Far, far beyond the familiar shores of the Seolhi there flew a sail, bearing the Seolhi's emblem; A seal, drawn in squid-ink and charcoal, swimming upwards in a semi-circle. The Seolhi were not known for their sailing, though they enjoyed flying their flag on the back of canoes for the dread and brutality their name was associated with, and the fear this inspired in their victims at a distance. Many emblems, especially those of pirates and renowned warriors, announced their arrival with depictions of snarling wolves or rampaging bears, though none inspired the same primal fear the Seolhi's innocuous seal did. Where the Seolhi were known, seeing a fleet of black seals whipping in the wind was cause to smother a babe in the crib to save it from being devoured. But the Seolhi were not known here, and this emblem did not fly on a flag.

The second Sea Prince Baothe had conquered sailing, as no Seolhi had in history, fashioning a sail from the intestine of a seal with knowledge given to him by one of his thralls taken from a fishing village. It was a distinctive yellow-white, transparent in the sun save for the ominous black seal painted onto its thin, membranous surface. It was tacked to the mast with a braided rope of whale sinew, adding to the strange, unearthly appearance of the ship. The ship in question was the first Seolhi sailboat of its kind, appearing oddly alien in its construction -- Its sails, from the mainsail to the jib, were made of translucent intestine, supported with thin wooden battens that made the sails resemble spiny fish fins. The hull of the ship was lined in stretched seal skin, waterproofing the thin hull, decorated at the edges with walrus tusks jutting out, as if to give the boat carnivorous teeth. To say it resembled a boat designed by a man who had never stepped foot on one would be a fair assessment, as it was true. What little Baothe knew of boats was taken from his study of shipwrecked and captured vessels, compounded with what little knowledge his slave could impart through their language barrier.

His older brother Varuuk was too proud to listen to the words of slaves, or perhaps too crude to learn their language in depth, and though his younger brother had given the Seolhi sails, he would give them [i]land[/i]. They had sailed through the edge of the Skraelingjar isles all day and night, and were eager to set foot on beaches uncharted by their kind. Their sights had been set on the peninsula on the horizon for some time, though they were now only minutes from landing. There were only two sailboats yet made, each captained by a Sea Prince and crewed by thirteen men, the sacred number of the Seolhi. Though this left their quarters cramped, it made their voyage all the more likely to be successful in their eyes. His younger brother's ship lagged behind, though this was all for the better. Varuuk was better known as Varuuk the Black for his well-known cruelty and temper, whereas his younger brother had been given the title "The Reader".

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[color=337C85]"Genja. Bring out the sick pup."[/color] Varuuk barked, sitting at the deck's rocking edge, looking outwards at the fast-approaching beach. One of the chalky Seolhi behind him nodded, crawling into the ship's narrow deck, returning later with a small bundle in his arms. As Varuuk commanded, it was a small seal pup, heaving lightly with each breath, with eyes encased in a thin film of crust. Varuuk stood up, steadying himself on the unsure vessel with a taut rope connected to the mast, unsheathing an obsidian dirk and turning to meet the eyes of his crewmen and subjects. He cleared his throat and spat into the churning sea, looking over the crew he had gathered as he prepared to make his speech.

[color=337C85]"The Seolhi,"[/color] Varuuk began, [color=337C85]"The Seolhi, we have never been feared as conquerers."[/color] He paused, soaking in the jeers of his crewmen. He brushed a hand through his shorn hair, which had grown enough over the voyage to stick out of his clay paint. [color=337C85]"We are feared killers. Reavers and reapers. Murderers of the weak are we."[/color] He paused again as his men cheered, though he went on, pointing at individual crewmen as to single them out. [color=337C85]"Man-Eaters. Rapers. [i]Orphaners[/i]."[/color] He went on, taking the sickly pup Genja held out by the scruff, and opening its throat with his dagger in a quick swipe. It thrashed momentarily as Varuuk held it in the air, allowing it to bleed freely onto his head, cascading over his face and onto the frayed ink-dyed black pelt he wore. The men only cheered louder at this, as he held out the seal to Genja, who did the same.

[color=337C85]"We are feared by the Maod, we are feared by the Skraelingjar."[/color] Varuuk rubbed the seal's blood onto his clay-covered body as he spoke, the beach drawing nearer and nearer behind him as the men passed around the seal's body. [color=337C85]"Today, we will be feared by the northmen. Not as reavers. Not as murderers. Not as pirates."[/color] He raised his dirk into the air, inciting his men to follow. The coastal village they had seen was now close enough to see the villagers therein, who scrambled from the shore towards their huts for what little protection they offered. [color=337C85]"They shall fear us, sons of Eshkag, as conquerors!"[/color]

The men cheered, thrusting their spears and daggers into the sky, shouting and beating their chests in a bloody fervor. Within moments, a deep grinding could be felt as the boat ran aground into the beach's white sand, and the Sea Prince leapt from his place at the head of the ship, leading the charge. He sprinted forward, hunched over in a wolfish stance with a sharpened dirk in either hand, ululating the high-pitched warcry his people were known for. The assault had begun.

The first man to charge at Varuuk was bulky and bearded, charging at him with a three pronged trident, better suited for spearing fish than men, thrusting at Varuuk's head. He was no seasoned warrior -- He was a fisherman, as were most of his fellow villagers, and it showed in his open stance. Varuuk bent his knees, dodging the trident and putting him at eye level with the man's belly, which he plunged his two daggers upward into, thrusting his head upwards at the man's jaw. The fisherman sputtered blood as he fell backwards, dropping his trident onto the sand as Varuuk unceremoniously stepped over him and locked eyes with the next villager, beckoning him to come forward with his daggers. This villager was not as large as the one that attacked Varuuk initially, and the Sea Prince saw this realization in the man's eyes. He hesitated, holding up a spear with shaky arms, stumbling backwards as the Seolhi approached him. He made a half-hearted thrust at the prince, who knocked the spear away with the flat of his dagger. The fisherman had time only to begin a shout of mercy as Varuuk swiped his second dagger at the man's throat, opening his neck and cutting his cry short.

Behind him, the second boat arrived, and Baothe and his crew leapt from the ship and into the shallow water, making their way towards the beach as they cried out their warbling battle cries, brandishing spears and axes. Baothe lead the charge as his older brother did, brandishing a weapon in each hand, though he preferred short-handled axes rather than the dirks his brother prized. He was shorter, and wore grey-white sealskins with a fox's jawbone tied to the center of his short mohawk. Unlike Varuuk, who had coated himself head-to-toe in blood, Baothe's warpaint centered around his eye sockets and cheeks, resembling the sockets of a skull. His crewmen carried torches as well, which they held upwards as they charged, flinging them at the thatched-roof cottages scattered across the beach as they ran.

[i]It is a glorious day for the Seolhi[/i], Varuuk thought as he surveyed the chaos. He raised a bloody fist, crying out more ululations and running towards a fleeing villager. The onslaught would continue for much longer, though it was clear victory was at hand.