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Part One – The Marked Albatross
A cold clear sky brightens the morning, although those one or two dark clouds waiting to the north over the Glacial Sea look menacing. Maybe the first day of autumn is a bad day to travel by sea on a cursed ship but the skein of your future is woven already. Good luck.
The docks of Urgen is where the Albatross sails from today. Word has been passed about the town over the last three weeks while Drago Longaxe readied to embark north to Ackrieg. Word of the ten gold he offers to any crew member willing to go with him was met with muttered shakes of heads and faces turned away – ten gold marks is not enough for these suspicious seamen. But the story has spread thanks to mention of the ten golds, so that the docks are now busy with many folks waiting to see who will temp fate and sail away on the Marked Albatross.
Local fisherman have decided to tend their nets this day, after all when the ship leaves, their catches should improve as the curse is lifted. It has been almost a year since the Albatross came and not one decent haul can be remembered in that time. So they will be glad to see it go.
There are wives stood in clusters near their men folk, laughing and joking, so that the odd snatch of a sharp fishwife can be heard on the breeze. Some of these comments are pointed at the grey bearded, six foot tall man waiting beside the stone and plank quay, leaning against the post. Although he pays no attention.
Drago Longaxe it must be with that six foot of dark wood grounded by a silver etched axehead all within easy reach. Muttering in his ear is a tall thin man in heavy winter furs. The words become heated and eventually Drago throws up his hand and points out to sea, his temper rising. The man appears to back down and placates the older warrior, before leaving him alone and boarding. Soon he stares coldly out to sea, holding onto the high tiller at the rear.
Already two or three blond haired rowers have taken up position in the small drakkar, waiting for company at the oars. One is gently slapping the blade in the cold water. Another clutches his furs more tightly.
Drago Longaxe taps his feet impatiently and stirs.
“Is there no one else willing to take ship under me. Ten gold marks!” he waves at the crowd who go silent again.
“Afraid of an old wives tale, cowering like a child on a winter’s night. Are you all cowards?”
An icy beauty strides confidently up to the boarding plank, a scowling bearded man following closely behind. She looks at the ship and then at the man before her and says with an air of superiority, "if this ship can be considered seaworthy then my companion and I will be travelling with you to Ackreig on a mission of some import."
She turns to the man behind her and with a snap of her fingers she calls to him. "Come Jorgen, I suppose this will do."
She turns away and walks past Drago before she sees Jorgen's scowl deepen, but he follows her up the gang plank and onto the ship, leaving Drago on the dock to wonder what just happened.
Ragnar hangs in the back of the crowd, looking about nervously. He takes a few deep breaths, rolling his quarterstaff across his palm before standing up straight. He slaps a hand to Stefnir's shoulder.
"Puhssge nrrth.", he says,"Gud cuhn. Uh-kreegh need droods, rut? Luhss neet the Cuhfftin."
He pushes through the crowd, looking neither left nor right, but standing up straight with his eyes focused on Drago Longaxe. Ragnar is about average height, dressed in common furs and a faded red cloak, with the padded under layer from a suit of armor his only protection. He carries a sack over his shoulder with his belongings, a dagger and sling in his belt beside his waterskin and a gnarled quarterstaff in hand. There's a scarf pulled around his neck that Stefnir, his traveling companion, has never seen him remove in the short time they've known each other.
Ragnar offers his hand to Drago Longaxe. When he speaks, his lips and tongue form the words perfectly, but his voice drops or mutes a lot of sounds and syllables.
"I uhm Ruhgnrr Stolln-Voyz.", he says,"I sull, I figh'; I do buth fur you."
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An icy beauty strides confidently up to the boarding plank, a scowling bearded man following closely behind. She looks at the ship and then at the man before her and says with an air of superiority, "if this ship can be considered seaworthy then my companion and I will be travelling with you to Ackreig on a mission of some import."
She turns to the man behind her and with a snap of her fingers she calls to him. "Come Jorgen, I suppose this will do."
She turns away and walks past Drago before she sees Jorgen's scowl deepen, but he follows her up the gang plank and onto the ship, leaving Drago on the dock to wonder what just happened.
Drago listens to the obvious Lady and watches her companion for signs that he can handle himself then he climbs back up the gangplank.
"Lady, this is a ship heading into rough seas and strong winds. Your man can come but why would I take you? Can you pull an oar? Well? And don't speak no tripe of a mission of import I go to my brother's aid and don't have time to wet nurse girls. Or are you offering to warm my bed?"
