Falkor stood at the helm of his ship, feeling the cold wind biting at his skin. The sun had set some hours ago, taking with it the few degrees of warmth it offered. He stood next to the helmsman, his arms crossed, and face stern as his eyes watched the dark waters before them.<br/><br/>"Captain, are you sure we should keep going? The moon has hidden her face tonight, it's inky black out here!" The man pleaded, hoping to get out of the cold and into the slightly warmer sleeping quarters below deck.<br/><br/>Falkor didn't turn to face him. Instead, the pirate captain grabbed the wheel with one hand, causing a small jolt to run through the ship as the direction changed slightly.<br/><br/>"When you were recruited you vowed to follow my orders til death. Having second thoughts are we?" Turning to face the man, Falkor grinned.<br/><br/>"N...no Captain. It...it's just that it's so cold out tonight that we might lose some men." The man had taken a step back before stammering out his answer.<br/><br/>Falkor said nothing but released the wheel and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned to face the direction they were sailing from, watching the last light from the ships that had been tailing them for days blink out as it was lost over the swell of the waves.<br/><br/>"Than we shall see who the strongest are, the ones fit to man the Norðanvindurinn." He stated calmly.<br/><br/>For days, the northern dwelling pirates had been under chase from a fleet of ships, rivals of Falkor's who had caught wind that he was down part of his crew. Some of his best had been lost in a bloody skirmish in the coastal villages, reinforcements of some high ranking nobles no doubt had been summoned at the first sight of their sails. He had been recruiting since, picking up a few battle hardened men, as well as those greener to the art of piracy. Once he had gathered the bare minimum of what he needed to sail, he had set sail for the south, to new lands until things had calmed down back home.