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 Themanwiththeplan wrote:
I find the Nobles an interesting lot and I hope to see them steeped in blood soon.

Yup - some well-observed little vignettes there.

As the council where taking their seats in the decorated chamber, and the wind started to sing its howling song outside the castle walls and thunder crashed against the bleak mountaintops and the ever present rain kept falling from the heavens a series of events where unfolding somewhere else.

It the looming shadows of the great twin citadels that guarded the entrance to the heartlands of Kels the light of countless torches blazed in the dark night as the vast armies of Kels came pouring onto the fields where they would muster for the final blow against their hated foes. The banners of countless regiments of foot men flapped in the weak breeze and the sounds of many regiments of horse could be heard as the animals and their masters prepared themselves.
The atmosphere was one of tense nerves and a hint of fear, every man present here knew that the coming campaign would be bloody beyond imagination. And that most of them would not return to this place, the last time the armies of Kels had marched into Noregard all but a few hundred men had been hacked to pieces by the rebels and their savage allies in the narrow mountain passes where numbers did not mean for much, or in the vast woods where men where picked of one by one, or lured into their deaths by hidden enemies within the evergreen hell that surrounded them at all sides.
The main force would march directly into Noregard and onto the massive castle at Dunheim and lay siege while the remaing armies would sweep towards the dukedom of Karrelia and onwards to the border marches afterwards. This massive undertaking would be possible due to the aid offered by the many feral Pict tribes that had long standing grudges against those who opposed their king, and the fact that the garrisons on the border with Thessalonia had been almost emptied of men and weapons. The city states of that realm would not dare to attack their king had declared. They feared his wrath & vengeance too much to risk their own life’s and homes for such futile gains.

The tent pavilion where his nobles and generals where gathered to discus the coming campaign with him buzzed with the voices of so many noble born men. Dressed in their best armour they made a splendid if somewhat varied scene. Some men clearly spent more time drinking wine and eating roasted pig than commanding men, while others where like pale shadows scarred by countless battels, and with the constant flickering of the eyes that spoke of men wit much on their minds.
But in amongst their midst there where a man who made them all pale in comparison, dressed in a suit of plate armour forged with metal that seemed to absorb light, and make the wearer resemble a wraith. His pale features set in stone as he listened to the men around him argue amongst themselves, he stood behind his lord who wore a suit of armour of very ornate but practical make and decorated with great splendour. On his head this man had a crown and the coat of arms on his chest declared to one and all that he was the ruler of all these gathered men.
King Erik was perhaps his now dead fathers son but he looked noting like him, his face shaven and his hair scented with oils he looked more like a court attendant in appearance had it not been for the well worn armour and sword he carried. As a throne robber one could never keep ones skills with both mind and sword sharp enough he had decided.
Speaking with a voice that for once was iron hard and in some twisted way sounded just like the man he had run trough with the sword he now carried he addressed the nobles and officers. Oh how he hated their endless bickering and pitiful attempts at gained favour with him.
“SILENCE! Enough of this! You all know why you and your armies are summoned here today. For years these wild dogs has been allowed to run free throughout my kingdom! Sowing rebellion and causing mayhem, but now it all ends. The plans that you all have been shown will be the last move in this game of power, when the sun rises and we march the last days of the rebellion draws near!” he finished and raised his glass of wine to make a toast.
“FOR VICOTRY AND BLOODSHED!” he called out and his minions answered him like a pack of wild dogs baying for blood. The nobles and officers cheered him, shouting their praise and promises of heads claimed in his name when the battles begun.
But from behind the throne when he sat down a voice cold as the grave spoke into his ear.
“A remarkable speech sire, but I do wonder how many of these peacocks will be present when the campaign ends. It would be a sad day if so many noble houses lost their hot headed ruler.”

“Watch your tongue marshal! I do not wish to hear such words just now. But I agree actually. But I care more for ending this once and all than some noble dying in the battels to come.”'

“Pardon my words then sire, I only wish to point out some options for you when this is all over. And new rulers of the conquered lands are to be appointed after all. “

“I have someone in mind already, and I believe the lands we will reconquer will fall under the direct rule of the crown. They will need a firm hand to guide them after all.”
With a wolfish grin the king took his place once more beside the nobles who now where busy eating and drinking their fill before the armies began their march the coming morning.
He sat at the head of the table and made sure to avoid much in the way of drink, he could not afford to be seen suffering a bad case of morning sickness and shabbiness when the new day came.

But one man was missing from the feast, the pale marshal of the realm and the one to command the Draconian guard had slipped out from the great pavilion and now stood on a hill quite far from the camp. There in the pale company of the stars above him and the soothing winds he bent his knees in silent prayer.
He prayed for a coming time of bloodshed and great victories, he prayed that his king and ruler would prevail of the traitors and that the Draconian guard would reap a bloody harvest of their foes.
Drawing a curved dagger he cut a long cut along his forearm and watched blood drip down upon the cold earth before getting to his feet.
He could see the vague outlines of his men who kept a weary watch over their lord as he prayed to the storm god for victory. None would live if they where to happen to stumble upon him in such a holy moment of worship.
With blood dripping down his hand and a renewed sense of purpose the man walked down the hill and grabbed the reins of his horse offered to him by one of the knights who had followed him out to this place. Swinging himself up into the saddle he grinned and felt the eyes of his god look down upon him, yes there would be much honour and fame won in the coming weeks he felt.
Let them fear us, let the fear eat away at their hearths until only fear and a sense of doom remains he thought and followed his brothers back to the sprawling camp.



