Name: Connlaoch
Home country: Alba (Scotland)
Weapons:Spear , War axe and a Short-sword (see on picture)
Clothing:
Looks: Dark rust coloured hair. Brown boots. Fairly light skinned.
Job: No particular job , fights with the clan

Pekka strode across the deck tapping each man on the shoulder, he made comments to each one of them has came past before he reached the end of the boat and looked out at the port. "Come on you basterds move you can get your women later" He shouted laughing out as he watched them scurry and run towards the boat before climbing aboard. "You the Kyle and Karska take them oars and make them scum bag slaves row." he bellowed out before turning towards Connlaoch "Connlaoch you big fucking basterd get them sails up and show these Norwegian lady boys how you Scots do stuff." He barked out before walking over to the Boats Shaman. "What do the gods have in store with us today the." He asked. The shaman shoke the small box quickly and then emptied it out onto the deck. Quickly they dropped down and started picking up and pushing the small objects around before shouting East in a twisted voice. Pekka Smilled before signalling the comand for east and stumbled as the boat was pushed into action and started the long journey east. "Nothing like adventure my freinds." He said quietly too himself.

Name: Fredrik Thorendal
Homecountry: Finland
Weapons: Viking broad sword, battle axe worn on side
Looks: Long blonde hair, no beard as Fredrik the great deemed any bearded man afraid to shave. Well built.
Job: Serves in Pekka's group of warriors, but often forgets his place and challenges authority.

Connlaoch laughed at Pekka's remark. He ran up to the ropes of the sails , lifted a leg onto the mast and yanked down on the ropes , unfurling the sails. He held on to the rope for a second until the sail had fully dropped before jumping down and landing on deck. he scratched his beard and sniffed the sea air. A smile cracked his face as he walked over to the side of the ship , peering over to the port that was slowly fading off into the distance. He spat overboard into the deep blue waters and made his way to the seats , slumping down , smiling to himself yet again.
"Hahaha , lady boys is right..." he said , chuckling heartily...

Name: Ragnar Eight-Fingers
Homeland: Jutland (Denmark for you Engles.)
Weapons: One two-handed Bearded Axe
Clothing: Huscarle, Average Viking Clothes, with Mail shirt, wrapped greaves, and a Helm.
Job: Viking Huscarle, Need I say more?

((Is this okay?))

Pekka glanced up and down at the long boat admiring the beauty of it and how each peice slotted together perfectly made him smile. He placed his hand of its wooden edge and patted it lightly before turning and walking to the back of the boat. "Ragnar make sure that these warriors are equipped and..." He stopped as he heard one of the men throwing up "Ah for Thors sake Elsake you ate too much again how many times do we have to bloody warn you" He shouted and laughed as the warrior rose his hand in answer before grabbing hold of the edge and vomitting ounce more. He turned his attention to Ragnar again "Make sure they are all equipped and ready for any thing that mite happen." He asked casualy. Pekka looked over at Fredrik to make sure he was doing his job and was pleased when he saw him sorting out the food crates.
Hmm not a bad kid shame he is too cocky make a great captin one day

What a boring job, he thought. This was the worst part of a voyage: the boat trip. He was given the tedious task of packing up food. He wanted to be out pillaging villages, not packing bread. "Pekka, that food's done. How long 'til we get to land? I can't stand this boat much longer. If I can't wield my sword soon I might have to jump overboard!" he called over the boat. He said it jokingly, but there was some truth in it, he did feel uneasy being on a boat for so long. He had his God Odin to comfort him. Most believe in Thorr but he differed in his faith in Odin.

"ohh not long now lad i heard of a village that belongs to some aparently wealthy villagers cloose by." He shouted down the boat and laughed as alot of the heads turned slightly. He started to walk down the center of the boat and spoke as he did. "So if we had some muscle behind these oars then maybe we will have some women tonight." He bellowed and smiled as some of the men ran towards were the slaves were and threw them off and started rowing themselves. Pekka found that Fredrik's attitude was a bit tireing at times but he would grow into these long boat journeys because after all the gold in the southern lands is far more precious.

"Good, I haven't seen action in that department for over a week!" he went back to help with the rowing, filled with a new eagerness to reach the village. It was true that they hadn't been on land for some time, and he missed the feel of gold. But most of all he missed the feel of a woman. Whether she liked it or not, someone would be getting it from him tonight.

Ragnar was suprised, "Villagers? Pekka, you've gone soft. Why not make a raid on the Northumbrian Priory to the north? I heard they horde much wealth there, plus none of them are unarmed." He then took place at the bow, saying, "Young warriors will get no equipment from me today. They'll get theirs like how I got mine. In the thick of battle." He then watched the ship cut a swath through the water, "May Tyr be with you al this day." He then made his way back down the ship, seeing many young raiders unarmed, Gone are the days of old, when raiding was what one did for a Winter job, when one couldn't grow crops. Now young men are forced to do it for they can do nothing else.

