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Albina mulls over the possibilities.
The Captain may wish to get his dangerous 'partners' off the boat so that he can abscond with the cargo and claim the full payment for himself.
Their other unknown enemies, such as the tritons, or the recently prophecied Iomedan 'son' may strike again.
The crew may need to let off steam and a good seal-bludgeoning may well be the key to keeping them fat and satisfied and less prone to any sort of mutinous thoughts.
Aware that the others are awaiting her contribution, she smiles at Mi'Dre. "We will always have enemies, and they will always attempt to strike against us. Let them not keep us on the defensive and dictate our actions to us, we will not be ruled by fear or uncertainty, but by our bold actions will they come to know us."
"That being said, let's keep our eyes open and not be taken unawares. Let's keep our armor on, our weapons close to hand and our very best violence straining at the leash..." she adds, attempting a subtle sidelong glance at the Captain.
Mi'Dre nods in agreement at Albina's words, pleased that she has sided with him. He wasn't concerned about the captain making off with the loot, even with his still healing wings he was sure he could return to the boat, and if the soldiers were going to be with them anyway... As for the Tritons, it was odd, but the holy symbol had not been Iomodae's, so he wasn't quite sure what to think. It didn't seem like a planned attack, though it had been well executed.
"Excellent. We'll bring you back some seal-meat." he offers his reluctant companions.
The Captain himself readies to take to the water in search of prey taking one of the jolly boats and some of the crew. Mi'Dre and any others willing to take to the water are left with a couple of sailors to help with the second boat. With a nod and well wishing for good hunting Kargeld heads out.
Mi'Dre hops happily into the boat with the soldiers, waiting to see if any of the rest of the knot, or Cruxcarr reconsider and join him, before doing his best to guide, or help guide them towards the best ambush locations.
Shendalyn stays behind buuuttttt does not waste time...
Mi'Dre and Albina are assisted by a couple of Kargeld's sailors and have a fruitful hunt - managing to slaughter and process no less than six seals. The skins are cut free and most of the less valuable carcass discarded back into the sea. Occasionally the dead flesh draws a speculative shark or other creature of the deep - but none that dares to draw near.
Kargeld: and
The Captain returns from his seal hunting trip in a deep, dark and foul mood - having not managed to hunt even a single creature. One of his crewman jokingly question him upon his return and are rewarded with a backhand that knocks them to the deck and loosens a tooth. His mood is not helped by seeing Mi'Dre's bounty. A couple of his crewman are left to lug the surprisingly empty barrel of foraged water aboard and put it in the hold with the rest of the supplies.
He also finds a crate marked as 'Emergency supplies' that has a half dozen bottles that smell like hard grain alcohol.
The ship is back underway with the water that night, and Kargeld keeps it at sail through most of the black - leading to him having a fouler mood come morning. In the late morning just before the sun reaches it's zenith another speck is spotted on the horizon. It is not Talirean, and as you draw nearer proves itself to be a collection of four seal skin canoes manned by some of the savages of the north. They raise hands to give you hail.
Kargeld shrugs "No harm in drawin near. The heathens are peaceful enough unless you try and rile em" looking to your party for a decision.
By all means then... the blackguard mumbles while looking with suspicion at the savages and resting his hand at the pommel of his weapon.
Maybe this will be a good time to test the triton's trident, more fun and games. he thinks bleakly.
Mi'Dre revels in the excitement and violence of the hunt, eating his fill of delicious babyseal sweetbreads and likely thoroughly disgusting the sailors with them as he plucks them warm from their bellies and gobbles them down. When the captain returns empty handed he simply smirks with amusement and licks his fingers clean.
When the canoes approach the next morning he watches impassively; it seems doubtful there'll be any excitement and so he simply rests, hunched into a squatting position on the deck.
Kargeld waves for the canoes to approach and they draw within thirty feet of the Frosthamar. You see that there are eight yutak seal hunters in the small flotilla - but the more important are within the larger vessel. One bears pagan articles that show him as a worshipper of nature, while the larger is barechested despite the cold and his physique marks him a warrior. However it is what is in his hands that draws your eye.
An eight foot ivory horn from a Narwhal, thick and lustrous in the midday light. He stands, thumps his chest and shows the horn to you before jerking his chin at the shaman. The shaman speaks in broken common "White Tusk slay beast, take it's horn. Strong... maybe you want trade?"
Shendalyn lounges. Letting the crew do what they do. His eyes are closed and he appears to be in deep meditation or thought.
Cruxcarr eyes the important newcomers;
Mmmmm. Quite the specimen...
The corpulent mage whispers a wry aside to his companions;
"Trade? I for one would exchange more than mere worldly goods with that "savage"..."
Felmongre licks his full lips as his thoughts drift, then his eyes narrow;
"Trade indeed...wonder what they would consider congruent?"
Its a nice horn alright, trade it for a pair o swords... A tempting offer if we did not have our gauntlet to run. Nah, it would just slow us down.
Whatever they want for it the thing is useless to us. Too shiny to hide and too big to carry.
Jack keeps an eye on the savages but choose not to interact with them.
Mi'Dre detects no magic and has no real basis for figuring out the ivory tusk's worth.
As Albina does so Cruxcarr assists with his own artisan's judgement of worth, leaning in to look;
:
"Worth a closer examination would you not say my dear?"
Albina thinks that the tusk would be worth something in the region of 1500-2500 gold.
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She whispers back to Cruxcarr. "Ridiculously expensive, and utterly without value to us or our mission."
