Nothing was especially different about the trading post, it had moorings for the boats, homes and was subject to the same throng of humanity that all other trading posts were afflicted by.

Well, perhaps there was just one little thing here. A shipwright. Who, from boy to man to old man, had done nothing but fashion the type of vessel needed for the deep seas.

On this day. The longboat 'Thor's Hammer' sat comfortably moored. Her crew, bartering to replenish the 'Hammer's' supplies.

Buliwyf Gunthigg, master of 'Thor's Hammer', stood with the shipwright critically eyeing the new ship, bobbing prouder than a peacock in it's berth. It's was almost half as long again as 'Thor's Hammer', wider too, though not by as much as to be instantly noticable.

"Will the Lord Gunthigg wish to see her sail?" quizzed the shipwright.

Buliwyf only nodded in consent.

Shouting a few commands to the workers on board, the shipwright watched the face of his employer for reaction.

The sail was unfurled and dropped rapidly to fill it's place. In the centre of the sail a large ruinic symbol drew the attention of all around.

Buliwyf grinned. Slapped the shipwright on the back saying "you have surpassed yourself this time old man! She is beautiful!" Old hands gladly accepted the large bag of coin which the final payment. Shouting once more, the shipwright left Buliwyf to watch his new ship being supplied and his possesions brought aboard.

He would not attend the naming ceremony, there was much for him to do still. He had a meeting with a horrible little short man, who, in Buliwyf's veiw smelt like a woman should. He was told this was common in men who lived away south.