Meanwhile somewhere far away from the coming storm a lone man sat with folded feet and closed eyes, his mind wandered along hidden paths and countless paths open to him, and him alone.
In that place that knew no time or passing of years he saw the events unfolding, he saw the false king muster his armies and the dark ones who served him pray to their own dark gods for success on the fields of war. It was clear to him then, only one option would save the brave few who stood against the numerous evil men opposing them. For the longest had he hoped that a direct involvement in the fate of the north could be avoided but now it seemed no such hopes was going to bear fruit.
Opening his amber coloured eyes and gripping his staff the old man who seemed to be nearing his end to anyone who did not know him. He stood for a moment to gather his thoughts before clapping his hands to summon the warrior standing guard outside.
The warrior entered with his shaven head bowed low and his hands crossed across his chest. He was armoured in the golden armour all the warriors of Stygia wore and at his side a sabre rested.
“Yes holy one?”
“The time has come! The dreams sent to me by the god king can no longer be doubted! If we are to stave of the coming storm we must act with great speed general! Marshal your soldiers, rally the horse and grip the spear! War calls us northwards”
“Sire! The sons of Stygia will not allow the ones opposing tyranny to stand alone. I will begin at once.” the man said and made the sign of the serpent across his chest as he got up to leave.
Only moments after the general had left the sorcerer Thoth Amon behind to carry out his appointed task and duty, could the blaring of horns be heard as the great army that had been sent to the valley it now rested in began to awaken and make ready for march.
He doubted if they would reach the place they where needed before the hammer struck, but by the gods and all their power! If they could not come in time to lift the siege they would avenge every man and woman who had fallen on those castle walls and in the fields below.
Walking out of the tent he stood and watched as men hurried past with both weapons and supplies in hands, oh how lucky one was to see such motivation and discipline amongst the common man of the realm. It truly did warm an old hearth to see such will to suffer hardship and the thrat of death to aid strangers in need.
With those last thoughts the old man sat down on a weathered chest and watched the camp slowly be made ready.


Ashild and Charsi waited for the old duke to come see them while they worked their way trough the food provided for them, compared to the things they had eaten while on the run it tasted divine. And so did the wine that was brought in a great glass jug by a servant clad in the livery of her lord.
The two days since they had arrived at this place had been an emotional strain for them both, but more so for Charsi who had to come to grips with her whole life built upon a lie. A lie meant to shield her and give her a safe and well cared for upbringing as a child but still a lie. She also had to cope with the fact that she was of royal blood and thus was the rightful heir to the throne of Kels should the rebels win the war. And peace once more set in across the war torn lands that would be hers. It was also the matter of her rather unusual relationship with Ashild should she accept the crown.
Then as they finished their meal and the last of the wine vanished down thirsty throats a slight knock on the door could be heard. Signalling for Charsi to sit down and let her open the door Ashild rose up and adjusted her shirt. The last few days had seen her wounds heal rapidly and her former strength had returned quickly due to the excellent care of the surgeons and healers serving in the castle.
Resting one hand on her hip she sung the door open and blocked anyone from entering with her great frame and stern look.
Outside the door stood not the duke of Noregard nor his aids but the fur clad form of Seon, the raider of the high seas and ravager of hostile shores looked to be in a dour mode but the sight of Ashild seemed somehow to make him a bit more cheerful. He was not alone however behind him stood the old man himself clad in his suit of war plate.
Looking both men dead in the eyes and almost daring them to say something Ashild smiled after a few tense moments and let both of them into the room behind her. Seldom could it be said that Ashild payed any man much attention, but the duke of the high seas seemed to have won her trust. If not her acceptance as someone who could be relied upon to not mess about with the tasks at hand, the reason for this was more likely than not his dour outlook on things and his tendency to voice his dislike for the things he did not approve of.

As for the duke of Noregard it seemed the two of them had come to a understanding of sorts, the old man could cast his weary eyes upon the half troll and probably imagine her naked and clad in noting but pearls and she would not hurl him of the walls like a spear. Then it was also the fact that he was a very skilled warrior and had done both of them many a great service while they had been in dire need of aid.
It was he who spoke first when more drink had been provided for them.
“ I hope you both are feeling well, the healers tell me you have recovered well and seems to be in good spirit. Bearing in mind the hardship and unexpected news you both have had to deal with these last few days and weeks.”
It was Charsi who spoke for them both now, Ashild was more than pleased to leave it all to her.

“Our wounds have closed and we have rested well within these walls. But I must admit to that the news you broke to us has been weighting down upon my mind. The feeling of having lived a lie dose not seem to wish to let go just yet.” the black haired woman said and took the hand of her lover. And squeezed it hard as if afraid for all to come crashing down around her.

“I can understand that very, very well. I know noting I can say will make it easier to come to grips with but I think everyone who stands besides in this struggle for freedom will respect you final say in the matter regarding the crown.”
It was at this point the until now silent Seon Gunnarson spoke. With a voice marred by years spent sailing ships across the freezing cold seas and in the smoke of burning towns and castles did the sea hound announce his loyalty to the woman who sat opposite him. Kneeling as low as he could get due to his old wounds he swore a blood oath.
“By my fallen kin and the gods I swear to die upon the steel of your enemies if I fail to hold my oath to eternally be your servant until the end of time!” before anyone could say anything he drew a knife and cut the palm of his hand and pressed the bleeding hand into her shaking hand and gripped in a firm but not painful grip. After a moment he let her now bloodstained hand go and got up
He then took the great horn crafted from one great walrus tusk and presented it to Ashild with both his hands. The scarred warrior held the horn with the same reverence a father may hold his child.
“This horn was gifted to me by my father. I am the last man alive of my bloodlines and I will have no more children or others to mourn me when I die. Therefore I gift this to you woman! When you find yourself alone and surrounded by foes blow it and help will come!”

Turning to his fellow duke and friend he spoke in a sombre tone. The other man knew that eventually the call of the sea would draw his friend out to it once more, but he had hoped he would stay beside him none the less. Seing such a man meet certain death with no one left to carry his name made the duke of Noregard shed one single tear.
“I will be of no use behind walls and far from the seas! I will set sail and rejoin my warriors at sea now. We will meet our fate with the northern winds when we meet the ships of out foes!”

“I understand Seon, although I had hoped you would stay, you will be sorely missed when you leave all the glory to us. And with you gone and Bran gone who will see to that the mead is finished of in due time?”

“Curse the damned mead! When we meet once more beside the sides of the gods up high there will be more than enough to go around any ways. And tell that one I will be wanting revenge for losing to him in arm wrestling.”

