Author: Lajaka, Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2015 2:11 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Lajaka had three rules: she never took more than she could carry, she never killed a man who wasn't trying to kill her in return, and she wouldn't tolerate a man who took a woman by force. Going into that town, she wondered how many rules she'd have to break. It wasn't her raid, and it wasn't really her place to tell Aelle how it should be done; maybe if she'd had her own ship, she might have bargained, but the Strix had crashed a world away, and she was lucky to have her sword, a shield, and basic armour. At least this raid would give her enough to keep on eating, and she could keep on searching. South, perhaps.

Lines formed and Lajaka found a place behind Leofric and Aelle, and drew her sword. It wasn't an ideal weapon where she was, but it was all she had. Men started shouting as they rushed down, and Lajaka joined the call. When the first arrows came down, Lajaka pressed closer to the first line, letting them be another shield for her, and the men beside her did the same. The one on her right was hit anyway, the arrow piercing his neck, spraying Lajaka with blood. Aelle called for them to move faster, and another man filled the space where the fallen one had been. The body was left behind.

The walls met, and they tried to push through the defending line. Lajaka felt useless where she was, unable to reach into the enemy line with her sword. As long spears were deflected overhead, she was tempted to drop the blade and try to grab one. Then one of the men in the first row was cut down, and Lajaka prepared to step into the gap. As she was moving in, one of the household troops tried to push through, and attacked the man on her left. Reaching out with her, she knocked his spear away, then drove her sword into his armpit. As she withdrew her sword, she glanced at the man she'd just defended: Leofric.

Aelle called for a halt, and Lajaka watched the faces of the men in front of her as they were given the chance to surrender. For a moment, she wondered if she'd misjudged Aelle, as he told them to get their families and get out. Then he gave another order: burn it all, no prisoners. Two rules would be broken, but maybe the third would be alright. The important one.

But as they broke into homes, killed the men, then herded women and children to be guarded, Lajaka knew it would take some kind of divine intervention to stop the depravities. Wasn't a damn thing she could do.

Fortunately, the gates opened before Aelle could make good on his threats. Lajaka didn't follow. As much as she loved a fight, her heart wasn't in it anymore. She wandered around for a while, until she saw men with drinks in their hands, and then she wandered over there to get some for herself. The first cup she gulped down in seconds, and the next one just as fast. Then one of the men pulled a woman into his lap, and she took a skein and wandered off again.

As Lajaka was walking through the gates for the first time, she spotted Leofric. "Seems we both lived," she said, then clocked her head to get a good look at him. Covered in blood, but he was alright-looking. He'd do. "After a fight, there's two things I need. First is a drink, and I've had a few of those already." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. "You're gonna have to help me with the second one."

Author: Saria, Posted: Wed Nov 18, 2015 7:35 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Saria took a step back. This man who had killed her attacker, Leofric, as she had learned was his name… he was friends with Aelle. He was definitely not going to let her go free, even though he’d just saved her hide. That was probably for a reason.

“Please, please, you don’t understand…” The gravity of the previous situation held no matter anymore, and she shook the way she did when Aelle had first taken her captive. “I can’t go back there, I can’t. I don’t belong up in the North, I don’t even belong on this continent! Aelle took me from my own village as I watched it burn just like this one will, and he’s not a good man! He’s a killer, a pillager, a bad man! The whole North is immoral and wrong, I can’t stand it! I’m going crazy there! I want my freedom back! I want my life back!”

Leofric simply took steps towards her, clearly unconcerned with her qualms. He spoke a textbook response, “Then prove you are worthy of it. Aelle is not an unjust man. But you deserve freedom as much as a cow deserves wings. Prove yourself, show your true worth, and I am sure he will grant it.” Saria’s jaw practically hit the floor.

“Not unjust! Are you crazy!? I was born free! I was made his thrall because of you damned Northmen and your raids! I had a life with a family, and friends. I had a future that I could chase! He and his crewmates slaughtered my village and kidnapped me from my home and has included me in this madness of warfare and bloodshed! I’m hardly an adult, I’m practically still a child! No! No, I won’t go back to that!” Saria cried now, and started running through the woods away from him. Her stature and lack of athletic skill proved to be her undoing, as Leofric was upon her in a moment, and she found herself back on the ground. She tried kicking again, punching and clawing at his face, and found herself again in a state of misfortune. He grabbed her wrists and looked her sternly in the eyes, and growled at her.

“I don’t have to bring you to him alive, you know.”

Saria inhaled and couldn’t breathe back out, finding herself frozen in a panic. Leofric bound her hands and picked her up as Aelle would, over the shoulder like a bag of feed, and started off toward what was likely a now-destroyed village. In the wake of what was probably the end of her life approaching, Saria just gave up on fighting Leofric. There was no way she could get out of this, and she was probably not going to survive Aelle’s wrath well. Would she be killed for running away? Would she be tortured mercilessly? Most likely both.

Aelle’s men had apparently survived, and won the battle. Saria was almost surprised, as she was lugged through the burning village towards the hall. Leofric pushed through the crowds in the hall and Saria could feel the anger behind her before she was even set down before Aelle. She closed her eyes and turned her face away as he chastised her, warning her that her punishment would come later and be incredibly severe. Her eyes grew wide as he finished his rant, and did what was probably the worst thing that could have ever been done to her… Aelle wrenched her book from her bag, and handed it to Leofric, commanding it to keep it essentially under lock and key. The cover of the book was glowing, and the book was clearly giving off a smoke from its pages. Was the book upset? Could it actually know what was happening? As Leofric took her book-bag from her and tucked the book into it, but just before he did she was able to catch a glimpse of the title scrawled across it. It was the first time the cover had glowed since the first night.

Saria swallowed hard as Aelle shoved her into the seat beside him and threw his blood-ridden bedraggled cloak onto her, presumably to cover her now ripped and ruined dress. She covered herself enough with it, but hated the putrid scent of blood and sweat that it seemed to give off. Aelle continued whatever speech he had been about to start, addressing the remaining survivors of the village and stronghold, but Saria was not paying attention. She simply looked ahead, into the void, with a face empty of emotion save for regret and hopelessness.

She had been so close. She could have been free. She should have run. She should have run through the woods and never looked back, she should have lit everything on fire and run away laughing wickedly and happily as she ran to her new life of freedom. But she was still above these people, she would not kill or take lives, she would not hurt people unnecessarily simply for the sake of gaining repute or honor. That was not how she was raised. Where she was raised your repute and honor were not measured by how many people you had slaughtered, but by superficial means such as your lands and clothes. While that may have been no more truly noble, for a village in the Highlands, that was more than enough. Would she have loved to have been from some wonderful place where intellect and magic and wisdom was what people valued?, yes. But no, she was from a bourgeois, privileged village in a circle of even more privileged villages, but even that was better than the holds and realms of the Northmen. Now she had lost what was probably her last chance at ever finding that place. Now she was more likely than not, completely and utterly doomed to suffer at Aelle's hands for the rest of her life. How much longer that would be, she wasn't even sure. 

Author: Aelle, Posted: Wed Nov 18, 2015 4:02 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

The town was ready. Aelle cursed as he repeated the words to himself, listening to the rest of the scouts’ report. All the livestock had been driven into the stronghold in the village, a fortified hall with stout timber palisades, and the men of the levy had been called up, armed, and readied for battle. The magnate of the town, whose name escaped Aelle, had added his household troops to the town’s levy and these men, professional soldiers in mail and leather, were a real concern. It was easy to overrun a town of farmers and tanners with knives and wood axes, but a bloody engagement against trained warriors would be far more difficult. A more cynical part of Aelle reminded him that the more of the crew that were killed, the greater the shares of the plunder for the survivors. It was cruel but it was true and he shrugged the thought away and tried for form a plan.

“Alright. They know we are coming and they’ve come out to meet us. It’s nothing worse than we’ve seen before.” He did not know if that was entirely true as his crew was untested, but it was good to raise the men’s spirits. “We are killers and they are farmers with sickles and mattocks. They don’t stand a chance against proper Northmen. They have grown soft here, weak, and we will profit by their weakness.” The men growled in assent and Aelle smiled. “They are rich, their barns and storehouses are full to bursting, and their women will need to learn what it is to lie with a real man. You bastards are just the ones to teach them.” The growls got louder and the men knocked their spears and shields together in approbation. “Ready yourselves, men, keep your shields tight and you’ll be lords of this town by sundown.”

