His berserkr rage ebbed, a weary Torgeir stands with Gromr and balefully looks upon the survivors with his ruined eye.
The dvergr takes but a passing interest in the loot, considering the shield more than anything...
"Feh. Elgr faðir... Hvar is he now! Eh!?"
The reavr chuckles bluntly at the assembled villagers...
Jorleif will test taste the potions and try to determine what they are
Black Úlfarr takes little interest in most of the plunder, but considers the smith's hammer. "Gylfir, you struck the telling blow on the smith, but if you do not want his weapon, I might carry it for a time. He seemed a brave man, if strange for living with these soft townsfolk."
So, back to the boat with da' booty, eh?
The huscarl nod as Gylfir brings the cowed villagers that were hiding in the smithy. Some of the others seem eager to take human flesh back as trophy, but Njall puts paid to that "Nay, we've a small ship and not enough men to curse some of us as nursemaids to prisoners. We'll leave them behind as we sail." The villagers don't seem to understand the words as you say them, but look fearful and broken enough. The only menfolk remaining are the old and the young, all others are bloodied and breath no more.
The plunder is brought aboard and the karvi seems about two thirds full of goods already, but there is yet room for more and with success comes further hunger for more prey. Questions for a few days hence yet, as the karvi is forced from the shore into the water and brought out of the bay under oars. In all the time it takes you to pull off you do not see any of the villagers move from their place of internment.
As a safeguard, the huscarl see the karvi turn to wind as soon as able and spend a couple of days putting some distance between the pillaged city and the triumphant vikingr. The squat but efficient longship moves Northward along the sea-ward side of the string of islands you preyed upon, and you have the luck of not noting any marks upon the horizon. However you find that into the afternoon of the third day hence the waves are gradually picking up in intensity and there is a darkening sky to your West.
Torgeir casts his gaze skyward at the darkening clouds…
:
The dvergr shouts to his fellow vikingr with a grim smile playing across his blocky features;
”Har! Inn ægir may yet reyna our mestr foe…”
Torgeir gets a sense that a large storm is brewing, one that would be difficult to weather upon the water in the karvi. There is an island nearby with what looks to be a partially sheltered bay that you could make for it you wished... or you could weather the rage upon the sea.
"Let us make for that bay men. I've enough stories of men lost at sea that I've no urge to add to it!"
Jorleif concentrates as he looks around like he is getting his bearing. Then he nods, "I can direct us to the island even if the storm overtakes us and you cannot see. I've learned to be able to walk on water, but I don't want to push my luck with a storm like that. Let's get to solid ground."
Aye! To the bay 'afore we become fish food!
From his seat Torgeir nods, chuckling grimly as he does;
"The fiskr are the least of our æðra undir the veifa..."
"Aye, I too would make for the island. I'm more used to the karvi than I was when we started, but I'd prefer not to get caught in the storm if we can avoid it."
Those more seaworthy on the karvi share your views that avoiding the storm by putting in to shore a moment is wise. The sail is furled and the huscarl bring you in under power of oars, Samr singing an ode of perilous seas and monsters from below. Drawing nearer to the island the best place to beach is seen as near to the Western edge of the beach. It is mostly sheltered from the sea by a spit of forested land, and the wooded hillocks windward of it should break much of the power of the storm.
The beach and forest seem relatively empty of wildlife and signs of people, and you are able to storm weather the karvi in quick order. Ropes are run from the vessel to some stout trees to give an additional means of tethering the boat and preventing it from losing it's moorings.
Sheltering under the forested canopy... as the storm continues to build and rain starts to pour down... you notice a few sickly looking yellow flowers...
The flowers catch Jorleif's eye why do those seem familiar to me?
Nothing is coming to mind however
Gylfir helps load the boat. The labor helps clear his mind. The blood lust is slow to fade and he is exhausted from the struggle against it. He was here for glory and gold and a good fight...but not killing women and children like sheep. His father brought his mother back from a raid. He had spared her the ax and I do believe she came to love him...at least their child's eyes. He had said there was something that stayed his hand..something about her?...something in him?...he could never explain it. But having now seen the signs that surround him, Gylfir can take a guess. Her ways of Desna have pervaded Gylfir as he grew up, perhaps more so than Gorum from his father.
His mother sailed back to her home after his father failed to return. Gylfir choose to seek his wyrd following his father's path, instead of learning the ways of her people. Gylfir wonders if he might have ended up like the Smith, an outcast fated to try and protect a people that might never truly accept him, from his former brothers.