“Il hold you that then Seon”

The seafarer turned then to the two women. And said with a voice surprisingly affected by emotions long thought lost to him.
“ As I leave this far realm behind I wish the both of you the best, and good luck in the coming war! Die well if so be and make the devils pay with blood for every inch of ground they dare stand upon!”
Shaking the hands of both Charsi and Ashild who where taken aback by this unexpected events. And that of his old friend the warrior stepped out the door and joined the men who had sailed with him here upon the great river that ran in the valley far below. There the long ship who had carried them so far from their beloved sea would see them reach the salty realm they all loved.
As the warriors and their leader had left the castle and made their way down to the waiting ship far below, Torvald watched them go. He stood there unmoving and felt saddened by looking while yet another score of brave souls left to meet their doom.
The departure of the Pict leader had been far less emotional but he would be missed too. Although the man had only meet with the other leaders of the rebellion a handful of times he was a trusted and well liked ally. His people had given much to plague the common enemy they shared and his henchmen. But he had never asked for anything than their support and a safe haven for the women and children of the tribes he represented.
A small band of Pict warriors had come here to greet their chieftain and bearing news of the grim sort. From the borders of Noregard and Kaupang came reports of a massive war host rolling across the lands, it seemed all the armies the false king could muster had been called out. Their numbers where by all accounts almost beyond counting, and the forest of banners they carried seemed to block out the sun.
The armies of Kaupang had wisely chosen to not exchange blows with their foes and where making for Dunheim as fast as they could march. Leading them where Picts scouts who showed the fastest roads and paths to travel along. Behind them the woods and mountain passes would be the last place untold numbers of brave and fiercely defiant tribes men would sell their lives dearly to delay their foes with ambushes and traps.
The Picts had promised to come when the last battle would be fought but now they needed every man to harry the enemy, and to make the escape of their kin folk possible.

Speaking to the ones standing around with the characteristic hard voice they all knew and knew to trust he said. Listening to his words where both nobles who had seen their holdings burn, a half troll that had been enrolled into events that would forever change the lands around her. And a woman who had gone from a simple smith to a refugee and then onto the path that would make her the queen of Kels if the war ended well.
“This is the last breath before we plunge into the closing days of our rebellion! Mark my words, the enemy will be outside our walls before long! His armies will be so numerous they will seem like a endless ocean of steel and hate. But none of them can claim to be battling for a just case! They will all die in shame before our walls. Sharpen your swords gentlemen and ladies, the hour of destiny is upon us!”. With these last words the duke of Noregard also known as the lion of Kels marched to organize the defense of the great citadel and to plan with his officers.
Charsi where asked to join them so she could be involved in the planing while Ashild was left to make herself useful or find some way to make her own preparations.
Grinning from ear to ear she she watched the clouds roll by above her head and the wind sing its song, yes the half troll thought. It would be good to spill blood once more, she needed to vent some frustration.
Walking down the stairs leading down to the courtyard she stopped a watch man and asked him where she could find the armourer of this place.
The trooper gave her the directions and where rewarded with a view of her hindquarters as she strode of. Never let it be said she was cheap on rewards when praise due.
When she neared the place she could heard the sounds only a great forge like the one she now now drew near could make. The constant ringing of hammers and the whoosh of the great furnaces turning out white hot steel to be forged. Pushing a massive door open she stood at last in the place she had looked for. Addressing one of the smiths and explaining her needs for a suit of war plate, and whom had sent her to this place of smoke and heat she said what she need made for her.

The smith whom was a sooth stained man with arms bulging with muscles as hard as the iron he pounded into shape looked her over and answered her.
“I think I know what to dress you in, but it will take some minor modifications though, as you are quite more wider across the chest than the average knight”

Ashild liked this man, he seemed to be a honest and respectable man. Like most of the ones she had meet after coming here to this castle up in the clouds.
“When will you have it done? She asked

“Come back at dawn, I will make sure its ready by then, and same goes for that woman of yours.

“That soon? You must truly know the riddle of steel then master smith.”

To this compliment he merely smiled and seemed to think noting of it, after so many years spent pounding metal he had learned to beat the fight out of the metal and make it twist and shape to his will. So it was true what the half troll said, he had mastered the riddle of steel.
Leaving the noise and heat of the smith behind she walked out into the waiting day that would soon bring news most horrid.
As she layed one hand on the door knob she sensed something amiss, there was something wrong. The room behind the door seemed to quiet, there was no sound of breathing nor the familiar smells of a room occupied by a living person. Feel a sense of dread rising in her guts Ashild slammed the door open and saw something that made her blood boil with a berserker rage.
Howling like a enraged bear seeing its mate harmed by hunters she hurled herself at the dagger and sword wielding form standing over the sleeping form of her lover.
Her howl of rage could be heard throughout the citadel, and the guards both nearby and further away came running like there was a great fire.
The assassin had time to draw his sword and turn to face her, but that was all. Before he could bring it to strike the massive half troll slammed into him and they both crashed down hard on the bed behind them, waking the would be victim and making her shriek in surprise.
The assassin was well trained and skilled at the bloody trade he practised, but he was on far too deep water now, the enraged woman had his sword hand locked in a crushing grip and his dagger hand been lost to him. Much as tried he could not budge the grip she had. He head butted her square in the face and bit her nose in a attempt to make her loose her concentration but it backfired.
She snarled and with a sudden tug of her arm she pulled his arm out of its socket, and snapped the bone like a child breaking a twig. As he howled in pain she barred her teeth and sank them into his throat like a hound gripping a hare. As the blood began to squirt like a fountain she ripped and with one sicking sound tore his throat out.
The would be queen slayer gurgled in shock and fear as he slumped down dying as death welcomed him into its embrace.
It was only then the blood haze lifted from the eyes of the half troll and she spat blood and realized the dagger embedded in her forearm. Gripping the hilt she pulled it slowly out and tossed it to the ground.
“Rot in the darkness that awaits you coward!” she snarled to the bloodied form on the floor as the guards poured into the room and where greeted to the morbid spectacle.