As the men shouted and clapped each other on the back, Aelle went ahead with Leofric to the crest of a hill just beyond the wooded area outside the village. He could see the battle line the defenders had drawn in a clearing astride the main trade road. “A hundred of them, wouldn’t you say,” Aelle said quietly as he tried to count the men. “Not to mention those buggers.” He pointed at men behind the main line’s flanks where foresters had gathered, bringing with them their heavy yew bows and long arrows. “They’ll be a right pain in the arse,” Aelle grumbled and sighed through his nose. The archers were a real threat, so they would have to close the ground quickly so they did not get torn apart. Aelle whistled for the men to join him on the hill and he arranged them into four smaller shield walls of about twenty men apiece. “We move as a diamond, my wall to the front, two behind me, then one behind that. Stay compact and the archers won’t have as much of a target. Then when we get close to their line, fan out.” He stepped into the center of his wall, tapping his shield against Leofric’s and shifting his grip on his axe. “We’re heading for the best men they’ve got straight on. Move quick, shields up, and kill the bastards!” The men of the first shield wall, only ten men across and two deep, shouted as they rushed down the hill, trying to speed through the clearing and avoid the archers’ shafts. Seconds later, the other lines joined them, keeping their formation as they charged awkwardly, encumbered by their armor.

When the first arrows thumped against the heavy linden shields, Aelle thanked the Maker that the archers were not trained soldiers but woodsmen and hunters. He had seen archers from one of the noble houses in Adeluna in battle once. They did not aim as hunters did, down the shaft of their arrows. Instead, they drew them all the way to the ear and loosed them in volleys to hammer like a steel rain into armored men. Their arrows’ points, shaped like lance heads, could punch through the links of a mail coat and slice through the leather beneath and they could loose ten or twelve of the long shafts in a minute. Instead, the hunters, more accustomed to taking deer and rabbits in the greenwood, aimed slowly and shot deliberately, not blanketing the attacking force with arrows. A few men fell when an arrow found a gap between shields or flew beneath the shield’s rim but it was not the butcher’s yard that Aelle had feared.

“Faster, lads!” Aelle increased his pace and risked a glance over the rim of his shield. The enemy line was only a hundred yards away and he grinned as he picked out his target. One of the men ahead of him held his shield lower than the men alongside him and Aelle planned on making him suffer for it. Most battles were a slow affair as men worked up the courage to charge home against a formed battle line but this was different. The archers would have picked apart Aelle’s crew if they stood and waited for mead and the taunts of the village’s defenders to goad them into action. Instead, they come as a howling mass, shields tight as they charged home, looking to break the village’s line with the sheer ferocity of their attack.

Some of the men in the village’s shield wall hurled spears over the heads of their first rank and the heavy iron heads punched into the wall of shields. There was little chance that a thrown spear would be able to kill a man in a well-formed wall but the weight of the eight foot shaft of ash sticking from the boards of a shield would make the shield useless and force a man to either abandon the shield and break the line of his wall or try and hack the spear away. Thankfully the men of Aelle’s first rank were experienced and angled their shields so the spears deflected harmlessly overhead with their energy spent.

As the lines collided, Aelle’s men pushing and snarling as the line of the household guards bent under the weight of the attack, Aelle hooked the head of his axe over his chosen opponent’s shield, dragging it lower. The man struggled to right the shield but a second later, Leofric jabbed his sword into the man’s face, sliding through his eye until the blade buried itself in the back of his skull. When the Northman wrenched the blade free, the man fell in a heap on the grass and Aelle took a step forward into the space his death created in the press of men. To the right and left of Aelle’s band, the other three groups struck the line, threatening the left flank of the village’s line. The men there were no true warriors and the difference told as swords, spears and war axes began to do their work against the farm tools arrayed against them. The archers fell back, away from the Northmen’s blades, and did their best to whip arrows into the flanks of the advancing lines rather than wasting their arrows against the Northmen’s shields.

Aelle’s line was stalled against the shields of the household troops and he cursed as he hammered his axe into the iron helmet of a thickly bearded man in rusted mail. The heavy blade split the man’s helmet and chopped into his skull as blood poured down his face and neck. Aelle yanked the blade out and backswung it into the dead man’s shieldmate who found himself suddenly undefended on his right. The man’s mail coat did not split when the axe struck it but the man let out a hissing curse because the impact of the strike had probably broken his rib beneath the mail. He did not have long to contemplate the pain as one of the Northmen took advantage of his weakness and thrust a spear into his throat. Aelle howled as his line ground forward, leaving a few of their own behind but killing more of the enemy than they lost. The guards had grown soft as well in the years of peace, not like the howling men they faced. They were hard men, swordsmen and spearmen who lived by their blades and now they showed by they were the terrors of the North and South alike.

Aelle’s men to his left turned the flank of the village’s line as the farmers began to withdraw in ones and twos, sprinting through the village to save their families rather than die in the carnage outside on the road. Arrows continued to slash at the sides and rear of the Northmen’s line, but many were stopped by shields and mail. Aelle pushed up the face plate of his helmet up with the back of his hand to get a better view of the battlefield. He could see his men on the left starting to strike the undefended flank of the village’s line and the townspeople fleeing to the supposed protection of their homes rather than continue to face the blades of the Northmen. His line was making slow and bloody progress and to his right, the small band of archers had retreated to northern stronghold in the village, preferring the shelter of the palisade to the thought of hand to hand fighting. When he turned to his left again, an arrow sped toward him and he cursed, trying to twist away. The steel sliced through his boiled leather cuirass and the padded gambeson beneath, burying itself in his left shoulder. Howling with pain, Aelle lashed out and beat down the guard of the man opposing him before hacking his axe into the man’s mouth. Blood spurted on the leather cover of his shield and Aelle roared a challenge for the next man to come and die. His men followed his example, shoving and stabbing in a savage rush, a desperate push to break the enemy’s wall. More men died and the trampled grass was slick with blood. Only a handful of the guard troops remained, their shield wall shrunken to a knot of men defending desperately against the blades of the Northmen. Aelle bellowed for his men to halt and then dropped his axe. Wincing, he gripped the shaft of the arrow and twisted it a little in the wound. Despite the pain, he was relieved that it was not a barbed arrowhead. Those flesh arrows would tear flesh to ruin if they were pulled out through the entrance wound and cut a painful track through the flesh as they were extracted through expulsion

“You can surrender,” Aelle shouted at the men at arms that still stood even as his men surrounded them. “If you do, you will be given your lives. Your arms will be yours but you will be alive. If not, you will die to a man. This is your only chance to avoid that fate.” He paused to let them confer in hushed tones behind their shields. While he waited, Aelle tightened his grip on the arrow and, in one, swift motion, yanked it out of his shoulder. Blood welled from the wound and the pain was nearly crippling. He gritted his teeth to stifle a whimper and packed a rag into the wound to staunch the bleeding. “I hope one of these buggers has a proper mail coat,” he muttered to himself as he pushed the rag deeper into the wound. “This cuirass will get me killed.” Retrieving his axe, he straightened and walked closer to the cluster of men. “What is your decision?”

Aelle knew that if they continued to fight, they could give heart to the folk that had fled the initial assault and the damned archers could pick off the men one by one until Aelle was the master of a crewless ship. He just hoped that the hope of surviving was enough for these men and decided to sweeten the deal. “Your families will also be spared. They can leave with you. But I need your answer now.” Wordlessly, one by one, the men threw down their blades and shields in surrender and Aelle breathed a sigh of relief. “Return to your families. Go. And leave to the east.” The men, disarmed, threw off any war gear they owned, knowing that if the Northmen changed their mind, their best protection would be speed. As they sprinted into the village, calling for their families, Aelle hefted his axe again and nodded to the men. “Burn it all. No prisoners.”

So the real killing began as the crew set off among the timber huts and thatched roofs with torches. Doors were shattered with axes and the men promptly slaughtered as the Northmen spread terror to every home. The women and children were herded like cattle to the bloody battleground and held under guard, destined for either the homes of the crew as thralls or sold in Vilpamolan and then only the Maker knew what would happen to them. Many of the prettier women had dirtied their faces and disheveled their hair to help them escape the notice of the rampaging men but soot or no soot, many would endure assaults on their virtue before the dawn came. The smartest among them picked men from their captors and offered themselves in exchange for protection from the worse depredations to come.

Aelle waited until the huts had been stripped of everything valuable to order them set alight so the men sheltered behind the palisade would see their homes in flames and their families held captive. The archers who escaped the carnage stood on fighting platforms on the northern palisade and a few loosed arrows at careless raiders but most stayed their hands for fear of hitting the women and children. “For every arrow that takes one of my men,” Aelle shouted toward the barricade, “one of your women dies. But not after every man in this crew has his way with her. Open the gates and spare your women the worst of what comes next. The longer you make us wait…” He left the rest of the threat unsaid as the women began to scream, begging their men to stop their pointless resistance so they would not be killed. Their screams carried over the crackling of flames as the village was put to fire and sword.

