Camilla nervously watched the darkness as Scmidtt yelled for the sailing master. The two men put their heads together and began an intense conversation with a great deal of hand gestures. The pale survivor was ranting something low and unintelligible about fish, clearly delirious.

As the sailors communed one of the passengers stomped up from below. He was a big man, heavily muscled and with a great black mustache. Thus far he had kept more or less to himself, although the rumor had it he was from Kislev. Camilla was uncertain as to wear or what Kislev was, but she had a vague impression it was north of the Empire, if such a thing were possible.

The man was wearing a tightly fitted leather jerkin and carried a vicious looking sword with a slight curve. On his back was a quiver of arrows and a small recurve bow of some sort of polished animal horn. A leather buckler hung from his arm, almost comically small for such a large man. He lost no time in locating Cydric.

[b]"Hou! Imparial, whats say we go ashore and teach these dog fuckers what what!"[/b] his accent was thick with to many z's and drawn out consonants. The man turned and spread his bear like arms wide to the shore.

[b]"Hou hear that dog fuckers! Ivan Petrovich is coming. Better get bak to mammy hey!"[/b] he roared, clashing his weapon and buckler together in challenge. The man proceeded to thrust his crotch in a lewed gesture, roaring with a belly laugh that shook timbers. 

The whole crew fell into stunned silence at once, except the sailing master.

[b]"Channel close to the north bank, we would be out of bow shot of the south if we could break through somehow."[/b]