WHFRP 2e - The Winter Kings (IC)

[Haval]

The gruff Kislivite turns his head to Egil, flies buzzing...and whispering "They said I was a Mutant and a Heretic. I simply was traveling. North in fact. Away from my Homeland. They were frightened, your reputation had them on edge. T Hey turned it into hatred. And I was there...outlet"

Egil nods, taking note of the cloud of insects. It was obviously true. The Kislevite was someone who had attracted the Fly Lord's personal attention. It was not a fate he would wish on anyone but perhaps it would be useful to have one so favoured around. Still, better that then the paltry death he would have recieved here.

[Space Lawyer]

Otto

But you should have no such qualms. What would you say to requesting the Jarl to provide... ten? of these to equip the Red Song? Surely even a fast ship like yours could find itself in need of some extra firepower on occasion?"

Otto wasn't fond of the suggestion that he was no fighter - such people tended to be thralls or dead among the Norscans - but let it pass. After all, no matter Otto's own capacity or lack therof for battle, Larus' was certainly greater.

"A fine idea! The Red Song will be a tune of roaring gunpowder! If nothing else, I'm sure the jarl will see the wisdom in using the weapons for such a fine purpose rather than letting them rust unused in a longhouse. But now, let us turn our attention to making sure that we all get the greatest loot possible!"

Spoiler: Looting!

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Otto is grabbing up unclaimed firearms and throwing them in a crate. For his searching, he'll be concentrating on the sorts of things that the others would be less interested in claiming, but that would appeal to a smuggler. Things like trade goods, trinkets, anything small and high value that he can turn a good profit on once they have time to make sail to a more civilized port.

Perception (1d100)[14](14) vs 46

[Erulasto]

Reavers of the Red Song

The looting was well under way, with scores of reavers hauling kegs, crates and barrels of various sizes back to the ships. Much of the initial haul was foodstuffs - it would take at least two months to return to the Jarl's halls, assuming there was no great delay in Kollsvik. But others were busy stripping the dead and gathering the arms and armour of the fallen soldiers. A number of civilian dead lay scattered about the town - cut down in the heat of battle, but a quick estimation by Egil figured there was close to fourty townsfolks who had been rounded up and were busy being shackled. He even saw the uniforms of at least a handful of Imperial soldiers who had been disarmed and stripped of their armour. Fighting men would go for a reasonable price in Kollsvik, which contained a small gladitorial arena where slaves fought against all comers for the thrill of the Thorn.

Morgul's butchery of the Imperial soldiers was met with several cheers and declarations of devotion for the Dark Gods from the reavers who had paid any mind to the Bray-Shaman's activities. Among the dead of the town, Morgul came across a small apothecary's shop. The apothecary was a rail-thin man in brown robes; sleeves stained with spilled unguents and tinctures. He was pinned to a wooden pillar in the center of the room by a blade through his gut. Morgul saw the other end of the blade had shorn through the support pillar itself, the tip broken from the blow.

About the shop, Morgul saw a number of ingredients that caught his eye as being somewhat rare to come by in the north. Dried petals and flowers from the warm, southern lands of the Empire. Sprigs of berries from Tilea and even the bones of various beasts and animals that did not favour the cold of Norsca. Behind the counter, however, the beastman saw a workbench that contained a handful of poultices that Morgul gathered were to aid in the bodies healing, a number of vials sealed with wax stoppers and three larger clay bottles.

Spoiler: Morgul

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5 x Healing Poultices
4 x Wax-stoppered Vials
3 x Clay Bottles

The thrill of the battle ebbing from his veins, Egil's search of the surrounding area for anything to drink was unsuccessful. But he knew that it was likely others would have found something to drink - likely some piss-poor Imperial beer - but there was a chance they'd come across something more palatable. The Red Song had a few barrels of Dawi-Zharr ale that they'd taken from a group of rival reavers their first week out. The rationing of the strong ale was a sign of unusual discipline from the young reavers who had travelled with the southern caravel. Egil had known that this batch was relatively unblooded until this voyage, and he was impressed with their ferocity and tenacity...and they seemed to be developing a fondness for the ship that many were now saying was as fast as a Slaaneshi whore.

Spoiler: Egil

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No booze, unfortunately.

Ulf and Hrodgar were hanging close to Larus, once they had taken what immediate things had caught their eye. The black-haired bowman was eyeing a rifle he held in his nimble hands curiously, raising it to his shoulder tentatively as he had seen the soldiers do. There was a loud bang that echoed in the tower, causing many of the reavers to start in surprise, hands moving to weapons.

"Bloody piss!" Ulf swore, and lowered it a bit wide-eyed as he looked at the solid hole he had put in a small keg of beer that sat across the room on a table. There was grumbling among the reavers as they turned back to their work, all the while Hrodgar shook with loud guffaws. He clapped Ulf on the shoulder.

"Little quick on th' draw there ain't he, Larus?"

Spoiler: Larus

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Sorry, that typo was my bad. These are mail shirts. The Halberdiers had sleeved mail shirts, and the handgunners had the normal mail shirts and leather jacks. The sergeant had a mail coat though. It'd be possible to snag that assuming no one else wants it.

The reavers gave Groktur a wide berth as he stalked through the town. He had his pick of meat, that was abundantly clear. One particular townsfolk caught his eye. It appeared to be the butcher, though how much blood on his apron was his wasn't exactly clear. He still held a large metal cleaver in hand as he sat against a building and waited for death to take him, and from the body of the reaver who was next to him, it looked like he gave as good as he got. He was thick with wide limbs and a large belly. He would be good eating. Especially as he had just fed the Blood God himself. But Groktur caught the sound of a whimper from nearby and saw a pair of townsfolk that were crippled, sitting in the bloody sand. The reavers would likely leave them, as cripples often didn't make the greatest of thralls.

Spoiler: Groktur

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Food! Much meat!

Bjorni hears a muffled curse from below as the soldier's body falls from the ramparts of the watchtower, almost landing on one of the reavers rolling a huge wheel of cheese past the watchtower.

As he comes down and begins to pick his way through the town, keeping watchful eyes open for anything that catches his fancy, the skald catches - from the corner of his eye - the flicker of light from around a corner that would indicate a torch moving. Quickly slipping after it, he rounds the corner just in time to catch sight of the torch being jabbed into a bucket of water.

A thick woman is huddled under a cart nearby, having slipped under it to hide and, hopefully, be overlooked by the other reavers. However, she wasn't alone. Next to her was a beautiful, fair-haired young girl with a wide-fearful eye. Her other was hidden behind cloth wrappings that had been bound around her head.