“If we yield, what promise do we have that you will not simply kill us all,” called a man from the largest palisade.

Aelle laughed and shook his head. “You have no promise but the simple truth that from those walls, you can either watch my men rape your women to death, or you can come out and maybe I will be inclined to mercy. Is some rich bastard’s storehouse worth watching that?”

“You utter bastard…” The man from the palisade turned to men at the gate and nodded. The heavy wooden gates swung open on creaking hinges and slowly the men filed out with the man from the palisade bringing up the rear. He was dressed in an expensive woolen tunic with finely embroidered sleeves under a mail coat fringed with silver links. “I am the rich bastard and those are my storehouses,” he said bitterly when he reached Aelle and threw down his sword in front of the Northman. “Now what will become of us?”

Aelle paused a moment, then jerked his head at the mail haubergon. “That too. Off. And as for you…” He gestured for his men to surround them and smiled at their discomfort. “What is your name, rich bastard?”

“Derfel ap Meriadoc,” the proud man spat as he tossed the mail coat at Aelle’s feet as well.

“Well, Derfel, I am just not sure what to do to you. Maybe kill you all. Maybe cut off your sword hands and let you live. Maybe…” He smiled as an idea dawned on him. “Maybe this.

“You lot fought well enough for soft bastards. You have a choice now. If you want to learn to fight like proper men, like real Northmen, you can here and now swear to me as your lord, and I will spare you and let you serve as a free man. If you chose not to, you will be chained to a rower’s bench and worked to death and your women will be our playthings. So what do you say? Live as warriors or slaves? I know the slavery comes more easily to you sniveling shits but a choice is a choice.” He turned for Leofric but noticed he was not close at hand. Shrugging, he called to the men guarding the women and children to herd them into the stronghold and for the captive men to follow. “So, Derfel,” he said, walking alongside the man and making him carry his surrendered arms like a servant, “what do you call this place?”

“Meriadoc’s Ford, on account of the river just the other side of the vill and Meriadoc being the man that first put a house on this side of it. My ancestor,” he said flatly as he weighed the choice Aelle had given him in his mind.

“So, your father was named for the grand ancestor. I see. Now, your hall… well, my hall now. Let’s see it.”

The hall was a grander one than Aelle’s own, with well carved timbers and a high, thatched roof. Inside was room for his entire crew and more, and even with the prisoners, there was space to spare. Aelle smiled. He would like it here. He sat heavily in a well-carved chair on the dais and cracked his neck with a satisfying pop. “Now, you men have had enough time. Come and swear your oath to me here or you’ll be taken outside and shackled. Derfel, I think we will begin with you.”

Before the ceremony could begin, Aelle heard a disturbance at the hall’s door. Leofric jostled his way in and up to Aelle’s seat with a woman over his shoulder. Aelle recognized the dress and growled, standing from the chair as Leofric deposited Saria at his feet. “Caught her trying to run off. One of the new lads was trying to swive her, so I split his head and trussed her up. I figured you didn’t want anyone screwing her silly except yourself.”

Aelle could scare contain his anger as he untied Saria’s bonds, but held the belt. “You insolent little bitch,” he said, his face mottled with rage. “I am going to give you a lesson you will never forget… But that will wait. The waiting will make it worse. And one last thing.” He wrenched her precious book from her pouch and threw it to Leofric. “Don’t let that out of your sight.” He glared down at Saria then yanked her roughly to her feet and slapped her across the face. “You have lost the book. And you are lucky I don’t nail you to the door of this hall as a runaway and an example to others. Later, oh later…” He grinned the same sort of vicious smile that came when he fought. “Later you will learn the true price of disobeying. I warned you. Now you will pay whatever price I choose.” He unfastened the brooch that held his cloak and threw the stinking garment to her to hide her nakedness. “Until then, sit here and be pretty. You can still do that, can’t you?” He pushed her roughly into a chair beside his and turned back to the hall, his eyes boring into Derfel.

“As you can see, I am a merciful man. This bitch tried to run after I took her. She still breathes but my mercy is not unending. Choose your fate and if you either turn against your oath or try and escape as a slave, I will flay the skin from your body while you yet live. So. Your choice?"

Author: Saria, Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2015 1:23 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Saria awoke in a place that she was sure was not where she had fallen out of consciousness. Aelle was prodding her to get up, calling her that revolting pet name and claiming they had made it ashore. Saria jumped up,  nearly knocking herself out on the roof of the chamber, and grabbed her bag with her magic book in it as she bolted to the side of the boat, climbing over and jumping to the ground faster than any other members of the crew could have even hoped to move. “I love you, ground. I will never leave you again.” Saria said, and kissed the cold dirt and thanked the Maker for letting her survive that awful boat. She had planned, actually, to never get onto that boat again. This was where she would make her escape.

The crew was milling about the boat as Aelle gave some instructions, but Saria did not notice whatever his instructions were for them. She was too ecstatic to be on solid, un-shifting, normal dirt, off of the dreadful boat. She swung herself around in a circle as she stood up and made her way over to the group as Aelle was sending off the other woman and his friend to scout ahead. She almost nodded visibly, still displeased with the idea of these people just being allowed on board without any display of right. And now Aelle was sending off the only people he apparently trusted to scout ahead, leaving her alone with Aelle and a group of rowdy vandals and scum. They set up some small fires to camp around for the night, (as they were far enough to the coast from the villages that not even their smoke would be seen) to probably rabble-rouse some more and drink while they awaited the return of the scouts. Saria sat cross-legged away from the groups but facing them, opening up her book to read and try to work on some new types of magic. There was one spell in particular that she couldn’t quite pronounce or even fully read, but she was determined to figure it out. At some point, when Aelle was far enough away to not notice, one of the crew members started toward her, and she cast him a stern glare. She also didn’t recognize him as one of the people who had come up for the ‘interview’ in the tavern. He looked to be too young, maybe in his early twenties at latest. Saria grew rigid as he approached, and stood near her without even making eye-contact.

“You might have yer magicks, girl, but ya got no fightin’ skill and you’ve no business out ‘ere. I’ll be damned if ya survive half the battle.” With that, he turned away and started back.

Saria was confused, and only continued to be more confused as he walked back to the groups. Aelle wasn’t close enough to have even caught wind of what the man had just said, for he surely would have smote him there where he stood, or at least forced him to deliver a sincere apology at the end of a blade. She tried to shake it off and continue reading but the incident wouldn’t leave her mind, and she couldn’t focus. Aelle might have been a creepy one, with his lustful eyes and drunken groping, but he never said anything quite so… malicious…

It was not long before the two who’d gone ahead came sprinting back, full of words and empty of breath. Had they run back the entire way? That was a feat, Saria thought as she re-bagged her book and slung it over her shoulder as she stood. Apparently the village was on-guard already, at the ready and prepared for an attack. She was filled instantly with apprehension, as Aelle commanded everyone set forth at once and seize the village as swiftly as possible. She cringed at the thought of having to move forward already.

They moved along the treeline to remain hidden, and at least retain some element of surprise. Their forces readied themselves as the village came into part, and Saria peeked out on it from behind a tree at the edge of the forest as Aelle talked to the crew about battle things. It was a beautiful village, she had always envied the people who lived there. She’d visited a few times with friends to get things to trade or to sell things for the family every now and then. Aelle finished his business with the men, and walked over to her. His hand grasped her shoulder, nearly swallowing her arm up with it. She took a breath as she knew what came next.

“You know your part, little star. Light the thatch.”

Saria stepped out from behind the treeline and started to grow a fireball on her hand, the blaze growing to encompass nearly her entire forearm and she sighed, then released the blaze at the village. It separated into globules of flame, and caught the thatch of several of the houses of the village. The fire started to spread quickly, burning faster than any fires she had ever seen. People could be heard screaming, running from their houses as things started to fall upon them and crumble inside. It occurred to Saria that she would directly have been the cause of at least one death today. As the people emerged, the crew behind her stirred, and Saria backed against the tree she had hidden behind as they surged forward toward the village to begin their slaughter.