He looks around at the crew. He knows he did not make many friends this day. His slaying of the Smith earned him some respect, and he immediately threw it back in their faces, by saving the women and children. Even among his own people Gylfir feels the outcast. He pulls the lump of odd slag out of the pouch to examine it again. In just the moonlight, it looks unworldly...fitting. In the fight, Gylfir felt like he was starting to fit in, starting to be like his father. But the events since have proven that not to be the case...although the small hope is there that he is like his father, just he was too young to truly understand the man. As the boat pulls away, he finally spares a look back at the group of women and children. He sees the nameless girl he saved watching the boat as it rows through the surf...the girl that he risked so much for...was it for them?...or was it for her?...Desna watch over them...I tried to save one and saved them all...that was all I could do.
Gylfir helps erect a tarp for a windbreak, tying it securely against the wind. When he sees Jorleif off to the side looking at some plants, he makes his way over. Strange to be so interested in these flowers as the storm rages around us
He bends over to see why they might hold his attention.
Gylfir recognizes the flowers... they are not native to the North, but whispers on the wind when you were in the garden talked of this particular yellow flower being a portent of death. The flowers are the precursor to a full blown green vine that chokes the life from men and raises their corpses in a macarbe mockery of life so they can spread it's seed far and wide.
Black Úlfarr pauses in his help preparing for the storm and moves over toward Jorlief and Gylfir, "What do you all see over there? Shouldn't we be helping get ready for the storm?"
"These yellow bells portend death. Below grows a vine that chokes the unwary." The Gardeners talked of such plants as these, and how the Hedge would like to grow these if the Gardeners had not pruned it extensively and regularly. Gylfir pulls Jorleif back, "These blossoms can cloud and poison the mind. There has been much death on this isle. Enough to rot the soil and poison the plants...despite the storm, we should move camp...step back carefully, both of you. This plant grows the Dead like melons in the dunes."
Alarmed Jorleif listens to Gylfir, "Thank you brother for seeing that danger" I should have known what that was. No amount of studying has prepared me for this
The huscarl and vikingr move away from the wood towards the beach at Gylfir's first words... but the approaching storm means that there is little ability to move the karvi at this late stage.
A careful review of the surrounding area shows that there are no mature vines nearby, so as long as no-one wanders into the isle's interior you should be safe from harm...
The rain becomes driving and claps of thunder sound. Looking out onto the water you are thankful that you decided to remain ashore, as the waves are rolling violently.
"Aye, thank you Gylfir. I have heard many tales over the years, but had you told me that before we left, I'm not sure I would have believed you."
"I am just grateful that I did not have to learn of these the hard way. It will mean a more exposed night in the storm, but there are worse things. We should keep a landward watch tonight. Just like the barrow stirred the dead in to service, these plants can do the same with lost sailors on this spit."
The storm takes a few hours to spit out its thunderous anger at you and the tethered karvi. Thunder sounds in the far distance and occasional lightning strikes flash the spit of land you have sheltered on into stark relief. But you are able to endure and survive, and thankfully the karvi fares reasonably well also. The ropes that secured her are frayed and starting to part... but they held.
A last thought crosses your mind before departing... the creepers that bear the yellow flowers thrive where blood has been spilt and death has visited... As the huscarl and the other vikingr check over the karvi and make her ready to sail again... you wonder if it is worth the risk of investigating... or if the dead should be left undisturbed...
The isle is quiet as the huscarl stand as though sentinels of stone... awaiting your choice to accompany them immediately, or search the isle for the death that provided the initial sustenance to the yellow flowers.
"There could be treasure here but I've little desire to be a farmer and dig in the dirt. Let us sail as men and raid more towns before returning home."
Aye, there is plunder and killin' to be done by way of boat!
"I would rather seek known trouble, like the axes and swords of a village or boat, than these strange yellow blooms."
There are two potions of Cure Light Wounds, and one of Barkskin.
The karvi is put back to sea and brought into the becalmed ocean under the power of oars. It takes most of the morning for the wind to pick up and give enough drive to allow you to collapse back from your labor and let the wind take over. Driven by a desire for further plundring, the vikingr presses onwards seeking another town to raid.