The skald thought, just for a moment, that there was a flicker of something from under the bandages. Like a faight light was trying to shine through.

Spoiler: Bjorni

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All those things are easy to find.
Plus a random encounter.

With the firearms and supplies gathered, a couple other reavers are cooerced into loading them onto the Red Song for Otto. If nothing else, they figure they'd earn some coin in Kollsvik.

Making his way through the town, Otto comes across a tall man sprawled in the dirt in front of what Otto thinks is the fanciest house in Grenhoff. From his fancy clothes and bright blue cape, the smuggler assumes the man was the mayor. He wore a heavy gold chain of office around his neck, with a pearl-inlaid dagger at his waist. The one hand he still had, was studden with three rings. The other hand held a sword, and was a half-dozen feet away.

Spoiler: Otto

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Otto manages to gather (2d12)[18] rifles and (1d4)[1] pistols, (1d8)[5] small kegs of gunpowder and another (1d10)[1]x100 bullets, in small pouches of ten.

As well, Otto finds the body of whom he assumes to be the mayor. He has a gold necklace of office. It's not ornately jewelled or anything, but it's worth a fair bit. He also has a good-quality glass bottle of wine from Averland, a thin dagger with a small pearl inset in the pommel, two silver rings and a copper ring set with a rough-cut clear gemstone.

---

When everyone had gathered up the loot, just managing to finish within Bodhi's preferred timeframe, the reavers gathered on the beach and began to heave the ships back out into the lessening surf. It didn't take too long before they were scrambling up the sides and the reaver fleet was beginning to slip back out to sea.

The holds were filled with thralls and packed with loot. Otto could see the way the longships - and even the Red Song herself - were sitting low in the water from the weight.

Kegs of pilfered beer and plundered ale were cracked, and the sounds of raucus song rose above the waves as the reavers celebrated their victories. Sigrun, Gunnar and Hrodgar were sitting around Bjorni, excitedly telling tales of their own exploits, hoping the skald would take notice and decide to commit one to memory. Meanwhile Ulf was sitting on the bow of the caravel with a tin beer stein he had found on one of the raids. He was speaking quietly to Herger.

When Egil and Larus had secured their own belongings, and made their way back onto the deck, a cheer went up from some of the reavers and they offered wooden mugs of beer or ale to them both.

Groktur and Morgul were near the aft-castle of the ship, a haunch of meat that had been roasted over the cooking fire below sitting on an iron spike between them. Nicoli, the strange Kislevite visitor that Morgul's omens had led him to, sat next to them. Hygd, one of the servants of Vikti Halfi, had been asking Nicoli and Morgul to recount the tale of their meeting.

Otto steered the ship through a narrow set of shoals as he charted a quick course for Kollsvik, the Red Song already taking the lead of the fleet. Next to him stood Bodhi, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out at the horizon to the north. The stars - innumberable and uncountable seemed faded on the horizon, and the gleaming light of Manslieb and Morrslieb cast bright, unearthly shadows across the sea.

"We would normally be in Kollsvik in a couple weeks. Think you can do better, shipmaster?" Bodhi asks, curiously. The reaver-captain had decided - at the last minute - to travel on the Red Song to get a better feel for the less-experienced reavers.

Spoiler: OOC

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The next scene we move on to will be Kollsvik. This will day approximately three weeks of travel time. The date will advance to the 17th of Sommerzeit. Any scenes you wish to play out, feel free to absolutely do so. This includes PC interaction or anything you want to do with an NPC. Just toss it into a spoiler with the date of when it happened. Technically, in this case, it'd still be the 1st of Sommerzeit.

Just a reminder, XP will be awarded at the end of the month.

[Shadowflick]

Nicoli sat on a log, staring at the fire. It had been a long time since he had a proper cooked meal instead of something saw and still squirming. He closed his eyes, looking down and holding his head in his hands. The Whispers had said that this is were he was supposed to be. To be with revers and raiders. He looked up from his position again, seeing a few thralls being carted away. Even fools deserve some sympathy. He takes his rifle, checking the barrrels and wood to make sure it was still in proper working order

"As said before. Was traveling" he sspeaks up to Hygd "Wrong Place, Wrong Time" The Kislivite puts bluntly. He turns his Gaaze to the Other beast men, the Norscans would most likley see him as another thrall, or try to kill him for being a strange forigner. Staying with the Beastmen "So...Is meat of animal, or meat of man" He asks the two, curious

[Morovir]

Groktur looks at the interloper strangely, with a quizzical look written over his bestial features.

Spoiler: Dark Tongue Only (unless stated otherwise)?

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"All are animals to Dark Ones, softskin. Eat, grow strong like Groktur."

He thumps his chest twice for emphasis, before ripping a chunk of meat off the spike and thrusting it into Nicoli's face.

Even if his words are unintelligible, his meaning is clear.

[rax]

"Bloody piss!" Ulf swore, and lowered it a bit wide-eyed as he looked at the solid hole he had put in a small keg of beer that sat across the room on a table. There was grumbling among the reavers as they turned back to their work, all the while Hrodgar shook with loud guffaws. He clapped Ulf on the shoulder.

"Little quick on th' draw there ain't he, Larus?"

"All the womenfolk say so!" Lárus replies in kind, laughing at Hrodgar's joke. "But also that he always hits the mark! Isn't that so, Ulf?" he chortles. "Now just think if that keg had been a foeman... he'd not be getting back up from that one, eh? These southerners are weak of arm and heart, my friends, but they are clever when it comes to killing."

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm going to metagame terribly and say that Lárus nicks a sleeved mail shirt (because there's a bigger chance of hitting arms than legs) off one of the halberdiers - probably from the first soldier he killed, assuming it didn't get too damaged in the fight.

---

Kegs of pilfered beer and plundered ale were cracked, and the sounds of raucus song rose above the waves as the reavers celebrated their victories. Sigrun, Gunnar and Hrodgar were sitting around Bjorni, excitedly telling tales of their own exploits, hoping the skald would take notice and decide to commit one to memory. Meanwhile Ulf was sitting on the bow of the caravel with a tin beer stein he had found on one of the raids. He was speaking quietly to Herger.

When Egil and Larus had secured their own belongings, and made their way back onto the deck, a cheer went up from some of the reavers and they offered wooden mugs of beer or ale to them both.

Lárus seizes one of the proffered mugs of beer and raises it high for a toast. "To the Red Song Reavers! First ashore and first into the fray!" he roars, then drains the mug in a single gulp, finishing with an almighty belch. "Let the gods and our ancestors bear witness to our victories!"

