1395 (IC, Historical, Closed)

[Greenlandic People]

He held her little hand in his, smiling broadly, his other beating against the frigid water in wide, powerful strokes.

She giggled, shrieking a little at each rise and fall of the waves; if he were sharper he might have noticed that she really was afraid.

"You have to know how to swim," he reasoned, the same huge grin still crossing his face. "Everybody should know how."

"I don't know," she said, and her humor vanished. "The ocean is scary. It takes people away and doesn't bring them back."

He saw her shiver, and he tried again - gentler this time. "The ocean can't hurt anybody. Come on, I'll hold your hand."

Step-by-step they walked out into the freezing sea, her little hand in his, held tightly so that it wouldn't tremble.

"We'll go under together," he resolved, "on three. One...two...three."

---

Kale hit the water perfectly, and all his worries and anxieties seemed to vanish as he glided beneath the surface of the river. It had been far too long since he last swam for the simple pleasure of it; he had missed the feeling of power it gave him - the sense of perfection and mastery as his body maneuvered in synch, like a finely-tuned machine. Overhead, the moon cast down its pale glow, making the Greenlander's limbs seem thin and ghostly, like a skeleton.

He swam further and further away from the anchored ship, watching it silently as he backstroked through the muddy current. It had been tedious waiting for the others to retire, but in the end it was worth it; Kale was in blissful solitude, accompanied only by his reflections and the errant sounds of nature. The other soldiers of his band had proved to be a talkative and boastful lot, fond of trading war stories and barbs of wit. Kale much preferred the company of himself.

He had yet to decide how he really felt about any of them, save that they would all likely have to die sooner or later. The Turkic horseman was similar to he in a lot of ways - a little stoic, a good knowledge of combat - but he was prideful, and irksomely so. The she-knight was a surprise; jesting and bumping elbows as comfortably as any of them, but she was a little too fond of her foolish beliefs. The Frisian like a leprechaun - short, sharp and jolly - but he obviously knew how to handle himself. The other two...

Kale flipped over into a slow breaststroke. The two tall ones didn't talk enough for the Greenlander to be familiar with them yet. Both men were calm and poised; they radiated confidence, and had obvious skill with blades. Kale figured he would have to get to know them better, as much as it pained him. They both surely had their weaknesses - all that was required was a little digging.

He pushed off against the hull of the boat and went downstream again, lost in the movement of his body.

[Krioval]

Ɖum-nŏ-gën wasted no time in finding the cask and tapping it, ignoring everyone else and taking a large gulp of the brew. The space was tiny, and his huge frame force the others out of the way momentarily. "Lucky man to have a door to close at all!" he said, moving backward with a pleased look on his face. "The Frisians share all, and I wager you're not a likedeeler if you've got a cabin and don't have to sling betwixt the hull. But a good ale and a religious man, so I wager you're special in some sort.

Anselm smiled. "I hold my position from demonstrating my worth. Not all Frisians are so companionable as these, and one day the deserving shall receive that which they deserve." He sipped at the ale.

He cast his scarred eye around at the group. "How does it sit in your belly, being aboard a privateer? Young Hidde sees his share of the rough life, and I daresay while we're afloat at the ship's guest we'll see a good bit of raiding." he gave a devlish smile. "A man like me going north again, and I know how the privateers run- used to guard the vessels on the trip down from Thiestilm, and on this river it's rough going some patches."

"I can speak only for myself, but Captain Hidde has saved me from some rather nasty adventures, by which I mean I was due to be executed. In return, I assisted where I could, and worked to mitigate some of the more brutish ambitions of this ship and those who are carried within. But I hate to ruin our first meeting together with such topics of conversation."

[Knootoss]

The next day

Although Hidde's joyful demeanour did little to betray it, the life of a likedeeler was not easy. Whenever the winds picked up, he and the other men were crowding the sun-drenched deck in a flurry of activity. Tacking into the wind meant that the positioning of the sail had to be adjusted constantly. Ropes had to be pulled, knots had to be tied, orders shouted, horses fed. Zig-zagging between the eastern and western banks, the cog managed to crawl its way up the stream.

