[center][b][i]An Icy Encounter on the Shores east of the College[/i][/b]
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	Once the dinghies disembarked from [i]The Courtesan[/i], Leif remained at the railing, watching in earnest at the dinghy that carried Sevine, anxious to see that it wouldn’t capsize. Finally, when the tail end of the small rowboat disappeared into the entrance of the lagoon, did he breathe a sigh of relief. As he turned around, his hands supporting his weight as he scanned the deck, he spotted Dumhuvud jabbing a finger into the chest of Atgeir, without hesitation, he covered the space of the deck swiftly, but not before the Orc aboard the ship jerked Dumhuvud away. 

“I’ll damn well as I please, yeh fookin’ idiot. This is my fookin’ ship, jab me in the chest agin, and I’ll show ye what I can do. Make a pretty fine mess o’ that face, if ye don watch yer language.” Atgeir growled, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared down Dumhuvud. Luckily, Leif turned his captain back to the wheel.

“Don’t mind him cap’, he’s a bit of a ruffian, hot-headed, that’s certain. Just keep your eye on the shoreline.” Leif suggested, he wasn’t the one to tell his captain what to do either, he just prayed that Atgeir wouldn’t turn around and chuck Dumhuvud overboard into the frigid waters, like he had done before to cocky sailors that thought they were above him.  He even made them swim back to shore if they were lucky.
	Grunting, and with a sideways glance at Leif, Atgeir took his place at the wheel, hands gripping the spokes as tenderly as a familiar lover. Standing alongside him, the braids at his temples trailed in the wind as it whipped around him. The gale was returning, but whoever was stranded on the beach, likely a survivor of the collapse, needed rescuing too. Orange, flickering lights danced in the wind, threatening to extinguish themselves in the gusty winds. The orc ventured down to the railing after setting Dumhuvud straight, that man had no sense whatsoever. There, the green beastman leaned out, cupping his hand around his mouth and shouted. Curious to see if the person, or persons, stranded on the beach would respond, Leif joined him down on the main deck. As [i]The Courtesan[/i] pulled up to the shoreline, docking gently without so much as a bump, though to be sure, it was not an easy task, those on deck dropped the ramp. Whoever had held the torch on the beach, the flames were extinguished with a might gust of air, though closer to determine who the person was, Leif could make out a Dunmer in priestly robes. Orakh and Dumhuvud went first down the ramp, as they stepped onto the sandy beach, the man began to shout at them. Leif could only make out some words, as the wind increased, whipping up sea foam, he had heard the word [i]fire[/i], but not much else. 

“Bjorn! Halvar! Fetch me some torches!” He shouted from the top of the ramp. They scrambled below deck, and when they returned, they came bearing four torches blazing. Just as he received them, two in each hand, Leif turned to head down the ramp when he saw Orakh and Dumhuvud engaged in battle already. Flying through the air with serpentine motions, Leif identified the target they fought as an ice wraith, he had seen many during his excursions outside of Windhelm, and especially along the shorelines as he sailed upon [i]The Courtesan[/i]. Dashing down the ramp, accustomed to the thin boards, Leif leapt onto the sand, his boots sinking into the damp earth, he was the last one to join the group one the beach.

“[i]Hrarggghhh![/i] He shouted like an animal, and brandished the torches, waving them around to frighten off the ice wraith. It recoiled from the heat of the fire, withdrawing with a menacing hiss. Then, Leif realized rather quickly, that there was not one solitary ice wraith, but four others as well. [i]Well Talos be damned! [/i], it seemed that these wraiths were hunting in a pack.

“Here! Catch!” Leif barked, tossing Orakh, Sadri, Rhasha’Dar, and Dumhuvud a torch each. He needed both hands to wield his sword, and holding onto torches wouldn’t do much help.

[i]“Lucky Ashav values your life so much.” Dumhuvud remarked. “I would've fed you to these things.”[/i]

“Now is not the time to boast like a pompous ass, you bloke.” Leif growled. By then, the circle of mercenaries each wielded a torch blazing with fire, save for Leif. He studied the ice wraith that wavered in the air before him, he had only faced an ice wraith once before, and that was when [i]The Courtesan[/i] made an emergency landing on the northern shores of Windhelm. He had gone in search of firewood, and stumbled upon an ice wraith, of course, he turned tail and ran, the wraith followed him all the way back to the shore where the ship was moored. Had it not been for Halvar, he would have ended up with a painfully, frozen bite. 

	Had he not had his eyes carefully anticipating the strike from the ice wraith dancing before him, Leif would have ended up with a bite. Fortunately, as the wraith darted forward to sink its icy fangs into his forearm, Leif brandished his longsword, swinging it through the air in an arc, forcing the wraith to recoil again. Fighting the wraith his a sword as big as his would prove difficult, a sword, or an axe would have proven far more useful in these circumstances, but he had the skill to time his swings right, that he could finish it off the next time it launched a counter-attack on him.