The blue green water splashed over the hull of the Veristani ship, drenching the crew. The crew shivered under the cold but continued their rowing. They were fired up with hopes of looting the people that they were to invade but this weather was working against them.
Egil, drenched with water and having his beard showing signs of salt decided to call on his shaman Olaf to calm down the seas about his fleet. He decided that he should have done it before but wanted to test the mettle of his men and women. However the seas were being extremely nasty.
Olaf, with his long hair waving in the high winds, braced himself and began the chant. Eventually the spell took effect and the seas were much calmer but the winds were still brisk. Egil smiled. This would be a good raid.
Emeric looked down the hill. The enemy had made three charges up the hill and had failed. The wizards on both sides had apparently exhausted their allotment of spells so it was just now just the butchers bill of hand to hand combat. He looked at the remanents of his unit. He mentally counted how few would be receiving their pay for this yet worthless skirmish. He yelled encouragement to his men and women as the next wave came up the hill. Arrows rained down on his position as Emeric drew his sword