Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

The Jarl would turn to the man with an obvious spark of anger, this had most definately not gone his way so far.

"Your men had no regard for the villagers that I could have put to work in my colony, and yes, you did let the Mayriff escape, a sacrifice would have improved my odds in these lands. You come here and ask me to join your conquest, but remember I am your Ally, not your employee. Do not insult me, Herin. A fifty fifty split would be a fair choice as of this moment, would quell the rage of my men, and see their morale improved while fighting in your war. In future, you may split any loot however you wish, but this was a catastrophy." 

He whistled to his men and had them load treasure into chest boxes and then carry them out to the remaining ships, they had to work with haste.
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin laughed slightly, more of a pissed off chuckle than anything really. When the Jarl's men came to haul away the treasure, he held stood his ground, baring their way. They were not done negotiating just yet.

"Fifty-fifty? I understand that you're upset the Mayrrif escaped, and so I'm willing to be lenient, but that's not how this works."
Though Herin might be the shorter man, his presence certainty dominated the room. It was not anger that he expressed, but a quiet, reserved wrath, bubbling at the surface, but wrapped in a facade of calm and poise. 
"You destroyed the wall in the first place, if I hadn't graciously offered my help, you wouldn't be alive right now to claim this loot, let alone know of it's location. I was the one who defeated the fellhounds, and the only reason you survived the wolves was because of my help. If not for me, you would be dead right now."

Herin paused, looking the larger man in the eye. He didn't speak for a moment, simply watching the Jarl's face for any reaction.
"Besides, what would you do with the gold? You're strangers in a strange land, you have no contacts, no resources, no one to do trade with. Come with me down south, and I will ensure your needs are taken care of. I know people, we can maybe even get you a new boat."
He patted the large man on the shoulder, the tension seemingly gone.
"Sixty-forty, final offer, sound good?"
Vincent
"Very well. Sixty fourty it is. There will be more plunder in the future, either way."

Their conversation would sound be cut off by distant drumming. The sound and type of the drum was Ísmóðirian without a doubt, But the beat was far more primal, and rather than singing, the rowing cadence was just the sound of men rhythmically chanting..."Hou"..."Hou..."Hou"...

Stepping out to see the source of the sound, a fleet of Drakkars would be crashing over the horizon from the north, twenty five of them had blood red sails with imagery of a skeletal being running a man through with a spear, and on the front where a figurehead would be, was a wood carving of a raven carrying a skull, behind them was the rest of Dagstygg's fleet, which numbered Fourty putting the number of Drakkars at 70, each carried around 20 men, the blood red sails having a total of 600 amoungst them, and Dagstyggs fleet with the sails depicting a man holding spear and sword with the head of a bear had 900.

The prow of the frontmost ship had a woman with a wild eye and blood red hair standing upon it, her face with a red paint in the pattern of a skull would stretch into a grin as she caught sight of the flattened village

"Gods be fair to us... My sister has arrived and picked up my fleet along the way.."

Dagstyggs fleet wasn't entirely warriors, maybe around three quarters of them were, but the remaing number were farmers and tradesmen. Kolga's clan on the other hand... They had no need for farmers or smiths, all were warriors.

While the rest of the fleet waited seaside, Kolga would sail up river to retrieve the marooned group.
Ronald
**Roen Koern - Outskirts of the Marmot's Cradle**

Rendell crawled to her side, knife in hand, clutching it so hard that a drop of blood slipped trough his fingers. Far below them, there was a scene of devastation.
"We must strike and fade," He said. "Gut them all before those ships can reinforce them."

"No," Roen's voice was calm, but deep down she seethed with anger. "We're too far. We won't make it in time."

At her father's request, Roen had assembled a reconnaissance force to investigate how the situation between the craven ruler of Marmot's Cradle and a supposed war party of strange foreigners had develloped in his absence. Turns out it had been a massacre the likes of which the vulture had never even dreamt of. Her scouts had found the town a smoking husk and it's people slaughtered. Amidst the distant ruins, barbarians and pillagers soiled the ground with their filthy steps, celebrating their carnage with euphoric cheers.

