“Hammer and nails, arseling. Under the stairs! We need to seal this breach.” grumbled Modo and spat snot from both his nostrils. Must have been one of our own ships by the sound of all that creaking. The sound was familiar to him. What was happening out there on the decks? Shit. This middle aged hulk of a man had a serious look on his unshaven face. Clad in boiled Empire leather, he reckoned himself to be well off in terms of defense.

He regretted even half remembering the young boys name as they faced what seemed to be little fish devils about to feast on their fleshy parts if given the opportunity. The sickly visage of the beasts and foul stench now filling his freshly liberated airways made them out to be revolting adversaries to approach in a fair fight, lest the beasts be carrying any unknown diseases.

“Find some tools, now! We'll drown if you don't.. or worse.” he barked to the boy starkly and watched him dead in the eyes with great fury until Pim unfroze and nodded back.

A half drowned recruit yelled out in pain, as Modo saw one of the devils bite a piece of flesh from his cheek, revealing crooked rows of small sharp teeth. The beast munched down on his prize and let out a row of low pitched clicking sounds.

The quarters were still reasonably lit, as the ceiling mounted trithorium lamps still swang around wildly from the ship getting rammed. Built to withstand storms and not easily diminished, they were sturdy enough to stay in one piece through the impact.

He winced at the idea of those candles being snuffed out and the darkness gripping his mind. He had dreamed it. And he feared it.

A show of force was needed to scare the pack and buy time for the boy to grab something to board up that gushing hole in the hull. Modo acted swiftly, revealing what he had dragged forth beside him through the cold murky water this whole time. A cast iron cooking pot emerged, with chains attached to the handles of the pot itself and the other end wrapped around the brawny cooks right hand. Resembling a poorly thought out flail, it was still capable of causing serious damage.

Not a moment later, with a spin and a steady swing, the iron pot was thrust forward with great force, striking the general area around the scaly intruders with a heavy splash. Modo let out a low grunt as the pot struck down, spraying the surrounding area with foamy seawater. He pressed forward through the splashing water, still holding on to the chains.

Frantically eyeballing his surroundings for any movement, Modo caught one of the devils off guard and debilitated by his throw. It was floating in the water with white goo flowing out of its right eyeball. The pot had struck the side of its head, causing massive blunt force trauma. Modo took a quick look at the monster up close and gulped.

The crustation on their bodies now resembled more of a chitin carapace. These things are wearing armor, he realized. Thin necks though. And weak flesh inside. Modo smiled as he pinched a loose piece of the armor and crushed it under his index and thumb.

A sharp stick of sorts poked Modo from below as he did it, but failed to pierce his superior boiled leather.

“You little bastard!” was probably the last thing that crusty sea abomination ever heard as Modo felt it's neck snap under his grip. Not so different from snapping the neck of a goose, he thought. A slimy cannibal goose, that is. He left the limp body to float on the spot.

The other two devils were nowhere to be seen though. A troubling thought. He grabbed his crouch and yanked the chain connecting his hand to his favorite pot. After a moment of pause, the water bubbled around him and the creeping figures burst up from Modo's flanks, wielding what he gleamed to be rusty copper dirks tied to a stick.

Realizing the pot to be way too slow to attack with, Modo let go of the chain and bull rushed the scrawnier one of the two instead. Two dirk spears got thrown. One got absorbed by his leather pauldron as the creatures throw lacked the momentum to pierce through. The other struck Modo somewhere in his left thigh, slashing through flesh. It wasn't enough to stop Big Modo.

An elbow to the face at the end of the rush sent the scrawny one reeling back with pieces of it's crust crushed and now flying, but Modo had leaned too far forward in the process. Gushing blue blood from its caved in fleshy face hole, the beast staggered and fell just beneath the big man, who landed on top with a wide splash.

“Just like goose, nothing more.. nothing but goose..” he muttered and groped around the bottom of the barge's flooring, looking for another neck to snap. The floors felt slippery to the touch.

Sudden pain struck as the soggy water revealed smudges of his own blood floating up from below. Something had bitten his fist, clamped down and was slowly piercing deeper. Yet he did not falter.

He pulled his arm up from the water, saw the devil dangling like a mad rat taking a bite just a bit too big.. and pressed back down, harder still, cracking the biters mouth hole and slamming it against the floorboards beneath in a decisive push downward. Vapor ascended around his flushed body as he pushed himself back up from the cold water. A steady stream of blood dripped from his right hand. Modo only half noticed the missing fingers of his right hand pop up from the bloody puddle now forming under him. The floaters reminded him of the Empires battle barges themselves, thrashed around in a horrible storm, with blood oozing out the sides.

In a slow, strained manner, he found and lifted his cooking pot from the flooded floor and pressed its side against the breached hole in the wall, stopping the influx of water considerably. This must hold. It must, he repeated in his head over and over again, taking quick breaths and fighting against the water pressure.

A screech from behind broke Modos focus. The third devil! He turned to see Pim wildly swinging a repair hammer and the last devil screeching horribly as it detached itself from one of the trithonium lanters, in great pain. Pim ended up hitting it midair as it got tangled in the swinging ropes of a hammock. Pim descended on that last one like a vulture. One smack to the side of the head was all it took to leave the thing hanging limp. It took seven more to the face and torso to satisfy Pim though.

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The boy left the grotesque beast battered. Its crustations, caved in where the hammer had landed, revealed a mushy mash of light blue and purple intestines that now dangled or slowly slipped downward from it's insides.

“Well done my good boy!” Modo proclaimed and instructed the freshly bloodied young hillsman to help him seal up the breach in the hull with ripped floor planks as best they could. This took some time and effort, but they managed to hold back the intruding flow of water and hammer the breach shut.