Once the last of the men had taken off in the charge, Aelle included, Saria exhaled and slipped back into the woods. While the fighters were occupied, Saria would be making her escape. It was almost too easy… No, it was too easy! All she had to do was get Aelle distracted with something that would take hours, and she’d be well on her way through the woods to find the trails the linked the villages. She would find the way to the village at the far south corner of the pentagonal-group, and she would seek refuge with friends. She smiled as she walked leisurely through the forest. She had spent much time here growing up, and even more so as a young adult, so she knew her way well enough. After she’d come down from her mental high and the thought of freedom, she grew fearful as she heard shuffling behind her. Someone kicking through the leaves, walking with less care than they should. She spun around, looking back for what she assumed was Aelle coming after her to reprimand her. After a moment, it was clear that no one was there. “Must have… imagined that…” She turned back around and took a step, only to be jerked backward by the hair. “Ah! Ahhck! I’m sorry, I’m sorry Aelle!” She screamed pitifully as she was pulled back, and a rough hand covered her mouth. It wasn’t Aelle, she realized, as the person was not nearly as tall as he was, and she’d experience his hands on her body more than enough times than she’d care to admit, but that was enough to recognize that this wasn’t him. She bit the hand over her mouth, and found herself thrown to the ground, she tried to catch herself but he was back at it as soon as she touched the earth. In the midst of a flurry of kicks and struggles, she recognized him as the man who’d come up to her last night. She gasped and in her moment of shock, he was able to throw her down on her back and grab her hands in one of his. He pushed her dress up and Saria’s eyes grew wide, as she realized she wasn’t being captured and dragged back to Aelle for punishment. This man was coming after her simply for the sake of her. She kicked and squirmed as much as she could, but not having her hands and not being the nearly as strong as this man, she had no chance, and could only whimper and cry as she shut her eyes tight while he lowered his trousers and his hips came closer to hers.

It was more than startling, what happened next. As Saria awaited what she assumed would be the worst feeling in the world, she was surprised to have her entire body shaken as something struck the man on top of her. She opened her eyes and screamed, as his head had been wrought nearly in two by an axe and he was now dead, lifeless and bloody above her, suspended by the axe that had stuck in his head. She scrambled out from under the body as quickly as she could, then stood up and fixed herself to look more acceptable, simply out of instinct as she raised her eyes to the newcomer to the woods.


Her face dropped when she saw who it was, and she instantly shook with panic.  

Author: Lajaka, Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2015 1:38 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

"Superstitious assholes," Lajaka spat as she struggled against the man who held her. He was pushing her closer to the side of the ship, but the rocking of the ship made progress difficult; that was to Lajaka's advantage. Her trashing and the hits to his stomach didn't seem to deter him, however. Man's terrified, she realized, and he really thinks  tossin' me over will save him. In a state like that, men didn't always feel pain.

Fortunately, before she could be pushed over the side, Aelle struck his jaw so hard he spun, and had to let go of Lajaka so as not to fall over the side himself— and had Aelle not threatened to geld him if he tried anything again, she might have given him a shove. She probably should have, since, as she was taking the oar again, Leofric called out a warning as the man went after Aelle himself with a knife. That warning was the reason Aelle avoided being stabbed in the back. Aelle managed to avoid it and kicked the man in the stones before relieving him of his purse and tossing him over the side. Then he tossed the man's purse to Lajaka, which surprised her; she hadn't been the one to best him, after all. Before tossing the purse under the bench with her weapons and shield, she took out a few of the coins and tossed them overboard, an offering to the Maker that they'd get out of the storm with ship and lives intact. While not very religious herself, she didn't see the harm in trying, and it might endear her more to Aelle. He'd just saved her, after all, and that was the sort of man she'd rather have as friend, not foe.

Whether by luck or divine intervention, the ship made it into the cove, and Aelle guided it ashore. Lajaka collected her gear and left the ship, stumbling a bit on the beach as she remembered how to walk on ground that wasn't jostling. Aelle asked Lajaka and Leofric to move ahead and scout, and she swallowed hard. She'd hoped to have more time to come up with a convincing reason why she might have a funny-looking coin. The only story she had was the truth, but could she tell him that?

Of course, Leofric asked about the coin again once they'd set off together. "Persistent son-of-a-bitch, ain't you?" she said, still trying to decide whether or not she could trust him. Only one way to find out.

"Somethin' I told Aelle when I joined is that I can tell if a man's lyin'. So I'm gonna ask if I can trust you, and I want you to really think about it before you answer, because if you tell me I can and you're lyin', I'll know. So," Lajaka started, before turning to face Leofric so she could get a good look at him, "can I trust you?"

"Aye," Leofrid said, "I figure you can trust me. Not much sense in lying to someone that'll know and cut my throat in the process, eh?"

Lajaka grinned; he was right about that. She didn't say anything right away, waiting to see if that familiar prickling sensation would start. When it did not, she sighed, resumed walking, and began her tale:

"I'm not from here. Well, alright, you probably figured that out, bein' that I don't sound quite like the rest of you, but that's not what I mean. I'm not sure if you've heard of this, but, there've been portals opening up all over the place, and people comin' through, people like me. Only, well, people are callin' them portals, but I think they're more like… cracks." If Leofric didn't already think she was crazy, he was about to. "The place I came from was created when a goddess— well, she called herself a goddess— folded time to erase her son from existence. Things were a bit unstable after that. Then, about a year and a half ago, I found a crack, leadin' to a world a lot like mine, but the history'd changed. A war, one that happened in my world, and didn't happen on the other side of the crack. Some of the same people, though. I saw my ma on the other side, and a brother who didn't exist in my world. This world, though, there's a lot more that's different here, but I recognize it. The hills, the valleys, they're all the same, and the streams woulds be if men'd stop dammin' them.  Men still pray to the Maker, same as home, but everyone's divided here, every clan and village to himself. Maybe the man who unified the clans was never born here, or he died too young. But I know at least some people are the same, because of my coins, from my wold. The face on them, one of the sons of the old king in the south, people here recognized the face, though they've got a queen down there instead. But if the bloke on the coin is here, then maybe my family and my friends, they might be here, too. Or maybe they managed to find a crack like I did. Haven't found anyone yet, but I'm looking."

When she'd finished her story, they were approaching the outskirts of the village. Keeping low, Lajaka squinted and looked around. At first, she didn't see anything off, but her ears pricked. "It's quiet," she whispered to Leofric, then frowned. Where was everyone? Shouldn't there be people in the fields, and livestock. Her eyes went wide. "They know we're coming." Turning around, Lajaka took off in a run back to the beach.

Author: Aelle, Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2015 8:35 AM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

The cove was fast approaching as the Maker’s Fury bit through the choppy surf. Waves dashed against its shield-hung sides and men cursed as they strained at their oars. The long ash poles were barely making headway but the current of the sea itself was propelling the ship toward the rocky lee shore. Aelle leaned against the oar again, nudging the bow toward the cove ever so slightly, aiming for a gap between two towering rocks that looked like the fangs of a great sea monster. The oak timbers of the hull expanded under the buffeting of the sea and some water continued to leak in through the pitch that caulked the seams. He was taking a dangerous risk, aiming for the slack water between the rocks but it was the fastest path into the cove. In calmer weather, he would have navigated a path through the shallows but speed was preferable as the squalls picked up.

Saria went below to bail, though Aelle wondered how much help she could actually be. The hull was waterlogged and a third of the hold was filled with water that seeped in through the seams and splashed over the sides. One slight woman bailing was nearly futile but she was the only person he could spare. Every other back strained at the oars, using them as steering to counteract the current which looked to break the ship up on the rocks. Without warning, steam began to rise from the hull and Aelle craned his neck to see what was happening. He could not make out where Saria was but he cursed her under his breath for what he assumed would be fire on the ship. An oak ship caulked with pitch and wool was a tinder box and if it were not a storm that looked like it would flood the whole world, Aelle would have thrashed her bloody for that stupidity. As it stood, the asinine plan was working if the steam was any indication. He would have a word with her if they survived, he promised himself, then gritted his teeth as the steering oar strained against the current.

“Oars in on my command,” Aelle roared, trying to be heard over the storm that raged around them. Thunder clapped like a dragon’s roar and lightnight arced around the sky, scorching the cliffs as a bolt lanced down to earth. “Ready…. NOW!” The rowers drew their oars back through the side and tossed them into the hold with a jarring clatter. “Brace yourselves!” Aelle jammed hard on the steering oar and the Maker’s Fury leapt over the crest of one wave and suddenly made it through the gap between the towering rocks. The sea was not calmed yet, but the high sides of the inlet protected the ship from the worst of the wind. Near the bow, Aelle saw a man standing, yanking the woman he had brought aboard from her place on the bench. “Oars out, whoresons,” he shouted and then strode down the length of the ship, his face a mask of cold fury.

Without a word, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, probably breaking it on impact, and sent the man spinning like a top away from the woman. “Lay one hand on one of the crew and I will geld you,” he growled at the man. Thinking the business was settled, he turned back for the steering platform. A shouted warning from Leofric made him turn back in time to see the man lunging at him with a knife. Aelle twisted to avoid the blade and kicked the man hard between his legs, sending him to the deck with a whimper of pain. Aelle kicked the knife away into the hold, pulled the man’s purse from his belt, then took him by his belt and the back of his tunic. Grunting, he tossed the man over the side, watching him sputter and flail in the churning water. “He’s close enough to shore, so if the Maker loves him, he will be fine. If not…” Aelle shrugged and tossed the purse to Lajaka. “Now keep rowing!”

