The year is 989 in your village of Dagvell. For long months all of you had prepared for the raiding season.
The newly built dragonboat, which you’ve named “Ravenar”, is nearly ready to sail. Her lines are sleek; her hull strong, her draft shallow and her raven figurehead is newly painted black. Axes are sharpened, swords oiled, spears and bows secured; you, her crew, are ready.
It is time for farewells, because by dawn you will be on your way across the Western Sea with the outgoing tides. Rich prizes, adventure and glory await.
As the final supplies were stowed away a messenger arrives at your ship, informing you that Bodvar of Dagvell, your lord summons you to his hall. With curious steps you cross the village and enter the massive wooden structure, the home to Dagvell’s lord. There in the darkened hall the chieftain sat in silence, with his long time friend and advisor beside him. The fire pit was dark and gone were the throngs of feasting warriors.
“I am told you men are setting out and your ship is ready to sail” speaks the
chieftain. “That is well for I have need of good men with a good ship. There is a task that
needs doing and I have chosen you to do it.”