When the wind died down, the men and woman had to work hard in order to secure their slow but steady advance. Large oars emerged from the side of the cog, moving in a steady beat as the cog clawed its way northwards. Inside, the men took turns behind the oars, their foreheads and muscles all glistening with sweat. The Captain did not consider himself exempt, and of the foreign adventurers, only Ashkhen had been given a reprieve from rowing.

Leading by example, Hidde had thrown himself into the work with a good spirit. Now and then, he'd shift places to talk to members of 'his' crew. Early in the afternoon, Hidde sat himself next to Ɖum-nŏ-gën, grabbing the end of one the large oars, and grinning as he gave the man a hand. He had overheard a part of the conversation between the northerner and Anselm the last night, and now spoke out:

"I bet you wish you'd prayed for favourable winds, rather than the water now, eh?" He cast a glance over towards the priest, inclining his head. He then lowered his voice: "Anselm is a good man, but I'm not sure if he still has the favour of the Holy Mother Church. He hasn't been offering you any ... deals, now has he?"

Up on the deck, one of the Frisians beckoned Ashkhen to move closer to the bow of the ship. Near the horizon, there was a small dot in the centre of the mighty river, slowly drifting towards them. If Ashkhen looked more closely, she'd notice that it was a low galley with a single square sail and a single row of five oars on either side. A sky blue flag with a silver-and-gold cedar tree flew over the vessel, but that little square was still a tiny dot in the distance.

"Look there. It's a sail." He laughed at her, as if they'd just been given a present. "It's a trader from up north. Go tell the captain we should get ready eh?"

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen was hardly an experienced sailor, but she could follow instructions to the letter. And she'd had some time on a ship coming to these lands from her home, which had taught her most of the vocabulary and duties. Compared to plowing a field or building a church, rowing at the oars was a normal day's work, if less mobile.

The young woman shielded her eyes from the sun, looking at the ship more closely the second time. Honest with herself as she was, Ashkhen would be the first to admit this sat ill with her. Piracy was one thing, often a necessity, but it was only alright if no one was done grave injury in the process. Many crews were paid so little that they were happy to just escape with their lives while pirates took the cargo. Would these men be so merciful? "Do we intend to harass it, then?" she queried, watching it closely as it rose and fell on the crests of the waves.

Ashkhen walked over to Hidde, noting the talk about Anselm. She put little stock in any church after her experiences with Azyran. "We have a northern trader's ship ahead. One of your men spotted it. It is a fair distance away, but seems small enough."

[Knootoss]

"Ahhh. You know what that means!" Hidde sprang to his feet, a bundle of energy. He called out: "You know the drill, boys! To arms!"

Rowdy cheers went up below the deck, as the Frisian pirates prepared themselves for the encounter with the freighter. A few of the men stayed behind the oars, rowing ever closer towards their intended target. However, the vast majority of them joined Hidde in grabbing whatever arms were available to them. Clubs, spears, knives and interesting combinations thereof found themselves into the hands of these dangerous-looking men, who gathered themselves on the deck. Hidde himself, still ever cheerful, tagged each of the adventurers and told them to 'grab a weapon if they wanted in on the loot'.

"It's just like fishing", he told Ashkhen. "We reel em in and have a good look."

A few of the men had picked up the large grappling hooks that were stowed away below decks. The procedure was quite simple: after coming alongside the trading vessel, the hooks would be used to reel in the other ship. The Likedeelers would then demand that the ship surrender its cargo.

[Greenlandic People]

Quite unlike the excited scrambling of the Frisians, Kale made his journey to the deck almost leisurely, stretching his arms and yawning sleepily as disheveled pirates scurried past him like a human current. The Norseman groaned as he tended to persistent crick in his neck; a fight was pretty generally entertaining, but somehow he doubted the tiny galley they were terrorizing had either the resources or the faculties to put up serious resistance. If nothing else he could at least learn a thing or two about how these Indians fought.

