Private Tales What do you do with a drunken Nordenfiir?

The HIS Stormlance. Southeast of the Allir Reach; Asherah Ocean.



Dark, thundering storm clouds roiled overhead. Casting about in wild motions like the full, grey beard of an angry storm god. Glaring down at the comparatively puny, intrepid vessel stubbornly cutting through his wrath. A voice of thunder, booming and imperious, matched by a wrathful hand of lightning striking the sea. All of this wrath, all of this ardor from Arethil, meant nothing to one Petrus Iskandar seated in the luxurious bowels of the Stormlance. An appropriate name for such a sizable galleon meant to cut through even the worst of storms. His own enchantments bent the winds to support the sails, while calming them around the ship such that while further out to sea they could nearly tear the clothes off a man, while on and within a few feet of the Stormlance, the winds were perhaps only enough to pull an unsecured hat from your head.

Peering out the window for a brief moment Petrus would take a slow, measured sip of wine before casting his eyes heavily down to the charts upon his cabin desk. Efforts by many of his house had tracked, triangulated and scryed the wreck of a vessel known as The Shadow. A vessel that had once grabbed it's fortune's worth of wealth from the sacking of Alliria some years hence. What many did not know, or did not wish to know, is that The Shadow had also made it's escape with a supposed bevy of necromantic artifacts and, even, practitioners of the art.

With some funds reallocated and the Stormlance secured it had been as simple thing to post a bounty, a job offer, and secure the aid of a Nordenfiir woman and her crew. While their comparatively.... savage.... ways did nothing to impress the Allirian nobleman she had seemed..... adequate to the cause. Only time would tell if she was truly anything approaching impressive or, perhaps, worthy enough to avoid a renegotiation of her price once the journey was complete......

In any case Petrus had seen the woman, one Nerren Harclaw, summoned to his cabin to further discuss with her the dangers they may encounter when coming upon The Shadow. Initial Scrying efforts had revealed it dashed upon a small, rocky isle, arching and grasping into the sky like the finger bones of some gargantuan skeleton reaching for the sky. Only when this Nerren's presence was announced at his door by the guard did Petrus lift his eyes and reply in a firm, casual tone.

"Enter."


Nerren Harclaw ​

As the Nordenfiir woman came to stand before him Petrus would finish writing a letter, his movements unhurried, and he left Nerren waiting for several seconds as he calmly and smoothly rolled the vellum, bound it in ribbon, then stamped it shut with his personal seal before placing it aside. Beginning to speak before his eyes even came to rest on the short woman. Well shorter than him anyways.

"You seem to be mistaken, Nerren Harclaw, I am simply the owner of this vessel, not it's Captain. Responsible for some of the enchantments currently allowing the Stormlance to live up to it's title but not the one who guides it presently."

It was then that those heavy, amber eyes would come to rest on Nerren's severe, if feminine, features and Petrus would motion to the chair across from himself with a ringed hand.

"You may sit, if you like, I called you here to discuss what my mages have scried of The Shadow's wreckage and how your people may best aid me in recovering what is of value."

Petrus would, whether Nerren sat or not, retrieve a bottle of heavy drink from beneath his desk and set it atop the wood with a generous 'THUNK' before giving Nerren a questioning look to silently ask if she wished to drink.


Nerren Harclaw ​

Bringing up two glasses Petrus would uncork the bottle of what smelled like a very fine whiskey. Likely with some infusion of honey and small, brown motes of cinnamon to add a bit more of a dull sweetness to it's 'kick'. Pouring a glass for Nerren first he would pause at her verbose statement and he would give a small, dry chuckle before pouring his own glass. He then recorked the bottle and, lifting his glass in a brief, silent toast he would take a drink and hiss out a small breathe between clenched teeth. Agreeing with her as he eyed the dark, sweet liquid and nodded.

"Captain it is then."

Staying silent at the woman's guess he paused as he considered his heavily distorted reflection in the whiskey before his amber eyes, a similar but darker hue than the whiskey itself, would raise to meet Nerren's own as he gave a tight smile.

"Correct."

A slow, measured exhale would be given that caused his nostrils to flare briefly.

"Given recent prospects even that comparatively obvious guess is refreshingly...... competent."

He grimaced an odd, dissatisfied expression.

"Perhaps my standards are withering away......"

Taking another drink he would drain the rest of his glass before setting it upon the desk.

"But yes, I've enough gold and silver to last me several lifetimes. To never have to worry about comfort or material means again. To support countless men and women in my employ for their lives as well..... But no. What I seek from the wreckage of The Shadow is a lingering artifact from the despoiling of Alliria or.... rather... the attempt at such by creatures as such as Vardan and Geladryx with their.... craft."

