Ice and Foam (Open, Introduction)

[Ifrit]

Time and Date:: 2:13pm, 02 February
Weather:: Slightly overcast, breezy, cold.
Previous Threads?:: N/A


The weather was slightly overcast but it hadn't started snowing yet, at least not that would chase anyone off. Of course, it would take a blizzard's spawn from Hel to chase any Viking off. Pulling into the port was a ship, but it was a much different in appearance than had been seen in recent memory, if ever. It had very peculiar looking sails, triangular but with strange ridges. Smaller in size, a trading vessel no doubt, but she cut cleanly through the frosted waters. Atop her deck was a man steering her into port, a tall figure wrapped in black clothing. He had a deep tan to his skin and didn't look like any Norse anyone had ever seen. Tattoos of black ink were lined across his forehead and his cheeks, as well as the backs of his hands which were left open to the elements. A band of cloth wrapped his head and covered the top, but left his hair free. It was black and shoulder length. The man wore a neatly trimmed mustache and beard framing his mouth. Dark eyes peered ahead as he maneuvered the boat.

The newcomer wore relatively light cloth save for a fur draped over his shoulders, allowing for ease of movement. Of course it still looked chilly for him, but he was good about dealing. On his waist was a belt housing two strange curved blades held at his side with loops and crossbands. They were made of a metal that had a marbled gleam and sparkled in even the faint overcast light. A long tunic draped his torso which had unusual stitching across the neck and down the front. His slightly loose pants were tucked into tight black boots, one of which housed the visible handle of another dagger. As soon as he was able to get her moored to the pier, he took a moment to assess his surroundings and take note of the things that he saw. He'd come across a massive amount of ice and cold in the Northern lands he had traveled along to get to this point, but it was still unusual for him. Standing there, he lowered a gangplank onto the pier, commenting to himself.

"What a strange land..."

[Sigrid and Smudge]

Sigrid watched as the odd boat gracefully slid into the dock. She was quite a beautiful craft; sleek and elegant, slicing through the shallow water like a sharpened knife point into bread. The tall triangular sails caught her attention; they bore no recogniseable crest. In fact, nothing about the boat or its occupant suggested any tribe at all that Sigrid knew of.
Still, it was a trading ship, and everyone on Berk knew that trading ships bought new and exciting things. Most Vikings were hanging back, uncertain, but Sigrid slipped her knife from its thigh holster and began to walk down the salt-worn planks. She looked quite impressive- until she stepped on a rotting board which broke, sending her stumbling forward. She hastily straightened up, face burning, aware that every eye on Berk was trained on her as she made her daredevil walk towards the foreign boat, and kept walking. She stopped beside the gangplank and twirled her knife between her fingers with an ease born of many years of secretly practising the impressive-looking maneuver. Setting her one muddy-hued eye on the newcomer, she placed her free hand on her hip.
"Hey there, you. I haven't seen you 'round here before; we don't generally get newcomers here. What brings you this side of Luck Tuck?"

[Ifrit]

The man watched the woman approach him as he set out what looked like collapsible tables on his deck, layering out wares. Everything from brightly colored silks and clothes, to weapons made of the same strange steel, to parchments and paper from his land and beyond. Tall smoking apparatuses with ornate glass bottoms and hoses attached at the top, as well as fragrant smoking mixes of tobacco and others. Food and drink, mainly loose teas and other amenities were also lay out, though nothing alcoholic or containing any pork product. As soon as he was finished, he turned and saw the woman stumble. She was already regaining her footing by the time he was halfway down the gangplank, but his reactionary speed was impressive and concern was in his face. If he was at all intimidated by her knife, he showed zero sign of it. When he saw she was alright, he backed up from the gangplank onto his boat, placed a hand over his chest and bowed very low from his waist.

"Ah, salaam and good afternoon, North lady." His voice was a deep, rich baritone with a soft purr and an accent that was definite but not thick- she could still understand him fine. "My name is Aashiq ibn al-Salah ibn Reyhan..." He trailed off and chuckled softly. "Ifrit, will do just fine. I had been traveling up the mainland and heard tell of this island with its strange and wondrous creatures. In addition to seeing what wares might be offered, I had hoped to perhaps glimpse a view of said myths come to life." The man smiled at her. "Might I be able to interest you in perusing my offerings to barter?"

[Sigrid and Smudge]

Sigrid looked the man up and down. He didn't look too agressive, despite the strange blades at his belt. And if he really was just a trader, the village would probably kill her for turning away (i.e. attacking) a possible source of imports. So she sheathed her knife and winked at the man.
"Nice ta meet you, Ifrit. I'm Sigrid. Welcome to Berk."
She marched up his gangplank and looked around the tables, blinking at the smoking apparatuses. "What in the name of Thor is this thing?" she asked, picking up a pipe with a delicate glass basin on the bottom, filled with tobacco. She sniffed the leaves inside and nearly dropped the pipe. "Odin's ghost! That smells foul!"
She hurriedly set the pipe down and turned back to Ifrit. "What is this stuff? What does it do?"
She thought it might have been sort of like the herbal teas the healer used, the ones that tasted like something between dragon dung and dead snails, but it didn't look like any type of herbal remedy she had seen. She glanced at the tea leaves and wondered briefly if this man was a healer. That would account for the strange herb-looking products.

