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[Tawa]

The pulpit is intricately engraved with symbols, presumably of a religious nature, and had the candlesticks set atop its wide top before they were knocked over in battle. Presuming that the pulpit doubles as an altar, you mark it and set the head atop it.
The trek back to the landing is uneventful. Night falls as you leave the woods, and the gentle hills and rolling plains between the forest and the shore are jarringly calm compared to the bloodshed of the monastery. The monk is quiet and submissive on the walk, seemingly resigned to his fate.

A small fire burns at the landing, perhaps twenty feet from the ship. Around it sit six men atop furs and bedrolls. One of them turns. He gasps and begins drawing his seax, and the others turn and begin drawing blades of their own. One of them, a red-haired man with a braided beard, notes your attire. "Hold. These are our friends." The others see this and slide their weapons back into their sheathes.

The red-haired man speaks. "You... you raided the monastery, no? Yes, that was you lot. Good. You are not dead." He grimaces. "I presume it went well. Shall you tell us of your exploits, or shall we tell you of our failure?"

[My Name is Immaterial]

"We killed a handful of men who'd hadn't fought since they were lads. It's hardly an exploit worth reciting in our sagas. Tell us, where are the rest of the men? Is the captain among you?"

[Harry Baldman]

"Little opposition was found, it is true, and meager treasure on top of that. Now, tell us how you failed and how we are to assist."

[Tawa]

"That is good to hear." The man beckons you to join the group. "Hroðgar is not here, I am sorry to say. Come, sit."

"I am Faste. These are Leifr, Haraldr, Bjorn, Flæmingr, and Þórir. We were all among the rear-guard. Hroðgar's vanguard... it was set upon by a host of at least forty men, every last one wielding a cruel blade and clad in mail. By the time we caught up, Hroðgar's shield-wall was failing. Four of us, headstrong young lads, charged forth to join the fray, but were slain without a thought by uncaring soldiers. In the end, fourteen laid dead, and the remaining five captive, Halfiron among them."

Faste stops and draws deep from a drinking horn. The warrior identified as Haraldr, a young fellow with tangled, fair hair, continues for him. "Our plan was to wait until the dead of night, or until you returned, and leave. We surmised that we could at least escape with our lives and the ship. Unless you have a better idea, that is."

Bjorn, a dark-haired man of middling age, indicates the monk. "If I may be so bold, it seems you have taken a captive. What do you intend of him? Send him to a jarl? Sell him in the west?"

[Sirus]

"We should not leave the Captain behind. Such actions displease the Gods. Where are our people being held?"

[Harry Baldman]

"How many of theirs are left? The captain leave any corpses behind that weren't ours?" Njall asked. It was uncommon for a captain to meet disaster like this, even a captain like the one they'd got.

[highmax28]

"I don't know why they brought him along, but I see now that we can use him to help us out...

Before I deal with that, do we have any idea how many more there are? Or do you believe that would be all we have to face?"

Varg kneels down to the monk and grins.

"I know you're a scribe, but I'm going to see you be a map maker before dawn.

Can you ask him how much he knows the town?"

[Tawa]

Faste puts down his drinking horn and responds to Njall and Varg. "Hroðgar was a flurry of blows. He felled four by his own hand. Rognvaldr, his friend, died bravest of all; at least six fell to his blade. The others took down perhaps ten or eleven in total. Too many green boys in the vanguard. Anyway, about twenty of them are left, I would say." He looks toward the fire, contemplatively. Haraldr adds, "I've been raiding many times. That band was no coast guard--no bows, slings, or javelins to be seen among them, and far too heavily armored. I'd hazard a guess that they were the local lord's retinue."

Bjorn responds to Gunnvor. "They're probably in Castle Thuadeir. I'm told the lord, Earl Seachnall, is a sneaky one. I don't doubt he's got all sorts of cunning traps in his keep."

[My Name is Immaterial]

"I don't know why they brought him along, but I see now that we can use him to help us out...

Before I deal with that, do we have any idea how many more there are? Or do you believe that would be all we have to face?"

Varg kneels down to the monk and grins.

"I know you're a scribe, but I'm going to see you be a map maker before dawn.

Can you ask him how much he knows the town?"

Translating for the priest, Úlfr says "An iarla. Dè as urrainn dhomh innse dhomh mu dheidhinn? A chaisteal? A 'cumail taic ris? Mar as motha as urrainn dhut innse dhuinn, an fheadhainn nach eil a 'fulang leotha," gesturing at his companions, "Air èigneachadh a bhith a 'toirt buaidh air a' bhaile seo. Mura h-eil thu a 'roinn an fhiosrachaidh seo, marbhaidh iad thu fhèin agus cho mòr dhaoine' s as urrainn dhaibh. Dèan an taghadh ceart, sagart."

Spoiler: Translation: (click to show/hide)

"The earl. What can you tell me about him? His castle? His retinue? The more you can tell us, the less suffering they," he says, gesturing at his companions, "will be forced to inflict upon this village. If you don't share this information, they will kill you and as many people as they can. Make the right choice, priest."

Úlfr pulls out his cartography supplies, and takes down any notes he can, attempting to build a map of the town and castle.
(Craft (Cartography): +6)

[Tawa]

The monk is quiet at first, but begins to speak in a quiet, almost labored tone. He describes the countryside; the fishing village is to the north, near a small bay. The monastery is, of course, to the west, in a chain of hills near a forest. A tributary of the great river Ciorcail flows from the hills, with another of the earl's villages clustered around one of its bends. Between the villages, a bit closer to the fishing village, is Castle Thuadeir: a small stone motte-and-bailey keep, with a high, wooden palisade surrounding it. He helps you sketch the coastline and meekly nods when you show him the finished product.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[highmax28]

"They couldn't have gone far.

Ask what they do with prisoners."

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Tha mo charaid ag iarraidh faighinn a-mach dè a tha iad a 'dèanamh le prìosanaich. A bheil cladhach anns a 'ghàradh?"

[Tawa]

"Is dòcha gu bheil na prìosanaich ann an làr àrd a 'ghleidhein. Sin far a bheil iad a' cumail eucorach mus deuchainn no peanas. Chan eil fios agam air dòighean dìomhair sam bith ann."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"The prisoners are probably in the keep's top floor. That's where they keep criminals before trial or punishment. I know not of any secret ways in."

[highmax28]

"Is dòcha gu bheil na prìosanaich ann an làr àrd a 'ghleidhein. Sin far a bheil iad a' cumail eucorach mus deuchainn no peanas. Chan eil fios agam air dòighean dìomhair sam bith ann."

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

"The prisoners are probably in the keep's top floor. That's where they keep criminals before trial or punishment. I know not of any secret ways in."

Varg makes a disgruntled huff as he speaks. "We don't have much time.

How many men do we have to watch the boats?"

[Tawa]

Leifr, Flæmingr, and Þórir raise their hands at Varg's question. You realize that these three have been silent so far, and appear younger than Bjorn, Faste, and even Haraldr, and are perhaps still in shock from the slaughter. Faste glances at them and says, "Aye, I'll guard it too. War-fatigued fresh meat is hardly a decent lookout, and you'll need someone to keep an eye on your captive, anyway." Bjorn puts forth, "I'll stay as well. I lost my brother out there, and would prefer not to cost my family another man." However, Haraldr says, "I'll come with you five, if you like. I was going to push off with this lot, but if you're planning a rescue, I'd much prefer to help out."