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"Rugnuh, well you are on. And it looks like my first order may be to throw this Lady in the bay. She seems confused as to who maybe captain. Take a seat by the others for now."
There are four benches on either side with fifteen foot oars lying down the middle either side of the five foot wide walkway. It looks like two men to an oar.
The sail is furled at the moment and its boom is tied down to it swinging overhead. At the front is the dragon's head but it has been carved into a malevolent looking bird with a beak of sharpened teeth.
Ari was broke, he had spent his last few coins the previous evening on ale and stew. Local work was almost non-existent and he desperately needs to get to Ackrieg, so the thought of 10 gold was more than he could bare. He skirts the crowd and approaches the gang plank, his cloak tightly wrapped about his person. As he gets to where Drago is standing he nods, showing little of his face, gets aboard removes his backpack and places it under the seat he has chosen.
FW
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"See," shouts Drago, "good luck already, the Albatross has a snow elf on board. Welcome, my friend."
Drago points at the shadowed figure as he waves him to another seat. On the way he whispers to Ari, "you know your way around a boat, right?"
Ari
Ari looks at Drago and says,"I have sailed a little and one ship is much the same as another, my father was Thorn of Urgen. I hope, I can be of assistance and perhaps bring you and the ship, the luck you desire."
Drago listens to the obvious Lady and watches her companion for signs that he can handle himself then he climbs back up the gangplank.
"Lady, this is a ship heading into rough seas and strong winds. Your man can come but why would I take you? Can you pull an oar? Well? And don't speak no tripe of a mission of import I go to my brother's aid and don't have time to wet nurse girls. Or are you offering to warm my bed?"
A look like that of a brewing storm comes over Saorise's face as she responds to the man's insolence.
"Do you think the Druids would have entrusted myself and Witch Hunter Truesight here on an important mission if we weren't capable of handling ourselves. Wet nurse indeed. And if you think I would bed an unruly oaf such as yourself then you are in for much disappointment I am afraid."She turns slightly towards Jorgen, waiting for him to back up her words to the rude Captain.
Kurn watches the crowd and hears Drago's words. He knows Drago a bit from his time in port and his aware of what the locals think of the Albatross. Then he sees his brother Ari! "What is the young fool getting himself into now" he mutters.
Kurn moves forward through the crowd so that Drago can see him. "Hey Drago, it's me Kurn. I see you are struggling for talent in your crew yet again!" his says chuckling. "I've been Sailing Master on many a ship as you may know? I may be interested, but why are you going to Ackrieg with this lot on board?" Kurn looks at the odd array of land lubbers boarding.
Stefnir approaches with his travel companion, making sure the symbols of an unfettered Druid are visible. "Brave Captain." "I am Stefnir son of Ogmundr, and Druid of the Storms". "I have need to travel north, and desire to do so aboard your vessel, should you have me". He then bows formally, but not deferentially.
He then, noticing the brewing conflict, steps forward with a glance at the impetuous young woman. "Perhaps your could overlook for now that ones, rudeness", he confers in a quite voice. "Perhaps she was unaware that aboard ship the captain is King". He then inclines his head waiting on a reply.
If boarding is permitted he will step aboard with his meager belongings. "I will seat myself beside my companion Ragnar", making sure the captain has the correct pronunciation, "if that meets your approval".
Jorgen stares the man in the eyes without fear but also without malice.
"Those who would try to force the Ice Maiden into their beds, soon find the warmth leaving their bodies as the cross into the realm of the dead. The business of the Druids knows no barriers, nor does the hunting of witches."
Diplomacy
Sense motive
A tall, well muscled and fierce looking woman has been making her way through the crowd. She strides with the swagger of a warrior and possesses an almost unearthly grace to her movements. She obviously could easily maneuver her way through the throng, yet instead she chooses to bull her way through the people waiting on the dock, ignoring the feeble protests and turning a savage scowl on those who protest more stridently. Somewhat in her wake trails a much smaller and more slender female.
The warrior woman reaches the arguing Captain and Lady just in time to her the last comment and she guffaws wholeheartedly and slaps the woman on the shoulder in camaraderie. She does not seem to notice or perhaps just does not care that she almost sends the woman flying. "That's it sister!" she hollers in good humour "You tell him! We woman have to stick together so if any of these goat humpers give you any trouble, you just let me know."
