At Kjell's call there is a crash and thump followed by curses in Varisian. A few moments later a weatherbeaten and tanned face pokes around the edge of the door frame, crab juice dripping down his chin "¿Quién es que a esta hora? Sonido divertido que tu voz."
Kjell steps closer.
Anyone speak that tongue?
Torgeir casts a baleful eye over the scene;
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The dvergr grimly smiles while readying his ax;
"Heh. Sure some of you langr-shanks have sunnan blod and will tala their mewing tunga..."
"Sadly, I have no more idea what he's yammering about than the rest of you. Maybe we should just kill him and move on so he doesn't alert anyone else to our presence."
"He wants to know what we are on about...and why we talk strange. I am going to ask him where the nearest settlement is."
"¿dónde está el establecimiento más cercano?"
Sense Motive:
The fisherman's demeanor does not change as he squints into the gloom, clearly only able to make out silhouettes in the dark... surely otherwise he would have more fear at the sight of seven heavily armed reavers.
"El pueblo se encuentra justo arriba de la ruta. ¿Te has perdido de un barco?
To his companions, "He says there is a village up the path. I will see if I can learn its name so we know what's ahead."
Sheepishly Gylfir responds to the fisherman, "Un poco perdido. Ponemos tierra de suministros. Hemos encontrado un poco de agua, pero quiere para comprar algo de comida. ¿Cuál es el nombre del pueblo?"
For some reason trusting the strange ones that came in the night and talk in foreign tongues. The man chuckles "Se llama Orihuela. Si quieres para la comida, lo mejor será ver a Ramón. Él estará en la taberna por ahora. Di ... si tienes hambre yo podría prescindir de algunas de cangrejo? Acabo de hervir mi captura." smiling earnestly at the chance of perhaps earning some coin.
However you're wary of coming closer... you're fairly sure the fisherman wouldn't be so genial if he could see you for what you are...
"Gracias padre, pero es mejor estar en nuestro camino. Disfrute de su cena."
Gylfir nods his head back up the beach the way they came. "Let's get back.
Let's still be ready for anything. Maybe he didn't notice who we were or maybe he was setting us up"
Kjell spits,
Aye, a village. Is it for plunder?
"I say he's in the wrong place at the wrong time. We either kill him or knock him out and tell the huscarls about the village. He sends up an alarm and we lose all chance of taking this village by surprise."
Gummi shrugs his shoulders at the talk "He seemed simple enough, probably little chance he'd let slip our närvaron till at least morgonen... but if you think it needed we can brain him."
"Leave him says I. Ghosts we are to him, gone in the night and little the wiser. Afore they think to question him we'll be away with gold and plunder."
Kjell growlls deeply while staring back at the hut, then spits.
Aye, let's be about it then...to that village.
Jorleif nods, "No reason to draw any more attention to us than needed." and then he follows the others.
Torgeir impatiently adds;
"Onward then..."
The dvergr resumes point and trudges towards the village...
Gylfir nods and heads out. An occasional good deed to appease the spirits...that should be a good thing."
Black Úlfarr shrugs, "All right then, let's go see what this village looks like."
The group makes up the path towards where the village was said to be lurking. The shack is distant and beyond your sight before the first signs of life loom up before you. You do not spy any real outbuildings before coming up on the edge of the town circle. The buildings are laid out in a lazy circle with entrances facing inwards towards the center where you spy the flicker of firelight. The buildings nearest are dark and look to be homes, while between the gaps you see some activity around a larger stone building across the circle.
You spy a couple of souls near to the fire in the village circle, and there are snatches of song on the air coming from the far tavern.
Judging by the size and number, you'd wager between 20 and 40 souls call this village their home.
Black Úlfarr whispers, "Could be a good target. Doesn't seem too big. But I have no idea how much their might be to plunder. Let's see if we can bring the huscarls up."
"Ya. It would be good to have all blades on hand if this village is to be the target."
The group makes it's way away from the village and back to the karvi. By now it is in the depth of night, though you wager there is still time enough to make it back to the village before daybreak.
Njáll and the brothers that went for water are still away, but Sámr greets your return "Hail vikingr... what tidings have you? Anything worth our time?"
"Village of Orihuela, up over the dunes. Probably between 20 to 40 villagers, a single tavern, no obvious defenses, but no obvious wealth either."
"Most likely fishermen or farmers... what's your opinion? - should we linger or make for the mainland?"
"Let us make for the mainland. Farmers will have nothing of value to us."
"I agree, no need wasting our time here."
"No tale of riches and glory would come from sacking the place."
I am always up for killin'! But, not likely much here.
Nodding the huscarl replies "Fair enough, we'll await the others and make sail."
It is early morning and almost to daybreak by the time the others return with the barrels of fresh water refilled. They are taken back aboard the Karvi and you push off again under oars until you are at sail again... heading East and towards the mainland.
Later that day, after all have had a chance to rest and sleep, the huscarl call to and broach the issue of the mainland. Sámr does the speaking "We sail east and towards the fastland... but we've a choice to make. We are but a single karvi and there are vessels asail and great cities of the soft Southerners that would swallow us whole in their size. But it we are too cautious we'll not be taking much in plunder back to make a name for ourselves."
"So, the choice as I see it:
North and East - and hunt the degenerate races that hide in the shadows and caves.
East and South - to prey on the native tribes and gypsies that wander the land.