"Send birds to The Lighthouse, the Sunken Pass, and to my father. The message is as follows: Presence of marauders as described by Captain Rian confirmed. Town massacred. Arrival of ennemy reinfocements in excess of eight hundred. Naval assets estimated between fifty and one hundred. Roen Koern retreating to the Sunken Pass and awaiting instructions."

"Aye captain," Replied Rendell. He crawled backwards and away from the ledge. Roen followed suit shortly after, but only after throwing one last murderous glance at the red sails with her ice blue eyes.

They would pay for this. The Matriarch would know of it, and their fate would be sealed.
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmot's Cradle

Herin looked down the river at the mass of ships. A whole fleet of barbarians, armed to the teeth. He was certainly glad he had allied with Dagstygg right now. 
"Men! Get the gold on our ships, we're leaving this hell-hole the second we can!" 
Eager to escape this place, the men quickly began to pile the gold into chests and wheelbarrows, or any other containers they could find in the ruins. With two other ships docked in the harbor, they would have more than enough space to store their haul. 

Turning to Dagstygg, he gestured towards the incoming fleet of warships.
"Well, it seems help has arrived. Just make sure your sister knows we're friends, eh?" Herin chuckled, but inside, he was wondering if this woman could be trusted. He knew her type, scag pirates who cared only for bloodlust, warriors who knew only combat, more like animals than men. They were usually the type to refuse confederation with the Hanged Raiders, as more allies meant less people to kill. 

"Once we free your ships from the river, me and you should discuss plans for the future." He spoke to Dagstygg, but his eyes were still on the approaching Vikingr fleet. "I have strategies and plans already in place for my war...*Our* War, in the isles. We need to make sure your people have a place in those plans, and a place in the isles when we're done."
Vincent
Kolga Jarlskona and Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

The woman would leap off her ship once it had pulled up next to the shore, she began strutting towards the men with open arms and a grin on her face. In the ship behind her, two massive wolves easily the size of the Direwolves that had attacked the night before would appear, watching their master as she walked off.

"Skegg af Hymir, hefur þú einhvern tíma verið upptekinn, bróðir!"

He crossed his arms as his sister approached, his men seemed to stare in awe at the sight of the Bloodmaiden Kolga, they had heard of her, but never truly seen her. Some seemed worried at the prospect of her coming along. Dagstygg however had his reasons, and he would begin to converse with his sister

"Mun uppteknari en ég vildi að ég væri. Ég hef kallað þig til mín í stríð, eins og þú veist að ég er að búa til nýtt heimili hér, og þessi maður hefur boðið verulegt landsvæði ef við drepum konung í suðri."

Kolga would turn to look at Herin, her brow raised before she began to laugh. Dagstygg would shake her out of it quite literally by grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her about, asking her a final question.

"Sú staðreynd að þú komst svona langt segir mér að þú sért áhugasamur. Ertu með?"

She Laughed once again for a moment before unsheathing an axe, tossing it into the air and catching it as it falls, a grin on her face.

"Förum að drepa kóng."

[Translated: Hymir's beard have you been busy, Brother!

Much busier than I wish I was. I have called you to me in war, as you know I'm building a new home here, and this man has offered substantial territory if we kill a king in the south. 

The fact that you came this far tells me you are interested, you in?

Lets go kill a king]
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmot's Cradle

Herin didn't understand a single word of what the two were saying, but the woman didn't seem to want him dead, so he assumed Dagstygg had explained their situation properly. He walked up to Kolga cautiously, keeping his posture respectful.
"Ah, greetings... Kolga, was it? I am Herin, Captain of the Hanged Raiders, I assume your brother told you about me? If you're willing to join us in our arrangement, then I wholeheartedly accept your help." He held out a hand, offering her a handshake. 
"Your brother has his ships trapped behind some debris, but with your assistance, I'm certain we can unbury them before noon."
The oil had all been used up, meaning they couldn't use the battering ram plan anymore, however with the increase in manpower, it would be easier, and less risky, to simply remove it by hand.