As the oars dipped and the ship began to speed to the safer end of the cove, Aelle ducked into the hold and saw Saria unconscious among the ballast stones and sloshing water. “Maker’s ballocks,” he groaned and hauled her by her feet to a space where he could lift her. “This is why no one likes a mage,” he muttered as though she could hear him. “All flash and then this shite. Let’s get you up.” Tossing her over his shoulder, he hauled them both out of the hold and deposited her in the small sleeping space under the steering platform. “Leofric, you know these waters as well as I do,” he called. “Come take the steering oar a while.” He hauled the cloak that served as a curtain for the space back and took a moment to contemplate Saria. The wet made the green dress cling to her and he considered her form with a wolfish hunger. Sitting next to her on the strew-filled cot, he toyed with the laces around the dress’ bodice, thinking to enjoy what lay beneath, but before he could loosen the first, Leofric pushed aside the cloak with a discreet cough. “Good beach ahead, might be a wise place to come ashore before our wee walk inland.”

Aelle sighed and stepped back to the platform, taking the oar and guiding the bow of the ship up onto a shingle. As the oak boards scraped against the soft sand, he let go of the steering oar and let the momentum ground the ship securely on the beach. “Arms and food only,” he shouted as the rowers began to return their oars and take up their swords and axes instead. “It will be a long hike, but if Saria’s right, we should be able to take them in the night.” Men began to hop over the side into the low surf and Aelle ducked back under the steering platform to pull on his war gear. He nudged Saria with his boot. “Time to get up now, little star. There’s killing to be done.” Smiling at the thought, Aelle hopped over the side himself and joined the milling crew on the beach. “Lajaka, right? You take Leofric and scout ahead. We will follow behind once the rest of these bastards are on the beach. Anything seems off and you come straight back, you hear? Now off with you!”

Author: Lajaka, Posted: Mon Nov 9, 2015 9:32 AM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Lajaka didn't have time to enjoy her second drink. She had just called out for one when Aelle ordered everyone to the ship. Seemed he found the wind favourable and wanted to set out now that he had a full crew.

Leofric had taken his defeat well, and even seemed a touch impressed with Lajaka's 'strategy'. "Last time I pinned a man, I kicked him. You got off easy," she said as they were leaving. He promised that there would be another contest when they both returned. "Alright, but the first drink is comin' out of your share!"

As expected, Aelle's witch was on board the ship. Magic was sometimes useful in a fight, Lajaka knew, but the girl didn't seem too keen on sailing. She seemed like a small thing, especially next to Aelle. Would she be able to defend herself if she was attacked? Could she kill a man?

Lajaka took an oar, and Leofric sat beside her. "Plannin' on fightin' beside me, too? Suppose that'd be a good way to make sure we both make it back, eh?" It wasn't long before the muscles in Lajaka's back started to ache. While she was physically fit, she'd never spent much time rowing. It was easy to find the rhythm of it, but she was using new muscles, ones not worked wielding a sword or axe. It was harder than she'd expected.

"Odd bit of coin you had," Leofric said, quiet enough that only she could hear him, and even then Lajaka had to strain. "Either it's a shit counterfeit or a good story. So, what's the story?"

Lajaka nearly froze, but the constant motion of the oars forced her to keep rowing. She had forgotten about her coins, that some of them were from not here, and someone was bound to notice. Who was this Leofric, and was he the trustworthy sort? Did he know about the portals, and did he mind that sometimes a person came through one? Or could she lie to him, and get away with it? Was he any good at spotting that sort of thing?

Then the wind picked up and Aelle ordered them to row hard, before Lajaka could figure out how to answer him. Saved by a storm, she thought, as the rain hit her. So long as it don't kill me. Men not on oars were ordered to get below and bail, and Lajaka was tempted, but she felt safer seated, rowing, with the oar to hold on to.

The sound of creaking was ominous, and Lajaka, like many of the men, looked to the mast. Aelle was on it, getting an axe and cutting the ropes that held the sail. At least the mast wouldn't snap, though they still had to make their way to calmer waters before they were out of trouble. There was cove nearby, but rocks were everywhere along the shore, and the sea was tossing the ship like it was driftwood.

"It's the woman!" one of the men shouted, his voice nearly lost on the wind. "She's bad luck, she brought the storm, and now she'll be the death of us!"

"Throw her to the sea!" another man yelled. Lajaka tried to duck low in her bench, hiding, but they found her, and a pair of hands jerked her off the oar.

Author: Saria, Posted: Fri Nov 6, 2015 7:50 AM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

I hate boats I hate the ocean I hate this more than anything and I want to die now was repeating over and over in Saria’s mind as the boat tossed about in the midst of the stormy sea. Her stomach was not happy, and she was finding it hard to think about anything aside from not throwing up with each churning wave that rocked the boat and seemed to be trying to force her to vomit with just the force of the waves. When the boat smacked down over the largest rift of the tide and Aelle pushed Saria to go start pulling the excess water out of the boat and throw it back into the ocean… or whatever she was supposed to do. Her mind was too caught up in her seasickness, especially during this storm, to really think of it, as she climbed her way to the hold. It was not terribly filled yet, but it could be soon if the waves and tide continued to throw about the vessel. After a few buckets heaved out, Saria was quite exhausted and even more nauseous, and started to crumple down into a ball of nausea. She was panicking inside, she didn’t want to risk Aelle catching her slacking off in a time of need, but she needed to sit down or else she was going to end up vomiting all over everyone. But the water was still there, and she wished it could just disappear into thin air… 

That’s when she had an idea. Moving quickly, Saria ducked under the floor beneath the rowers, climbing under the beams and trying to make her way to the front where the most water seemed to be. She didn’t want anyone to see what she was going to do. Once she found the front of the ship, holding on the wall of the ship she took in a deep breath and ducked under water, then faced the back of the ship and exhaled, blowing fire through the water. About a third of the water was instantly evaporated, and steam billowed up and out of the space. What was left sloshed back together, creating a lesser flood in the boat, one that was much more manageable.

Saria grinned, forgetting her nausea momentarily as she was so pleased with herself. This would be easier than she thought, she could simply boil the water away! With a small fireball dwelling around her hand, Saria immersed it within the remaining floodwater and watched as it all bubbled and steamed with a look of satisfaction. After a minute or so it had completely evaporated, leaving just a trace of salt lining the wood now. Saria was excited and proud of herself, and realized she was also now incredibly tired. As she went to stand, her stomach reacted. Her eyes bulged, and she leapt for the bucket she had been using to bail, retching everything in her stomach into it. She thought she might be okay now, for a moment, until the feeling returned and she heaved again. As she pulled her face from the bucket and wiped her mouth, she was overcome with the fatigue brought on by how much magic she had just used. Instantly, her vision went dark and she fell unconscious. 

Author: Aelle, Posted: Thu Nov 5, 2015 7:07 AM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Some men feared the sea. It was unpredictable, dangerous, and vast and for most men, that spelled disaster. As the canvas sail stretched in a brisk southerly wind, Aelle thought that he would never understand that sort of man. The sea was freedom and power to carve his own destiny from the lands of Revaliir. It was dangerous but there was no reward without danger. He leaned against the steering oar, forcing the bow of the ship to the east, toward the lee shore. The wind from the seaward side was starting to pick up as the cold winds off the northern mountains and as the chill met the warm winds from the rainforest, squalls began to form, waves breaking white in the wind. Aelle, having grown up on the ocean, knew those sorts of squalls could destroy a ship, even one as well built as Maker’s Fury. “Row! Row hard!” The men at the oars heaved the ash poles forward their blades cut through the water, trying to speed the ship toward a sheltered cove.

Drowning, the old fishermen said, was not a pleasant way to die and Aelle did not want to test that judgment. He leaned hard against the steering oar, feeling the oak vibrating against his arms and side, as though the ship were fighting against his instructions. The keel of the longship bit deep into a wave and the pull of the oars sent her careening over the top, landing in the lull between waves with a wet smack. “Saria, bail. Down in the hold with the ballast, get every bucket you can out of there. We cannot afford a single extra drop. Go!” Pushing the mage toward the hold, he pressed on the steering oar with his full weight, the oak blade biting against the current as the ship limped toward the cove. “Anyone who isn’t pulling an oar, get your arses down to the ballast and help Saria. Now! Move or we’re all buggered!” As a few men scrambled below the rowers’ benches, Aelle head an ominous creaking and looked up at the single mast of the ship. With the change in the wind’s direction, the strain on the sail and rigging was threatening to crack the solid oak mast and founder the ship.