Helping himself to another beer, he then spends much of the rest of the evening wandering among the reavers, joining in the camaraderie. He makes sure to spend a little extra time listening in on Sigrun's, Gunnar's, and Hrodgar's boasting, confirming Hrodgar's accounts of his skill and bravery, and acting suitably impressed with Sigrun's and Gunnar's tales. He also talks up Ulf's fine shooting, impressing on Bjorni how he killed three handgunners up on the tower, shooting in the dark armed with only a common bow.

Spoiler: OOC

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Anybody wanting to interact with Lárus, go ahead. I'm just too tired to come up with anything interesting to say by myself...

[Shadowflick]

Nicoli's eye's look up at the piece of meat. better to pretend it's beef. He takes it from the beastmans hand and tears a chunk out of it with his teeth, chewing and swallowing it slowly. The flies try to buzz into the cooked meat, but Nicoli waves them away. Indeed, this was much better then rat at the very least. "Is not worst" he says with a shrug. He looks to the main camp, shaking his head as he see's the reavers pile the rifles into the loot heap "Not know what they have. Think to much in running to fight then standing to win. Kill one frightened village, when Empire army come, they fall. Matter of time"

[DrK]

Morgul

With his sack of Alchemical supplies and herbs he boards the ship, sitting content with Groktur, Hygd (who can translate for them) and the strange man who they've acquired. Talking of the food he grins as Groktur hands over the meat and takes a chunk for himself. Enjoying the chunks of manflesh he motions to the reavers, "You join us now? Serve Bodhi the war leader?" he asks via Hygd gesturing to where Bodhi stands.

As the party starts on deck he wanders to the main party, relying on blood matted fur and his bulk to push through to the beer. Taking a horn he approaches Bodhi. Again he pauses to admire her feminity before speaking. "Victory for the Gods warleader? Where do you take us now?"

[neriractor]

Spoiler: 1st of Sommerzeit-town

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Bjorni let himself smile a moment, a warm smile, nothing like the grin he had shown thorough the day, he had seen enough try and make run for it, he knew better. Standing tall as he could he spoke gently and calmly in a Reikspiel that could pass him as a nordlander any day, if the dry blood and banner of the ruinous powers weren't there to give up the ruse. "I'll make this easy, either come calmly, and have a fast trip to a new life, where you may live off my plunder in exchange for work and subservience... or you are dragged there beaten, chained and bo... he stopped the offer catching the glint under the girls patch, he moved a bit closer, as non-threatening as a combat ready norscan can look, motioning for her to stand up "what you got there girl?"

On the ship.

the faint starlight gleaming off their mistress' skin, as the redsong ran through it like they were one, regaling him with warm sea breeze as he drank ale from a decent mug and laughed and hailed at the exploits of the trio, If this wasn't the way to live the dream he didn't know what was.

After Larus arrived he started piecing together the ballad of Ulf headhunter and after a few drinks decided to pull off an old and very exaggerated story of a young boy, a knife and a man who may or may not have been a huge "Ey, ey did I ever tell you guys about the first my first kill? No? Well...

Spoiler: Rolls

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For the thralls to be: Charm (1d100)[93] TN 42
FP if fail: (1d100)[81] TN 42

Future thralls approximate age?
For the ship: performer (storyteller): (1d100)[37] TN 52 (42 Fel +10 from mimic).
FP if fail: (1d100)[67] TN 52

[Haval]

Egil is disappointed but unsuprised at the lack of decent alcohol. Perhaps he could pick something up in Kollsvik. In many ways it was a neccessity. It was getting harder to remain aboard ship for long periods without something to distract him. Yet he will help with loading their share of the loot onto the Red Song. A Reaver that was unwilling to pull his weight in such things could easily find himself without a ship.

He will grin at Lárus' boasting and join in with his toast. Boy acted like he's Cormac Bloodaxe reborn. 'Well, it's easy to fight well with breath like that. We could aim you at enemy ships.'

At some point Egil will go and offer Nicoli some of his reserve whisky that they had taken from that merchant vessel last week. He doesn't particularly want to go near the group around him. The Beastmen were ok up to a point. You only had to present yourself as strong enough to avoid being seen as prey and you could be allies for life. The Sorcerer girl was another matter. He did not like the way she looked at him. Like she knew far too much.

[Erulasto]

Reavers of the Red Song

Ulf grinned widely at Larus’ response. “Aye! I may keep this pretty thing and see if I can get some use. They shoot farther than my bow, and I don’t think I could put an arrow through the keg even at close range. Be good for splitting armour.”

---

Bodhi glanced up as Morgul approached, and grinned wolfishly at the Beast-shaman. “Yes, shaman. Another victory for the Gods. We’re off to sell some of the plunder is Kollsvik, across the Sea of Claws. The Jarl wants his holds filled with gold and weapons, not food and grain.”

---

The heavy woman shivered, and clutched at the young girl as she squirmed out from under the cart. This little waif was malnourished, and far too thin, but she stood proudly before the skald. Her skin was fair – too fair for even the stock of the Nordlanders – and she seemed as if she didn’t get a lot of sun. The skald towered over the girl, who couldn’t have been older than thirteen summers.

“My father said I was cursed, but my mother would not let him kill me.” The girl replied, almost arrogantly. “He could not bear to look upon me, so he locked me away.”

Slender fingertips moved to pull the bandages across her eye away, and Bjorni was stunned to see that the eye beneath was not blind from a wound as he would have perhaps expected. No, the eye was whole and intact – but it bore no pupil, nor iris. Instead, the whole orb, from lid to lid appeared to be a faceted crystal from which flickering, coruscating multi-hued light shone faintly.

The Skald had seen the blessings of the Ruinous Powers before. Even Larus had been gifted with a measure of their pride. This little girl…she had been touched by the gods of the Northmen to be sure.

Spoiler: OOC

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The woman and the human will come along, with no problem – though the woman is a lot more skitterish than the girl. She seems frighteningly calm for the whole situation.

She was about thirteen or fourteen years old, at most.

Also, good roll on the Perform test. The crew is pleased with Bjorni’s work!

---

17th Sommerzeit, 2501

The trip across the Sea of Claws was beset by tumultuous waves and stormy skies. It was cold and wet, with heavy rains bogging down the sails. Despite the inclement weather, they made reasonable time. Early on the sixteenth day of travel, just as the sun was cresting the horizon and its heat began to banish the heavy fog that had settled across the sea the previous evening, they heard the tolling of great bells in the distance.