Turn South - and seek another village on the isles that seems ripe enough for sacking."
Letting the words hang in the air for a few moments so you can savor them he finishes "We stand in the prow, but I would hear the words of the karvi's belly before we make our bed to lie in... what say you?"
Torgeir thinks then spits before speaking in his typically blunt fashion;
"Hellir? Damn langshanks cannot auga in the myrkr, so Nord is nei good. The tribes und gypsy are villr, we may not hitta them... Find a feitr village I say..."
"Aye, even though I am one of the damn longshanks, I am with Torgeir on seeking a village."
With grumbled mutterings around the karvi supporting your plan the huscarl nod. "Aye, a fair choice - let's bring her around" and the sails are tacked to guide the ship more Southerly. Waves come and go as you cut a path South and near to the string of islands on your right that make the outer edge of the bay. Eyes watching and looking for a target...
Torgeir’s gaze scrutinizes the horizon and coastline. One clear eye, sharp and narrowed, whilst his ruined, milky orb gazes beyond and nowhere... Searching for signs of life, of settlement, of "civilisation"...
With his atypical disgruntled tone the dvegr growls aloud;
"Gæta for eimi fingr... Fjalldr eik... Vatn even.."
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Black Úlfarr joins Torgeir in looking for signs of civilization or even just promising locations. He scans the strong of islands. Sails? smoke? A river cutting to the sea?
Roluo sets his gaze across the horizon between turns rowing. His gaze rests upon the water, looking for signs of dirt and other farm runoff. Moving to the trees, he looks for signs of cutting or roads, or the telltale dust of travelers and peddlers making their way between cities. The sun shines brightly, and he looks about for the smoke that would signal a large fire or many houses, weak Southerners doings their best to stay warm, unknowing of the deadly frost coming at them in the form of a raiding vessel from the unforgiving North.
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Gylfir keeps his eyes sharp for a steeple breaking the horizon. He remembers his father 's description of southern churches, churches usually full of gold. They build them to be seen from afar..good for us.
Kjell scans the shorelines as he puts his back to the oars. He looks for signs of smoke rising from inland or heavily vegetated islands that would lead to prosperous logging or farming, not thickets mid you, but proper wood for building and trade.
Survival:
Pereception:
After a few days sailing and passing by some possible targets that were either too large or not tangible enough, Torgeir and Roluo spy something that could be worthy of attention.
In a sheltered bay screened on one side by mountains and the other by a partially cleared forest you spy a small town. They do not appear to have any docks of significance, so are unlikely to have any vessels to challenge your own. Gylfir spies a sparkle sitting slightly higher than the general treeline that he thinks could be a church spire. By the size of it, you'd wager about as many men as the village you thought beneath you... but many of the buildings here are of stone and not of wood and in the burgeoning afternoon dark you spy trails of smoke. Torgeir wagers that there might be a hole at the foot of the mountains...
The huscarl listen to your and your shipmates tidings of the target and nod their heads "Aye, this will be a fine test." turning their heads to strategy...
Samr promotes a two-pronged attack - one force to set down in the forest at night to come upon the village from the land-side. The rest in the karvi that will sail in come daybreak to the bay. The boat will flush out the fighters and those from the forest will strike while the landsers heads are turned.
Njall disagrees with splitting your men and urges beaching the karvi around the edge of the bay now and swarming along the shore, taking the village this very day.
Casting the floor open to suggestions, the three brothers speak passionately for a true Ulfen raid. Sailing into the bay with colors flying and the dawn rising in the distance. Karvi beaching into the heart of the town to let the warriors fight and plunder as Gorum drives them.
The sentiment upon the karvi is even, and not one of the tactics holds a sway of all. Heads turn to the slayers of the draugr... so as to ken their counsel.
Torgeir grimly smiles at the take of blod und thunar;
"The reavr dvergr's lund is well known... Lender at nicht, then slátra all abed or nei..."
The beserkr's one good eye glints menacingly bright as the blod-fyr within him is kindled...
Black Úlfarr leans forward listening to the plans and reaction. At his side, even Surtr seems to comprehend that further battle is forthcoming. "Aye, straightforward night time attack from all of us at once sounds like a plan to me."
There is some ill sentiment at the thought of a night assault, from the brothers "Only the dvergr can see in dark as well as day... what of the rest of us? It is better we wait for the day to break so we do not cripple ourselves"
I see yer point brothers, but we can bring fire with us as we bleed the weak Sotherners!
Black Úlfarr adds, "Aye and they'll surely have some light in the town and more as they hear us attacking."
Grimly "Very well, we'll trust the dvergr... but we'll need your eyes on the prow to guide us in."
The rest of the day passes with thick tension and the quiet only punctuated by sharpening of blades and girding of loins. Of all the others Gummi and Samr seem the most calm - the old hand resting with his pipa while the huscarl snoozes in the prow.
Nightfall comes with no overt sign from the settlement that your ship has been seen as a threat nor entreaties made from it. Beckoning Torgeir to the prow Samr takes your place at the oars and you begin to muscle the karvi landward...
Roluo silently checks his equipment for the coming raid, thankful for the darkness that hides his pale face.
The undead were one thing, now to kill men. I can do this. I must do this.
Torgeir gazes at the moonkissed waters with his baleful gaze;
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Torgeir's wary gaze leads you smoothly into the bay. Keeping to oars you draw closer and closer to the town.