Snarling with effort, Aelle took a length of hemp rope and tied it around the tiller, leaving the course plotted toward the calmer inlet with its high cliffs that would protect the ship from the ravages of the sea. With the course set, Aelle reached under the steering bench and dragged out his war axe. The Northman was usually able to walk easily with the ship’s rolling but the squalls had come up too fast, rocking the ship back and forth as it struggled toward the shore, so he staggered between the benches until he made it to the mast. Steadying himself a moment, he swung the heavy axe at the taunt rigging, splitting the hemp rope in a single stroke. The loose end whipped around and nearly knocked Aelle off his feet but he grabbed the gunwale just in time to avoid plunging headlong into the churning sea. Swaying again, he crossed the belly of the ship and slashed the opposite rigging rope, letting the sail flap free. Now it was the oars against the current and Aelle hoped that the rowers were equal to the task.

With the danger of the sail and mast splitting averted, Aelle took his place against the steering oar and unlooped the rope to take control of the oar again himself. The cove was close at hand but the shore was littered with rocks and the squalls would turn what usually were peaceful channels into dangerous shallows to stave in the boards of his hull. Praying to the Maker and the spirits of the sea, Aelle adjusted the course to avoid a dangerous rock that peeked from the surf ahead. “Pull, you bastards. Pull! We’re nearly there!” Each stroke of the oars brought them closer to safety but with the squalls picking up and the wind howling over the sea, every second they were out of the cove could spell disaster. Aelle just prayed his luck would hold and the sea would not take him just yet.

Author: Saria, Posted: Sun Nov 1, 2015 10:25 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

The group Aelle had assembled was something that amounted to a ragtag team of lowlives, but Saria didn’t know any better. There was one that was even a woman, which completely threw her off, as she had thought Aelle might immediately dismiss her due to her sex. But, not against Saria’s wishes but against her assumption, even she was accepted. There was one person whose acceptance irked Saria, someone who had not even waited in line, he had simply gestured back and forth with Aelle and assumed a position based off of that. She was curious and suspicious of this man, for she had not had a chance to really look upon him and judge what kind of scourge or scum of the world he might be. 

When Aelle began talking to himself, Saria would only nod. Was he trying to convince himself that this group of people was really as honorable and tough as Cwynr’s crew might be?  Her own worry about that issue shifted its grounding as he again reminded her that she was going to be going through this. Her stomach was already leaping about inside her simply at the thought. If only she could figure out a magical cure for seasickness, she would have no problem with this. Hesitantly, she rose and followed Aelle out of the building, down through the streets toward the ship. Once the two came upon the ship, Saria had a question burning in her mind that she needed to ask.

 “Lord Aelle, am I going to be expected to do any sort of fighting in this battle? I know I am slightly learned in this magic but I am not sure I am of the caliber, physically or spiritually, that I might take the life of another… I will not refuse to aid you but I must know if you will want me to be… a real player in this. I have never been in a real battle before, the only exposure I have to fighting was the time when your people raided my village…” Saria was not only curious about this, but actually quite worried as well. She would not be comfortable fighting others. She would not feel right taking a life. She would help, maybe set a fire or two to send people running, but she would not be able to kill, that was certain. There was another thought, lodged deep within the back of her mind, that needed to know information about this particular instance. If the men were to all surge forward, leaving Saria behind in the dust and out of sight, it might provide her with enough time to attempt her escape. Only if the trees were close enough to provide cover, but if they were… It was something she was seriously considering. Aelle would be occupied, she would have moments of freedom away from his lands and control, and she might finally be able to make a break for freedom. Aelle was not so cruel a master as she had originally feared, but she still loathed being a thrall to anyone and craved her freedom. Could she get to any of the nearby villages she would no doubt be able to find refuge and safety with those people. It was only a maybe sort-of plan. but it still crossed her mind enough to make it worth remembering. 

Author: Aelle, Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2015 12:32 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

"So what do you think of the crew," Aelle asked as he leaned closer to Saria.  "I know they don't seem like much but some have been in a proper fight before and that's something I'll need.  The villages will be a bit wary after what we've been doing up and down the coast, so we may be in for more of a fight when the time comes to it."  Aelle sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else, and he sank into a seat alongside the young mage.  It was an exhausting thing, talking to all those people, trying to discern which he could trust and which were simply looking to take his silver and leave him.  Cwynr's men were all seasoned warriors, men who trusted each other as brothers and could be trusted by their leader in turn.  Such sorts of men were hard to come by and Aelle hoped that some of the men he had recruited that day would be men that he would keep after the voyage and turn them into the core of his own permanent crew.

"It is a bit of a worry that I've just taken whatever scraps were left in a Dunholm tavern and turned them into my crew, but there is nothing else I can really do," he said, half to Saria and half just to himself.  "It's the raid that worries me," he continued.  "After the ruckus we caused in the south already, the folks that are left will be on alert, so it won't be as easy, you know?  And these are the men I have to use in a shield wall, and if the fighting's a proper one, I am not sure all of them will be the sort to stand their ground."  He took a long drink, silently considering the men.  Some looked the part and many were able to talk the part, but it would not matter if they could not stand when shield met shield and the ground was trampled with boots and wet with blood.  It was a risk, but it was one Aelle knew he had to take.  He would never gain renown if he served another all his life so he would have to make the best of the crew he had.  "It's just strange," he muttered, this time to himself alone.

Shaking off the worry for a moment, he turned back to Saria.  "I know you hate ships but I will need you by me through this.  Even if you are not part of the fight, your presence will put fear into the village and the crew, keep one terrified and the other in line.  I can't trust all of them, but the fear of being burned to a cinder will do nicely.  Now, while they drink with my silver, we will check on the ship.  Aethelstan should have most of it provisioned by now, but I need to make sure that bastard knows I am in a hurry.  Come with me," he said as he pushed himself out of his chair and headed to the door.

"When you bastards finish your pints, come down to the quay and ask for me.  Aelle, and the ship is Maker's Fury.  If you are late, I will sail without you then kick your sorry arse when I come back for drinking my ale and deserting me.  Now, enjoy!"  With that, he strode out of the tavern, Saria at his side, and went to the docks, to his ship.  It was, he hoped, the beginning of an exciting story, one that would be sung by bards for generations. 

Author: Lajaka, Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2015 3:38 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

"Even an ugly son-of-a-bitch needs a fuck every now and then," Lajaka replied, grinning at Aelle. "But he didn't seem inclined to let me have a drink first, and I'd hit any man who got between me and the bar." That wasn't the whole of it, of course. Mostly, she'd hit him because he wanted to have her, and might have forced her had she not hit him. But that was likely obvious to anyone watching, and a jest was more like to win her friends.

Aelle's next words were to the young woman beside him, and Lajaka wonder if she'd made a mistake in telling him she knew when a man was lying. The witch could spit fire, but knowing she could a lie made him stiff? Wasn't even magic, not really. His comment to the mage about women on a ship made her think he was hesitating, however. "That's superstitious bullshit and you know it. Besides, unlike some of these boys, I've been in a fight before, I've been bloodied, and more importantly, I've bloodied other men. You want me in this fight."

Once her place on the crew was assured, Lajaka went to the end of the bar where tankards were being set out. Again, a man got between her and a drink, but when he smiled, she recognized him as the man who had toasted her after she'd hit her half-nosed assailant. He handed her a drink and complimented her work. She smiled back, but wondered if he had an agenda of some kind. Then came the challenge, and her smile turned to a smirk

"Well, Leofric of Dunholm," she began, taking the seat across from him, "I am Lajaka of no place in particular, and I'll take your wager. In fact," she added, pulling out a coin of her own, "This crescent says you won't finish that pint. And the pleasure's all mine." Kicking off her boots and rolling up her sleeves, Lajaka extended her own right arm to Leofric. She was vaguely aware that people were watching, but her eyes were locked on the man across from her, trying to get the measure of him.

Leofric was a large man, and Lajaka's hand seemed small when locked with his. He was strong, too, judging by the size of his arm. Lajaka was deceptively strong herself, but she rarely won contests like this on physical prowess alone.

"On three," she said. "One. Two. Three." As they began, Lajaka reached out with her foot until she touched Leofric's leg. She was barely able to hold off defeat as she inched her way up his calf, then regained ground as she moved along his thigh. All the while, she kept her gaze locked on his face, watching his expression, and acting accordingly. Finally, her foot found the prize, and Lajaka used his momentary surprise to pin his hand to the table. Without letting go, she whooped, then grabbed her tankard with her left hand and gulped it down.

