Otto

Otto rests a hand easily on the wheel. The setting sun would mask their approach, and the breeze blowing from the land would deaden the sounds of the ship cutting through the water. If all went as planned, this village of Grenhoff would have no idea they were under attack before the raiders were already ashore. It struck Otto that the same tactics that worked well in smuggling also worked well for this Norscan style of warfare. Get in, get out, and be quick about it. Of course, one could never really count on the Norscans to retreat when all good sense demanded such. Always screaming something about blood and skulls and whatnot, letting their desire for violence overwhelm their desire for gold. It wasn't an inclination Otto shared.

"Alright, we'll slide in easy. Get ready; with this wind, we'll be right up on the beach in short time."