[Ifrit]

The man bowed before her again, noting the name of the land as she spoke and sheathed her blade. "Berk? A different name to be sure, but this is quite a different land." He smiled at her as she walked onto his ship. "Welcome to the Ghaniyah. In my tongue it means 'beautiful woman'. Please, browse at your leisure." His hands were folded behind his back and he hardly seemed on guard. Walking around, he seemed far more interested in observing her than anything else, though it seemed merely for the sake of curiosity.

As she looked at the tables, she would indeed see bolts and clothes made out of colorful cloth, a far cry from the normal leathers and metals of the North lands. Weapons were displayed with the strange metal the man wore, and looked extremely expensive as well as potent. On the table housing the glass objects, teas and smoking mixes were also smaller pipes designed for smoking the strange herbs he had on his ship.

As she dropped the ornate glass hookah and reacted, he chuckled. "Oh, apologies, dear North lady. Shisha can be quite potent but when burned, produces a pleasant smell. Here, please allow me."

In slow, nonthreatening motions, he crossed over and lit a small charcoal briquette. He assembled the hookah, pouring fresh water into the bowl. It had two hoses with ornate metal tips for smoking. The man showed her how the contraption worked, pinching off the hose he was not using. Seeing the chamber filled with smoke, he rolled it around in his mouth for a moment, and then exhaled, politely upwind of her. She'd catch a faint but pleasant blueberry scent in the air. "Our tobacco mixes are different but most find them enjoyable." He motioned to the hose closer to her. "Would you care to try some? In my land sharing of the hookah is considered quite a relaxing and pleasurable activity."

[Sigrid and Smudge]

Sigrid narrowed her eyes and took the hose, gingerly placing the ornate mouthpiece between her crooked teeth. She attempted to mimic what Ifrit had done- waiting until the chamber was filled with smoke and then allowing the smoke to fill her mouth. Strange, it DID smell quite good. As she let the smoke out of her mouth (considerably less politely than Ifrit had: being unaccustomed to the way the smoke would flow, she unwittingly gave the foreign trader a faceful) she sniffed deeply, catching the tart scent of blueberries and other fruity smells.
She lifted the hose, blinking at it.
"How do you make this... 'shisha', did you call it? What's in it?"
Sigrid did feel considerably calmer and for a moment wondered if the shisha was drugged. Certain plants had been known to have nasty effects on a person in specific conditions; Sigrid herself had been exposed to various varieties in her childhood shortly after she had lost her eye.
"It is very calming, Ifrit. It's... actually, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. It's probably the most unique smell I've had the pleasure of experiencing, hands down, everyone in the archipelago. You must come from a very far away place; we've never had anything like this. It's nothing like our Angelica root- it's got a much mellower taste. Angelica root is very strong and woody, not fruity like this."

[Harvast]

It had been a long morning for the young man, working with a few customers here and there and in threat of being cleaned out of his own stock.  One can only hope that he obtained enough quality product here on Berk to keep in business.  Otherwise, he would be out for more adventure, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  It wasn't easy this time of year.  He had missed the ship that came in earlier in the day, so now here he was, looking over the peculiar ship and thought wordlessly to himself.

Gathering up his harpoon, he ventured down his gangplank and dodged a viking who was coming down the dock, earning the young man a snort.  His brow raised, he turned and renewed his approach to the new strange ship.  He couldn't help but be curious about it, triangle sails?  That was new or at least he had never seen them.  His short walk finally came to an end just outside the gangplank of the strange vessel.

Looking around, he saw no form of guard or sentry, so instead he decided to announce himself.  After all, was only right for him to request entry into someone else's home.  "What ho!  Who is the captain of this vessel?  Are you trader or sailor?"

[Ifrit]

Ifrit chuckled as she let the smoke go, not seeming offended in the least as it hit him. "Shisha mixes are tobacco, molasses and fruit extracts. They sometimes can be infused with hallucinogens to create euphoric effects, but I hasten to add I do not carry those openly." He clipped off his hose after a few pulls but left hers open to continue if she wished. "I am glad you enjoy it, North lady! It is very unique and I have not found many places outside of my former home that carry the hookah or the items to burn within. I cannot speak on your Angelica root but that itself seems most intriguing. I do not mind strong scents."