Herin's men were intimidated by the newly arrived mass of warriors, but after what they went through last night, nothing seemed to truly faze them. They went about their business, loaded the holds of the two ships that weren't occupied with a nightstalker with the loot stolen from the Vulture. They needed to be ready to sail as soon as Herin ordered it, and with the sudden decrease in the number of crewmen, that meant they had to start working on the ships as soon as possible.
Vincent
Kolga Jarlskona
Marmots Cradle

"My ships are fitted with rams. Large and full of steel. You want through those rocks, i'll flatten the way with a Drakkar. Unless you have a better idea."

She would grip his hand and shake it, her grip was strong like shaking the hand of an arm wrestler
Lillian
Herin farensun
Marmots Cradle

Hein let go of her hand, wiggling his fingers just to make sure nothing was broken. These people were strong, that was for certain, though apparently that was all they knew. 
"Lady Kolga, I would not advise that. Your ships might have steel rams, but I'd venture to say the rest is made of wood. Smashing into a pile of rocks with a ship made mostly of wood is a poor idea, in my experience. Your brother has already had to scuttle one ship, let us not spend more time here than we have to be losing another."

He gestured to his flagship, now docked in the harbor where his men were loading gold onboard.
"Besides, while the men clear the blockage, we'll have time to discuss plans for the southern isles. If we are to take the head of Bradai Maith, then you both must know how we will go about it."
Herin walked towards his ship, beckoning the two Vikingr leaders to follow him aboard. 
"Come, I have rum onboard." He spoke with a tone one usually reserved for close friends, though he had only known Dagstygg for a night and a morning, and Kolga for barely a minute. But he needed to keep up appearances, no sense on destroying an alliance before it had begun by acting rude.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl and Kolga Jarlskona
Marmots Cradle

The two Vikingr would follow Herin, allowing the men to prepare the explosive boat that would be used to blow a hole in the rock blockade. Kolga would whistle to her wolves to follow, she often kept them close by. Their names were Hausbrjótr, "Skull crusher" And Stríðsdreki, "War Dragon"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin made his way to his cabin. It was a large room, decorated with maps and charts, along with different bits and baubles, trophies of successful raids, and memories of past victories. At the center of the room was a large wooden desk, nailed to the floor, and a large chain behind it. Not quite a throne, but a symbol of his command nonetheless. Herin sat down, and gestured for the two vikingr to pull up seats of their own.
"Please, take a seat." He said, digging around in a cabinet of the desk, before finally pulling out a large scroll.

"This" He said triumphantly, unfurling the scroll, a map of the southern isles, and laying it down upon the table in front of the Vikingr. "Is the Southern Isles, the domain of Bradai Maith, and soon to be the new home for your people." He looked up from the map, turning his eyes to the two Vikingr leaders. "But before we divide up this land, we need to take it, and for that, we need strategy."

Sitting back down in his chair, Herin seemed totally at ease. He was in his domain now, and it showed. He leaned back in his seat, his fingers webbed together in contemplation of his next words. 
"I won't lie to you, we are severely outmatched in terms of raw manpower. Maith commands the largest fleet in Marin, an armada that we cannot hope to match, even with your numbers. We *Cannot* Win a head on confrontation, no matter what we have at hand. Unless you have the literal wrath of the gods behind you, a full-on war is suicide."

"The empire Maith has built is like a leviathan, a massive beast that cannot be challenged. I'd say he almost fancies himself a sort of new Tide-Barer, though except instead of a beast of flesh and bone, he commands one of wood and steel." Herin paused, normally he would not talk Maith up so much, but these people were the type to charge into Tonate proper and get themselves killed if he didn't hold them back, so he needed to make sure they understood the situation.

