The Berserker smirked abit watching Rowan and his mating/courtship dance. He didn't really laugh until Seti stepped in and got assaulted by the Shoebill Stork. He'd been on the receiving end of those blows and suspected Rowan wasn't serious now. It was a short, but deep laugh that bellowed it dumb his chest.

A large hand emerged from his cloak to stroke his beard listening to the Captain brag about his ship. Being unable to fly would make this trip harder indeed. Growth never happens when things are easy though so there are no complaints from him. He was at least great full that the shop was well armed incase there was trouble at sea. These cannons could even be used again things on that rock they were traveling to, though this was likely a 'do or die' situation if it ever came about.

He was back to wearing the stern expression on his face. As the captain left he looked to the others, then Naia and Reid as the moved below decks. "Agreed, shouldn't get in their way more so than we already are." and he stared moving below decks to. "A game sounds good. We can talk about the mission and each other since some are more familiar with some than others."

"Well, I haven't played cards in a while, but I'm up for a game if you'll show me how." Seti chimes in, smiling brightly at Rei. "...Do you want in Rowan, or are you just going to keep staring at Emma?"

"Moo." The shoebill responded cryptically.

"...Ugh, fine. But if you upset her, it's on you. It's not very gentlemanly to upset women." Seti is rewarded to his wisdom with a sharp THWAP of Rowan's wing upside his head. Neither Rowan nor Seti seemed unduly burdened by the cold--presumably the pair were used to averse conditions. Rangers always slept outside, so...Getting used to all kinds of weather was part of the deal.

As Seti moves over towards Rei to get started on the game, Rowan continues to circle Emma in an appraising manner. His gaze unblinking, unflinching all the while. Some rangers might try to reign in their companion, but in the case of Seti and Rowan...it was something of a pointless task. The shoebill quite clearly had a mind of his own, and wouldn't kowtow to any orders! Unless they were given by a pretty girl, of course.

Captain Marko flashed a wry grin at Rei, the smuggler crossing his arms and speaking perhaps a little too loud. Likely, so that his crew could hear, "Well, I'd wager close to a two weeks by sea, maybe more. Barring interference, which frankly is to be expected in these waters. I could probably clip it at about ten to eleven days, if you showed my boys the goods to keep them.. ah. Motivated, yeah?"

Laughing, the Captain went back to work, though still listening to a response and already expecting to know what he was going to hear.

The majority of the journey itself was relatively uneventful, with the crew - though a rowdy bunch - mostly kept to themselves, and more surprisingly entirely kept their hands (or, in a few cases, stumps) to themselves. Captain Marko would occasionally come to join in on a game of cards - King's Ransom was his game, learned on Ishaela. And he was good... or he wasn't playing fair, and was really good at not getting caught. Fortunately, he seemed to like the sport over the spoils, and returned half the coins he won in cards.

On land this far north, it was cold and unpleasant. Zoda and Miroa were both known to nearly be cold enough to have year-round snowfall, even if it was much lighter in the spring and summer. Out on the open sea, however, that unpleasant was entirely uncomfortable. One could only imagine, if this was the warm season that the could would have been a death sentence for many.

The further north they traveled, the more the ship needed to re-plot the course to adjust for weather that got terribly rough, tossing the patchwork ship about. True to Marko's words, however, the ship held together, though on-the-spot repairs occasionally had to be completed by a nearsighted old man who probably had less than five teeth in his mouth. Despite his appearance, Ol' Dob was good at what he did - keeping the ship afloat, and Marko had a special affection for him, holding him higher in opinion than much of the rest of his crew.

It was closer to ten days before they spotted it, in the distance. Not the island of Brumeveil, but its namesake - a veil of dense mist that blanketed the area, making sight of anything - even the island itself - entirely impossible from the outside.

"That I know of, men don't land on that island and come back. An adventurous explorer has given it a fair shot, says rumor.. but most who go in, don't return. I heard of an old Half-Sharvie who took his crew into the mist, but never made it to the main isle. Said there were smaller islands rimming the main one, but barely those at that. More like jagged teeth sticking out of the ocean, ready to tear a ship and its crew to ribbons if they made it wrong."