It was also now that Charsi who had been deep in her wine induced sleep realized what had almost come to pass, and with somewhat unsteady steps she made her way over to Ashild who had just wiped the blood of her face.
She gripped the wounded arm of her lover and looked at her with eyes that said it all between those two. The half troll too looked at the smaller form of her beloved and a faint smile found her lips as she embraced her while the guards who where partially in shock and somewhat in awe of the display of sheer animalistic rage that had taken place here, began to haul the dead would be murderer away.
But the hard voice of their captain woke the men up and made one and all listen with eager ears.
“Bloody bastard! I want every inch of this citadel searched for the place this devil slipped in. leave no stone or barrel unturned! If he had company find me that sorry sack of gak and bring him to me and his lordship!”.
Spurred on by their captain the guardsmen began their search of the citadel, to aid them they sent for hounds to help track anyone who could have slipped inside the fortress they stood guard over. But the guards and the hound masters did not find anyone else except rats and shadows in their search. The conclusion to the hunt for any possible signs or points of entry turned up noting, and therefore it was decided that the man must have been in disguise as a commoner or perhaps trader.
But as a result it was decided to double the guards and post a detachment of house hold knights outside the chambers of the nobles and other important men and women. The same went for storehouses and other supply storages. The hounds where also allowed to run free, and it would be these massive beasts with shaggy manes of hair and jaws capable of breaking the thigh bone of a bull that would be the most deadly obstacle for any would be spies. They where trained to hunt silently and to kill their prey instead of just pinning it down., and they knew the scent of all those who called this place home.
But meanwhile this was taking place Ashild sat in silence beside the somewhat unhinged Charsi and allowed the other woman to sew her wound up, and to scold her for being so reckless. The little wench had a tongue sharp as steel Ashild decided and smiled as she felt the needle pierce her skin and the thread follow trough as the knife wound was sewn closed. But in the end she knew that she would not have her any other way, it was strange how compassion and love took time getting used too. As the last stitch was made and the thread cut and Charsi declared she was done with her work for now, Ashild knew she had found the one thing she had been searching for her whole life.
As their hands meet Charsi looked in those ice blue eyes and saw them wet with tears as her mate kissed her slowly and ran one hand down her back pulling her close.
Then all was lost as noting but the raw release of emotions and lust took control of them both, and for a time noting else than the heat between the two matter in the world.

But for others the passing of the hours where far less pleasant, at the gorge where the knights of Noregard had routed their foes when they had come to the aid of Ashild and her comrades a desperate battle was being waged.
At the front of the swirling battle on that great bridge where the hallowed soldiers of Kaupang, with weapons forged from the finest steel and clad in well made amour did they clash with the hated enemy that had now set their beloved homeland ablaze.
The skies was darked by arrows as both sides unleashed a hailstorm of arrows and the screams of the dying filled the air as men crashed together like a great collision of steel and flesh.
At the very front the proud banner of Kaupang flew in the wind as the man sent to hold the bridge as long as he could stood beside his comrades in arms on this day.
He ducked under a axe blow and came up hard with his own sword and caught the wielder in the guts, his sharp blade cut trough the leather and mail worn by the man and with a sicking sound the blade was pulled free. And the stricken man collapsed down with sock and fear on his bloodied face.
His breath was laboured and he felt dog tired but the enemy showed no signs of slowing down, for the whole day had they been swarming across the bridge. At first it had been lightly armed men and boys barely out of their childhood alongside other fodder troops, they had died in their hundreds on the pikes of the Kaupang soldiers and on their blades. But he saw the wisdom behind it, the commander on the other side had so many men that he could afford such horrid losses, it would tire the defenders and make them less able to fight as the day drew out.
But then his thoughts where interrupted as a new enemy came at him armed with a pole axe. But before he could move to block or strike at the man several pikes impaled the man and ended his life. Muttering his thanks to the men beside him.

Then the battlefield fell silent and only the moaning of the wounded could be heard, not that many of the men from Kaupang had survived their wounds, those who had fallen had been hacked apart by their enemies if their friends where not close enough to aid them. But those who had avoided that fate had been put on horses and lead back to Dunheim.
Taking advantage of the lull in the fighting he issued new orders and commanded that the men at the front switch places with fresh and rested troops who itched for a fight by now.
But as he did a horn sounded from across the gorge and a great cheer went up amongst his foes, and then with the thundering of hooves he could see why, for out onto the bridge came riders mounted upon massive war hoses, clad in sooth black plate armour and with cavalry masks they all looked like true horror given manifest, their inhumane looks alongside the baleful shine their armour seemed to radiate gave of a of air of dread.
The captain could almost feel the eyes of those pale wraiths upon him as the banner they carried could be seen in all its foul glory, a great silver drake on a black banner flew in the wind.
Then as one the riders formed up into the well known and feared formation they always used when facing down enemies on foot.
The wild howling and taunts of the regular troops where not mirrored by these silent ones. Then with a raised hand the lord commanding the Draconian guard signalled their charge.

Seeing this the captain yelled to his men with a firm and steady voice, reflecting his experience as a leader of foot men.
“Pikes to the front! Ready yourself lads! Give them hell!”
His men answered him with hard voices and promises to kill every last one of those dogs coming at them.
His mouth felt dry as he watched the rapidly closing heavy cavalry who suddenly seemed to him very frighting. But he kept firm and gripped his sword hard in one hand.
“Gods help us” was the last words he had time to say to himself before them slammed into ranks of waiting footmen.
With a unearthly silence the Draconian fell upon them, unlike the others who had hurled themselves at the troops from Kaupang these men did not utter a single word as they layed about themselves with hammer and sword, their lances used to break the wall of pikes and to scatter the footmen standing in defiance against them.
The bloody harvest they reaped was horrid but the men they cut down did not die easy. They recovered after the brutal charge and swarmed their new foes with both sword and spear, and dragged knights down to be mobbed by the infantry. But they had not been so blood crazed to charge the army opposing them alone, behind them and exploiting the breach created by the riders came countless Kels troopers screaming their battle cries and bringing their weapons and hate to bear.
The captain ducked under a blow and came up hard and slammed his shield into the face of the man trying to cut him down, he then hacked the man down and impaled him trough the neck for good measure. Just as he yanked his sword free a shadow fell over him, and before he could react his shield was struck by a immensely powerful blow witch sent him flying.
With a sense of panic setting in the stricken man attempted to rise but as he did a armored foot where planted upon his sword arm. And as he looked up he could see a sight he would be haunted by the last few moments of his life.