"Another!" Lajaka called. "For both of us!" Leaning forward, she spoke in a quieter tone so only Leofric could hear, "Perhaps the pleasure wasn't all mine," and she winked.

Author: Aelle, Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2015 12:23 AM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Aelle nodded as the men processed toward him, listening as each gave their tale, explaining why they were warriors of renown enough to join his crew on the raid south.  Some of them he knew from the town, fishermen's sons who wanted to earn their first silver with a blade rather than a net, petty criminals who preferred a chance to change their fortune in war rather than face a hangman's noose if the thane was so inclined, and some, like his occasional companion Leofric, were bored fighters looking to grow their reputation through deeds of valor and great plunder.  It was not the best crew that a man could hope for, like the well trained, disciplined men who had stood in a shield wall together and lived to tell the tale in Cwynr’s crew.  But it was a start, Aelle told himself and he watched the men staring at Saria with fear as they told their tales.  Her fire trick had done its work and the men believed in her power.

He remembered the first day she had deciphered the book and learned to breathe fire. Saria had come running into the hall, smoke billowing from her mouth and nose. Aelle had been practicing with his axe in the clearing behind his hall when he heard her excited shouts and rushed to investigate. By the time he entered the hall, she was shooting flames from her mouth into the hearth and Cadarn was growling from the furthest corner of the hall. He was impressed but he reminded her that her magic had to be kept well hidden until the proper time, but it was not enough to dampen her enthusiasm for the mysterious book of spells. Rather, it only seemed to deepen it and she learned more and more as she studied whenever her mimimal duties around the household allowed.

He rejected some of the men outright, with their clipped ears and noses that showed them to be thieves and oath breakers. He needed men that knew how to kill but men that he could trust to have his back in a fight. A man who could not be trusted not to steal from his neighbors was not one that Aelle would trust in his crew without a good reason. The man ahead of Lajaka was just such a man, a man whose sentence was carried on his face and the ship master barely listened to his stories before waving him away. The woman after him made Aelle chuckle. "Audacious. I see he had it coming? And not just for being an ugly bastard, I hope." Her comment about being able to showcase the power that he had attributed to Saria made him stiffen a fraction, then incline his head toward the green-clad mage. "So, what do you think of this one, Saria? She looks to know her business but a woman on a ship can bring terribly bad luck…"

Author: Leofric, Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2015 10:19 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Leofric looked up from his mead and sighed. Another drunk was groping another woman and the world, it seemed, continued to turn. He scratched his beard and shook his head as he watched the woman try and disengage from the drunk's attentions and begun to chuckle. If he judged the wild looking woman right, which he thought he had, there was going to be a very sorry man and a very angry woman in a matter of seconds. When the drunk pressed his head into her chest, Leofric smirked as the woman handled him neatly, leaving the ugly man bruised and his pride shaken. Leofric raised his horn in a silent toast to the fiery woman and then returned to his solitary drink. As a native of the port city, Leofric knew that she was a newcomer and was half tempted to make her acquaintance but he decided against it for the moment as Aelle made his entrance.

Unlike the woman, Leofric knew Aelle from the thane’s hall. The blustering, good natured warrior was often a guest there and Leofric, with his father a member of the thane’s household guard, had come to know Aelle well, as well as his woman. It seemed that the raiding of the last year had been good to the tall fighter, as he now was the captain of his own ship. Leofric sipped his mead, considering that change of fortune. Aelle was a man on the rise and if he played his hand right, Leofric thought, Aelle could elevate his status as well. After the War, Leofric was a well established man, owning his own mail, sword, and mount. During the fighting, he had taken a lord of Adeluna captive and ransomed him back to his family for the weight of his sword and shield in silver. The wealth was enough to elevate him but after the war, his rise was not as meteoritic and it began to wear on him. He hoped to be a lord, not in the manner of Aelle with his ship, but like the Lords of the south, controlling a vast tract of land as his own domain, without worry for the complaints of lesser men. Aelle, if his raid brought wealth, could elevate Leofric again, and the man drank down his mead as he relished the thought.

He joined the queue forming by Aelle and, when he caught his drinking companion's eye, nodded gravely. The ship's master returned the nod with a knowing wink and Leofric knew his position with Aelle was secure. Less so, though, was the feisty redhead's place and he watched with interest as the woman explained her qualifications with the marks on her erstwhile suitor's face. Aelle seemed amused and welcomed her to the crew. Taking his opportunity, Leofric stalked over to her. A woman with her sort of mettle could be a valuable ally and he wanted to ensure that his would be her first friendship among her new crew.

"Fine work back there," he said as he approached her with an easy smile. "Not that I can fault the ugly bastard for his taste, of course," he continued, chuckling as he passed her an ale from a cluster of full tankards at the end of the bar. "Though I do wonder if you can properly best a man that hasn't lost half his wits and a his nose. Perhaps a wager. A silver crescent…" He pulled one out of his pouch and slammed it onto the low table next to them, and took a seat across from her. "That crescent says I will finish my pint and pin your arm to that table without breaking a sweat. And, before you get bested, you should know your vanquisher's name. Leofric of Dunholm, and it will be a pleasure to destroy you." So, mug in his left hand and his right arm propped on the tabletop, he waited to see if the woman had the stones to accept his wager.

Author: Lajaka, Posted: Wed Oct 28, 2015 2:23 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Finding Dun Caric had been a bust. The fort had never been built, Lajaka saw. The terrain was different there, too, but of course only Galin had been deluded enough to build on a barren land and somehow get shit to grow there. She didn't know how he'd managed to pull the latter feat off.

The Highlanders here were a divided people, loyal to their own villages but not much beyond that, unless threatened by an outsider. While Lajaka sounded like one of the North, her accent was a bit off, as was her look. Her mother was from the south, and that's where they'd lived for the first few years of her life. Her father was an arse she'd never met, and if there was any good in the world, she never would. What Lajaka did have going for her was her knowledge of the geography, and she'd been able to guess where people might have settled, even if she didn't know the name of the village; good ground was still good ground. More importantly, she could fight with the best of them, and that would be her way in.

Finding Dunholm had been something of an accident. Lajaka had wanted to go south, hoping that she might find her ma there. That meant going east, and getting on board a ship. How, she wasn't sure; most of her coin had been spent getting armour, a shield, and a long knife. Her preference was for heavier armour and a two-handed weapon, but she couldn't afford either. Gear acquired, Lajaka went to a tavern for a pint.

Though it was early, the place was filling up. Sailors by the look of them, which suited her just fine, since she was looking to get on a boat. Lajaka was approaching the bar she she felt someone's hand on the curve of her ass. She might have shrugged it off, but then he grabbed her hips and pulled her into his lap. The man was older than she was, with half a nose, and a patchy beard that did little to hide his scars.

"Aren't you a fierce-looking lass," he said.

"Aren't you an ugly son-of-a-bitch," Lajaka retorted, trying to stand back up.

He held her firm. "Been a long time since I've had someone pretty like you. I got a place nearby, come back with me."

She considered it for half a heartbeat, then shook her head. "I think your cock is doin' the lookin' instead of your eyes." Again, she tried to get up, and again again, he held on.

"I wasn't asking," he said, and buried his face in her breasts. In response, Lajaka elbowed him in the ribs. When he lifted his head in surprise, she added an uppercut, and pulled free. She went to the bar, and fortunately, he didn't try to follow, his attention now turned to the door, as a man walked in, holding a pretty young woman in a green dress about the waist.

The man walked to the bar and dropped a sack of silver on the boards. He introduced himself as Aelle, and said he was the master of a ship. Lajaka's ears perked when he mentioned that he was looking for a crew, and he was planning to pay. She didn't know where they were going, but a ship and the promise of pay was far better than anything else she had. What was interesting was his comment about a mage who would be able to tell whether or not a person was lying, indicating the woman with him. That especially caught Lajaka's interest.

Men lined up to join Aelle's crew, telling of their exploits. The man who had groped Lajaka was there, and she fell in behind him. A bruise was forming on his jaw, visible though the patches of his beard. When it came her turn, she pointed at him and said, "I'm called Lajaka, and I gave him the bruise he's wearin'." She leaned in closer to Aelle to prevent the men from hearing her next words. "Can that witch really tell you if a man's lyin'? I ain't sure that she can… but I can."

Author: Saria, Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2015 11:26 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

It hadn’t taken long for the new raid to be put together after Saria had shown the Northmen the way to the next village. Aelle had even had his own ship built, to be a part of the thane’s fleet, though he would continuously rave about how his vessel was supposedly of higher quality construction. She didn’t know enough about ships to have any idea of that sort of thing, so she would simply agree and restate something he had already said in a way that made it seem like she was complimenting him. In reality, she had no idea what she was talking about when it came to the boat. She saw a boat, next to more boats, things floating in the water that hauled things around like gigantic bloated horses with large cavernous stomachs where their riders would stay.