The Captain looked over his shoulders and grinned. "I can't say I'm not eager to try to navigate it. I'm a better captain than any of those laggards who tried by half again, and luckier than any two together. But, that's your lots call, not mine. How're we going about this, then?"

The terrible weather was a mixed blessing for Shamus. On one hand, it certainly dampned the overenthusism of his pigeon companion who continuingly preferred to remain within the warm blessed confines of Shamus's room and would be fairly docile as long the gaunty antics of a certain shoebill crane remained out of immediate perception.

On the other hand, the terrible weather was terrible. Shamus cloaked himself with extra layers of cloak all with oversized hoods to fit over his pointy hat. The result was either comical or unsettling as his short stature added to an unusual looking profile. If not for his enchantments to keep normal attention away from him, he would have stood out like a Moul if needing the occasional "Utini!". Needless to say, he was grateful that most of the others left him to his own devices.

That is not to say that he could not make himself present when he needed. During the group's counsel, he stood, not out too muxh, but with hoods pulled back and hat gripped to the side.

"Take a smaller rowing boat out, maybe? I don't really know much about sailing or this mist. But I could try calling on Ciahal's divine magic to shape the mist around the row boat as we went along. It'd be an easier request than trying to do that for the Lady Defiler. Another thing I could try is to read the Fortune of those who'd try and steer the boat and see how prospects look.Of course, I usually do this through dreams or augury. But I think I still remember how to do it with tarot cards"

Emma was briefly dumbstruck at the realization she would be sharing general sleeping quarters with Naia, regardless of their size or who else they would be sharing it with. Luckily for all involved, she didn't have a brain aneurysm-induced case of nosebleed, or start hyperventilating weirdly. Rowan's orbit around her registered once she rectified that epiphany. "Ummm...Mira Talas? Sorry, I didn't bring any food...that a shoebill can eat." Intimidating Emma is more-or-less impossible: seen far too many horrors for a bird to ruffle her feathers.

"I'm game for cards, though! How about..." No, no...the Witch bites her tongue and doesn't suggest strip poker. She also doesn't suggest royal flush. "Go fish?" Expecting something better than punnery is asking for a miracle, though.

Emma is weird, so it's unsurprising that her schedule and habits are weird. She has to make a concerted effort to even try to be "helpful" aboard the ship, as her default behavior is rather...self-absorbed. The following morning the young woman would have a small anxiety attack upon discovering she forgot to pack her Vanidyrean tabernacle, prompting her to hurriedly paint a replacement using her peculiar three-dimensional, Witchcraft-powered "art". She would end up making a small altar to the Spirit of Mercy for Naia, no doubt...since a pirate ship probably doesn't keep one as a spare. Once her morning rituals were done, there was eating...and a bit of reading, and then "work". Work, being scouring the sea from the deck to find things worthy of painting, as is her passion.

When the distant mist came into view and became their first quandary, she spent a bit thinking before offering her take on t:

"What about if Shamus and I try to use a rite to stir up the wind, and see if it might thin the mist out?"

The Northlander smirked widely, clearly showing through his beard. "I wouldn't worry about Rowan." Said to Emma. "He can fish out here, and anything that thinks he's food will bite off more than it could chew." There was a bit of a chuckle there under his breath, giving more moisture to the ice forming around his beard before disappearing below desk to find a bunk to claim as his for the duration. The tight spaces within the hull only exasperated just how big of a man he was, making him more aware of it than normal. Often he was the last the leave an area, or the first just to try to keep out of the way of others. Other times when left to his own devices he tended to the bone axe of Voraath make, Kiisgor.

It was a good thing Woten had enjoyed himself during the card games as he was a poor player. Not that he had bad luck but his 'tells' we're more like beacon fires in a lighthouse. A bit of his coin was lost but in good fun. His mood did remain dower over all however. However those who ventured with him before knew he tended to be serious when out on missions. To be on one for such an extended time could break the man? Probably not. The Berserker was grateful nothing but the waves attacked the ship on their approach to the Isle. When damage was had he'd offered to help with the patch jobs. While not a engineer or anything fancy, he was a laborer and use to following instruction when shown how to do something. It was all apart of him finding things to do during the 10 days at sea.