Petrus waited to see if Nerren had any knowledge of the Lich and the Necromancer dragon before deciding to share in case she did not.

"There have been lingering effects of their potent necromancy in the area. Given my connection to nature I have felt it quite intimately and will not abide it's influence on my home. As such any artifact that drank of their power that I can recover to study will aid me in this effort."


Nerren Harclaw ​

Under different circumstances Petrus would have found the blunt oafish focus on money from the woman to be disrespectful and induce his ire. But given the grade of mercenary he had recently had sully his home even this single-minded dullardry was a breathe of fresh air by comparison. Petrus would take another drink and, letting out a small exhale, respond to Nerren's question.

"Completion of the contract will be one-and-a-half times your usual rate. You will have any and all salvaging rights to anything outside the captain's quarters and not any of the necromantic artifacts. Any weapons, supplies, rigging, drink or otherwise is yours elsewise."

Petrus would pour himself and Nerren another drink if she desired and idly cradle the whiskey in-hand before adding.

"Additionally, passage and costs for funeral preparations for any of your men lost will be subsidized. We will cover half...."

He trailed off, met the woman's eyes, and his own amber orbs sharpened from the lines at the corners of his eyes as he continued.

"... and lastly... there is one item... some sort of crown or headpiece.... if that is recovered I will personally see you rewarded with services at the dockyards of Alliria for the Iron Bitch. From there you can undoubtedly find even more employment and improvements for your vessel. Time at the main dockyard is, after all, highly contested."

Nerren Harclaw​

Petrus would idly swirl the glass in his hand holding the whiskey. Not because it truly did anything but more out of force of habit than anything else. Of course she would smile at the offer of drink for a reward. After all, they are just a bunch of dumb, drunken Nordens. Though Petrus's face, at least, didn't show this opinion of the mercenary he nonetheless didn't find her brief smile to be what he expected. He was not surprised to hear Nerren commit to a counter-offer, it was the way of things to haggle and negotiate, and Petrus was not only happy to play the game but had done so innumerable times before.

Upon hearing Nerren's desires he hummed, glancing idly at a map on his desk, took a drink, before returning his heavy gaze to her. A brief silence hanging in the air before he would reply.

"Double the rate. But I'll not get into a second round of negotiations over salvage. The time at Alliria's main dockyard is worth more than all the potential salvage in opportunity costs alone....."

Another brief pause.

"...but... should this expedition prove successful and you desire more then I would be willing to make an agreement for further employment."

Another sip, amber eyes glinting in the lamplight over the rim of his cup. He did, in truth, respect the savage woman's ambition and drive to get all she could out of him. He, of course, would be doing the exact same out of her.

Nerren Harclaw​

Petrus would give a chuckle more dry than the whiskey the supped upon as Nerren gave her retort. She had, at least, picked up on the fact that it was foolish to discuss payment now that they were already en-route to the wreckage of The Shadow. T'was best for such things to be agreed upon well before the trip itself or, such as in this circumstance where payment could vary wildly, to discuss payment only after the job was done. To what measure of satisfaction, however, remained to be seen.....

Corking what remained of the bottle Petrus would set it beneath his desk once again and then place his glass aside as Nerren held up a finger at the mention of pirates, stating that there was a difference between herself and their kind. Something approaching mirth would dance in Petrus's amber eyes as he gave a tight smile. Only responding with a single word that rumbled with amusement.

"Indeed."

Extending a hand to take Nerren's glass once she was finished with it he would set it aside with his own and slowly stand from his desk. The deep chair and hunched posture checking maps had hidden it well but even though Nerren was tall for a woman Petrus still looked down into her steel-grey eyes as he motioned for the door and circled his desk.

"We will save negotiations for when the task is done and see what pay it is you and your lot have earned."

Petrus did not hold up a finger but would add in a tone somewhat similar to Nerren's own correction just moment's prior.

"Pay that I am more than fair with, of course."

Stepping to the door Petrus would turn to open it for Nerren to go through first. Whatever the reaver may have thought of etiquette did not factor in to Petrus doing this and he would speak to accentuate the action.

"We should be nearing our destination if my magi were correct. Let us take to the deck so we may see the state of the vessel in question."

Moving after Nerren and closing the door Petrus would make his way up to the deck with the shorter Norden woman. To his credit he did not stumble and bumble as many nobility did when out to sea. For his own reasons he seemed to have quite the developed sea legs. Allowing him to move with the same, purposeful, steady gait he always seem to.

Nerren Harclaw​