As the fog parted before them, they found themselves peering across a wide cove surrounded by jagged rocks. At the entrance to the cove stood a gargantuan stone monolith, upon which were carved depraved devotions and large iron spurs from which bodies – fresh and old – were hung as a warning. The very summit of the monolith held a large iron bowl, in which a roaring fire seemed to burn despite the inclement weather.

Beyond, lining the interior of the cove, was a large city of stone buildings that were carved into the very rocky walls of the high cliffs that surrounded it. Those that weren’t carved, were built with crude stone bricks and roughly mortared. Docks of both stone and thick timber jut into the sea, where a veritable fleet of longships – and a few other vessels – were berthed.

High on a cliff overlooking the city was a palace that seemed to be carved from crystal and gold, and stood out in grotesque beauty against the ugly construction of the rest of the city. Great purple banners fluttered in the breeze, bearing gold-threaded sigils that could be seen from afar, and rising like a spire above the palace was a tower that contained six silver bells that rung loudly across the city.

Bodhi stepped to the front of the Red Song and smiled. “There she is. Kollsvik. Remember to travel in pairs. A lone straggler is likely to end up in some pleasure pit or fighting arena in chains….or worse.”

She turned to Otto, after casting a slow look back at the three longships that trailed after the much swifter ship.

“Well done, Shipmaster.”

---

The Red Song had settled into its berth, with the other vessels from Winterscorn Hold following behind. The harbor was already bustling with activity, a plethora of branded slaves hauling goods here or there under the watchful gaze of purple-cloaked taskmasters.

Bodhi led the crew of the Red Song down the gangplank and onto the berth, where they were greeted by a massive bear of a man. His head was bald, and half his face looked as if it had been melted like running wax. From his chin, a thick black beard hung down to his round belly, and Larus saw the writhing, sinuous forms of several wormy tendrils within the hair. He was bare-chested, and his skin was covered in scars and tattoos of devotion and honour.

“Bodhi!” The massive man bellowed with glee. “I had hoped we’d see Aemon’s reavers before the end of the season! Welcome! Welcome!” He turned to one of the robed attendants who were with him and bellowed orders to unload the ships.

Bodhi smiled, though it was tight-lipped and did not show much pleasure at the greeting.

“Hello, Odlund.”

Turning back to the crew of the Red Song, Bodhi spoke. “Feel free to wander about and partake of any joys you can stumble upon here. I plan on staying for three days. If you’re not on the ship when we set sail….well….too bad for you.”

Many of the reavers from the Red Song seem immediately keen on getting to one of the tap-houses that run along the harbor and cater to the transient population of Kollsvik. Mead, beer, ale and even stronger and stranger still can be found next to hot food. A few, like Gunnar and Herger seem very anxious to get off to the Pleasure Pits. Especially since neither Sigrun nor Hygd seemed interested in bedding them on the trip.

As the crews departed, going their own ways for entertainment and celebration, Bodhi stopped abruptly and turned her black gaze up to a walkway that looked down over the harbor.

“Who is that?” She asked, curiously of Odlund. The massive man glanced up, following her gaze and blanched before looking away. Up on the walkway stood a woman with milky white skin and long black hair. She was lithe and lean of limb, and her features were far too sharp to be human.

She was of the Druchii, Egil and Otto realized, but not one of the ones who had been shipwrecked at the Jarl’s hall. Her body was clad in supple black leather – or partly so, as she had a great deal of flesh exposed to the cold. While the right side of her body was fit in the snug leather, much of the right was bare, including a breast, though a leather strap ran across it, with a small golden disk to cover her nipple. The pale flesh of her breast was emblazoned with a tattoo of purple that seemed to pulse with some inner light in time with her heartbeat.

The symbol was easily recognizable as that of the Prince of Pleasure, and she was watching the reavers of Winterscorn with a curious expression.

Odlund dropped his voice and whispered. “That is the Jarl’s witch, the Lady Paledawn. It would be best if you steered clear of her.”

Spoiler: OOC

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Kollsvik
Population: 800ish
Ruler: Jarl Sigurd the Thorn
Faith: Primarily Slaanesh, but all accepted

Places of Note
The Palace of the Thorn (Jarl’s Palace)
The Pleasure Pits (I think this is self-explanatory)
The Temple of the Beast (Chaos Shrine to the Four)
The Bazaar of Kamagra (Slave Markets)
The Caul of Blades (Gladitorial Arena)

The city is also home to many merchants, and you can find pretty much anything you’re looking for here, from arms and armour, to alchemical stuff, to food and drink. There’s even a surgeon who once dwelt in the Empire and fell to Chaos and uses his skills to patch up anyone who pays. So long as they’re willing to do it without anesthesia.

For the sake of expediency, each of you are getting a cut of the loot. I’ll give it to you now, though technically it’d be on credit as Bodhi and Odlund haven’t finished bartering yet. Feel free to spend at your leisure.

You each get 47 gc, 13 s.

[DrK]

Morgul

Aboard the Red Song

The shaman nodded at Bodhi, black eyes meeting hers. "Coin, slaves, strange words. We burn, we destroy and we eat. I will follow you though to see more if manling power." He makes some more desultory talk with her assessing her interest in him.

Spoiler: Charm

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Trying on half Fel (1d100)[64] TN17

Also aboard he'll talk more with Nicoli trying to learn more of the Southlands (I.e the Empire). "How big are the town's of men. Do they have walls, how many in their tribes... ". The strange man touched by the gods fascinates Morgul.

As does the strange one-eyed girl found by Bjorni. " Skald. You sing of glory well. What of Groktur's song or Morgul's song. Mighty beasts are stronger than humans. Where did you find the slave girl with strange eye?"

Spoiler: Magical sense

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(1d100)[57] TN 43

The rest of the voyage he spends between trying clumsily to attract Bodhi's attention, unsure if the normal beastman approach would be suitable. Speaking of the Empire with Nicoli and at least once a day sembling into the form of a raven to skim above the waves and circle the boats. He ignored the grumbling if the crew and they way they backed away as he melded forms or the crude signs to ward off magic they made as he embraced the winds of chaos.

Entering Kollsvick

As the town appeared Morgul stride to the prow, one filthy hoofed foot against the gunwale. He glanced at Groktur grunting the beast tongue "Good eating and raiding here" before watching carefully the gold palace and the purple flags. "The deviant one. No honour, all mating and excess" he grunted as they docked. The slaves branded and in chains bothered him, creatures should live free or die. The captivity seemed a fate worse than death to him.

As Bodhi started haggling he hefted the staff and followed her and the crew down to the docks. Eyeing the fat harbourmaster with suspicion before he caught sight of the witch. Nodding to Bjorni he asked the skald - "Speak with the Witch. Could you say my words if she cannot understand." Heading up the pier he approaches the witch cautiously. "Druchii, you are not if these people. What has brought you here?"