Although she is dressed in naught but the poorest of peasant outfits the woman carries herself with pride and as she address the captain it is with the air of one equal to another and she speaks with confidence in her loud and gravely voice. Eyeing his axe appreciatively she nods once in respect then says "Captain, I be Anya Fiend-Fury and this be my...sister, Helga." she adds with a careless thumb over her shoulder "While neither of us have any sailing experience to speak of my father is a shipwright so I know my way around a boat. As well, from the looks of this lot of pups you've collected so far, seems to me you'll need at least one other warrior aboard besides yourself. I am she. My sister is a bard and can take care of herself. And when she can't, she has me to do so. If you'll have us, we'll take your gold and in return give you our loyalty for the voyage, however long that may be."
From her demeanor it is obvious she does not expect to be refused.
Sense Motive DC16
Jorgen slowly turns his head to look at the loud young woman at her comment about warriors. He pauses, taking in her appearance and obvious abiltity, but is caught by a slight quaver in her boisterous tone.
Raising an eyebrow he turns back looking the captain in the eye.
Ragnar is about to try and correct the captain's pronunciation... until the argument with the sorceress(!) and witch hunter and woman warrior (of all things!). Shrugging in frustration, he shoulders his way onto the deck and takes a seat at an oar.
Saorise stumbles as the tall woman hits her on the back. Thinking she is under attack, a light frost begins to form around her hand as she prepares to hurl a blast of cold at the woman. As the woman begins to laugh and encourage her in her admonishment of the Captain, she comes to realise that the peasant woman was actually trying to befiend her.
A look of confusion crosses her face for a moment before she lets the frost drift from her hand and straightens herself out.
"I will keep your offer in mind," she says, looking down her nose at Drago and daring him to say something about the incident that just occurred with who she is confident will be the newest member of the crew.
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Drago's face turns bright red in the space of a heartbeat as Saorise winds him up even further. He looks ready to hurl her overboard himself, just as Stefnir intervenes. The atmosphere changes as he speaks, Drago seems to deflate in deference to the druid's natural authority.
"Of course, I understand.You're a master of the storms. That will help I am sure."
Then Jorgen speaks and all the good work starts to unravel. He steps up to the warrior briefly and jabs a thick finger into his breast. "One more word out of you two and it's over the side, here or out at sea. I am Drago Longaxe and this is myship. Now before you pull that weapon, know that I have served as a knurl of Nordol for several years and this axe is called Seven. Pull a blade and I'll have to rename it. Whatever job you have in Ackrieg, I do not care. But their are no witches here and everyone works. Pull oars, reef knots or cook. Got me."
He gets back to Stefnir, "she sounds like a lady, she acts like a lady and I'm putting you in charge of keeping her out my hair. Cursed ship," he mutters as the next person steps up.
"Kurn, well you seapup, still spouting for the Kraken King? Yes of course you can come aboard, but not as a master. That is taken." He points to the tall man at the tiller who may be recogniseable. "That is Taggrik of Ackrieg. Talk to him and we can always use a healer. Hah!"
Knowledge (local) or Profession(sailor) DC12
Drago shouts across the quay, "we have the blessing of a druid, so Samthrain wishes this journey well. But I need more warriors and sailors. men of strength."
Just then Anya and Helga break through the throng. Drago is about to shake his head when Anya begins to talk. Again the cheeks begin to go red but somehow her visible power disarms him, "hah, you'll do just fine, Anya. And anyway you are more my kind, someone with a bit of fight in her, that ones probably cold all the way to her backside."
After Anya boards and takes her place, there is a flurry of movement and a group of five furclad men press through to the front and talk with him.
Profession (Sailor):
Ragnar takes a look at the man at the tiller, nodding in appreciation. He crosses his arms and watches intently as the five men speak to Drago.
Sense Motive:
Ari pulls his cloak tighter about himself, trying to disappear into the hood. He hopes Kurn has not seen him, as the last thing he wants to do is explain why he is sitting on this cursed ship. He shiftily looks about the ship and wonders why there are so many women on board, is there that much cleaning and cooking to be done. He spies Anya and thinks to himself,"I wouldn't mind a tumble or two with her." Ari likes women with spirit and a little meat on their bones.
Profession Sailor
"Well met Taggrik!" shouts Kurn. "You've done well Drago to have Taggrik as Master!". Knowing that Ari isn't safe to be let out by himself sometimes Kurn climbs on board.
