Víkingar

[Thomas Barkshield]

Svein sat at the stern of his ship, a mighty thing named mus. His tribe were bustling around on other ships as well as his. "Hard to port" he called. Any other day he would have been awed by the grace and majesty of his ships, but today they were but running for their lives. With nought but a few scones to sustain them they would have to reach land soon. They had to.

[Shadowed One]

Roald Amderson was on lookout. He peered into the gloomy mist surrounding the mighty fleet of Viking ships. They sailed away from their homes, away from that strange, mysterious evil that had sent them fleeing from it. The ship's were strong, the crews were brave, but none knew how far they would have to sail until they reached land. Their chieftain, Svein, had not told anyone how much food they had, but Roald knew it would not last very long.

[SFox63]

Steinvor, the large barrel chested badger, took it upon himself to try and keep moral up in the men, he, being a wise old creature, had the idea that their food stores would be gone. Wether it be recanting tales of his past, leading a group in song, or toasting merrily to family. Currently Steinvor is working on the metal workings of the ship he's currently on, making sure that blades are sharp, bolts stayed in place, and plates holding the ship together were secure.

[Shadowed One]

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared through the mist. Roald instinctively knew what it was. "Iceberg dead ahead!" he yelled.

OOC: How many ships are there?

[W0NWILL]

   Sampson shook his closed paws lightly, listening to the powder shake around in it. There wasn't enough oxygen between his paws for it to combust, but that was between his paws. He threw the mixture into the air, and almost immediately, it caught afire. Sparks scattered down on the deck impressively, and several caught him on the nose. He let out a yelp and swatted at his smouldering fur. His muzzle had caught afire so many times now that it was always blackened and often had a smokey smell about it. Well, that was life. Sampson could've formed a band of illusionists, traveling the world, performing tricks for vittles, but there hadn't been any use for it at home. Home. He scoffed at the word. What sort of home was the high northlands, where the sea was so cold it sometimes had chunks of ice What sort of home was a boat, rocking this way and that while the wind and weather held it at their mercy? A home was a warm place to lay your head, where you didn't have to worry about gale force winds ripping the door off it's hinges. That's what Sampson wanted, a home.
   Sampson swatted again at his smoking muzzle irritably and left the deck, headed to the kitchens. He was hungry, and seeing as he had ignored the orders, he could hide from Svein for a bit. He lifted a paw in a halfhearted greeting to Elda Logi.

[Tam and Martin]

Milo heard the lookout call tha there was an iceburg ahead so she ran as fast as she could to the captain's cabin, bounding over object as she dashed forward. Without knocking, she barged in to the cabin where Captain Svein was at and burst out                                     "Iceburg dead ahead sir!"
She then dashed back to the rigging and scaled it with her knife clenched in her teeth to where Roald was watching. She stood at the top with him and asked him                                           "Where's the icebur-"
Her voice trailed off as a huge white chunk of ice emerged out of the shadows.

[Shadowed One]

The ship crashed into the massive chunk of Ice, sending Roald flying. Luckily, he landed on another ship. Some others weren't so lucky.

[SFox63]

Steinvor was flung across the deck, hsi head bumping the main mast causing him to go "OOF!" He stands up rubbing his newly bumped noggin. He looks at what happened to the ship and cursed ,"This will take me weeks to fix.. if it can be fixed at all...."

[Shadowed One]

The ship had sunk. Thankfully, the entire crew had survived and were on other ships now, but much of the meager food supplies had been ruined by the water. Nevertheless, the ships sailed onward.

[SFox63]

Steinvor being the kind man he was, went around trying to cheer creatures up with sentiments such as: "Cheer up lad, we'll be there in no time." and: "I'd bet my day's rations that we'll be there within a week." He moves over to the port side of the main deck and leans over the wooden railing. He stares out on the vast sea, the rippling waves beating against the ship in a rhythmic pattern that would make many creatures seasick. He sighs, "I do hope were somewhere soon... fer the sake o' the crew...."

[Shadowed One]

Roald walks over and joins him.
"Aye, we should be. Saw a map of this area once. Mossflower Country isn't far from here. We should be there by tomorrow. If not, then we could be facing starvation. Anyway, I got duties to attend to. Catch you later," he said as he strode off.

[Thomas Barkshield]

OOC: There are about ten ships, but lets not use an exact number. BTW does anybody want to be ship captains? also you can control lots of troops in battle, for the sake of the story.

BIC: Erlend was walking around the ship he was on. Being its captain he automatically invited Svein aboard, insisting that Svein should take his bunk. He remembered the old days, when the vikings rule the lands of snow and ice. He mentally swore to get it back, whatever the cost.

[SFox63]

 OCC: Steinvor would be a good candidate, seeing as he's seen lots of battle and such, and he's older.

[KitrallStreamrippler]

Tyv groaned and sat up- the young mousemaid had been knocked unconscious when the ship collided with the iceberg. Wait, where was Nama? She fought down an uncharacteristic surge of panic as she stood weakly. Her breath formed icy plumes as she called out to her sister. "Nama?" A slightly older otter poked her head around the mast irritably. "What? Ye almost lost your axe, ye know. An' yore lute. Good thing I saved 'em." Tyv grinned and winked cheekily at the otter. "Good old Nama! I knew I could count on you to watch my things." Her adopted sister shook her head and sat back against the mast. "Ye should go an' get the lump on yore 'ead seen to, Tyv. I'll give ye yore things back after." Tyv headed towards the galley, muttering. "Aye, good old Nama indeed. Huh, grouchy, swoggle-pawed riverdog."

[Thomas Barkshield]

OOC: you can appoint yourself.