A bitter wind blew from the Northwest. Howling down off the frozen expanse of Iron Frost Glacier, and over the rolling tundra between the Iron Mountains and the Spiteful Peaks, it cut across Naggaroth like a cold razor slicing into the Sea of Malice. It scythed down the coast, whipping up white caps and freezing spray to sleet as it went. Kalrath felt the chill of the wind on his face, felt it cut to the bone, and savoured it. Beneath his feet, the small ship rocked uneasily at its moorings upon the wind driven swell. From below decks came the hisses and guttural growls of Cold-Ones. The vile saurian beasts did not enjoy being cooped up on board a ship.
Kal turned to his second in command, Seth. Dangerous looking, even for a Druchii, Seth had lost his left eye to a High Elf sword, and had had it replaced with a magical gem. A smooth round stone, black as obsidian, with a single glowing red rune carved in the front of it.
"With this wind at our backs, we should make good time to Karond Kar," Seth observed.
"That is, if we ever make it out of this harbour. Could those worthless animals go any slower?"
Loading and provisioning of the sleek raider was taking far to long. Like most Dark Elves, Kal would not dream of doing such menial work himself, so he kept a sizeable troop of slaves. They required fresh motivation to get the job done promptly.
Reaching for his crossbow, Kal looked for a suitable motivator. There, at the end of the trudging line of slaves, a dwarf, struggling under a crate easily as large as himself. The black fletched bolt whistled through the air, grazing the dwarf's cheek, causing him to drop his burden. That was all Kal had intended it to do, the poison would do the rest. All watched as the stricken dwarf died in agony.
"Every five minutes, I will shoot the last dog in the line," he snarled at the slaves. "It is in your best interests to be at the front of it. Now get back to work." With that, loading resumed at an enthusiastic pace.
Once Kalrath's family had had great wealth, and lands and estates across Naggaroth. It was all gone now; all save this ship he stood upon, the small island in whose harbour it rested, and the castle upon the volcanic island's tallest point. Late in his life, Kalrath's father had become a devotee of the Cult of Pleasure, and had squandered the family's belongings to finance his hedonistic urges. This had seriously inconvenienced Kal, who had, seeing as his two elder brothers had both died serving in Malekith's armies, expected a substantial inheritance. Father met with a satisfyingly lethal accident. Now Kalrath had to restore his family's wealth, and infamous name.
Kalrath's plan was to sail the raiding ship down the coast of the "Old World", raiding villages, and carrying off slaves as he went. His force was small, so ambitious raids for gold or treasure were out of the question. But slaves were easy game, and valuable trade in Naggaroth. His small force consisted of a hand-full of infantry, equipped with spears and crossbows and divided into two companies, a Repeater Bolt-Thrower manned by sailors from the raider, and his own regiment, mounted upon vicious Cold-Ones, the "Heart-Breakers".
The "Heart-Breakers" consisted of young nobles like Kalrath himself. Hot for adventure, eager to earn wealth and gain power, or simply bored of life at court, they had all eagerly signed on. For better or for worse, they had thrown in their lot with Kal, and their fate and fortune were tied in with him. This was sufficient to ensure something close to loyalty, whilst Kal's evil reputation and the ever watchful eye (and gem) of Seth deterred treachery.
The foot soldiers for the war band had been recruited from the citizens of Naggarond. The sailors were from amongst the cut-throats of Karond Kar's waterfront. All had been glad of the opportunity for battle and bloodshed.
Kalrath looked about him. The sleek vessel he stood on was one of the few true ships built by the Druchii. Malekith's navy depended upon sea monsters, commanded by beast-masters, and the immense and ancient Black Arks, floating islands, with their own castles and towers, and harbours filled with sea beasts like Helldrakes. This vessel though, was a sail ship, built in the Elven tradition from the black pine of Clar Karond, rigged fore 'n' aft, with an out rigger on either side to provide stability in heavy seas. As fast as the wind, even with the wind on the beam.
The island that was Kalrath's only estate was small extinct volcano, protruding from the sea between Har Ganeth and the mouth of the Gulf of Naggorund. During its final eruption, millennia ago, one wall of the volcano had collapsed, admitting the ocean to the crater, and forming the secluded harbour in which they were moored. Steep cliffs rose from the harbour to what had once been the rim. Situated upon the rim was a castle. Its conical towers rose sharply towards the black sky. Upon the battlements of the bastion, he could see his sister, Sariana, watching silently. The sorceress had declined to accompany them this time. Undoubtedly she was glad to see the back of Kalrath. The little minx could plot to her black hearts content. An approaching sailor interrupted his reverie.
"My lord, provisioning is complete, we are ready to sail."
"Cast off then," Kal ordered. "We sail immediately!"
High upon the battlements of the fortress, Sariana watched her brother's boat depart with a smile of satisfaction. Soon Kalrath would return the family to prosperity and power. She would be content, until then, to allow him to maintain his position at its head. Only when these things were assured would she make her move. And she already knew how she would go about it.
The sleek raider slipped its moorings, and glided out of the harbour.
Once into the open sea, she hoisted her mainsail full, and turned eastward, before the wind, towards the Sea of Chill, and the riches of the Old World.
Upon the poop deck, Kalrath brooded.
"Soon the world will tremble before me. Look out weaklings, here comes Kalrath Cold-Heart!"