A couple of days later, as another batch of salted fish is being handed out for sustenance and washed down with a cup of rainwater that has started to stagnate within the cask, an opportunity is spied. To the bow and starboard in relatively open water you spy a small fishing boat - barely big enough to seat four bobbing up and down on the swell with no sail cast.
Looking around you spy only one isle where they may have come from, a sparsely forested small isle that sits alone in the waves. You cannot pick out any details from the island, but from this distance it doesn't look like there would be a large enough settlement there to challenge even a small longship like yours.
Torgeir glares at the fishing vessel from his oar berth;
:
The blod-thirsty dvergr chuckles, and mutters to all nearby:
"Feh. Der fiskr-folk svima djúpr! Let us see what meiðmar we may hreppa har-har-har!!"
"I think what Torgeir is saying is there are a few fishing boats and they seem to have come from that island there."
Njall ruffles his hair in thought a moment before stating abruptly "Aye, they have indeed. Lets see if they've much of worth... at any rate I'm in dire need of a skit and I'd prefer to do it on land. Crestefalla" calling out to Jorleif and hoiking a thumb towards the boat "Get around behind and in their båt.. we'll come in on your heels."
Jorleif nods and leaps over the side landing on the water. Ice forms beneath his feat as he takes a large circle around the boat trying to approach from a direction they are not looking. Quietly he approaches the boat When he gets 15 feet to the boat he call forth a thick fog cover the boat, but of which he can see through . Once they are covered he'll take out who he can in the boat with his mace.
Gylfir draws in the chain, draped through the oarlock and prepares for trouble.
Torgier shoots a grim wink at his oarmate Gromr, then taps his war ax like a faithful hund
Jorleif comes upon the boat without being seen, as the vessel does not bear any crew at present. The floats beside it show that the sailors are diving, and you spy a couple of nets filled with shellfish in the boat.
The first of the sailors emerges soon after you get into the boat and cries out in surprise as he sees you. His eyes flicker around... but he seems to realise that he's too far from land to swim for it at this point. Instead he asks "¿Quién eres y qué quieres?" His companion surfaces beside him soon after and they both look upon you in nervous fear. They don't seem to have noticed the karvi sweeping through the water under sails behind them...
Black Úlfarr sets a hand on scruff of Surtr's neck whispering, "Easy Surtr, quiet for now." He continues to watch as the karvi approaches the boat.
Roluo licks his lips as he works to row the karvi closer, mentally checking his gear as he does.
I need a bow.
Kjell fingers the blade of his Axe, ready to jump to the boat upon arrival.
Not understanding a word these people say, he signals them to calm down and swim over to our ship once it gets closer (if its stopping) There someone else can comminicate and possibly get some info off of them.
The karvi draws near enough that the men notice it and all colour flees from their face as they do so. They do as instructed, finding a hand hold on the port of the vessel and awaiting instruction. The huscarl see them hauled aboard and the sit scared and impotent on the floor of the vessel. Njall turns to Jorlief to ask "Crestefalla, what do they bear afloat?"
Sifting through the contents of the fishing boat, Jorleif does not find much but shellfish... though on closer inspection you find a small waxproofed pouch. Tipping out the contents to one hand you find a half-dozen round pearlescent pebbles.
Jorleif will try and figure out what they are
"No nos importa. ¿Qué es lo que está después aquí y lo que es esa isla cercana? Su vida depende de la respuesta."
Jorleif can easily identify them as pearls. They bear no power in and of themselves, but are valuable enough to be of interest. And where there is a handful... perhaps more?
The Varisian fisherman stammers "Nuestro único hogar vikingo, que los peces de las piedras a su amigo sostiene .... nada más."
Kjell looks to Gylfir after peering over Jorleif's shoulder at the pearls.
Ask 'em if there are more pearls on the island that they already found.
"Or how many people are there. If they are pearl divers then they must be rich."
"¿Es su isla rica de perlas? Lo suficientemente rico como que no acabamos de matar a todos los que encontremos? Teniendo en cuenta las perlas suficientes podemos olvidarnos de su pequeña isla. Respuesta rápida y sabiamente. Vamos a tierra ... si vamos a por asesinato o por algún botín fácil es de usted."
The Varisians exchange a knowing look as they consider their position... and that of their kin. The older of the two then replies "Si las perlas son todo lo que quieras ... luego dejar que Griend ir a buscar a ... Quiero aquí como salvaguardar al mismo tiempo que hace ..." gesturing at the younger of the two, who is apparently Griend.