No subtitle.
None needed, in fact.
 Konall's second and final roleplay for the mission, although it left a question hanging that seemed to beg to be answered during the roleplay period.

That doesn't detract from the fact the piece we have here is a very well written one. Pirates, vikings, fights, new booty for Konall, and an excellent longbow scene to start it out really bring out the flavor in Konall's participation in this quest.

The thing keeps a light tone, as most Konall's stories do, and works it's way towards the main mission in an interesting, relevant, unexpected way.

Enough notes- you got a treat ahead of you now! (Included is the youtube link from the original roleplay.)

Konall was sitting on a bench, helping row a longboat. It had been some time since he had been at sea, and he was remembering all to well why he lived in the mountains where all the water was frozen.

On larger ships, the rocking caused by the waves is lessened. Longboats are not larger ships. In addition to that, fall storms were wreaking havoc. Konall held his stomach as the ship crested another twenty foot wave.

Had the sail been up, the wind would have torn it to shreds rather quickly. The rain, not wanting to be overshadowed by any of the other weather conditions, was pouring down heavily in large drops. Even without it, the deck would have been completely soaked. Between the slippery deck, the heavy winds, and the massive waves breaking over the side of the boat, no one was walking around. Everyone was sitting on their bench, fastened with a lifeline, and praying to whatever god they believed in (and even some they didn’t).

Lightning flashed, and the ship’s soaking wet mast made a tempting target. Two men tied to the mast were bailing out water as fast as they could. All ships leak, even in good weather. It’s the nature of ships. But in bad weather like this, with the water trying as hard as it could to get in, the problem became steadily worse.

Konall resisted the urge to hold tightly to his seat, and concentrated on rowing. True, in weather like this, no one would even notice if he fell overboard. But if no one was moving the ship, then it wasn’t going anywhere, and they would just be carried along by the storm. And that would be worse for everyone.

In the distance, Konall saw something move through the oceans, something big. A flash of lightning silhouetted it for a split second, revealing fins, tentacles, and other indefinable features. The monster sunk below the waves. Apparently it wasn’t a big fan of the weather either.

It was going to be a long day.

Vikings and pirates have long had a sort of truce. Longboats are mostly good for raiding inland villages up rivers that pirate ships can’t travel. Conversely, pirate ships can take on large vessels that longboats can’t handle. The two sides had gotten in naval battles in the past, which usually ended in both sides losing.

The boat Konall was on was somewhat beaten up. Longboats have the capability to bend instead of break, and while it’s not exactly soothing to the nerves to hear the boat you’re on creaking and flexing, it is a factor that has saved more than a few ships, including this one.

Thankfully, the ship captain knew of a hidden pirate cove where they could get repairs. The ship sailed behind a massive waterfall and into a hidden cave. Inside this massive recess in the earth was a small port town, bustling with commerce, most of which was of questionable moral turpitude.

Konall got off the boat with two things on his mind. First, what does “turpitude mean”? Second, what to do now.

The captain was arguing with a pirate about docking fees. The buccaneer wanted to charge 1,000 meat. The Viking wanted to punch him in the face. Suffice to say, the pirate didn’t win.

As was his custom when he felt threatened, Konall checked his weapons. He currently had his long sword and his haxxor. He had replaced his normal longbow with a different one. This one was made from two ribs from a creature Konall had killed on a previous night. It was eight feet long, and took him two or three seconds to completely draw, much longer than the other one. However, it could shish kebab an alphabet giant’s skull from twenty yards, and Konall had a feeling he would be needing that kind of power. The arrows were made from the feathers of a phonics Konall had killed. To make them, he had merely taken off some most of the fluff, leaving a bit for the fletching, and then he added an arrowhead. They were quite effective, especially since they did spelling damage by their very nature. He also had his newly acquired kneecapping stick. It wouldn’t be much use against the dragon though; clubs were for squishing things and dragons don’t squish.