He slid his helmet on and twirled his warhammer expectantly in his hand, watching the pirates entangle their helpless prey with vague interest. Piracy was among those few activities he had not yet experienced; at least, not on the delivering end anyway. There had been once instance, he recalled, where a tiny band of Saracen privateers had tried raiding a Byzantine cargo dhow the Greenlander happened to have stowed away upon. The resultant scar he bore on his cheek still stung; but it was a better fate than that he had delivered to the Mahometans, for sure.

“If they don’t surrender,” he began, sidling up to their Frisian captain, “let me lead the boarding, ja? I could use a warmup this morning.”

[Knootoss]

"They'll surrender if they got any smarts." Hidde answered, his expression quite sincere. The Frisian wasn't itching for a fight so much as he was itching for loot. Even so, he was brandishing a goedendag, a weapon which combined the advantages of a club with those of a spear. The body of the weapon was a wooden staff, roughly five feet long, with a diameter of roughly four inches. It was wider at one end, and at this end a sharp metal spike was inserted by a tang.

With a sarcastically polite bow between Kale and a gesture to the approaching the galley, he consented. "Ja. All yours. If they fight."

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen grabbed her longsword, still in its sheath. She didn't even bother to belt it on--this way, if it came to a fight, she could beat them with the sword still in the scabbard and leave them alive, as well as hopefully smarter. "A small vessel. I doubt they have enough of a crew to put up a good fight, nor mercenaries for their defense," she noted, waiting on the Frisian. She didn't know whose side she would be on if it came to a fight. These sailors were likely not seasoned warriors. Butchering such people without proper cause was an idea she found abhorrent.

[The Altani Confederacy]

While the others chattered, Yesukai instead chose not to waste time. A brief check to ensure that his curved sabre was ready to hand was his first step; after that, he prepared and raised his bow, standing off slightly to the side to pepper the fools on the other ship with arrows if they were foolish enough to fight.

He noticed Ashkhen preparing her sword, and nodded at her with his usual rogueish grin. "It appears you might just get to see what I can do with this bow sooner than you thought," he laughed, before turning back and aiming at the approaching vessel.

[Krioval]

"Take over," Anselm said to nobody in particular. He rolled his eyes, muttering an invective against unnecessary violence as he walked toward his cabin. The sword was where he had left it, though his attention was first directed toward a chest of alchemical reagents. He withdrew three vials of a red powdery substance; when exposed to water, they would create a brief detonation. There were also a variety of medicinal supplies, though he would need to replenish them quickly at the rate of the Frisians' recent activities. Satisfied, he returned to his post. "I hope to avoid any unnecessary death and injury this time."

[Nalaya]

He noticed Ashkhen preparing her sword, and nodded at her with his usual rogueish grin. "It appears you might just get to see what I can do with this bow sooner than you thought," he laughed, before turning back and aiming at the approaching vessel.

Ashkhen nodded to him, though much of the levity had left her expression. "I hope not, dziavor. I would much prefer it if we saved the fighting for the battlefield."

"Take over," Anselm said to nobody in particular. He rolled his eyes, muttering an invective against unnecessary violence as he walked toward his cabin. The sword was where he had left it, though his attention was first directed toward a chest of alchemical reagents. He withdrew three vials of a red powdery substance; when exposed to water, they would create a brief detonation. There were also a variety of medicinal supplies, though he would need to replenish them quickly at the rate of the Frisians' recent activities. Satisfied, he returned to his post. "I hope to avoid any unnecessary death and injury this time."

The Knight-Captain wholeheartedly agreed with Anselm, at least on that front. She did not want to fight these people. They had done nothing to warrant it, and what justice was there in harassing a merchant ship? Standing by while the Frisians took their goods was enough to unsettle her conscience as it was.

[Snefaldia]

As he strained at the oars with the others, likedeelers and mercenaries alike, Ɖum-nŏ-gën was laughing heartily (and drunkenly) and heaved back and forth in rhythm against the waves. He had taken to drinking on the water for lack of anything better to do and was having a merry time with Hidde and the Frisians to boot. "Aye, Captain Hiddeszoon's a good man to mark a galley." he'd said when the younger man called about for a raid, eyeing Ashkhen with heavy-lidded eyes. "Killin's rough business, but bad for it, and blood spilt is word kept quiet. Strike the ensign, mates."

