Blessed with fair weather and strong, favourable winds the journey across the perilous ocean was almost enjoyable.

Almost, because the martially inclined Norscans were ill-suited to the month long journey surrounded by nothing but vast open sea and the now overly familiar sight of the other ships. And while the ships would usually be quite spacious with a small crew to leave more room for loot, every ship was now laden to bursting with provisions and men. Which left little room for exercise on the shipdecks.

The food didn’t lift up their spirits either. Just an endless cycle of rock hard biscuits, pickled cabbage and salted meat strips with the texture of old leather boots. And the only drink aboard was greatly watered down ale. Plain water would go brackish or green with algae, while regular ale would result in a ship keeling over from hundreds of belligerent drunks scuffling around.

It was a trying time for every Marauder within the might fleet. To the point nobody gave a toss about the fair weather and the fact the favourable wind actually shortened their ordeal by half.

The only people who had it slightly better would be the commanders and high ranking officers on each ship. They enjoyed private apartments in which they could hide some choice delicacies and a bedwarmer or two for entertainment.

Still, the endless monotony of the long voyage made their warrior blood boil with no way to vent. When they inevitably arrive at their destination, the first enemy they encountered would likely face a fury they did not account for.

Erik too felt uncomfortable and during a newfound pastime together with his officers, card games, everyone added their two cents worth of complaints.

“Gods, there better be as many enemies as those Skelligers claim or we’ll have crossed this horrid piece of sea for nothing!” – Complained Hrongar, who had replaced Gunnar as a Captain after showing superior intellect and prowess.

“Shut up newbie! I just hope the women are free and plentiful so I can lighten my balls! It’s been three days since that slut kicked the bucket and I swear, by the Dark Prince, my sack feels ten times heavier already!” – Retorted Dieter, who had maintained his position ever since the Winter Hunt.

“Apparently the main enemy are a bunch of women warriors called ‘Amazons’ that lived in the jungle since before our predecessors settled on the outskirts. Tall, strong, tanned and above all tight is what I heard the envoy tell my father.” – Sven added into the conversation.

“Women warriors? Tight? Alright, now we’re talking! That way we can go straight to fucking after the fighting! Don’t even need to get back to camp or anything!” – A younger man, almost looking fresh faced to Erik’s core confidants, excitedly thumped the table as he played his hand.

“Full house! Kings and Queens! Gimme those chips and I promise not to break your thrall Vigr! Not too much anyway.”

Unhappy murmurs came from the other players, but everyone delivered on their bets, an especially disgruntled Vigr lamenting his impulsive action of betting a night of his only bedwarmer.

“Should’ve stopped when the Chief told me too… But I’ll get you next time, Lynn!”

At this, recognising the first signs of a potential internal conflict, Skadi signalled for Erik to intervene in the talk. Tonight she had come over specially for the game night to bring some more snacks and, afterwards, to give Erik a bit more Magical training while out at sea. And to battle in the sheets afterwards, but that’s besides the point.

“I swear by the Raven, Lynn! If I wasn’t absolutely sure mine was the only set of cards on the ship, I would suspect you of cheating! Four winning hands in a row! That’s this year’s Winter Hunt master for ya! Happy to have you join our Warband!

As for you Vigr, don’t bet what you can’t afford to lose or before you know it you’ll be fighting naked! And unless you’re suddenly part of a Slaaneshi Cult, that would be embarrassing to all of us! Not to mention it might scare away the untamed Amazons and drive them into the arms of those Bear Claw upstarts!”

To alleviate the boredom, Erik had Skadi bring home some instructions and then bring the finished product with her on her next summoning. A set of playing cards made from stiffened leather scraps skilfully carved and painted on one side while the backs are trimmed and waxed so they became undistinguishable from one another.

It took a while to remember the rules for some of the card games and even longer to explain them to his men, but watching their leaders play these alien and ‘difficult’ games at least provided some entertainment to the regular Marauders. It also doubled as bonding time between Erik’s closest confidants, ensuring their future cooperation.

Now they were just enjoying a couple of rounds in Erik’s private cabin. Room lit with candles, a couple of serving girls pouring mead and deliciously fresh food to fill their tortured stomachs made for a very enjoyable evening.

Erik’s ability to take make things appear and disappear out of nowhere was no secret to his commanders and they gratefully enjoyed Erik’s hospitality. Out of them all, only Sven had thought to ask Erik to store away some stuff but was tactfully denied because he’d asked in front of the others.

“I’m already at my max capacity with items we don’t absolutely need but might prove useful later on.”

Was the excuse Erik used to wave off his brother-in-law. And it was true too.

All the preserved foods still got lost somehow? Erik has spare barrels full of smoked fish!
Too many ropes split? No problem, there is enough rope to span ten miles!
Run out of drinkable water during a march into the Lustrian jungle? Slake your thirst with a barrel of ale!