"However, the leviathan has a chink in it's armor. Maith has built an empire, true, but it's greatest strength is also it's weakness."
"It's size."
Herin was not your average scag pirate with delusions of grandeur. He had prepared for this, studied history and tactics, ensured that he would not repeat the same mistakes others before him had made. He pointed to the map of the Southern Isles, his finger tracing a path from tonate proper to several other islands, small chunks of land that surrounded the center mass. 
"Food, raw materials, imports and exports, all these things are essential to any empire. Maith has created a self-sustaining system, one he thinks invulnerable. We will show him just how wrong he is. The isles create most of their own food, and most of this goes to feeding Maith's fleets."
Herin singled out many small islands, each one labeled with names of different crops or products they made. 
"Maith has made a monster of the Isles, but what happens when he cannot feed the beast?"
Under his mask, Herin smiled, a cruel smirk of a madman.
"It devours itself."
"We are going to burn every farm, every poppy plantation, every last source of food or profit that Maith controls. I don't mean raid, I mean *Burn*, salt the earth, ensure that he cannot recover. We are going to cripple the beast, one fire at a time, until he can do nothing but *Weep* At the sight of his precious Isles in flames!" 
Herin didn't even notice it, but he had stood from his seat, leaning over the table with both fists on the map, ranting like a madman. His calm demeanor was gone, the rage beneath bubbling to the surface, and overflowing. He caught himself, almost surprised at his outburst. Sitting back down, he unruffled his coat, looking back at the two Vikingr warriors.
"So, will you help me burn down a king?"
Vincent
Kolga Jarlskona and Dagstygg Jarl

"We stand with you, Herin. But I must say one thing. These attacks will surely gain the attention of this beast, and I suggest we make alliances to help us. Whether that means taking smaller lords out of power and replacing them with puppet lords, or gaining their favor, it is an option we should take into account."

Kolga sat idly, seeming almost bored as she picked at her tooth with one of her knives. After her brother was finished speaking she would finally chime in

"Just tell me when I get to kill something."
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

"Yes, yes, alliances need to be forged, and taking territory is imperative. However, no lords will ally with us if we don't show strength first. If we strike a blow to Maith, I can assure you more Scag pirates and lords dissatisfied with Maith will join our ranks." Herin waved his hand, acknowledging the Jarl's words, but not fully convinced of their worth.
"We will draw the attention of the beast, true, however by simply destroying instead of capturing his land, we can move swiftly, without giving Maith a target to attack. We will be swift, deadly, and gone before they can rally."

A sound was heard from outside. The men had removed the last blockage from the river, and the Vikingr ships were ready to sail again.
"But first, let us return to the Southern Isles. You both should get a good look at your new home."
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl and Kolga Jarlskona
Marmots Cradle

The two make their way out with Herin, Dagstygg making his way onto his ship and Kolga onto hers. They briefly conversate about who will lead the rowing chant, and it eventually falls onto Dagstygg.

As they haul out, the massive fleet would align with Herin and open sail, their sailing song beginning. Dagstygg calls for the Vikingr to sing a song often sung by raiders of Ísmóðir, however he called for them to sing in a common tongue the pirates of Herin would understand, as if to boost their morale. Drums begin to thud as they cleave into the waves

"Ships on vigor of the waves are skimming
Barren summits to the verdant plains
Each horizon is a new beginning
Rise and reign

Far from the fjords and the ice cold currents
Ravens soar over new frontiers
Songs and sagas of a fate determined
Shields and spears

Vows of favour or the thrill of plunder
Pull together for the clan and kin
Clash of hammers and the crash of thunder pounds within...

Sails a' swaying on the crimson rivers
Blood and glory in the fighting fields
Shields a' shatter into splintered timbers
Iron and steel

Fires are rising and the bells are ringing
Glory take us into Hymir's halls...
Golden glimmer and the sound of singing
Guðheim's call..."
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Downriver from Marmots Cradle, near the Ocean

Herin looked out upon the sea before him. The breeze whipped through the holes in his mask and brushed against his face, the salty air filled his lung, he felt at home. 
"Chart a course for Libertalia! With a few stops along the way, might need to pick up some slaves to feed to our new pet!" What to do with that beast, he wondered. He'd like to have a pet, but it seemed a little too nasty for even him. Maybe he could drop it off at Tonate Proper, a little gift for Bradai Maith. He chuckled at the thought.

It struck him in this moment that he was closer than ever before to realizing his goal. He had an army of barbarians at his back, gold in his hold, and a monster at his beck and call. As the Vikingr Fleet turned to follow Herin's ships, he felt invincible. He would burn the Isles and tear down the Pirate King, he would decorate his throne with Maith's skull, and restore the glory of the Pirate Clans. Or maybe he'd just take the throne for his own, after all, he was a pirate. 

Herin Farensun looked out upon the future, and smiled.

[DEPARTURE FROM NORTHWIND]