The final piece of weaponry the seal clubber carried was the black sword he had picked up from the penguin. He wasn’t quite used to it yet, but it was a very effective blade.

Konall felt out of place, as if he didn’t belong, and looked around for something familiar. He walked into the nearest tavern, Spaz flying beside him. The place didn’t have any mead, but it served a decent grog. The seal clubber casually walked around, looking for an old salt who would know something about the Chrono Dragon. He found such a person.

The old man was saying, “The moon was full and the color of blood the night we came to the vampire club.” Konall listened. Apparently hell hath no fury like a vampire scorned. If the seal clubber wanted any information from this codger, he’d have to wait patiently. It wasn’t his style, but he put up with it. Turned out the story was interesting, and more importantly short.

When the man finished, Konall said, “That was interesting. Say, would you happen to know anything about the Chrono Dragon I’ve been hearing about?”

The pirate did, and went into another story, this one telling the tale of a dashing rogue (himself) who managed to survive an attack on his ship. Konall learned that the creature moved incredibly fast and was able to dodge cannonballs despite its considerable size. While it was too slow to dodge bullets, its hide was too thick for it to sustain any damage.

It could target crew members with time magic, slowing them down. The beast was also strong enough to smash the ship with its bare hands.

It had destroyed the ship without bothering to kill the inhabitants or take any of the cargo. Odd… From what Konall heard of the story, this thing was smart. It was a thinking creature, intelligent enough to have reasons for doing things.

The rest of the tavern was debating which made better fighters, pirates or ninjas. It was generally felt that pirates were far superior. Then, an all too familiar, hi pitched, Spaz-based voice said, “Ninjas are much better.” The nearest available buccaneer didn’t see the little imp, and thought the words had come from the drunkard next to him, and his roguish honor demanded that he give a fitting and proper retort by smashing his beer bottle over the soused man’s head.

A couple of the friends of said inebriate felt that this particular course of action was without merit, and proceeded to arrange a rendezvous between their fists and the pirate’s face. The current victim’s crewmates helped defend their comrade and the rest of the tavern’s occupants, loathe to let a good brawl go to waste, quickly joined in.

The fight quickly reached the balcony where Konall was. He looked at the clock. It was almost 10:00 PM. It looked like he would be spending the night here no matter what, so he decided he might as well join in.

He punched the nearest man solidly in the torso, knocking him onto the ground. The berserker then picked up the next man and through him into an oncoming pair of drunken swashbucklers. He felt someone hit him in the back, so he delivered a roundhouse kick into the pirate’s chest, knocking him off the balcony.

A dozen bodies later, Konall had made his way to the exit. Spaz accompanied him, carrying a sack full of loot. They headed off to the nearest inn.

The nearest inn was overpriced, undercleaned, and unfortunately held to be the best deal in the area. Konall reluctantly paid for a night’s stay and went to his room. He woke up the next day with a hangover, but not one of those hangovers that makes you want to swear off drinking, again. No, it was one of those hangovers that made you think “I had a really good time last night,” right before you fall back asleep again.

After waking up the second time, Konall looked through the loot bag and found a flask of rum to cure his hangover. He then checked the rest of the contents for anything of value. It contained a decent amount of meat, some pistols (which Konall wasn’t a very big fan of), more alcohol (which Konall was a very big fan of), a flare gun, some sort of abridged dictionary (which was promptly dubbed “worthless” and discarded), a leotarrrd (no idea where that came from), and a good quantity of gunpowder (which Konall listed as “a definite keeper”). The seal clubber sold the pistols and hosiery to a talking walrus for 1,200 meat.

From there, he headed over to the longboat to check on his Viking companions. All of them were sporting various bruises and other wounds, as well as satisfied grins on their face. It looked like they had had a good Viking run on the town. Konall himself had some minor injuries from the night’s festivities.

Konall said goodbye to his companions and headed out of the cove. If there was anyone on the island who would know more about the dragon, Konall could only think of one person. He set out in search of this person, swearing on inside.