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NoriWasHere
Lord Zee
Crispy Octopus
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Vec
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CFProxyThe Iceborn
B) Improve Military Technology
With great knowledge came great sorrow. It was a heavy burden for Dag to bear, knowing the true extent of the Deep Ones' strength and just how close their horrid enemy lurked, but he thanked Father Frost still. He would find a way to avenge the fallen and defeat the endless hordes of fish-men; however, Dag was not his son.
He knew that brute force and trying a direct attack would only lead to glorious death, whilst inaction would lead to another assault by the Deep Ones and a less glorious death. But whereas Kjorn longed only for the sort of strength that a man used to rip apart his enemies and leave them in gory heaps, Father Frost saw other sorts of strength: it had taken no small amount of guile, wisdom, and cruelty for the Iceborn to achieve all that they had in their past.
And it would take all of that to think of a way to defeat so many monsters. Dag pondered the issue until long into the night. When sleep evaded his weary mind even as the next day's morning drew close, he turned to mead so as to take what little sleep he still could. It was in that drunken, half-awake delirium that he finally saw a vision of roaring flames reflected upon the salty waves where the sea met with the daggercliffs. Then, he looked up and witnessed a conflagration the likes of no other; as if coaxed by magic, vicious flames had spread across everything and even bleak stone was aflame. The Deep Ones gurgled and let loose horrific screams as they dove fromthe cliffs into the water below in an attempt to extinguish the fires that consumed their scaly flesh, but it was all in vain--the sea itself was soon aflame!
They all burned, and then there came a light snow. There was nothing left of the beasts save their blackened, charred bones amidst pallid snow.
This was the answer: fire. Dag knew not how he would harness a power that only dragons could wield, but he knew that was what he must do. He was Sard reborn in the flesh, the fire giant incarnate, but with his burning sword he would defend the land of men and not some fiery hell.
Without another thought, Dag left his mead hall. The moment that he threw open the doors and stepped out into the midday sun, a messenger approached. "My king, I bear news from your son!"
"Speak, then!" Dag gruffly answered back, none too pleased for being distracted from his new work for even a moment.
The man told him of what had happened at the grove and of what they had learned from torturing the gilbin that Sigdar had seized; it seemed that there were even more skraelings and beasts in this strange land, and that the Iceborn now had two new foes: the vile swamp gilbins, and the savage blood trolls. But they were neither here nor there; they were both distant for now and paled in comparison to the looming threat of the Deep Ones' return, so Dag plotted nothing; answering those new enemies would fall to Sigdar and Kjorn's Chosen.
For Dag's destiny called, and he had to become a dragon! In obsessive secret, he set about quickly gathering all the swamp tar, pitch, wood pulp, charcoal, brimstone, niter, and concentrated mead that he could find. He mixed them together into strange concoctions and testing their volatility one by one, seeking the perfect formula with which to create that magical fire from his visions. When supplies began to dwindle, he ordered more gathered and continued his work.
Meanwhile, the workers in the shipyard set aside all other projects and began the making of one giant vessel to lead the small fleet that the tribe already had built. For a fortnight the smithy worked too; at their king's bequeath, they forged a gigantic dragon's head that was to serve as the figurehead upon the prow of this new flagship. Every fierce and cruel detail was ornate, but what was truly strange were the king's requests that the dragon's throat be a hollowed tube that could pump from a tank and its head capable of swiveling when pulled by ropes.
