Of priests, sharks and beasts

 Still high after the successful recovery of the second tablet, our victory feels short-lived once we see where the compass is now pointing...home. Across the sea, towards Bjorling. I dart a look at Eldur, who's unusually quiet, his face set in grim determination.

We take stock. Three of our party are heavily wounded. We have water for a month, which is enough only in theory. We could wait for spring - braving the sea of claws in December is only for the foolhardy. On the other hand, braving it in spring when all the wreckers are just desperate to cave in the skulls of some southerlings is also foolhardy, so we'll be doing some foolish hardying no matter what. 

We settle on going back to Wulfhafen to regroup, buy up some stock and other goodies. After an uneventful two days, we sail into port. 

Wulfhafen

Cold and damp if not wet (those sealskin clothes are worth their weight in thrones!), we open the door to The Deranged Lantern, a surprisingly cozy little inn in a not so cozy little hamlet. We divide up tasks, with me and Johanna going to find the local Manann priest to bless our ship before we head out, Thalian and Torgil  going to buy some healing draughts from the local alchemist and Eldur will...stare longingly into the fire at the inn. 

Me and Johanna go to the priest's home after getting directions from the innkeep, but he's not home. We head towards the shore, assuming that's where a Manann priest spends his day. Some of the local fishermen, including a feisty fellow who managed to get a date of sorts with me in the evening, tell us the priet likes to hang around some caves around 1 km further north. We head up there, finding the cave and two entrances. The top one turns out not to be an entrance (unless you like falling) as much as it's a hole to look down into the cave. Which turned out to be immensely useful, as it turns out the "Manann" priest is secretly a Sigmar-damned STROMFELLS priest, having just ritually killed the poor Ranald worshipper we met some weeks back. I feel my blood turn to ice before threatening to boil over, but Johanna points at the three mutants in the cave with the cultist. Curses! Revenge will have to wait for a bit. We resolve for me to run and get the others while Johanna stays to keep an eye on them. 

(Stemninga er ikke helt feil, antall figurer er...ganske feil. Føkkings chatGPT!)

Stealth not being Johanna's strong suit, she's discovered by the shark-head mutant as they exit, but manages to run away and hide from them. Meanwhile, I get back to the tavern, go over to the others' table and whisper "MUTANTS AND CULTISTS!!!" loudly enough for them to understand the seriousness of the situation. We go back as fast as we can along the treacherous path under a darkening sky. 

Johanna spots us, and we enter the cave. As we do, a strange form coalesces from sea water, towering above us...once again, running away, valor, so we do. Eldur peers into the hole from above, saying that there's a strong presence of Dhar emanating from the watery being below. 

We instead go up to the plateau, where Thalian manages to pick up the trails of the priest and mutants...and they go back to the town. We kick open the door to the cultist's home, and he's inside, twisted grin on his face, already chanting in a fell tongue. A blast of water shoots out towards Johanna, surrounding her head, clearly choking her. Enraged, the rest of us make short work of him, with Thalian doing most of the work this time. 

We find a shrine to Stromfelds inside, and Johanna, grim determination on her face, declares that we need to go door to door in the village. We start with the mayor, who's ever so slightly surprised by our accusations, but quickly pipes down when he sees Johanna's witch hunter rosette. Getting some extra guards we start busting down doors, finding shark head boy inside a home with his mother trying to protect him. We finish them both off in short order. 

Out to sea

A couple of days later, we sacrifice a cow to get in the good graces of Manann, then start making our way north. The first three days are pretty uneventful, but on the fourth we spy a ship - a Tilean ship. It's clearly adrift, its sails in tatters. The superstitious sailors (is there any other kind?) mutter and curse, clearly uncomfortable with us considering boarding it. But...we do anyway. 

But not for long. We head for the captain's quarters, only for me and Eldur to recognize the sign of the Diseased One on one of the doors. Not being quite so keen for his gifts as our former clansmen, we decide that setting the ship on fire is the better part of valor. Eldur grins and looks at me, saying to leave it to him. I protest, saying that it would take all day for those little darts of his to set this ship ablaze. His grin just spreads wider, and he starts chanting in a way I've never heard before - and suddenly fire is everywhere, igniting the sails, the oars, the mast...clearly, brother dearest has had some sort of breakthrough! 

We hurry onto the dinghy, the sailor at the oars looking fearfully up at the fires before rowing us to safety. We carry on. 

It starts getting cold - the home-y kind of cold. Small ice floats and icebergs start showing up. On day 9, we see land in the distance. The captain says we're probably near Skjold - one of the least hostile places in all of Norsca. 

That night, the alarm sounds, as the ship suddenly creaks and groans under the weight of what I later learn is named Kharibdyss. At the time, I'm mostly occupied with trying not to crap my pants! 

The thing is just absolutely HUGE. We give it everything we got, but it's rough. Torgil looks like he's about to be swallowed whole by one of the mouths, when a watery fist suddenly shoots out of the sea and swats the head aside. Johanna fires her pistol and scores a solid hit, but the beast barely reacts at all. Thalian manages to get in a couple of solid hits, and I get a lucky shot with a sling stone. The ship is at an ever-increasing danger of just capsizing outright, what with the beast perching precariously at the stern. 

Finally, its bleeding from a score different wounds, when the worst happens: it tears a chunk of Eldur's shoulder from his body, a sickening crunch and an intense cry of pain accompanying the triumphant I roar of the beast. I cry out and am on the verge of running over, when I see Johanna point at the exposed head above her. I steel myself and concentrate everything on my aim - and the stone flies through the air, hitting one of the eyes dead center and vanishing inside. The beast almost whimpers like a dog beaten by its master, and Thalian uses the opportunity to plunge his sword deep into its chest - and it finally collapses. I feel myself grinning contentedly, surprised at my own feelings.  

The satisfaction quickly disappears, as I rush over to Eldur, fearing the worst. Luckily Johanna managed to pour a healing draught down his throat - he's alive, barely. Johanna gets to work setting his bones, with me futilely trying to comfort my unconscious brother. Her battlefield experience pays off - she nods grimly at me, and goes about treating the other injured, while I breathe a sigh of relief. 

Norsca will have to do better to finish off its long-lost son and daughter.