[Shadowflick]

On the Red Song

"It depend. Big as Kislev walls maybe. Bigger then houses of town. Not from Empire but from Kislev, very diffrent at times. Kislev can fight fight more. And Smarter. Archer on Horse, Archers with Axe. Gunners with Axe. Know how to wield two different kind of weapon to fight at all range and distance. Very Practical. Maybe Empire fight same. Maybe Empire dont. Nicoli dont now, Not that kind of Human.




Kollsvick

So. This is how the Norscans live. It's about what he expected, though, the temple made of Gold surprised him. The Whispers of the flies warned him though to try and not fall into the temptations held within those Gilded walls. He looked to the new slaves. Being hauled off to fates that might be far worse then anything they've thought of before. Potentially at least. He stepped of the boat, sticking near Morgul for now as the large man hugged who he assumed was the captain.

Nicoli stopped, taking a moment to try and observe what he could of the place . The Bazaar seemed to take some of his interest, perhaps he could find useful equipment potentially. Yet, it might be better sserved for him to get to know who else there is among the Red Song, thus he stays put at the moment.

However, the Sight of The Dark Elf takes Nicoli by complete surprise. THis was the first time he's even seen an elf, let alone one of the Druchi. He feels the warning of the whispers. Her keeps his space, and lets the beast man sate his curiosity.

[Morovir]

Kollsvick

Joining Morgul at the prow of the ship, Groktur casts his gaze over gaudy village, and snorts at his words.

"May be true. Do not forget Deviant One is one of Four. Deserves respect just as others do."

As they dock, he briefly turns his eyes upon the harbourmaster, considering how many days he could feed off his considerable quantity of flesh, before catching sight of the elf. His lips curl back instinctively, a low snarl building in his throat. He does not trust this one. None but the bray-shamans can be trusted to wield the power of the Pantheon.

Entering the Temple of the Beast, Groktur brings himself to his knees in supplication before the shrine of the Four, and unhooks the head of his first kill from the raid from his belt. Carving the sigils of the Four into its flesh, he leaves it as an offering at the foot of the shrine.

[neriractor]

1st Sommerzeit - town

Bjorni noticed the girl's sickly paleness and wondered if that may in any way affect her selling price, that is until she spoke about her past and showed her the eye that was previously hidden. Bjorni recited a small thanks to the gods under his breath for this clear gift and recognition of his work, this time he truly smiled happily at the girl and her mother "She is wise then, unlike your fool of a father, that's no curse, but a divine blessing, as clear and loud as the moons' light, it is a free tool to reach your glorious awakening"

-on the red song

Bjorni got the girl some fur and meals comparable to his own through bargain, status and some fair (if over the top) guesses about the meaning of her eye, trying to make the trip about as bearable for his lucky find as its going to be for any thrall.

He gladly greets Morgul, happy that he will not have to seek him out as he planned to, he shrugs when asked about the songs, quickly making up some sort of excuse for the towering beastman, before letting the guttural sounds of chaos's tongue leave his own "Shaman, your kind is favored with strength, and truly honour the gods, but I'm afraid I have missed your deeds. So let me right it, when you think you did something worthy of song share, and all will hear of it, for generations to come. The girl I found while searching for plunder, hidden with her mother and using a patch to cover her crystal eye. What can you tell me about her gift?"

17 Sommerzeit- Kollsvick.


Bjorni took a good look at the palace, he had been here before but the beauty of the luxurious structure always amazed him, pulling towards it, filling him with a morbid curiosity for what it hid. Eventually he stopped and left the ship to buy some goods for the house, or perhaps seek the pleasure pits as many of the crew seemed to do.

Then the shaman and kislevite came along, attracting his attention to the druchii, her pulse reflected on that symbol, the fay beauty and the smooth exposed flesh calling him in the same way as the palace did, he nodded back at Morgul and waited for his turn.

Spoiler: she doesn't understand

Show

at the sign of a misunderstanding Bjorni smoothes the shamans question, before trying in norscan "druchii, my... Advisor and I wonder what brought you here, away from your kin."

Spoiler: she understands

Show

Bjorni waits for her reply, happy enough to speak after the curiosity of the beastman was sated. His eye contact and posture giving away his interest in the witch.

[Haval]

On the Red Song

Egil will interject on the discussion of the southerners and their relative military strength. 'Depends on where you are. Some of them fight like bastards by all accounts. Especially the ones on the big horses. Some of them just fight clever. Won't matter in the end though. Even when they win they only delay losing.' What was in the Wastes was the true way of things. Anyone who didn't already know that was only kidding themselves.

17th Sommerzeit, 2501

Egil always found Kollsvik somewhat ridiculous as he often did with those who worshipped the Serpent. Seeing that the Jarl had an Elf here now was thus unsurprising. 'She seems cold' he will mutter of the Witch who he stares at in open curiosity. Egil has a healthy respect for the Druchii having seen that Ashweaver woman fight back in the north. Doesn't mean he had to be afraid of them. Spindly things would break like anyone else when you hit them hard enough.

Before he conducts any business he has in town he will accompany anyone who is going to the nearest tavern to drink and to hear news of the rest of Norsca. He will probably do this again over the next few days, but will make time to both visit the merchants and the fighting pits.

Spoiler: ooc

Show

Egil will accompany any PC who is also going to those places or will bring one of the NPC Reavers along with him otherwise.

Perception test to take Bodhi's warnings to heart and look out for slavers and other threats looking to ambush Egil
vs. Int 30 / 2
(1d100)[10]

Pub gossip test about news of Winterscorn Hold
vs. Fel 29 / 2
(1d100)[98]

Pub gossip test about events of note in Norsca generally
vs. Fel 29 / 2
(1d100)[4]

Consume Alcohol tests (let's say 1 per day)
vs. T 31 (Consume Alcohol +10)
(3d100)[40][48][75](163)

Edit - his hangover probably gets progressively worse while he's here

- I will go look up the healing rules after this. I might have healed the damage Egil took on the journey. If not he will make time to see this renegade surgeon somewhere over the three days.
- I will also see if there's a set cost for drinking

[Erulasto]

Reavers of the Red Song

On the Red Song

Bjorni

The girl seemed unperturbed to be surrounded by all the Norscans, many of whom were staring at her with odd looks; especially given the preferential treatment she was receiving from the skald. Being clothed in furs and fed comparably well, many of the others eyed Bjorni with sadistic glee, no doubt pondering what uses the skald would have for such a waifish girl – even if she was blessed by their Gods.

