Private Tales What do you do with a drunken Nordenfiir?

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

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 ​