This chapter was jam packed with goodness. Blood oaths, assassination attempts, romping women, and a major skirmish to round it off. Well done.

Epic update! Ashild's quite the tigress when she's protecting her woman.

The conclusion will kill more people than the tsetse fly.

Nice new entry. The Draconian Guard are a fearsome bunch; things don't look too well for the rebels.

Pardon for the long delay my faithful readers, life and women folk has sought to oppose me getting time to make this chapter. For the next part expect a siege, fighting on walls and all around mayhem

---------------------------------------------

The wind howled and the sea roared in anger as the dragon ships rode the massive waves that rolled across the seas outside the coast of Kels, it was still a measurable time until autumn came and brought with it the first of the storms, but already the turning of the seasons could be felt out on the high seas. But it was noting any of the men who where used to these hard conditions.
The ships where decorated with shields along their sides and at their bow great dragon heads rose up from the sea and seemed to dare anything lurking out there to come and face their wrath.
The sails on these ships where made from sheep’s wool and treated with fat to make them last for many a long voyage.
The crews of the ships where a rugged and assorted lot, drawn from the different clans that made up the population of the place they called home they looked more like unkempt wolves of the high seas. With long beards and clad in thick furs to keep the biting cold out of their weary bones.
At the helm of the largest ship stood their leader who now where pondering the days to come, in the last year he had seen so much bloodshed and general mayhem, he had burnt the great city of Nidaros and put the fleet moored there to the torch. And he had been bloodied but not beaten in a great sea battle of the coast of his very own home.
Seon gripped the helm and let out a deep breath, it formed a puff of fine mist as the warmth of it meet the cold sea air. He had always known the embrace of the seas and had always known he would one day die out amongst the waves or while boarding a hostile ship.
Ever since they day when his wife and children had been murdered by the vile mongrel who dared call himself king had his hearth known noting but pain, but when he had seen the one who had the blood of the old king flowing in her veins something had awoken in him. It was the sole reason he had sworn the most sacred oath to her. He had thought everything but death lost to him but by the gods! Now he had something to fight for. So here he was, sailing beside his comrades in arms to meet the fleet his men had said lay waiting to disgorge fresh men and supplies intended for those who would lay siege to Dunheim.
Gathering his wandering mind he signaled for his first mate to come closer so they could speak.
“Damnable weather for a brawl! How are the men?”

“Well at least we do not have to worry about fire arrows or being put ablaze Seon. The men are fine, if a bit wet.” the man said as a wave washed over the deck and showered the men in ice cold seawater. Both men cursed and stood there looking very displeased.
“Aye but I don’t think we can count on finding the enemy out and about now. I have a feel they have taken shelter and are waiting out the storm. Now I am not afraid of a scarp in this weather but I think many of the men will be.”

Spitting salt-water and looking at the men who sat behind the oars aiding the navigation of the ship trough the storm that raged around them.
With a look of displeasure on his face he gave the order to steer for calmer water where the fleet could wait for the storm to die down. The place they set course where a cluster of islands whom formed a protective cove where a large number of ships could seek shelter.
“We head for the shelter of the Leward islands, no one else will dare to sail there in this kind of weather!”

“I hope your bloody right Seon! I think a battle in this weather would end only in ruin.” his first mate said and pulled the bear skin he wore around himself.
So the ships from Vanaheim followed their lord towards what they hoped would be a safe heaven from the wrath of the howling storm. But their hopes would not be answered in the manner they had hoped.

For nestled in one of the protective coves at the shores of the Leward Islands lay the royal Kels fleet morred, and where riding out the storm.
These ships where a far cry from the sleek and agile long ships used by the men from Vanaheim, instead these ships where great multi masted ships, they had once served a far more noble cause but now they had been remade into ships who only brought promises of death and misery. Their solid hulls where treated with tar and then painted black to give them a sombre look. Along their railings there where shields meant to give cover to the crew and soldiers aboard the ships from arrows and other things hurled at them by unfriendly forces.
The ships where crewed by a mix of press ganged sailors and other men who had been given the choice between the sword or serving in the fleet, there where also those who had volunteered to serve abroad the ships and thus had earned more privileges by doing so. Commanding these ships where men who had forswore all honor to fill their own pockets, or in some cases had taken the position as captain to serve their king until death.
It was these men who the sailors from Vanaheim knew would be the ones who would fight until death.
Aboard the largest of these black painted warships that lay at anchor stood the man who commanded them one and all, a seasoned sailor with salt stained hair and skin. And with a massive red beard whom had spent many years criss crossing the seas, and as of late had developed a burning hatred towards the bastard whom he knew lurked somewhere out in the raging storm. He had no disillusions about the skill of the devil named Seon, nor those of his men who would gladly go to their graves for him. But he also knew he would smile when they hung him and put the rest of flea riddled mongrels to the sword.
As he stood there on the deck of his flagship surrounded by his captains and the two Draconian knights whom commanded the soldiers they carried abroad the ships he could not have known how close his nemesis was.
Relying on the sheer number of ships under his command and the number of soldiers tried and tested in battle he felt secure enough to only post a small number of guards to act as lookouts.

Abroad the long ship Slaupnir Seon stood and watched the horizon as he now could lay his eyes upon the first island in the chain of islands that made up the Leward. The storm still blew hard but it was slowly getting weaker, and seemed to have emptied its rage upon the sea further north.
They would seek shelter and await calmer weather in the bay of the next island, there it was only the shallow draft of the long ships who could pass,and thus making it a safe harbor for his hunted fleet of seaborne raiders.
But as he steered the ship towards the island he felt a tingeing feel spread trough out his body. It was a unpleasant feeling and it made his bad arm throb with pain. But he did not loose his calm, he knew that feeling all too well. He would send a lone ship to have a discreet look around the neighboring islands where the coves and bays where much deeper. And he would be damned if he took the chance to toss the anchor if there was any royal ships lurking around these waters.
He spat over the side and looked up at the increasingly brighter sky that slowly came into view, yes it would be a fine day to die if they found those bastards today. And beside, if they did he had plans for those ships if they could be captured.
A wolfish grin spread across his face as he called out to his first mate and told him to signal the captains of the other ships, a plan had formed in his mind as they had weathered the storm. He knew his men where itching for a fight now. And by Cerunos they would have it if the ship he had sent out to scout found their prey.