Bodhi approached Bjorni, and eyed the girl curiously.

“What have you there, skald? If my own eyes do not deceive me, this one has been blessed by Techar the Raven.”

---

17 Sommerzeit, 2501

Groktur

Kollsvik didn’t have much of a Beastman presence; Groktur saw a few Ungors here or there accompanying small parties of Norscans around town, but none with the prowess he was possessed of himself.

The trip to the Temple of the Beast was quick, as slaves and reavers both made an effort to part at his passing. It seemed like none of them had any real desire to test their mettle against the Caprigor.

On a ledge overlooking the harbor on the west side of Kollsvik, Groktur found himself at the basalt steps of the great temple. It was an imposing structure, carved deep into the rock of the surrounding mountains. The façade of the temple was simple – four great pillars aligned on either side of a great door shaped like the slavering maw of some Chaos-spawned beast. Each of the pillars was meticulously carved to resemble the likeness of each of the Four.

From vents in the stone above the temple, plumes of acrid smoke billowed like the fetid breath of the Blood God’s flesh hounds. The roughly cobbled road that wound along the outside of Kollsvik towards the temple was filled with supplicants; hunched, malformed beings riddled with mutation and garbed in whatever scraps they could gather for themselves. Some were warriors, imposing in their dark armour and they trod through the degenerate masses with impunity, striking those who were too slow or stupid to get out of their way. The steps of the temple were guarded by a handful of tall, armoured figures wielding scourged lashes and hooked swords and at their feet slavered packs of mangy, half-feral dogs.

Groktur’s approach was similar to that of the other favoured; the mutants scurrying away from the Beastman as he made his way to the steps.

He was met at the base of the steps by a Norscan man who wore luxurious robes over which a breastplate emblazoned with the star of Chaos rested. His head was shaven and a crown of twisted horns rose from his brow. One arm split into a seething mass of tentacles just below his elbow, and they were wrapped around a tall iron-shod staff topped with a skull.

“Come, Son of the Beast!” The priest said, and led the Beastman into the temple. As Groktur performed his rites, the Priest stood by and watched with hungry eyes.

“Your offering is most welcome.”

---

Morgul, Bjorni and Nicoli

As the towering shape of Morgul approached the Druchii Sorceress, she turned her radiant violet gaze upon the bray-shaman with a twisted smirk. She inclines her head as the shaman’s guttural words fill the space between them, and as Bjorni begins his translation she turns her gaze upon the skald for a moment. For but a moment, Bjorni stares into the brilliant purple eyes and feels as if a thousand ghostly hands caress across his body. Truly, this one was a servant of [i] Loesh the Serpent.

When she replies, her voice is like honey and silk, soft and supple and filled with lascivious promise. “I came to pay my respects to the Thorn as one child of Shornal the Prideful to another, but I have found much here to keep me….entertained since…”

Amidst the crowded walkway that they converse upon, Nicoli picks out several warriors keeping a watchful eye on the Dark Elven sorceress; likely guards in the Jarl’s service meant to keep his Druchii witch safe from predation.

“I have heard that some of my kin were shipwrecked in the North and now reside with your Jarl. Is this true?”

---

Egil

While keeping an eye on the Druchii as she spoke to Bjorni, Morgul and Nicoli, Egil found himself surrounded by several of the raiders he led across the beach during the raid on Grenhoff. They were jostling for his attention.

Eventually, it was Sigrun who forced her way into his field of view with a wide grin and manic eyes.

“Egil! Come on!” Sigrun said, nudging him in the ribs. “We’re going to find a tavern and drink ourselves stupid!”

The tavern they had in mind was a squat, ugly building barely two stories tall. The lower reaches were harshly stacked stone bricks and the upper levels were thick wooden planks nailed erratically together with iron studs. A wooden sign over the door depicted a skull-shaped tankard and a few Norscan runes that declared that this was the Braying Mule tavern.

From within, the sounds of revelry wafted out on the early morning air. It seemed that this particular venue was prone to such revel at all hours, and catered almost exclusively to the reavers who came and went from the harbor. It was ea

Leaning against the door was a massive Ork with greyish skin, wearing heavy armour that was dented and gouged from uncounted years of use. In one hand he lazily held the haft of a massive two-handed Morningstar and at his belt was a wickedly curved blade.

Egil recognized him as a Black Ork; a rarity to be sure, but also tough enough to keep the peace if the reavers got out of hand.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Cost for the Braying Mule.

Ale 2 p
Beer 1 p
Keg of Ale or Beer 9 p or 1 s
Wine, Common 8 p
Poor Food 3 p
Spirits, bottle 8 p

[rax]

On the Red Song

@Egil
"I fought like that long before the gods saw fit to bless me," he replies flatly, his smile cold. "But enough of me," he continues, suddenly friendly again. "I heard you did alright back there as well. Was it two or three men you killed?"

@Egil and Nicoli
Lárus observed Nicoli recovering his gun from the tower, so during the journey to Kollsvik, he enlists Egil's help as a translator and tries to corner Nicoli to find out if he could teach Lárus how to use the firearm he picked up.

[Shadowflick]

That woman. Something about her made Nicoli, shiver. Not a shiver of Lust nor want but of disturbance. The whispers told him to beware of her. He believed them now. Elves of chaos were too much for him to handle. Yet, the woman was well defended. Keeping this Jarls minion safe "Care for you Jarl Must.
See many men ready to toss self in fire for Elf."


--------

On the Red Song

"WAnt to learn to shoot like Empire man? Pfft. Is weak. Dependent of rifle to fight. Nicoli teach how to fight like Kislivite. Like Streltsi. First, Need more men then one. One rifle good, but weak. Much like wasp, one sting hurt, 20? Much more. But, for simple basic, Nicoli can teach to. Difficulty come from kick back of weapon. Learn to best the rifle, learn to best the enemy." He says, standing up in the boat and taking his rifle out, tucking it in his shoulder and aiming it down it's sight "See? Must hold it safe in case weapon is knocked from hand"

[DrK]

Morgul

The beast man's eyes roll up and down the dark elf's body. He smelled her cool perumes, the scents strange and alluring and mixed with a heady cocktail of danger Dhar flowing around her.

"Yes. More pale kin in Winterscorn hold. A handful with Warlord named Navrene and shaman lady Sehanith." Glancing around he looked at the strange palace and town. "You show round or share magics? You have blessings like shaman?"

The beast leans forward hunching forward to drop his head to meet her eye to eye

[Morovir]

Having paid his due diligence to the Great Powers, Groktur heads to the slave markets, aiming to see if there were any beastmen unfortunate enough to be up for sale. Such creatures would be shamed enough to never challenge him, and would make passable followers, should there be any.