Returning to the game table, Erik cleared his throat once more. During the trip, the Jarls and petty Kings had convened once a week to discuss things aboard the Skaelling flagship, a massive Dragonship crewed by the High King and his army of Huskarls. And just today they had received a new piece of information from a hesitant Skelliger princeling.

“Ahum! So, we’ve been at sea with good winds for a bit over a month now. A thousand ships of all sizes, numbering anywhere between 200- and 300.000 fighters total.

Our patrons and the group funding this little expedition of ours, the Skelligers, only now saw fit to warn us of an upcoming danger.

Apparently, we’re getting close to our destination. That’s the good news.

The bad news that comes along with it has to do with those 250.000 men we’re a part of. Namely, the Slann priests of the Lustrian Lizardmen City-Temples have a thing called the ‘Geomantic-web’ which covers at least the entirety of their jungles.

And we’ll soon be in range of that web. Loose, adventuring ships and even small fleets won’t get detected by it, but our group is just a bit too big for that. Once we’re all ashore, the web can’t much to us directly but apparently there is something of a defensive mechanism coded into the damned thing that will set off alarms and can do ‘something’ to help ward of invaders, which is us.”

Seeing the blank looks on some of his officers, Erik sighed and tried to dumb it down for them.

“It means our enemies will most likely know we’re coming and we might get hit by a heavy storm or something before reaching Skellige because of the Lizard super magic thing.”

“Ooooh!” – Came the collective sound of understanding, once more making Erik wish for a few more brain cells to share between his men.

‘Ah! But I don’t actually want them to grow more cells in their brains! No need for massive, Magic caused tumours!’ – Erik hurriedly cleared up his thoughts as he felt a dangerous tug starting to pull at his Magic.

Magic is powerful, but also incredibly dangerous for those who don’t take care. Especially in the middle of the world’s largest body of water where the Winds of Magic flow the strongest.

*BOOM!

And as if on cue, thunder cracked in the sky directly above the fleet as the waves began churn, causing ships to sway and creak while throwing their crews out of their hammocks.

Storming outside, Erik saw an awe inspiring sight.

Lightning lit up the darkness, showing a sea swirling madly trying to push the Norscan ships back as thunder cracked in the clouds, deafening booms causing the masts to tremble as the wind suddenly changed direction.

*Crack!

A bolt of lightning hit a ship off in the distance, setting it alight and bringing Erik back to reality.

‘Shit, I didn’t manage to explain what to do in time! Curse that princeling, he said this hsouldn’t happen for another day or four at the least!’

Erik cursed inwardly as he started spouting abuse and orders in equal measure at his crewmen.

“Rig masters up the masts and get the sails tied up! Don’t let the wind blow us apart!

The rest of you! Below decks and on the oars! We’re rowing from here on until we get past the storm!

Anybody not needed on deck or on the oars, get below decks and out of everyone else’s way! Wait your turn on the oar and otherwise rest up! We’ll be rowing non-stop for at last a day and you’ll need your rest!

Offices! To your units and get them coordinated! Don’t let them mull around and mess us up!”

Swift and decisive, Erik brought order to the ship and prepared to weather the storm.

A heavy downpour had started, making the riggers’ work increasingly difficult and dangerous but eventually the sails were secured and the deck empty except for Erik and a small group in charge of steering the ship in the near-blackness of a clouded night at sea.

The only indication of other ships were found during the brief flashes of light caused by lightning, often followed by another ship going up in flames. Those momentary opportunities of vision together with expert steermenship were all that prevented the Norscan ships from colliding.

*Crack!

Another bolt of purplish lightning struck from the sky above, burning the hellish state of the fleet in Erik’s eyes. Wrecked ships everywhere, masts broken or fires burning. Many of them still salvageable if they passed the storm quick enough. Only very few ships being truly ablaze or broken in half.

Then, far in front, Erik swore he could see an Imperial Galleon casually ride the waves. Black, torn sails, grisly shiplines and a rotten barnacle covered keel completed the image of a damned ship akin to the legendary Flying Dutchman.

When the next flash of lightning lit up the sky however, the ship was nowhere to be seen.

‘It seems we’re further south than we imagined, directly heading for Lustria’s easternmost peninsula and thus entered the Geomantic-web’s range of influence earlier than expected… right into the waters of Luthor Harkon’s Vampire Coast…’

To get a better view, Erik had jumped up on the ship’s side while holding tightly onto a mast-line, trying to get a better look.

Then, after another lightning bolt struck down, it’s light illuminated an enormous tidal wave heading straight for Erik’s vessel moments before collision.

Erik’s last impressions were the sudden and fearful sight of the black mass of water, the biting, bone chilling cold of the sea and the creaking of wood as the wave swept him off the deck and into the deep.