Pekka listend to Regnar before shouting himself "You heard the brute Regnar, now me must go north you maggots." He laughed at the prospect of gold and the men seemed to move quicker now and more of them joined the oars.

Connlaoch was sat ,leisurely watching a group of slaves , struggle to use the huge oars. He laughed to himself. He lifted his axe from the strap near his waist and began polishing the head with a piece of cloth. He spun it in his hand , in a circular motion with his wrist. It had met many foes. he had been given it back in his homeland. Strangely enough the blacksmith of his village was infact a woman which was frowned upon by most of the village peers. She had forged it for him before he departed for the eastern lands. He tied it back to his waist and sat back trying to relax , intrigued about what Pekka had told them. This next trip would be quite a bit of fun...

"Ok, I suppose the gold could be speant on women eventually," he chuckled, coming to terms with the new plan. "And anyway, it's also been a while since these people have felt the wrath of the Gods. I'm all for plundering Priory of which you speak. By wielding hand is ready for action!"

Name: Orvatius "Orvas" Cadlios

Home country: Italy (is that okay ?)

Weapons: Two-handed flameberge on his back, as well as an oak longbow and a quiverfull of arrows. His good old gladius on his left thigh.

Looks: Orvatius, now called Orvas, stands at 5'9", towering over his comrades back in Italy, but now he is a common size among the northerners. His dark brown hair is done up in two long, beaded braids at the front, the rest of it let loose, falling down just under his shoulders. His dark grey eyes pierce to very soul of most men he glares, and their orbits seem constantly tired and weary. He is well built, being an ex-officer of the roman army, and knows well how to fight, learning a few more techniques from the northern rabble he deserted to. He proved his valor more than once and is considered part of the crew, and the country.

Clothing: His old, army issue lamellar cuirass, with padded laether pauldrons, stuffed with fur to keep him warm. Thick woolen trousers and the army-standard boots again, with a thick fur and cloth "skirt", open at the front and just higher than the knee. He wears roman army bracers with thick leather gloves underneath, and a dark-green shirt underneath all this. Finally, he wears a thick cloak, with hood, covered in two wolf pelts dangling down from each shoulder.

Job: Serves under Pekka, as a merc, sailor, warrior, diplomat, whatever ...

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As the undecisive rabble of vikings headed east, then suddenly north, Orvas let out a sigh; so unlike the romans. He HAD deserted, but frankly, that didn't bother him, these men were his new clan, his new Caesar. The roman had his bow in hand, testing the pull and the state of the cord, wouldn't want it to break during battle. The prospect of gold, slaughter and women rejoiced the men around him, though Orvatius couldn't understand their inhumanity at times. He would participate in the massacre, his lust for battle was just as strong as the rest of the warriors. The raping, burning and pillaging however ...

Orvas listened to everything around him, waiting to be of any use, but in his state, he preferred to wait for Pekka to give him an order rather than act by himself. He sat against the edge of the boat, following in its swaying.

Name: Elena
Home Country: Of italian decent, but grew up in England
Weapons: Oak shield and long sword. Nothing fancy-smanshy
Clothing: (See below)
Looks:
Job: None right now. Elena is a spoiled rich brat.

((I hope this is okay.))

((Where are we sailing from?))
Ragnar clapped Fredrick's shoulder, telling him, "That's what we need." He then stood under the sail, shouting to them all, "By fortnight, we shall be up to our swordarms in wealth!"

He listened to the rowdy gang in front of him and smiled. he stood up and said , so they would take notice,
"Och , gold is not everything a man in this world needs! The biggest reward is a great battle and let's hope this rabble of pitiful Northumbrians can give us what we need! AYE!?" he laughed and walked forward into the rabble of men. Staring around he noticed a slave , not rowing. He paced over lifted up the slave by his neck unsheathed his weapon and plunged his short-sword deep into the man's stomach feeling a spurt of blood cover his face. He used both his arms and hauled the dying man over the deck before turning to the rest,
"We have no need fer men like him! We have a priory to plunder! Haahah!" he laughed again sitting down , sheathing his sword and finally grabbing an oar , heaving it back and forth eager to get to their destination...

Fredrik cheered at the stabbing of the slave. Odin had no time for the weak, so neither did he. "Come on men. I'm not waiting 'till tomorrow to get my hands on the gold!" he roared, all fired up after Connlaoch's speech.

Elena walked over to the gardens. Her home was near a Priory, and she lived in a large house, pampered and spoiled. Her mother and father recently left on a trip, and she took pleasrue in spending her nights alone drunk in ale and beer. She drew her sword and began taking small swipes through the air. Her father had always wanted a son instead of a daughter, so in her spare time she tried to make up for it secretly by practicing with a sword, and she had actuallly become wuite good.

She continued walking down the path towards the view of ocean. Looking across the sea she saw a tiny little speck of a ship far far off in the distance. "Huh..." She thought for a second the continued her pleasurable walk in the fields.