Raising her voice, Albina calls down to the man in the canoe, "We have nothing worthy to trade for such a magnificent trophy, bold hunter." She adds diplomatically, "Perhaps your shamen can forge it into a mighty weapon to bring you even greater success at future hunts!"
Mi'Dre shuffles up to Albina as she replies to the savages "We do have those 6 seal pelts which the savages in their seal-skin canoes might find useful." he observes, hopefully helpfully so.
The yutak shaman nods and translates Albina's words into the heathen tongue. The war-leader then gives her a satisfied nod and thumps his chest before speaking back to the Shaman. In broken common you then receive this warning "You have honor for a Southerner... but if you travel North beware the Laughing Storm. In dark of night, first the snow - then demons of ice rise from the water... be wary"
The savages then take their leave and paddle on around the Frosthamar and continue South.
The north should beware of us! the blackguard thinks to himself.
After a couple of seconds.
No point disregarding that warning. Maybe its better if we keep doing a watch among ourselfs during the night time. he wisper to his companions.
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"A sensible precaution," Albina concedes to Black Jack's suggestion. Looking to Shendalyn, she inquires, "If we come to encounter these creatures, are spirits of fire among your repertoire, master conjuror? 'Demons of ice' is likely to be little more than minor frost spirits, to these simple savages, and the touch of elemental fire should be most unwelcome to them..."
Without opening his eyes Shendalyn answers. "I think you'll find m'lady fire is something that's easily within this particular crews reach."
Cruxcarr settles his bulk down upon a bench and smiles slyly;
"Indubitably... There are veritable infernos ready to ignite from our magicks... and appetites..."
At the last work the bloat mage to-be licks his full lips...
In a low whisper he continues;
"I for one look forward to the opportunity of indulging in some prolonged desquamation with these... savages... My talents, whilst not as ostentatious as Master Shawn's, are more suited to the cogent extraction of erudition... but you will find me somewhat expedient come time my blackhearts..."
Watching the yutak sail away Captain Kargeld licks his lips with some degree of tension "Aye, maybe best we keep wary the next few nights."
Mi'Dre stares blankly at Cruxcarr as a pile of incomprehensible words falls out of his mouth, before giving a shrug and a nod to the captain.
A couple of nights pass without incident as the Frosthamar glides further Northwards... but then as night falls the air temperature drops even further and trails of ice begin to form upon the rigging. Snow begins to fall and only intensifies as the night continues to pass. The crew light extra torches to give some paltry protection against the cold, though it does little to help and they end up piled together for warmth.
It is in the depth of night as Kargeld drinks to keep his mind alive and eyes the childlike Mi'Dre with an askance gaze...
When Mi'Dre finds himself joined by Kargeld the devil is rather disgruntled for the first few nights as he has to suspend his night flying activities. He spends most of those first few nights staring frequently at Kargeld, partially just to unsettle the Captain, and partially to try and get a read of the man, spy out weaknesses, old injuries, what have you. By the night of particularly chilly weather, he's taken to settling into the rigging instead, unbothered by the cold, and enjoying the additional height and the feel of the winds higher up.
Mi'Dre's loathing of Kargeld is suddenly interrupted by the sound of sardonic laughter. It dances forth and seems to come from both within and without the vessel. The surface of the water around the Frosthamar solidifies in place and a thin sheeting of ice forms.
At that moment Kargeld cries in surprise "Something's fecking out there dammit." reaching for the greataxe across his back before dropping the iron-shod wooden shaft that seems to rapidly cool and as it falls is beginning to be coated in a coating of ice.
Also in the waters around the ship, you spy some sign of movement below the thin ice cover.
Mi'Dre narrows his eyes up at the creature atop the mast, sparing only a glance below to the curses of the captain, noting the movement besides the ship. He hesitates before leaping into action however, trying to recall what he knows of demons and whether there is such a type as this. His memory fails him however, and so he settles his feet beneath him, and on a whim pulls the iron circlet from his brow, before leaping into the air, charging at the creature.
:
Bereft of silken sheets and a warming companion Cruxcarr lulls in a light sleep. When Kargeld bellows a warning, the gross mage struggles to his feet...
The sudden loud noises are not enough to disturb Jack's sleep.
Shendalyn remains undisturbed by the chaos ensuing having already lost rest to one nightly attack.
Crux:
Shendalyn:
Black Jack:
Albina:
Merry Crew:
Bad Guys:
Action Tracker (Round 1): Cruxcarr, Albina, Shendalyn, Mi'Dre, Bad Guys, Black Jack, Merry Crew
The laughter still echoing around you, Mi'Dre and Kargeld see shapeless apparitions rise from the ice sheet covering the water to loom up and threatening towards the Frosthamar. Around you the crew begins to stir from sleep, and your quick reactions serve you well - giving you precious moments to use against the enemy.
Mi'Dre attempts to take off and fly to engage the enemy above, but his still healing wings fail to gather enough lift and he remains on the deck.
Perception
Shendalyn's eyes snap open in the blisering cold. Standing up bleary eyed he tries to ascertain what's going on.
As Mi'Dre's still injured wings fail him he curses as he thumps back down to the deck. He glares up at the critter for a moment before jumping up, climbing more slowly this time, and grabbing one of the merrily burning torches as he does so, hurling it up at the icy figure.
Mi'Dre mutters further infernal curses as the torch flies wide, before yelling up at the thing in his native tongue.
Still sleepy, Jack starts to rise.
What the...?