While she had eventually fixed her original dress, she had tucked it away somewhere. Perhaps she would wear it on the day she found true freedom. The thought still echoed through her mind occasionally, though she had grown almost content with what she had going on in her life now. It would be nice, she thought, to have her own bed though. Aelle could be a bit grabby after enough drink, and it was often hard to fight off his advances without stepping out of line. She had come up with a few tricks, found a few hiding spots, but for the most part it was harmless as he’d end up falling into a drunken slumber before ever getting to her. That was sheer luck, she knew, and she’d prepared herself for the day that there was no escape. It was only a matter of time. While he had grown on her, especially in these past few days with the construction of the vessel nearing completing and his mood being entirely wonderful because of it, she was still resentful deep down. She still had a bit of her that would not forgive what had been done to her home, but she would hold onto that hatred as long as necessary until she were safe to do something about it. For now, Saria simply pushed it to the back of her mind whenever it surfaced.

Aelle was leading her around to board the new vessel, raving about something boat related that she still did not care about. The sooner she was off the boat and onto solid ground again, the better. The sea was not predictable, and she didn’t trust it one bit. She spied the front of the boat, a beautiful intricate dragon carved upon it as if to greet any opposition with the idea that the vessel housed the ferocity of such a beast. Saria smiled to herself, for she had a secret about such things that she would not divulge. While there was no true dragon aboard the vessel, there was her book and that was close enough, now that she was aboard and being dragged about by Aelle. He went off to do more exclaiming and continue his excitement, and she sat nearby as the boat heaved off toward the port. Standing was not her favorite activity during the time the ship was in motion. She was not built to be at sea, she was built to be a librarian or something similar that stayed inside and never went out to sea. Ever.

As the boat found the port sand, Aelle was going on about naming the boat and worked himself up again, catching Saria in a spiraling hug that nearly suffocated her. Sometimes, she thought as she regained her breath, he really did not remember he was as strong as he was. Her ribs expanded back into their appropriate positions after a few exasperated breaths, though she had half expected them to at least be cracked. Aelle was faster than her in general, and given that his current mood rivaled the energy of an excited child, she had given up on trying to run after him, simply taking her time and continuing properly and ladylike. He wasn’t exactly going to leave her behind, after all, she was ‘the mage’ behind the whole operation. She wasn’t terribly thrilled with that idea, either, though she was still grateful to not be a hand in the fields. Sometimes she fretted over how involved with this raid she would have to be, would she have to kill anyone? She knew she could not ever take someone’s life, not unless they had severely harmed her or someone she… Saria stopped herself and moved to a new topic of thought. The new topic she found was how frustrating it was that whenever Aelle was dragging her off somewhere, he was quite literally dragging her off somewhere, quite often grabbing her about the waist and carting her off. As was the case at this moment, as he opened the door to this new tavern where he was expecting to find recruits for the ship and raid. He set both her and his coin down and gathered the attention of the tavern, though she disliked his addition at the end about her.

The mage is judging their words, oh of course, because I am a truth-seer? Aelle, you overstep my abilities and it is not entirely believable. But sobeit, if I am judging these men based on their words I suppose I will have to pay attention now. For dramatic effect, Saria rested her head on her hand and looked bored, delicately blowing a small cloud of flames from between her pursed lips, and gazing almost menacingly at the men of the tavern as smoke trailed from her smirking mouth as she bit her lip playfully. It was not a wild bit of flame, it disappeared once she closed her mouth, but it served her purpose, causing some of the men to think twice about coming near her. No, there is no dragon aboard the ship, but then again… There’s me.

During the preparations for the raid, Saria had spent any time she could working at the book. The page she’d opened her first day in the hall, she could read it now. She could read nearly half of the pages. She knew almost how the book worked, and knew enough to how it wanted her to read it. That was the secret, about the dragons and all. Her book was of the dragons, she was sure. It was their magic held in its pages, and it would only reveal its secret language and powers to whomsoever it deemed worthy of it. So it was not fire she breathed, it was dragon’s fire. But how she had learned that, she would not tell anyone, nor would she tell anyone she was playing with a much more deadly kind of fire. It had affected her mind, slightly. It made her almost cruel, though she was still the compassionate Saria she always was, but it had made her more reserved and much more appreciative of any solitude that she could find, but she assumed that as dragons were rumored to be of such a manner it must be a side effect of having access to their kind of magic. But those were her secrets, things she kept locked inside, that she would not ever let out.

Author: Aelle, Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2015 10:23 PM, Post Subject: Sea Wolves (P,R)

Seagulls wheeled over the harbor in Dunholm, screaming in the early morning light. Young boys and girls stood by the drying racks where the fishermen’s catch hung, swatting at the birds whenever they swooped low to peck at the fish. Aelle smiled and watched them a moment, remembering when he was young and scared them himself, waiting for his father to return with the day’s catch. His father had been a man of the sea and passed the love of the water on to his son. And today, Aelle’s love of the sea would be complete, as his ship was about to be launched. He had spent every last copper he could spare and hired the best builders in the North and after a year of waiting, he had received news that the ballast had been set and it was ready to take to sea. Saria was with him, dressed in her fine green dress and the delicate silver necklace he had given her when she arrived in Dunholm, and looked like a queen. Aelle enjoyed having her with him, a beautiful ornament that complemented his status, a status that would be cemented as a sea lord when his ship was in the water. He was beyond thrilled and as he walked down to the last quay on the river side of the port, nearly vibrating in his own skin with excitement as he smelled the tar and hemp of the caulking simmering over a fire on the shingle where his ship waited on log rollers.

“Look at her,” he said, pointing at the ship, long and low with high, curling prows. “She’s a beauty.” The ship’s master builder, a lanky Northman from a village to the east of Dunholm. He had built the thane’s own vessel, a beautiful ship that rode easily over the waves, and the builder assured him that the one that he built for Aelle was even better. She was made of tight grained oak, cut in the hills beyond the port and dragged back on carts to the water’s edge. “Thirty oars a side, but she can go up a bloody creek with a draft like that. She is a bloody masterpiece,” he said, his excitement causing him to stumble over his words like a child. “Come, come aboard and see her!” He nearly dragged Saria along, though this time when he helped her aboard a ship, he steadied her climb rather than throwing her over the side like a sack of grain. He ran his hand over the finished beams of the prow with a snarling dragon carved in the oak, admiring the craftsmanship. “Thirty oars” he continued, “and she cuts through the water like a bloody knife. Most ships, see, they butt against a wave but this beauty, she rides over them. And with a full crew, I am a lord in my own right.” He leapt up onto the prow, leaning out over the bank of the river and laughing like a child. “Now, let’s take this beauty to the main port and get her loaded,” he called to the master builder. With a heave, the slaves on the shingle heaved on their levers and the ship glided out into the river. Aelle took the steering oar, letting the current take him the mile or so back to the main part of the port. The ship shivered as he pulled on the oar, swinging the bow easily toward the banks where Aethelstan had begun to gather supplies.

The keel scraped against the soft sand and slowly stopped and Aelle grinned infectiously at Saria. “We will need to name her, of course, before she goes to sea, but right now…” He trailed off and hugged Saria, spinning her around in his arms. “Now, let’s see what we will call her while we get these supplies aboard and recruit some buggers for the crew. Come down with me to the taverns for a few moments, get some attention, and we’ll have her crewed before the ebb tide.” He helped her down from the bow into the sand, nodding for Aethelstan to get the barrels of ale, dried meats, and bread aboard. “We will be back in an hour or less, Aethelstan. Do whatever you need to get her loaded.” Aelle jogged up the beach to the stone pier, turning around to admire his ship again. “Maker’s Fury,” he muttered to himself, trying to think of a good name, “Sea Wolf, Wave Tamer…” He kept tossing around names as Saria joined him and he directed them to one of the taverns that lined the docks. Wherever there were sailors with coin, there were always ale houses and whorehouses to help part the sailor from the coin, and Aelle picked the most reputable of them, the Bush Inn. As he stepped into the tavern, holding Saria about the waist, he strode to the bar and dropped a heavy sack of silver on the roughhewn pine boards. “For those that do not know me, I am Aelle, master of a new ship in the thane’s fleet. I need a crew for her and I need men who know how to row and how to fight. And,” he said, patting the sack, “I will pay.” He looked out over the men gathered there, drinking from their horns, and watched as their attention was slowly drawn to him. “Come to me here, tell me of your exploits, and my mage here will judge the truth of your words. Do not lie or she will know. Waste my time and risk her anger. Now,” he raised a flagon the barman had left for him, “to one last raid before the winter’s cold!”