From within the hold where the oars poked through like a flattened porcupine Ɖum-nŏ-gën's vision was restricted, but in his state he was content to listen only to the commands of the boatswain as he called the strokes, ignoring the bustling of his companymen, singing merrily in time with the oars and talking to no-one in particular. "Rough business, yes, the raiding, but's a living, and a hard living can be violent. Kept away from the east bank, I hope, old Aksha steered us right..."

He continued, on as the others prepared themselves. His short, stocky Neeri bow was around his shoulders with a full quiver, and had his Dayan leathers filled out with dull mail from the south, and he was ready as he could be. Above-deck, the galley was making it's attempt to escape the obvious trajectory of the Fortuyn, whose intentions would by now have been completely obvious as the likedeelers bustled about, readying their hooks and boarding weapons. The most unusual sight would likely be the huge Greenlander swinging the great hammer about, like some spirit from the north. Shouts and shrieks could be heard from the trading galley over the water as the Fortuyn heaved closed and closed; the bigger cog had the advantage with its sails against the galley. When the opportunity presented itself, Ɖum-nŏ-gën would head above deck and join Hidde and Kale for their boarding action, his bow ready.

[Snefaldia]

The smaller galley made a half-hearted attempt to turn and run, but with the Fortuyn bearing down on a long run, their wind was stolen and the cog caught her on the port side, grappling hooks going over to pull her in and make way for the pirates. Once aboard, they would find the upper deck deserted save for a single frightened man lashed to the wheel on the aftcastle, who was by his looks one of the shore-men.

Ɖum-nŏ-gën, now sober enough to cease his rowing, had joined the other corsairs above-deck, his short bow at the ready and a cruel-looking dirk thrust into his leather belt, his long hair tied to prevent a handhold. With a wink at Hidde and a grim nod at Kale, he jumped over to the other ship the join the event, scanning the gunwale and foredeck. His eyes passed back to the end of the ship and caught the sign of the ensign, and suddenly the wry smile dropped from his face.

"Shit, the Cedar Flag?" he cursed loudly. "At arms! This is Kingdom shi-"

As the words left his mouth, a hatch in the hold opened and disgorged six tall, angry sailors in green and grey, armed with curved cutlasses and boarding axes, and with a shout in their native tongue fell toward the boarders.

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen saw the guards suddenly burst forth and sprinted into a run. She kicked herself free of the gunwhale and launched herself to the other ship, hitting the other deck in a neat roll. Her longsword was in her hands by the time she hit her feet, slim body slamming into the guard most in the lead. "Asttsun!" Her shoulder hit him solidly in his gut, blade flashing to defend from another strike.

Fighting armed enemies in defense of her companions, that was completely acceptable. Especially the foots oldiers of those who ruled--she had a great deal of practice at that.

[The Altani Confederacy]

As the green-and-grey clad men charged towards the boarding party, Yesukai was hardly surprised.

It couldn't be easy just once, could it? Of course not, he thought, even as he took careful aim at the sailor furthest away from his group. It wouldn't do to shoot one of his fellow travelers, so soon into the trip. That could be a bit awkward to explain, he thought with a brief smirk, his eye falling unerringly upon the charging sailor that had just become his target. With the eagle eye born of being raised with a bow in his hand, he launched his arrow at the sailor with a shout.

[Knootoss]

Finding the ship under attack, Hidde firmed the grip on his goedendag. The charge of one of the enemy sailors was met with a quick forward thrust, the sharp spike brushing along the side of the enemy. Both men cried out, and the Frisian pirate swung sideways to try and use his weapon as a club. Rowdy battlecries rose up from the Fortuyn as the other crewmen fell upon the presumed "merchantman" that turned out to be quite well-defended. The crew met the soldiers of the Cedar flag with sword, knife and fist.

A few of the younger sailors hurled their grappling hooks across the bow and stern. Wood creaked and heaved as they were pulled back, sending the ships crashing into each other, side by side, the masts becoming hopelessly entangled. Now more or less adrift, even the Frisian who had been tending to the rudder joined in with the melee, jumping to board the other ship.

