The Stranger Arrives In Kreigsport

Haakon Jungenson stood at some semblance of attention, his Tabard of the city of Kreigsport ruffling in the salty breeze off of the North Sea. He had been sentenced to 'Guarding the Sign' a duty even worse than boiling cabbage for carousing a bit to much the night before. He would occasionally peer upwards, eying the seagulls dreading the inevitable target practice they would enjoy.

“DUCHY OF (&!#*@^) NAXOS”

He couldn't help but read the footer of the sign, as it said so much and yet so little, as Haakon remembered the time before. The time of the Overlords. Of oppression. Nothing like now, with the Council.

Haakon sighed, rubbing the day old grizzle on his face as he noticed a Cog approaching guided by the harbormaster past the obstacles in the channel. Naxos may not be a great sea power, but the Council would be damned if they'd let Starprius or Zeeland just sail in and take it. It was bad enough with the yearly land sieges of the port town to have to worry about a sea-borne attack as well.

Hakkon glanced up at the Seawall rampart to make certain the ballista was manned, just in case.

Slowly, inexorably the Cog pulled up to the quay. Kreigsport was no Dalmstamen, but the Longshoremen were no slouches here. Soon after the Cog's barnacles had stopped grinding against the tarred pilings; the Longshoremen had tied her off, scrambled aboard and begun offloading her cargo as the ships Captain bellowed his instructions.

For a brief time bedlam reigned.

But Haakon didn't really notice – as this was normal. Rote. Just another cargo vessel offloading goods and taking on perishables. His attention was affixed on a strange traveler disembarking. The man was striking in appearance. A Njordsk perhaps? No – to short. Too strangely attired.

The Stranger moved across the deck with ease, not the familiar gait of a sailor, but someone who had no problems with balance. He wore a strange brown, leather overcoat and a wide brimmed hat – jarring and alien against the familiar sailor blouses and pantaloons.

The Stranger waived affably to the Captain as he stepped onto the pier, before he moved to take the reins of a warhorse with a strange saddle and a oddly metal framed pack with must have weighed a miserable amount to carry. He looked around the pier, examined the city briefly – almost with a look of wry amusement, before he headed directly toward Haakon and his sign.

Haakon was able to get a better look at the man as he approached, black hair poked from under his hat which framed a strong face sporting several days of growth and a patrician nose. The Strangers eyes were gray and moving, taking in everything at once. Under the overcoat he wore some sort of black tunic. Silk perhaps, not a poor man then, and dark trousers. He also wore a cloth belt, with some sort of golden bird embroidered on the end, with strange pouches and implements dangling from it. And heavy leather boots with steel toes. Haakon could now see a finely wrought sword poking over one shoulder, and what looked like a simple yet well made short sword strapped to his left leg. But hanging off the Strangers right shoulder and attached to his right leg were unidentifiable objects: black handles and what looked like crossbow triggers, but even more alien than everything else about the man. He moved with the confidence of a noble, and the self assurance of one martially skilled.

He straightened as the Stranger approached, trying not to look intimidated.
“Sir. Welcome to Kreigsport! There is a 5 pfenning levy for those who wish to enter Naxos and Kreigsport. I also must ask your business.”

“Well hiya. I'm here to get room, a good meal, and then look for Gunneld in the Enclosure. I think that's his name. Anyway. So. Thataway I take it? Oh and here's the pfennings you called them? Well that's interesting...”, he stated, vaguely gesturing toward the Searward Gate.

Haakon's eyes grew wide during this speech, as while he understood the words of the Stranger, his mouth moved with the different cadence of a foreign tongue. The words and mouth out of step it seemed. And underlying the words he understood was a gutteral tongue, unlike anything he'd ever heard.

Haakon bowed low, as is fitting for one of his station when spoken to by a high member of the Hexarchy and replied, “Lord, you will find the Enclosure within the main square. I bid you welcome and success in your endeavors!” With that he clicked his heels in salute and came to attention, staring off into space as is proper.

“Oooookay then. I'll be going now...” The Stranger trailed off, watching him warily as he headed to the Gate.

After a few moments, Haakon glanced over his shoulder to see the Stranger eying him, with a slight smirk on his face. Haakon snapped back to attention, studiously ignoring the Stranger, and the result of a seagulls flyby now freshening his Tabard as he wished for the smell of fermented, boiled cabbage.