Raid on Pyandonea, Book One

The Dreaded Bomundl Dragon of the Sea, today known as Captain Dreadmund, was a great Atmoran warrior and Ysmir. He came to Tamriel soon after Ysgramor's Five Hundred, leading a fleet of his own, his Something More Than Five Hundred Companions. But unlike Ysgramor, he chose not to claim land and build cities. Instead, he set out to explore the whole of Tamriel, to find foreign lands and to fight foreign foes. Dreadmund, in his explorations and battles, was as much a Harbinger of man as Ysgramor, a forerunner of the times to come.

To count several of the Atmoran longboats of Dreadmund's fleet, and their respective captains: Ice-Storm-Veins-Blade-Hammer the Axe captained Iceberg, Aldenuekeloch the Thunder Shield Woman captained Morakein, Thendwyr Twice-Torc'd captained Pillager, and many others captained many others; as a whole, the fleet was too great to account for in swift. By the time of this story, the fleet had even, during its visit to Yokuda, absorbed a pair of strange Yoku ships captained and crewed by strange, dark, unnamed men who could not speak to the Atmorans with words, but who sang with their lust for the slaughter of elves.

Our story begins at nightfall over an oddly violent sea; the southern elven sea, usually calm and kind, rolled and ripped about, angry at the trespass of Dreadmund and his Something More Than Five Hundred Companions. Waves crashed into ships and tried to split hulls, but the raging sea was still more or less kind in terms of the experiences of the Atmorans; the Sea of Ghosts was this violent on a good day. Dreadmund stood waiting impatiently aboard his longboat Snow Whale as it rocked back and forth in the waves. He cloak flew back behind him in the wind as though it were a pair of wings, outstretched and ready to carry him into the air. He awaited the return of his Clever Man, Fhalne, whom he had sent to the High Elf city of Alinor to gather hostages for interrogation. They needed more information before embarking on the journey to come.

Aboard the split-tailed Snow Whale, besides Dreadmund in all his glowering, spread-cloaked, elf crushing glory, was his Boat-Thane Kehlet the Quick-Eared who could hear whispers leagues away, his Mumbler Hgenral who was an expert of mutter-magic, his oarsmen, Friedrung the Hammer, Oar-Wielding Olad, Jahnson Whose-Name-Stays-in-its-Cradle who was brother to Jahnsdotter of Ysgramor's Five Hundred, Hjaloc, Wulfil, and the one whose only name was Oarsman as he never spoke other than to say six specific sentences which each pertained to his occupation as an oarsman, his three Thu'um-Thanes1 Thiriul, Thurjac, and Thaduga, and his Beast-Keeper, Mnetnen, who watched over Dreadmund's pets who were Fiiq the House-Cat, Raving Savage the Welwa, and Tang Mo the Monkey-Thing.

There were Dreadmund's elf-slave translators who shall not be named; the sullen Snow Elf who spoke Atmoran and Snow-Elvish and who had been taken from the land Ysgramor claimed, the clever Bird Elf2 who spoke Snow-Elvish, High-Elvish, and Bird-Elvish and who wore feathers and who had been taken from the same land while apparently serving an ambassadorial role to the Snow Elves, and the young Sea Elf who spoke Bird-Elvish and Sea-Elvish and who had been taken from a Sea Elf outpost on the continent's western coastline and who told the Atmorans about Pyandonea and Sea-Elven ships and the like, but who knew nothing specific about the Mist-Veil or the Sea Elf sea serpents - which appear only when Orgnum is near - or anything really helpful about Pyandonea, for he had been born in the outpost and not Pyandonea itself. Finally, there was his War-Wife Vjali, who stood beside him as he awaited Fhalne.

"Where in the blasted seas is he!" Dreadmund growled, more a statement than a question. He clawed idly at the Snow Whale's side, rending tar unto the waves. "He's late."

War-Wife Vjali answered, "Fhalne will return, husband. You do not need to worry."

Dreadmund grimaced. "It's my duty as Captain to worry. If Fhalne and his men linger much longer, the elves will surely notice them, and that'd bring trouble."

For a moment, the pair fell silent. The sea roiled and hissed at the fleet, even still, but the ships' crews kept the fleet afloat. The sun peeked over the spiked waters at edge of the horizon, and set the sea sparkling.

"See? Dawn is coming. If they're still there, they don't have the cover of darkness to protect them, anymore. I'm off to fetch them."

Vjali opened her mouth and made to speak.

"They're back!" Kehlet shouted from somewhere on the ship, having sighted the warriors aboard the faering before anybody else, being nearly as sharp-eyed as he was Quick-Eared. "They're in a hurry, too!"

Dreadmund chuckled, a deep, slow, throaty sound. "Guess they did find trouble." He cleared his throat and Thu'umed so that every crew could hear him, "Weigh anchors and ready sails, we're leaving!" The waves were frenzied further with his words, and a stray, stormless thundercrack or two boomed through the sky, as happens when the Greybeards call a new Dragonborn to High Hrothgar.

Clever Man Fhalne and those who accompanied him (who were Mjardel, Hoary Child, Ghrojar, Flame-Grin Sorga who enjoyed throwing flasks full of fire at his foes, Jarnhal, Lungaehm, Ben the Bedeviled, Swajfwen, the four High Elf captives that the men had claimed, and Jhunmor who was an expert of elven magic even though leaping magic and mutter-magic and Voice magic were more popular at the time) paddled desperately to the Snow Whale and leapt aboard, dragging their faering quickly after.

Fhalne began speaking before his salt-crusted boots had even cleared the gunwale. "We should leave, Dreadmund. Now. We captured those four elves and cut their hands off so that they couldn't use any of their magic, but I think some other elves caught wind of us as we were leaving. And I'm betting that they're pissed."

"You heard him, Kehlet, get moving. Set sail for the south, while we welcome our new guests."

Fhalne sat, panting. "It really is amazing over there," he said. "In Alinor, I mean. The city looks like it's made of diamond. For all I know, it probably is. We should raid it. Attack in the night, burn out their ships, find where they hide their valuables. There's probably a lot worth taking in that huge Tower, which - "

"Not interested. Let's interrogate the prisoners; I want to know more about this ‘Pyandonea' place we've been hearing about."

"But - "

Dreadmund sighed, his breath heavy with early morning mist. "No. We've spent enough time in this neck of the sea, raiding these High-Elven Isles and raiding the coasts of their elven cousins on the big continent. We're off to kill something new." He scraped a bone from between his teeth. "Now let's have a chat with our guests."