The lone ship sent out to scout was a ship built to last, its sleek form built by the finest oak to be found and crewed by seasoned sailors whom had sailed up and down the stormy coast for many years. At its bow a dragon head barred its teeth to ward of any evil that where lurking beneath the sea, its sail was colored red and the rowers kept a steady pace as the ship cut across the channels and patches of open sea between the islands.
Its captain was a young man whom had earned the right to steer the ship when he had avenged the death of its former master. In a brutal skirmish at sea with several privater ships had the young man sunken into a berserker rage after seeing his captain struck down while standing guard over a wounded man. The proud warrior had stood there like a angry beast defending a pack member from hunters and killed anyone who stepped inside his reach, but a cowardly pirate had slipped behind him and planted his sword in the back of the man.
This display of utter cowardice had spurred the young warrior and his comrades to a utter blood crazed rage. Howling like mad dogs they had doubled their efforts and slaughtered the pirates where they stood, after the battle had ended they had put the ships of their foes ablaze with those whom had surrendered and their wounded comrades inboard. Such was the fate reserved for pirates at the hands of the men of Vanaheim.
Now the sailors under his command kept a keen lookout for any signs of their foes. As they slipped into a new and rather narrow channel he ordered the men to take the sail down and put their backs into rowing. They where getting closer to the coves and bays where they could find their prey.
His blond hair where gripped by the wind as he held the rudder firmly.
“Quiet now! No one make a sound” he almost whispered as they cleared the channel between the two islands and slipped out into the open bay between them.
As they did a fog bank could be seen hanging low over the water ahead of them, he cursed as he knew there was no way of knowing what lurked inside that roiling bank of mist. But he also knew how to use it to his advantage, his men gripped the oars and rowed in utter silence with only the faint sound of the oars breaking the water. As they entered the fog and soon found themselves hidden from sight he whispered to his first mate to get his attention.
“Do you smell that! I could almost swear it smells like burning whale oil.”
his first mate never had time to answer for just at that moment the fog seemed to dissolve just for a mere moment around them and they saw a sight that made their hearths drop.
For all around them partially concealed by the fog bank lay the great ships of the royal fleets of Kels at anchor. Their black hulls silhouetted against the blue seawater and the rising cliffs behind them, at that moment they looked like something from a fairytale with their sails partialy down, and the smoke rising from the lanterns hanging on deck and with the galleon figures mounted at their bows.
As the men of the ship Draugen looked around them in a mixture of awe and dread their captain where not phased by the ships around, although he too felt a small hint of worry creep into his hearth. He knew that discovery at this point would only mean certain death for one and all.
But the moment of awe passed fast, and the men gripped the oars and began to row as fast as one could while trying to remain somewhat silent.
His first mate whom had now found it somewhat safe to speak to his captain walked up to him and spoke in a sombre voice.
“Well Il be damned then, looks like we will have that scrap after all eh captain!”
his captain merely nodded and seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts so the man turned and barked a command to the men who sat sweating behind the oars to raise the sail and make good speed back to their own fleet.
As the dragon ship slipped away undetected or so they prayed, the captain abroad the Kels flagship whom had awoken after a long night of drinking with his fellow captains walked out onto the deck and yawned. Silently he cursed those mask wearing dogs for making him wait so long before setting sail for the great river delta, that would allow his ships to follow a course up towards the place all the men abroad his ships where destined. But he knew better than to speak up against them, those who where daft enough to do such things seldom lived long.
Looking out into the foggy sea he felt somewhat reassured that they where hidden from sight in these banks of fog and mist.
In his mind he calmed his nerves with that he only needed to wait two more days before he could order the fleet to hoist anchor and set sail for their final destination.
But had he known what lay ahead of him he would more likely than not taken his chances and set sail for a friendly port somewhere far far away from these islands.

The ship Draugen where by now cutting trough the ice cold seawater at considerable speed, gone where the need to be stealthy and avoid detection. Its red sail where raised and its rowers putt all their strength into the task at hand. To anyone looking at he ship as it ploughed trough the sea and cutting the waves it could have seemed as if it where flying.
At the helm stood the young captain with a grin on his face, it was moments like this that made him feel alive, even though he knew that the coming battle would be grim and many would die he could not help feel happy. To watch his men handle the ship as they did and to feel the salty spray of seawater was it meant to be alive for him.
As they rounded the island where their comrades had seeked shelter he steered towards the ship whom belonged to his lord. The news he carried would indeed be welcomed he imagined as the ship pulled alongside Slaupnir and strong hands gripped the ropes tossed aboard.
He crossed the cap between the ships and walked with a spring in his step up to the old scarred warrior who sat on a barrel and tended to his armour. Bowing his head in a show respect he spoke to Seon He could see the words he spoke ignite a fire inside eyes of the man who had lost everything dear to him, and only had hate and grief to keep him warm at night.
Putting down the shirt of mail the sea warrior called out to those whom stood around him.
“This brave warrior has tracked down the bastards who has for far too long escaped our burning hatred! This is the moment every one of us have been craving! Let us send these devils to the bottom of the sea where the sea may gnaw their bones clean! TO BATTLE AND A FIERY DEATH!” he howled and was answered in kind by the baying of his men on the ship and slowly the baying grew to a choir as the other ships joined in.
Every man who stood on those ships could feel the blood rush in their veins and the hunger for battle growing inside their chests. So the preparations began to hoist anchor and set sail, the men worked in a frenetic pace with stowing away supplies and other things, while others began raising the sails on the ships they had called home for so long now.
Seon stood beneath the great sail and watched the ships he commanded form up in a long line behind his own ship, and those of his most trusted captains.
He felt the wounds he had suffered years ago sting with a sharp pain that made his eyes water, but the pain was something he could deal with. Far worse was the memories that had haunted him when he fell asleep but he knew those things would soon cease to matter. Soon he would forever sleep beneath the waves and never have to watch the days pass him by in their melancholic pattern as they had these past two years since his beloved Ida had been taken from him.