[Krioval]

Anselm reacted as quickly as he could on seeing the soldiers. "They were expecting a fight," he grumbled. A sudden maneuver threw him off of his feet. As he landed, Anselm could hear the unmistakeable sound of glass cracking. With a curse, he ripped at his right pocket to find the cloth packet containing the (thankfully) single broken vial. Three...four... He flung its contents toward the other ship and watched with some satisfaction as the cloth burst into flame. The other vials seemed undamaged, though the element of surprise was clearly lost. He surveyed the scene critically.

It was clear that his talents were almost completely wasted here. There was no room for his two-handed sword, and while he carried a smaller weapon for emergencies, he lacked the dexterity to effectively fight at very close range. The cleric had no experience with bow and arrow either. "Time to improvise." His cabin held a small stash of arrows that Anselm had once used for practice. He gathered up several and set to work securing an incendiary vial to each. He turned to Yesukai. "Can you hit them with these? Anything made of cloth will burn when struck."

[Snefaldia]

With the six that emerged from the fore, there were four more from the aft where the horrified helmsman still lay, lashed to the wheel, and Ashkhen had put one of them out immediately.

Hidde's well-placed action lay two of the attackers out, blood gushing from the head of one and the other grasping his stomach, reeling from a puncture wound of the goededag. Ɖum-nŏ-gën, who was a bit behind the Frisian, had crouched to lift his bow, and was now in the path of the other sailors who were rushing past. He looked up to see the flash of a cutlass, and felt the end was nearly on him when the grappling-hook grabbed the man by the side of his face and tore him to the ground, crashing headlong into another threatening sailor.

Up came another war-cry in the lisping cant of the western Neeri and the hatches disgorged more enemies onto the deck, now that the first wave had failed. Among them, clearly visible, were three men in brilliant steel cuirasses and crested helmets, brandishing curved scimitars and shouting orders. Ɖum-nŏ-gën, his bow useless in close quarters, abandoned it and drew with his right hand, casting a thing throwing knife into the forehead of an attacker before drawing two shortswords and joining with Hidde to defend his back. As an enemy fell dead with an arrow in his chest, he let out a bloodcurdling war cry, shouting at the Frisian pirates to keep to their work.

There were nearly fifteen enemies aboard the galley now, not counting six dead among them. One of the three armored men, taller than the others and wearing a dull emerald cloak trimmed in red, lifted a finger and pointed to Yesukai aboard the Fortuyn, and in the melee two of the men hoisted squat bows, like Ɖum-nŏ-gën had, and let loose a volley. With a gesture and a shout at Ashkhen, one of the other men in armor surged forward with a subordinate at his side. Perhaps luckily, the subordinate was hit by Anselm's alchemical projectile, his clothing bursting into flames and sending him screaming over the side, leaving the armored officer bereft of support.

"Fool!" Ɖum-nŏ-gën shouted at Anselm through the cacophony of battle. "The rigging's caught up, we'll all burn!"

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen took a deep breath, seeing the men rushing towards her. In the face of battle, it was better to be focused calm than wanton rage. She'd learned this well. Fighting a foe in armor was second nature for her and she readied to meet their charge. Bait. How good of them. Were they expecting us, or trying to catch Frisian pirates? A wonder that would, she acknowledged, have to wait until later when she had the luxury of pondering and more information. Her blade was longer than many of her foes' and had the power to thrust much more efficiently than a scimitar--an important thing for lethality. Slashing blades, if not used well, had difficulty penetrating armor or even ribs. But Ashkhen knew she needed to be wary.

She braced herself for their attack, waiting for their blade to meet hers so she could take back the initiative by force.

[Snefaldia]

The enemy officer was tall, just shorter than Ɖum-nŏ-gën, and beneath his streamlined helmet, a style that drew down over his cheeks and nose in a modern echo of the Greek style, Ashkhen could see fair flesh and green eyes glaring out at her. He had his drab green cloak in his left hand and started at the woman with a downward slash from his left, twisting quickly to bring his elbow out and his gaunteleted arm up, blade down across his chest to protect his core. He shifted to the right, turning away from Ashkhen, bringing the curved blade up for a downward cut to the left.