He led her over to the side that contained his weaponry. Lifting one of the blades, he held it to her. "Damascus steel. This is considered by many to be the most potent metal in the known world. Of course, I do not know what materials this island holds. I am quite eager to find out, I think." He smiled and offered her the blade. "Balanced weight, light, but very strong." The man then walked to a set of brightly colored cloths, a stark contrast to the relatively dull grays, blacks and browns of most Viking garb. Although some of the style he lifted up to her were blacker than night. "Abaya are body-covering robes from my homelands. These are obviously preferred in the summer months when the heat is blazing overhead. In my land, snow is nonexistent so our women wear these year round." Ifrit held up a colored robe that looked her size and was the color of her hair, as if checking measurements. It stood to reason- he'd never been this far North before and based on his travels, everyone measured differently.

As he was hailed by the newcomer, he turned and walked back towards the gangplank, bowing low. "Salaam and good afternoon, North man. I am Ifrit and this is my vessel, the Ghaniyah. I am a sailor and trader both and you are most welcome here!" He motioned for the man to board if he would. "Please feel free to browse. I am happy to tell you about any of my wares should you require more information." The man smiled, seeming friendly enough despite his perhaps imposing stature.

[Sigrid and Smudge]

Sigrid couldn't help but coo over the weapons. She lifted the blade. It appeared to be perfectly balanced and the grip was just the right length. Sure, maybe it wasn't as light as Gronckle Iron, but chances to collect the prized metal were few and far between; surely this was the next best.
"You have a strange assortment of stuff on this boat," Sigrid commented, swishing the blade back and forth before setting it back down on the table and moving to the abaya. "From tobacco to weapons to clothing. Versatile is the word that comes to mind." She allowed Ifrit to hold up the tawny robe towards her. "I feel I have to burst your bubble though: here on Berk, it snows nine months of the year and hails the other three. I don't think a robe designed to protect from sunlight will be much help here."
Sigrid heard a familiar whistling bark, like an oversized snowy owl, and looked upwards. Smudge was looping lazily overhead, landing with a thud on the dock and snapping a plank with his tail. Sigrid rolled her eyes.
"Smudge, you oaf," she called. "Stop breaking everything! And I swear to Thor don't scare Ifrit!"
"Why?" Smudge replied caustically. "He a wuss? Or did you already stuff up on your own and you're trying to make up for it?"
Sigrid growled. "You are so lucky he doesn't speak Dragonese, Smudge."

[Harvast]

It was as welcome of a greeting as he would have hoped for, "Well met, friend.  I am Harvast, sailor, explorer, trader.  I thank you for your kind welcome here aboard our vessel.  My own craft is moored just there." The younger man beamed with pride at the rich red of his own ship down the dock as he came up the gangplank.

The suddenness of the dragon swooping down to smash a plank on the docks made him jump.  If it weren't for his capable sea legs, he might have tipped off into the drink.  Visibly rattled by the size of the dragon he was gazing at, he hopped up onto the deck with a flutter from his kilt.  Looking towards the woman who seemed to be communicating with it, frowning softly.  Note to self, find a way off this ship without getting near that beast.

He turned his eyes onto Ifrit, trying to find his composure, and gave a slight nod, "Peace friend.  Have the waves been at peace on your journey?"  Shifting his harpoon from one side to another, hoping that he looked much more relaxed, but probably failing.  He looked to be clinging to that harpoon like it was his lifeline now.

[Ifrit]

Ifrit smiled at her. He'd been to various places and amassed an assortment of things to trade for but he didn't seem the overly greedy type. Mainly just looking for food that wouldn't perish easily and water. Perhaps he just liked looking at pretty things. "I do indeed, dear North lady." As she explained the weather he chuckled and set the robes down. "Ah, fair enough, then." He followed her gaze towards the whistling bark and his eyes went wide. "By Allah..." He walked over to the edge of his ship to get a better look at the dragonkin. The man's demeanor seemed all curiosity and little fear.

Obviously he couldn't tell much of what the dragon was saying but the interaction was fascinating to watch all the same. He looked between them before the newcomer turned to hail him further.

Ifrit bowed to the man once more. "Harvast, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have never heard your name before, but I am certain there are far more peculiar than that on these isles." He didn't speak as if he were insulting the man- more, just trying to get a feel for the folk that inhabited the strange lands of ice and snow. Looking towards Harvast's ship, his eyes brightened. "And a fine vessel she is! I would like to meet her someday!"

He turned and saw Harvast's reaction to the dragon, nodding to himself. "The ocean, she has been most gracious in her calm and I thank Allah for that every day." He motioned Harvast over to his collection of hookah and began loading it with a sticky molasses mixture that smelt of soothing lavender and chamomile. "If I may offer you one of our manners of smoking? This is shisha, a molasses and tobacco mix with flavoring." He moved closer so only the young man could hear him. "It is very calming for the nerves." The man's eyes were kind and without judgement.