[Haval]

On the Red Song

Egil will grin wider at Lárus' response. He couldn't resist puncturing that pride a little, even as he knew that the boy was a better fighter. Youthful prowess had a lot to do with it but he had no doubt that the boy could beat him handily if he really wanted to. 'Only took one. Didn't anyone ever tell you about quality over quantity. Anyway, he seemed to know what he was doing, so it was a joy to cut his thread.'

At Kollsvick

At the Mule, Egil will watch the Orc with curiousity. Those ones were supposed to be amongst the biggest Greenskins. Certainly this one was big enough that he would think twice about making him angry. It was a shame the Orc was here though. He enjoyed an opportunity for a decent bar fight.

He will take advantage of being in port to get as drunk as possible.

Spoiler: Drinking

Show

Didn't realise there are actual drinking rules. I'll just use those rolls from the other post unless I should reroll.

Drinking Beer for the moment, but obviously trying to get drunk.

3 without incident
vs. T 31 (Consume Alcohol +10) (+20 for Easy)
TN 61
Rolled 40 first
TN 51
Rolled 48 second
TN 41
Rolled 75 - failed
TN 31
(1d100)[13]
TN 21
(1d100)[20]
TN 11
(1d100)[2]
TN 01
(1d100)[22]

Two failures in 10 beers, and stinking drunk in 12

[neriractor]

On the red song

Bjorni ignores the reavers clear curiosity, not minding their continous attention as long as they didn´t touch his property or ask directly, when Bodhi did so, the Skald couldn´t deny her an answer even if he wanted to. "your eyes are keen as always, many that the raven blesses can wield the winds, and I need her to survive until we reach home to see such talent flourish." he cuts straight to the likely cause of her curiosity, before adding a remark "if it doesn´t she may still fetch a decent prize once she has a bit more meat in her bones."

Kollsvik, 17 Sommerzeit

Bjorni felt a shiver down his spine that lasted awfully longer than the brief second, and he craved for more. After all, if the gaze alone could put him through that... for a moment he thought of nothing else before he remembered his role, and traslated back and forth, Nicoli´s words waking him up to the danger he may be on. After translating for his comrades (and their words to the druchii) to the letter he adds, with a confident grin and a seductive whisper "And may you, daughter of the serpent show me such delights? and let my songs not only immortalize you in name and beauty, but your talents..."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

here goes nothing, hopefully a champion of slaneesh can´t resist to star in a form of art.
charm: (1d100)[94] TN 42

[Space Lawyer]

Otto

After the raid

Otto replies to Bodhi with caution. He needed to walk a fine line between boasting of his own prowess and denigrating that of the other shipmasters. "Aye, I usually could, but with us this loaded down and needing to stick together, might'n be a better thought to sail for safety over speed. After all, don't want to lose this loot over the side 'cause of a fool notion. We'll be getting there same time, no matter what gets thrown our way."

Aboard the Red Song

Otto examines his two most interesting prizes closely. The dagger from Araby was an odd find indeed so far in the North. It was even more odd to find it stuffed away in some stinking fish hut. Whatever its provenance though, it would certainly add a dash of flair to his personage. Otto tucks the exotic knife into his belt, showing it prominently. The pistol, on the other hand, was much less exotic, but could prove to be immensely helpful. Nobody kept their wits with a barrel like that pointed at them. Otto elected to keep it as well.

17th Sommerzeit, 2501 - Kollsvik

Otto nods to Bodhi. It was good to be appreciated by someone who could cut you in half with a single swing. "I try my best."

Soon after docking, Otto supervises the offloading of the loot, and has the goods moved to the merchants. It was easy work, but vital. He had to prove his worth to these people by making sure they got all the gold they expected from such a succesful raid.

That done, Otto goes to sell his own personal goods, seeking out those who traded in jewelry and precious metals. And then, of course, a strong lockbox to keep all this wonderful gold in. . .

Spoiler: Rolls

Show

Gossip (finding a good quality lockbox and lock to go with it, not sure on what modifiers to apply): (1d100)[19] vs. 36
Evaluate (w/o modifiers): (1d100)[27] vs. 46
Haggle (w/o modifiers): (1d100)[18] vs. 46

[rax]

On the Red Song

"WAnt to learn to shoot like Empire man? Pfft. Is weak. Dependent of rifle to fight. Nicoli teach how to fight like Kislivite. Like Streltsi. First, Need more men then one. One rifle good, but weak. Much like wasp, one sting hurt, 20? Much more. But, for simple basic, Nicoli can teach to. Difficulty come from kick back of weapon. Learn to best the rifle, learn to best the enemy." He says, standing up in the boat and taking his rifle out, tucking it in his shoulder and aiming it down it's sight "See? Must hold it safe in case weapon is knocked from hand"

Lárus grunts in response to Nicoli's comments, concentrating on holding the gun as instructed. "This is like a crossbow," he comments to Egil. "Easy to sight. No great skill involved in shooting, I'd wager, just aim it at whatever needs killing. But lots of fiddly bits - I reckon it's the loading and keeping the gun in working order on campaign that's the hard part," he says, glancing at the bandolier of powder and shot he had seized in Grenhoff. "That about right, Kislevite?"

[Erulasto]

Reavers of the Red Song

Morgul, Nicoli and Bjorni

Paledawn releases a cold, musical laugh at Nicoli's words.

"I have been blessed by Shornal, human." She says, the words still dripping with honey. "The Jarl greatly values the...skills I possess."

Raising an elegant brow at Bjorni's overt invitation, the skald see's the corner of her lips quirk as if fighting to hold back a smirk.

"And are you sworn to the Serpent, Lalinoi? Perhaps then, you can show me your devotion, hmm?" Paledawn's voice holds an alluring lilt to it, and sends shivers down the Skald's spine. For but a moment, the thought comes unbidden: how much of this is his own inclinations, and how much of his infatuation is from this Druchii sorceress' own power?

Turning her bright gaze upon the shaman, she smiles wryly as the bestial words are translated for her. Paledawn nods, almost thoughtfully as she listens. "I have heard of Navrene and Sehanith. It would be a pleasure to hear news of them. A trade, perhaps? I will show you and your companions around if you are so inclined and in return, you tell me of my kin in the North?" She raises an elegant brow curiously as she waits for a response.