Kurn holds his hands up to his deity. "Krakis, bless this ship and all who sail in her". Kurn then smiles at Drago. "Healer you need is it? I reckon so looking at the state of this lot. I'll go below and sort out some brine for their hands and some powders for their stomachs" laughs Kurn. He glances at Ragnar and says "I reckon this one knows his way at sea though".
Kurn walks past the others and heads below, but on the way past he smiles and says "Well met to you all. Take care that you listen to Drago and Taggrik on this voyage. It may keep you alive".
He looks sternly at Ari and says "come with me please brother"
Kurn realises this is a small ship and moves toward the stern to sort out his healing gear and talk to Taggrik. "Just say the word Taggrik and I'll help. It will be an honour to stand at the tiller with you"
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Taggrik nods towards the dark horizon, "what do you think?"
Profession(sailor) or Knowledge(nature) DC11
Ragnar nods to Kurn.
"Wuhll meh.", he says in greeting.
"The old gods cry this day", Stefnir says as he boards. "It shall not make for a comfortable day".
"Fear not however". "I've always had a knack for direction".
Gathering their gear Jorgen makes his way back to the oars. Leaning towards Saorise, he mutters for her benefit, "Can we attempt to complete this journey without me having to kill someone woman?"
Knowledge Sailor
"It looks bad Taggrik, we had better stand out to sea further than normal, or if there is a storm, we could dashed against the coast. Would you like me to organise life lines after I prepare the brine and stomach powders?"
Kurn looks at the ship and wonders if she will take a bad storm with her reputation, but he trusts in Krakis and this comforts him.
As the haughty woman and her companion make their way down the ships deck, Stefnir takes the opportunity to introduce himself.
"Greetings fellow travelers". "I see that you are associated with the order". His eyes make contact with their druidic symbols, then drop to his own. "What brings you onto this journey"?
Saorise looks around at the confines of the ship. "And where exactly am I meant to sleep," she mumble sunder her breath.
With a glare at Drago, she moves towards the front of the ship to take a look at the figurehead. On the way, Jorgen stops at one of the oars and mutters something to her. "But then how boring would that be... I thought you Witch Hunters were supposed to relish burning us a t the stake." She says this last part so that Jorgen is unsure whether she's trying to be serious or humourous. He scowls again at her as he takes his place at the oars and continues to glare at her as she inspects the carved bird.
"Captain, I be Anya Fiend-Fury and this be my...sister, Helga. While neither of us have any sailing experience to speak of my father is a shipwright so I know my way around a boat. As well, from the looks of this lot of pups you've collected so far, seems to me you'll need at least one other warrior aboard besides yourself. I am she. My sister is a bard and can take care of herself. And when she can't, she has me to do so. If you'll have us, we'll take your gold and in return give you our loyalty for the voyage, however long that may be."
Helga wonders at her sister's insistence on this journey. After years apart, she had hoped that they might become reacquainted - in spite of their past quarrels.
"hah,...you'll do just fine, Anya. And anyway you are more my kind, someone with a bit of fight in her, that ones probably cold all the way to her backside."
"That may be, good captain, but she and that witch-hunter with her no doubt have fell magic worth half-a-dozen berserks if there's fighting ahead. For myself, I can pluck a good shaft, inspire your hearts and sing of your deeds afterwards."
Diplomacy:
Following her sister aboard she scrambles unfamiliarly over the benches to take a place by her sister's side. This promises to be an uncomfortable journey, to say the least. Overhearing Stefnir she turns to join the conversation.
"Not the only ones - I am Helfga Evadottir Alfchild, and glad to see a druid on this ship."
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Taggrik nods to Kurn. Then he smiles a gap-toothed grin at the words of the druid, "you'll do fine if you can tell me north from south in a storm."
"It shouldn't be too bad. Krakis likes to let us know who's in charge. Now come and help me. We can deal with the lines and such when we round the headland, I'm guessing it will take an hour at least to get to that rainstorm."
Taggrik, Stefnir and Kurn pass out the oars to each pair. There are four double benches down each side. One oar is handed down to Ari and Ragnar who now share a bench. Another is passed to Anya and Helga.
"Keep the oar up until I tell you all to dip it in the water!" orders Taggrik. One thickset sailor jumps and tries to haul in the oar he was playing with, but he is just too clumsy and it swings and sways over the surface.