Several hours passed as the long ships cut across the straits and channels between the islands that stood like silent sentinels of stone covered in rugged pine woods. Many a man felt a tug of homesickness as they passed them by, many of these warriors had sons,daughters and women whom waited for them.
Then as they drew near the place where the young captain had discovered the enemy fleet the men began to make the last preparations for battle. The sails where taken down and doused with water so they would catch fire, and archers made sure their quivers where full and that the powerful long bows they where armed with where ready to be used.
As they reached the last island that concealed them from the enemy ships those whom where tasked with blowing the horns that would herald their coming took up positions in the front of the ships as the fleet split in two. So to come at the enemy from two sides.

Aboard one of the smaller transport ships that had followed the warship from Kels loaded with weapons, supplies and other things needed for the coming campaign a lone sailor stood and kept watch as he looked out to sea, he was missing his home and his woman and he cursed the foul dogs whom had press ganged him into the service of the devil whom called himself king.
As he stood there and dreamed of friendly shores his eyes caught sight of something that made his hearth sink.
Out of the fine sea mist the all too familiar shapes of the ships the wolves of the sea sailed came into view, and a deep rumbling horn blast confirmed what he saw was real.
Knowing he would not live to see another day the man screamed on the top of his lungs and rang the bell that was used to alert the crew and spread the warning to the rest of the fleet that lay at anchor.
“ THEIR COMING! THE BLOODY REBELS ARE COMING!”
As he had said the last word he felt something slam into his chest, and he stumbled backwards and fell down on his back. He could feel something warm spread across his chest and a sharp pain jabbing trough his body. He managed to look up and saw a long shafted arrow with red guidance feathers sticking out of his chest before the awaiting darkness took him.
Although the lookout was now no more the rest of the crew had heard his frantic call and where swarming up from below, the rest of the fleet had also heard the ship bell and was in addition alerted by the sharp sound of a horn being blown somewhere aboard one or more ships.

All around there was a rush of activity as soldiers and sailors rushed out from below deck to man their positions and to see what was the cause of the alarm. But amongst he sailors there was little doubt, they knew there was only one man whom would dare to attack such a large fleet. And that was the fiend known as Seon of Vanaheim.
Aboard the flagship whom lay near the shore of the bay they had taken shelter in the captain whom led the great fleet stood on the deck and heard the horns blow and the frantic ringing of ship bells around. His crew where busy getting the ship ready for battle, but he knew the enemy had caught him in a bad place. The great warships where slow to manoeuvre in such confined waters as these, and the ships could not rely on their great speed out at sea.
But he knew one, they had more than enough sword arms to give these bandits a good hiding or die trying at least.
The man drew his sword and barked a order to his first mate.
“Whip the rowers! Get us away from the shore and have those land lovers from the army ready to fight! And make ready to repel boarders!”
his underling saluted and began to shout orders to the task master below deck whom swung his whip while the drummer pounded the drums to give the slaves a rhythm to row to.
The slaves heaved the heavy oars as best they could and slowly the great ship began to move, but the strong current and the sheer weight of it made the proses slow indeed.
The soldiers aboard the ships gripped their shields and made sure their weapons where ready for use, the sound of soldiers manning their posts where mixed with the sound of archers who let fly with a hail of arrows aimed at the ships who came towards them hard and fast.
But the range was in some cases too far and the arrows hit noting but sea, while in some cases the arrows slammed into shields and bit into flesh and men cursed in pain.
Then a volley of arrows came from the long ships whom now where in amongst the royal fleet, and the wails of wounded men could be heard as the arrows fired by men whom where used to shooting at a moving target picked of soldiers and sailors. A few arrows found their way in amongst the slaves and the poor souls screamed in pain as the cold steel bit their whip scarred flesh.

Then with a fierce howl the long ships manned by hardened warriors came alongside the first of the warships and the sea raiders swarmed up ropes or used ladders to scale the sides of the ships.
When the first men scrambled over the railing they where meet by the battle tested soldiers of the Kels army whom stood alongside sailors armed with sabres and daggers. The two sides slammed into each other with great force as the fighting went from a organized fight to a mad brawl that swirled up and down the length of the ships, the deck soon ran red with blood and the screams of dying and wounded men filled the air alongside the clang of steel on steel and the sounds of shields splintering. The fighting was extremely hard on several of the massive warships where the sea raiders meet hard resistance from the soldiers aboard those ships

Seon pulled himself over the railing just behind the first of his men to climb abroad the ship, he cursed as the shoulder radiated with the old familiar pain. He gripped his sword in his hand and brought the shield he carried on his back to bear.
Then he joined the swirling and chaotic battle that raged before him, he could smell the blood and the stink of ruptured guts as he swung down hard on a exposed arm and cut it clean of, the owner wailing in agony and fell back clutching the bleeding stump.
He ducked just in time to avoid a spear aimed at his face and swung his shield like a hammer to break the spear, but he missed and he merely clipped the shaft of the spear, and the wielder withdrew it for a new strike. But before the man could several arrows slammed into him and he fell down with a surprised look on his face.
Seon did not have the time to look for the archer nor worry if the arrows where intended for him, he found himself faced with a pair of soldiers who came at him hard and fast, they worked well as a pair but they lacked that essential training in cooperating. So when one of them lunged forwards he was greeted by a fierce blow from the shield Seon gripped in one hand.
The stricken man stumbled backwards with blood gushing from a ruined nose and dropped his sword. His comrade took no head of his wounds and tried to cut the old warrior down with a overhead chop, his sword fell fast but not fast enough the the two blades collided once more.
The old warrior was forced back on the defensive by his younger foe, whom jabbed and trusted his sword at him.
Just as he pulled back his sword and was about hack at his foe once more the old sea dog gripped his younger opponent by the sword arm and head butted him several times, making him reel and drop the blade he had been wielding.
The old sea raider snarled like a beast and spoke in a low tone to his enemy.
“Time to die mongrel!” and just as he had spoken the last words he rammed his own sword into the guts of the man he held in a vice like grip and twisted the blade logged into the his guts before withdrawing it and hacking him across the face. The bloodied man flopped down and lay still as the fighting around him raged on.