Modo was beat. His thigh burned searing hot, a sign of infection. He tried not to think about it as he felt his exhaustion mount up rapidly.

Both of them took stock of their surroundings. The noise of gushing water had previously drowned out most of what was happening upstairs. By the relative silence, it seemed the fighting above deck had also subsided.

Footsteps approached the stairs of their quarters and Modo saw Pim tense up. The hatch door was pulled open and a rugged human face stuck out its neck from above.

“Damage report.”

Pim stared blankly at the head until Modo broke the silence.

“Eight dead, one wounded and a badly patched hull, quartermaster Kolm.”

“..Oh. By the way.. The captain is dead.” The quartermaster was visibly unsettled for a brief moment as he seemed to phase out in awkward silence. For a moment, Modo thought the sly quartermaster had finally snapped. Then he continued.

“I am the captain now."

Modo raised an eyebrow.

"I need all hands on deck. Climb up and help us reinforce the candle, whatever is upon us, it's clever.” he finally finished without taking a pause, dissapearing from view. Rushed footsteps slowly dissipated as he could be heard opening up another hatch and asking the exact same report, only to slam the door shut prematurely, without waiting for an asnwer.

"Everyone to the deck!"

What? The captain is dead? Modo was trying to make sense of it all as Pim helped wrap his right hand and left thigh in cloth, ripped from the shirts of their dead comrades. The little arseling also found one of the makeshift spears the fish devils wielded, giving it a go as he awkwardly thrust it forward. The Empire likes to teach inexperienced rabble this one technique, he had noticed, for even a lowly spear thrust can pierce an artery and bring down the most grizzled of opponents. They kid was on point with that hammer though.

Grabbing his pot and chains, he stood up straight and tapped the boy on his left shoulder.

"Hey you, Pimple. It's going to be all right, kid. We are the Empires finest, right? Nothing is going to stop us.." he forced himself to smile as he said it. It did not help much.

"No way you are going to start calling me that. It's Pim!" spurted the boy after a bit.

"Sure, sure... sir Pim.. sir Pim the Pimple Pimpleton.." he quickly blurted out. Both of them enjoyed a burst of laughter over the quick wit of the old cook. Truthfully, Modo had been holding that one in his back pocket ever since the little mole-rat joined their crew in Dimwater. Pim the Pimple. First to pop, they said. Look at him now, smashing skulls and fixing hulls. That young lad would grow up to be a fine sailor. Too bad he joined up right before the lot of them were sent on this damned death trip they call an expedition.

Battered but not beaten, they were finally ready to go up. After that short period of respite and laughter, the situation they were in felt a little less somber. Modo gritted his teeth as they climbed. The rage of battle had worn off completely and pain creeped into his right hand, numbing the mind. He pushed himself and his cooking pot all the way up the hatch in hurried agony.

A thundering bang sounded as he was climbing out, making Modo stumble and almost lose his footing. One of the trithorium candles exploded not far from their barge, lighting up the whole area and revealing their surroundings in a bright teal hue. Soft and warm was the light touching down on his rough skin.

After getting a good look, Modo dropped his pot in despair, falling to his knees short after.

"What is this madness.." he uttered with a low whisper.

The barge that had probably rammed the hull of theirs was in flames and now lodged into what looked like a chain of swampy islands full of tall reeds dotted in front of them as far as the old cook could see. The light touched the reeds, revealing strange pod like flowers dangling within.

Only three battle barges remained from the five they started out with. Four if one would count the one spewing out flames in front of them.

"That's the Stormbird.." proclaimed the boy with a voice so shaky Modo had to look to make sure he was all right.

He turned back and stared blankly at the now dimming swampy landscape, stretching out as far as the explosion of the trithorium candle penetrated the Gloom around them. The way to the torched ship was filled with debris and sailors calling out for help in the dark shallow waters. Some of them could be heard muttering nonsense or laughing hysterically. Shadows in the reeds.

"Those men are lost. There is no coming back from.. that." he was looking at the Stormbird as he said it.

Quartermaster Kolm was heard shouting about again.

"We're leaving! Turn starboard and row around these swampy wastes. Get to it. Deploy oars!"

More of the crew gathered and shuffled about the decks now.

"I want to be clear of this forsaken place in an hour."

Soon after, buckets were handed out to drain the water in the crew's quarters. Hammering was heard as everybody worked hard and fast, like their lives depended on it. Long cumbersome oars dropped down and the Tidebreaker slowly came to life.

"Stay ever vigilant, men! We made the right choice. We will not die here today. Our candle stands tall and bright!"

"Better get to it, arseling. This is going to be a long night. These fishy looking blue blooded bastards won't get us two too easily, now will they?" he muttered, proud of the boy.

"Hey Pim. Pim?"

He had to drag the boy with him, as he reckoned the aresling finally realized he just hammered a monstrous fish to death not half an hour ago.. the deep shit they were in had finally hit that young hillsmans noggin. He had frozen in place again. He wondered if this is going to become a thing with him. Joined up from his own free will. This boy..

But Pim did not bulge. His eyes were fixed at the Stormbirds dim flames still managing to penetrate the darkness. A flash of trithorium had lit up the island around the shipwrecked barge, shooting whisks of blue hued shimmering light up from below.

"They are still fighting, Modo."

"Forget it. There is no way we are turning back now.." he somberly answered.

Both watched as the whisks slowly snuffed out. Now it was just their three ships. Three bubbles of light inside a black bleak prison with nothing but.. nothing in sight.