Meanwhile back on the quay, Drago is showing ten fingers to the five men and the largest bearded Krieg keeps shaking his head eventually speaking up loud enough for all to hear, "no! Drago, the ship needs good crew and we are the best, it's fifteen or nothing! That ship is marked and all these fishwives can't handle an oar. They don't get half way to Ackrieg if you don't up that price! Fifteen."
Drago looks set to strangle the man as his own face mottles for the third time.
Saorise Perception check DC15
Kurn picks up a bucket of brine that was already prepared near the tiller moves amongst the non-sailors in the party. "Keep using this. It will toughen your skin during the voyage. Remember to listen to Taggrik when we strike oars or you'll be for it! Keep in time and you'll be fine. Good luck and if you hurt yourselves let me know, or it may get infected". Kurn smiles, returns to his place in the stern near the tiller and watches everything unfold.
Helga pointedly ignores the brine-bucket and slides a pair of mittens onto her hands.
"I can't pluck harp-strings with hands like that," she mutters to Anya.
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Taggrik leans forwards and whispers in Kurn's ear, "healers row too. Or Drago will do his nut...again." He points towards an empty space behind Ari and Ragnar.
Drago storms back on board and shouts down, "you five haven't the heart or the bravery of these men. I wouldn't take you, you skinflints now! Ten gold marks is all. Don't let me ever see any of you again or I'll split you from head to toes. Cowards. Fools." He glowers at the men and women on the quay just daring them. His fingers flex around the blackwood axe haft. Dark and angry, Longaxe's grey beard twists as he mutters to himself.
The atmosphere seems to be turning sour now, as the five men walk away. Those other nervous and superstitious sailors are beginning to look back towards the inns and a wait for less risky work.
Drago turns and shrugs at Taggrik, who shakes his head back at the knurl. The three sailors and the eight men and women who since joined may not be enough for the ship to even row out the harbour.
Saorise looks around at the confines of the ship. "And where exactly am I meant to sleep," she mumble sunder her breath.
With a glare at Drago, she moves towards the front of the ship to take a look at the figurehead.
"I suggest you stay very close to me at night. Sailors tend to get ideas 'round women that look....like you. Kinda thing that'll end in blood if we're not careful. I swore to protect you, but don't go making it any harder."
"I suggest you stay very close to me at night. Sailors tend to get ideas 'round women that look....like you. Kinda thing that'll end in blood if we're not careful. I swore to protect you, but don't go making it any harder."
Saorise sighs loudly and continues to the prow.
Perception Check:Kurn comes around to her and offers her the brine. "And why exactly would I want to toughen up these hands," she says as she raises a perfect gloveless hand. "There is no need to dull perfection now is there now, especially since my hands are my life." As Kurn watches, a fine layer of frost begins to form on her outstretched hand, but just as quickly drifts to the ground and vanishes as she shakes her hand and returns to admiring the figurehead.
Ragnar looks at the gathering clouds, the angry captain, the sorceress, the empty benches and shakes his head. He mutters to himself:
"Ehvn alf-luck wun't huhlp ef we kun't git murr hnnds un duhck."
Ayna scowls at the Captain at his suggestion of liking her yet she cannot completely hide the curiosity in her eyes. She makes her way onto the boat and takes her seat, only thinking to make room for Helga after the younger woman stands there for a few moments. Wrapping her big strong hands around the oar, she gladly takes the offered brine and applies it liberally, knowing the wisdom in the healers words.
She turns to watch the Captains' confrontation with the other men, and visibly grows angrier as it goes on. She is about to stand up and join the Captain ends it himself and her respect for him goes up another notch.
The scowl remains though and as the others begin to make comments about the lack of sufficient crew, finally her patience reaches is short limit and she stands up again and moves to the edge of the boat by the dock and, arms akimbo, address the crowd
"Bah! A pox on all you weak-hearted fools! And you call yourselves men! Are there not even a few of you with more than pebbles between your legs?! A proven warrior and captain calls for brave souls to follow him to adventure and offers good gold for the privilege! Yet there you stand, pissing in your boots from fear! Are there none among you able to call themselves a true a man, or woman, or warrior?!" Intimidate:
"They know something," Helga murmurs thoughtfully, but can do little enough about it now. "This ship won't sink, but they thought they knew enough to get more money from the Captain ... and now he'll not have them in any case." She eyes the impressive bulk of the ship.