He listened during the meet once the mists of the isle were in sight. He nodded to Shamus at his suggestion after hearing the captain out. "A small craft might be better depending on the waves out there." Though it sounded like there was quite about they didn't know about the waters between them and their destination. "I'm not concerned about our odds out there Captain. Many here have fought against odds to be where they are now. Though deadly as this island is we will forge through and claim the prize." he gave hard thump to his chest when finishing his boastful words.

Rei was happy to show off her cardistry skills and to teach poker to those who weren't familiar with it, as well as learn a few games she didn't know. During the nights she would chat pleasantly with the girls she was bunked with, getting to know them while letting them get to know her. The others would come to learn her strengths lay in stealth and subterfuge and that she valued her guns above all of her other possessions. Despite the fact that she hadn't fired a shot since she boarded the ship she meticulously cleaned and oiled the revolvers each night. If asked about it she'd merely point out that the salty sea spray was bad for the metal.

When confronted with the wall of fog she would utter a simple incantation to detect the presence of magic, curious if the mist was naturally occurring or if there was an arcane influence at work, and she would report her findings either way. She wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving the security of the larger ship and going to explore the fog in a dinghy.

"We could skirt the fog barrier around the island, see if there is an area where it isn't quite so thick."

Naia spent the majority of her time aboard the ship on the deck, standing in the prow at times with a long seeing look on her face and letting the cold wind whip her ruby hair to frothing about her cheeks until they were red with the chill. Unfailingly polite to everyone, including the crew, and her bristling manner toward the Captain eased a bit though it likely returned pretty frequently. Though she would lend hands if the moment came to it, for the most part her time was divided between silent thought, training in the early morning on the deck with her sword in silent drills, and when the others played at cards or diced she would sit near and write in her journal. While she did watch the games, the knight never joined in them, interested but not enough to participate.

When they drew up on the mist shrouded isle, the woman was already on the deck and her eyes fastened on the landmass. Listening to the comments from those around her in silence, to the suggestions and considering them with her silvery gaze distant again. A small sound of consideration left her and she said in the tone which did not change in is delicate deference for the comfort of all. Naia could be firm and had in the past shown that, but it was infrequent that her voice was unstrung by something. A ghost of a smile appeared at Woten's confident words, as she framed thoughts and voiced them.

"I do not think we should use a smaller boat unless proximity to land requires it. What lies in these waters, well I have only have books and the words of others to guide me, dangers lurk and likely need care taken with them. Those who have more understanding of what we might face in a dinghy, please counsel there though. I may be using a good deal more caution necessary. However, I think the suggestions all around assembled would be a wise coarse. Captain, if you agree, let us sail around the island, draw as close as you feel safe. Look for a place where the fog is thinner. While you do that, Emma and Shamus can attempt to make some headway with the mist."

How did Seti spend his time? Fishing, of course! He and Rowan both would spend a great deal of time fishing off the side of the ship. Seti was seemingly unphased by much of the cold weather, as it wasn't anything he was unused to. While originally from Albadosia, the ranger had ventured into all manner of harsh climates under the benefit of Habakano--and Lythian cold was worse by far than a bit of mundane chill, even if it was severe. Seti would happily join in the card games as they happened, but would spend a fair amount of time in prayer as well. He was exceptionally devout...Some might say too much. When the weather permitted it, Seti would sleep out on the decks, so that the stars could be above him. Sleeping inside, even on a ship, made him uncomfortable. Naturally though, there were times when conditions wouldn't allow for that, and thus he'd reluctantly sleep inside.

Rowan had a bit more "free time" and when he was not fishing, he'd be following Naia or Emma around the ship. Gallantly, Rowan would try and shield Naia's face from the cold wind with his wings and, on the mornings where she trained, would even attempt to step in as a sparring partner! As Woten could attest to, the bird had a frightening amount of martial prowess in spite of his odd personality.

When stalking after Emma, he would alternate between staring at her listlessly and attempting to assist her with her various endeavors. His motives were either immensely simple, or...entirely inscrutable. It could be very hard to tell.

On the matter of the mist, Seti didn't have much in the way of strategy. "...I trust Marko to navigate the islands myself, mist or no mist. My only argument against dispelling it is that if there's something unfriendly on the island, it'll make our approach much more visible. It's a double edged sword either way."