[Nalaya]

Ashkhen met his first blow with her own and wound her hilt up, thrusting past his guard at his face before he had a chance to make that second strike. She was watching very carefully to make sure no one was creeping behind her as well. The fight felt dreamily slow to her, like she had all the time in the world.

[The Altani Confederacy]

Yesukai noticed the tall, armored leader pointing at him a split-second before the enemy archers fired. Cursing, he dove to the deck of the Fortuyn as the arrows hissed towards him. One of them missed, but the other sliced a furrow across his left arm, just below the protection of his armor. The wound was slight, but the pain and the sight of his own blood being spilt infuriated him. At that moment, he had but one thought: to carve a path of destruction to the man who had dared target him.

Throwing his bow aside, he took his shield in one hand and his sabre in the other. With a shouted war-cry in his ancestors' tongue echoing in the air, Yesukai made a running leap onto the deck of the enemy ship. Quickly rolling to his feet, he crouched low, raising his shield for protection while slashing at the first unfortunate enemy sailor in his way.

[Krioval]

The arrows flew by, some striking Anselm's armor and others merely passing him by, but one lodged in his leg. Time slowed. He snapped off most of the arrow, leaving the remainder where it was, the better to prevent blood loss during the fight. He grabbed the giant sword and jumped across the narrow gap between ships, landing before one of the more heavily armored enemy soldiers. He knew that he lacked the reach to swing the sword, and worse, that it could very well strike an ally in the cramped melee, so he brought the pommel down swiftly on the soldier's helmet. At worst, it would momentarily disorient his foe and create an opening for a grab. At best, it might incapacitate the soldier outright and allow for a more thorough assessment of his surroundings.

[Greenlandic People]

The fighting style that Kale used would never have been seen employed by a trained soldier or properly-drilled sergeant. The Greenlander wielded his weapon in broad and giant strokes; he was a credible danger to anybody in his reach – a trait which usually served him well, but when fighting in a band tended to be less than desirable. It was for this reason that he had elected to take the lead, charging brazenly into the enemy center while his comrades locked up the flanks.

His favored tactics were straightforward and brutish; he hit the enemy as hard as he could, as quickly as he could. The mighty warhammer he brandished (fit for use with one or both hands) perfectly leveraged the Norseman’s unusually titanic constitution. To block him was typically to risk suffering a shattered forearm or a broken wrist. To reduce his recovery time between blows, he had learned to make most of his strikes horizontally; heavier, vertical strokes were reserved for charges and finishing moves. It was a finely refined style of unrefined warfare, hinging on the assumption that the enemy would not survive long enough to feel out Kale’s weaknesses.

The Greenlander picked a soldier at random and kicked out with his boot, aiming for the man’s stomach; if he could wind him and make him double over, it would be a clear opening to collapse his skull.

[Snefaldia]

The Neeri had clearly been lying in wait for pirates, and the onslaught of an armed, armored, and trained mercenary band caught them completely by surprise. Kale's manic assault terrified them as well, and the Frisians were thankful for it- they had been hard-pressed by the organized soldiers and lost several of their number before the Norseman's hammer scattered them, caving in the chest of one and shattering the femur of another. Anselm's leap at the officers was much too bold, however, and he was sidestepped as he attempted to pommel the man in the green cloak. Fortunately, he took a bad step and fell backward into the open hatch with a cursing shout, leaving the cleric to face off against the towering commander in the red-lined cape. Anselm's opponent frowned, drawing a curved dagger to complement his scimitar and readying with a shout to his men.

"Kill him, man!" Ɖum-nŏ-gën shouted, hurling a knife into the chest of an enemy. "Then the boat is ours!"

Ashkhen's action was well-timed against her own opponent, but speed was against her and he spun again, and as he drew the blade up for the cut he spat at her. "Fithlaug!" he hissed as he prepared to cut her face. It was Yesukai's bowling arrival that cast a Frisian pirate backward into him, knocking the man forward into Ashkhen and casting his sword out of his grip.