"Hi, sister!" Helga calls to Saorise. "You'd best lend us a hand with an oar, else this ship'll be hard put to leave the quay, and then none of us will be getting to Ackrieg!" she laughs.
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Drago mouths to Taggrik as the sailr looks ready to speak...Int check DC12
A thin man with heavy shoulders and almost white hair slowly straightens at Anya's words and throws his nets to one side.
"I be thinking yes after that. I'm Befroi Talbinson, fisherman of Urgen, and you can sit next to my stones any day." He walks up the gangplank and shakes Drago's hand.
Drago look to Anya is tinged with respect, "that's One."
Helga looks at the situation, and decides that getting more men on board to row will be easier than doing twice the work herself. Jumping to her feet she takes out her harp and plucks a strain.
"Come ye one, come ye all," she sings, "have the men of Urgen grown timid! Surely not, for of Urgen men they sing ..."
Perform (Sing):
Helga will sing some song that praises the people of Urgen (there has to be some event in the history of the place) and add a touch of inspire courage at the end.
"... surely ye not all be afraid of a grey sky and a little rain? You have a druid, a priest of the sea and e'en three women are unafraid to join the crew! Would ye now have it said that women do not fear to tread where the men of Urgen will not?"
Diplomacy:
"So join ye now, for the gold is bright and the tide is ebbing!"
"Hi, sister!" Helga calls to Saorise. "You'd best lend us a hand with an oar, else this ship'll be hard put to leave the quay, and then none of us will be getting to Ackrieg!" she laughs.
Saorise turns slowly, and looks down her nose at the cheerful woman. She looks at the oar and then at the men and women on the docks. She sighs to herself. She looks around and then her attention is drawn to the mast and a look of contemplation crosses her face.
She moves away from the side of the boat that is pulled up to the dock and sits crosslegged on the ground so that those on the dock can't see her. Whispered arcane words pour from her lips as she looks up and waves her hand towards the mast. A glowing shere of light suddenly appears at the tip of the mast. A pale blue glow, the colour of pure spring water ice can clearly be seen by those on the dock.Saorise smiles to herself and takes a moment before she stands back up and stretches, appearing to not have noticed the light herself.
Stefnir stands and places one hand on the captain's shoulder looking out onto the crowd.
"It is easy to stand on the dock and watch the "Cursed" ship leave". "Will it be so easy when we return with treasure, and plunder...and more importantly tales. Tales of glory, and excitement. Tales that stir the blood of young men, and the lust of young ladies". "Tales that live with you when you pass beyond".
"This ship and it's journey are well blessed". "The past is the past". "I am Stefnir son of Ogmundr, and a Disciple of the storm", and I declare this mission to be of importance". "So, I plead you". "Step forward, and take your pay". "Join us, so that your legend may begin". "Be part of the story of the ones who had no fear of the gods of fortune, but took them on and proved to them what man can do when he has faith and power on his side".
"You can go back to the city, and drink ale with what little you have with you...or make a difference in your life".
With that Stefnir stands back and uses one of his Storm Burst, shooting it into the sky making the thunder and lightning drown out his parting words, as he walks to a bench and takes up an oar.
Kurn nods at Taggrik and silently takes his place at the oars. He knows to keep well away from the beautiful lady with the icy fingers! He prays to Krakis as the ship prepares to get underway and hopes it will be enough to see them safe through the impending storm. He dips his hands in the brine, grips the oar and awaits the Captain's orders.
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Helga's words on the great sea raider Yurli the Growler, a one time cheiftain who lived his life either at sea or in Urgen stir up the people. this is what they came to hear.
The performance acts like magic and everyone is paying attention again. A wail goes up from a fat blonde-haired woman struggling with her man, as three teenagers break away and step forward. They each give her one last hug and then pick up axes and shields before starting towards the gangplank. The largest has the first wisps of a strong beard and he grins shyly at Drago.
"My brothers and I wish to come. I am Kanud, and these are my youngest brothers, Thorsten and Olaf of Urgen."
Drago positively beams at Helga, overcome with emotion the great big man grabs Kanud and shouts down to his mother, "I will take care of your sons like my own."
"You better!" screeches back.
Jorgen watches Saorise carefully, sighing inwardly at her decision to use her magic, yet approving of her covert action. He glances around seeking any indacation that she was observed.