inside the sphere
spun hectically, Uzzog squinted at it and sighed.
~ ⦽ ~
The Cleavermaw swayed gently in the light breeze, her timbers creaked quietly.
The crew of orruk sky-pirates busied themselves on deck, beneath the watchful
eye of Mr Sludga who sat in the forecastle. There was a relaxed, holiday
atmosphere on board and Sludga was happy to let the crew chatter while they
worked.
They had finally left the corner of Haixiah, at the edge of Hysh, known as the
Prime Dominion. Their time there had been profitable during the civil war that
had raged for nearly a year, but it became progressively more difficult to ply
their trade there when things had settled down. And of course, there was the
issue of the Corsair as well, Sludga pondered; she was getting harder to keep
out of the way of.
Then they had spent the last few months preying on shipping around the
Dawngild Skydock, a Kharadron outpost in one of the Lands of Gold. That also
became too risky when the Kharadron got really fed-up with the loss of trade
and sent out a gunhauler fleet to look for the Cleavermaw.
So here they were in a backwater of Chamon; Silverside, someone called it.
~ ⦽ ~
Uzzog tried something different. He took the crystal core out of the brass
frame completely and hit it a few times with his staff. Gently at first - he
didn't want to smash it, just knock some sense into it. Then he gave it a
proper whack and the red-gold pointer stopped spinning. Elated, he jammed the
crystal sphere back into the brass cage and started adjusting the dials to
re-calibrate it.
It started humming. Uzzog held it out at arm's-length, just in case...
~ ⦽ ~
The peaceful atmosphere was shattered then. Loud voices could be heard below
decks. That new-comer who called himself Lord Krashhart was rowing with
Kaptain Mogrum again.
Sludga thought about the time the big Warchanter first met up with them; some
of the crew took to him immediately: he was an enthusiastic and loud sort, who
liked to laugh and was always impatiently drumming out a rhythm with his hands
or tapping his feet whenever there was nothing happening. But others were wary
that he might be the type to challenge the Kaptain for leadership of the crew
- he was a mighty big orruk after all. But it wasn’t so - it seemed like he
didn’t really care to lead at all, he just wanted to join in with the
fighting.
So he had just tagged along with them for a while. He was handy in a
boarding-action and wasn’t even bothered about having a share of the loot.
After a while even the wary ladz had come round to him well enough.
But the Kaptain was always a bit distant with Krashhart, even though the
warchanter always did as he was told and didn’t try to take the lead. And he
never disagreed with the Kaptain in front of the crew. But Sludga could see,
and Sludga could hear: there had been plenty of times when Krashhart took the
Kaptain aside “for a word”. Mogrum almost always came away from those “words”
in a black mood, and the crew got the brunt of his temper.
This time there was no doubting what the disagreement was over. The volume of
the argument was much greater than it had been before and their words carried
through the open hatches between the cabin and the deck:
Krashhart wanted to keep going into the wilds of Silverside. He was sure there
was something here, something huge he had heard about, something that a famous
beast-hunting Fleetmaster was after. Mogrum wanted to stay clear of Black Arks
and all the complications they brought with them. For some reason both of them
felt VERY strongly about the ship’s next course of action.
Well, whoever won this argument, the holiday was over. Sludga stood up and
glowered at the morboyz on deck, the crew almost all got the hint straight
away and started working properly, the casual chatter dried-up. But there was
something in the wind. Something weird was about to happen and the crew could
all feel it. They exchanged significant glances as they hauled on ropes or
shifted barrels.
~ ⦽ ~
When it stopped humming and went back to wildly spinning, Uzzog gave up on the
thaumaturgic compass for a while - it must have been broken. He looked out at
the horizon and jumped in shock. There was an incomprehensibly massive wall of
amber magical energy a few miles ahead of them and it seemed to be growing
very rapidly.
~ ⦽ ~
The campaign starts on 29th June, so now is the perfect time to join!
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