---

Groktur

The slave markets were within wide, open avenues of dark stone and rough, packed dirt. Iron cages were stacked two or three high in some cases, almost haphazardly around the market. They clustered on the edges of large wooden stages from which Norscans, and even some foreigners yelled over the crowds, calling out prices for the slaves who were led onto the stage one by one. At the southern end of the bazaar there were large tents erected in bright, flashy colours. Here, there were more foreign and exotic slaves from lands far to the South and the West. Orks, Goblins, men from beyond the Empire and south of the Darklands with skin black as pitch. There were even several small, scruffy-looking rat-men and a massive brute of brightly patterned scales with the head of some toothy reptile.

Groktur only came across a handful of beastmen - no more than six - and all of them Ungors. They were heavily chained and their matted fur bore the scars of countless barbed lashes. When they saw the Caprigor, they brayed loudly - rattling against their chains and causing a general disturbance that brought a couple of slavers over to whip them back into silence.

---

Egil

The reavers of the Red Song were soon well into several mugs of beer. Egil was feeling a the buzz of the weak alcohol at the edge of his perception, making his head fuzzy and light. They were raucously loud, each boasting and jesting about their experiences. It was a good sight to see. The bonds forming would give a unity to the crew that would serve them well in the battles to come. Egil had seen what could happen when you did not trust the men at your side in the thick of things.

Hrodgar had already moved away from the beer with a colourful string of curses about it being as watery as elf-piss and had brought an entire bottle of some incredibly bitter alcohol from Kislev that was made, so Hrodgar said, from potato's. He was singing a loud sea shanty, taking deep draughts directly from the bottle.

Soon enough, the rest of the reavers had joined in the song and Egil found Sigrun sitting next to him with a wide grin on her face and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He had seen her speaking to some bald man with a strange complexion and stained robes earlier, and he exchanged a small leather package with her for some coins. Egil didn't miss the lascivious smile he gave her as he eyed the pretty young reaver openly.

Now that she was next to him, her breath smelling of beer she patted the pouch eagerly.

"Egil. Egil. I fo...found an alc...alchemist!" She slurred. "B..bought some stoneseed root." She stared at him knowingly for a moment - just long enough for Egil's own alcoholic haze to clear enough for him to remember it was a herb that grew in the Troll Country. It's roots could be chewed, or steeped in a tea and they did one thing, but they did it very well.

Well...not having that was likely why Sigrun wouldn't bed Gunnar or Herger on the earlier trip. Bearing children wasn't an option for a reaver....

---

Otto

When the Red Song had been unloaded, Otto found himself free of his obligations. Bodhi had wandered off with Odlund to discuss their own matters, while the rest of the crew had departed for their pleasures. A handful of them had remained behind to watch the ships; the crews had drawn lots and these unfortunate souls were the ones left behind. They were drinking some of their own private stock of beer, but for the most part they were remaining keen eyed enough to avoid trouble.

His trip through the markets was uneventful. There seemed to be enough foreigners here visiting that few paid him any real mind. Eventually, the smuggler caught word of a shop that specialized in woodwork. Finding it was relatively easy, it had all sorts of carved wooden objects - from benches and chairs to ornamental displays, and several wooden trunks. While browsing, Otto caught sight of a glint of silver from the back of the shop. There, partially obscured by a small folded tapestry was a large wooden lock-box. He recognized the grain of the wood from his days in the Empire. It was a much sought after wood by collectors as it came from the forests of Sylvania in the southeast. The wood had been laquered heavily to protect it from moisture and the seams were sealed by thin strips of fine tar. It was secured with heavy bands of brass with a silver coating and the key that jut out of the lock was iron on a thick leather strap.

The merchant who maintained the shop didnt' seem to have any real love for it, as it was hidden beneath the tapestry, so Otto was - with only some haggling - able to talk the man down from fifty gold coins to twenty-five. He seemed an amiacable sort, and he was originally from Ostland it seemed. He was taken from his home as a thrall, but his skill at wood-working and bartering earned him his own freedom and now he had his own shop.

[neriractor]

Bjorni translates back, as usual, and takes a deep breath while clearing his head, timing it with his breathing so it doesn´t appear out of order, he comes to a conclussion about the matter of his lust: it was irrelevant, whether forced by magic or inflatuation it was still nature, and he could very much feel the desire, though he realized it´ll be harder to fulfill than he thought.

for the question, no wasn´t and answer, and yes wasn´t one he could take; not that easily, not as a lie. He responded short, and vague, instantly changing the subject "perhaps... I´ll take that trade. he motions deeper towards the town "We can talk while we move, shall we?"

he quickly motions for his companions and says a few words of encouragement if they seem reluctant so he is not left completely devoid of company he can trust.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

for common knowledge of rituals and devotion to the serpent:
common knowledge (chaos wastes): (1d100)[51] TN 46
advanced knowledge (history): (1d100)[47] TN 46

[Morovir]

Groktur lets out a braying bellow back at the ungors, seeking to cow them.

Spoiler: Actions:

Show

Intimidate: (1d100)[3] TN 46 (S 36 + 10 Menacing)

Having done this, he turns to the nearest slaver, speaking in his typical guttural tone:

"How much for Ungors?"

[Shadowflick]

On the Red Song

Nicoli nods, confirming what Larus guessed. he then goes into the motion of reloading the rifle, although his ahnds move in a blur, the Ambidexterous Kislivite tossing bullets and powder to one hand as he reloads wih ease. He smirks "Will go slower. baby Step". He then preforms the same motion, much, much slower, showing the reloading process. He then takes his Poleaxe, and places his gun into the grove "In Kislev, we use axe to help aim Rifle. Stick into ground keeps it steady."


However, Nicoli has looked back to the new Child that was brought on board the ship..and the various reavers looking her over. He looks to Larus "If need practice, good target is Norscan who touch little girl in bad place. Shoot same bad place on Norscan maybe?"

Kollsvic

Nicoli Winces, the usual lust that would be felt from a normal man being somewhat drowned out by the warnings of the whispers. "A Wich? Shornal is no name Nicoli know. " He looks the Dark elf up and down. "Ice Witches made of stronger thing then Elf. Harness teh storm, not harnessed by storm"

[DrK]

Morgul

The massive furry shaman continues with his unabashed lustful gaze at the undressed witch and nods at her words. A grunted - "Are kin friend or foe? You eat their hearts?" as a question before he tells her of what he has seen of the young Druchii Lordling and the other witch in the Winterscron tribe. Either tired from the long voyage or ensared by her sorcery he steps in front of the other two men, puffing up his muscled chest and trying to promote his strength and power in a crude display of dominance.

Looking up at the town he tries the Dark Tongue on her driectly - hoping to cut out the skald and his silver tongue - "Palace or pits or nest?".