Seon drew deep breath and suddenly became aware of the smell of smoke, looking around for the source he could see one of the great warship catching ablaze, and long hungry flames licked up the sails and welled up from the cargo hold. He could also hear the wail of the slaves trapped beneath the decks as the ship slowly burnt.
When he saw this he cursed and felt his tempter start to rise, he had given very clear orders that all enemy ships was to be clear of foes, and if possible crewed by his own men. If noting else the supplies they carried was of great use.
But he could not see any more ships burning so he did not fret about it, for suddenly the old man where hit by a hammer like blow that sent him reeling, and he felt his sword arm throb with pain.
When he looked up he saw a black clad figure hacking down his men as the wraith like warrior sought to end the man it had just struck down.
The wraith carried a great sword that where decorated with ornate runes and where deeply stained with the blood of his own men.
As the fiend parried a blow from a warrior whom looked to block its path Seon could feel the cold hand of dread grip his hearth. This foe was unlike anything he ever had the displeasure of crossing blades with.
And as for the brave soul whom tried to stop the devil from reaching his downed captain, he died when the sword of his foe cleaved him from head to groin in one fell strike.
Several more men died as they tried to stop the black clad wraith from reaching their lord, but as the fighting still raged on up and down the deck, most of them needed to focus on the foe at hand.

The Draconian stood looming over its prey and with one armoured hand hoisted the stricken captain up by the collar of his armor. There he hung and stared into those merciless and utterly cold eyes for what seemed an eternity. Then the knight raised its sword arm as if to strike.
But the blow never came, for at that moment the blade was about to lunge forwards a massive shape slammed into the knight and sent both Seon and his would be killer tumbling across the deck.
When Seon looked up he saw that the one to save him was one of his chosen men. Clad in mail and heavy reinforced leather armor the warrior whom was armed with a great two handed axe stained with hair and gore strode towards the Draconian whom now had gotten back up on his feet and regarded its newest challenger.
“Hold on sire! This devil will not harm you as long as even one of us draw breath!” the rescuer said.
The sea raider whom stood in defense of his captain and lord looked at eh black clad coward and growled like a beast as he hefted his axe in his hands.
Then without either of them speaking a single word they hurled themselves at each other, the axe forged by the best black smith to be found in Vanaheim collided with a blade forged deep within the darkness of the citadel that where the home to the Draconian guard.
The ringing of steel and the shrieking of the blades as they arched through the air, alongside the great speed the two warriors went at each other made all those around them cleared a path around them, for none wished to be caught in their path.
Harald swung his axe down with a speed almost unbelievable to a man of his size and strength, and barely missed the leg of the black clad devil that had dared to lay hands on his lord. But the knight avoided the blow and graced his left arm with his own blade. But the blow failed to cut trough the solid mail shirt he wore.
Circling each other they came together once more in a brutal collision, that gave both fresh bleeding wounds. As the glimmering blade once more speed past him barely missing his neck this time Harald knew he had to end this one way or the other. The sheer ferocity of his foe demanded it and the fact that he could not keep this murderous pace up for much longer. The sheer speed and skill of his enemy would soon send to the afterlife he felt sure of.
So when the Draconian came at him with sword leading the way he feinted a slow retreat backwards while he lashed out seemingly in desperation at his foe.
Then as his back was to the railing he let his foe feel the true wrath of a son of Vanaheim, with a mighty howl of rage he took the throwing axe hanging at his belt and hurled it directly at his foe, the small axe hit the Draconian with great force and although it did not cause him any serious wounds the sheer force behind the blow from the hammer head of the axe knocked the air out of him. And it was that short moment of time Harald needed.
Swinging his great two handed axe in a wide arch he caught his opponent square in the neck. The axe head cleaved meat and crushed bone and sent the head rolling across the deck to land at the feet of the remaing soldiers of Kels whom looked at it disbelief and shock.
Gasping for air and feeling a relief of having won this particular fight Harald looked at the band of remaining enemy soldiers, and a evil grin spread across his face.
Looking to his comrades in arms and his lord whom had somehow gotten to his feet, but clutched his arm and looked worse for wear. He did not need any instructions for what to do next, the look on the face of his lord told him all he needed to know.
Not one of those betrayers whom had abandoned all honor to serve a false king would die to the last men. There would be no prisoners and no quarter asked from either side.

The Kels soldiers however to their credit loose their will to fight when the black knight fell tot eh axe of the sea raider. They closed ranks and presented a wall of shields and spears ready to sell their life’s dearly, for each man knew now that unless the gods themselves came down from the heavens they would not see their homes again.

I'm liking this sea battle, and good call on putting the rest in another chapter.

The only thing I didn't like was the pace of the fleets attack. One second they were coming around the headland, the next they were close enough to shoot their bows. There seemed to be no measure of distance for the reader to mark.

Will the next part be up soon?

Well glad you liked it, and regarding the distance. Well yes, a fair point. but I thought the reader would be able to conjure the rest up in their inner eye, and well I will begin drafting ideas and such this evening

My brain must be on melt down from the heat.

Good to hear.

Epic sea battle! The build-up was nicely done and the conflict itself sure isn't disappointing. Hope Harald survives!

Oi slacka, me wants mor ov da Warrrghh!

Pardon? My Pict is somewhat rusty

Would be so kind as to add more to your story my good man. Thanks awfully old bean.

Oh its coming, just you wait. It will take some time hoever to get it all nicely done

Good to here. Your fans are pained by your absence.

This last section was my favourite by far, I love a good sea fight!

"make ready to repel boarders!”

Is one of the coolest orders to bellow.

Nicely written, Trondheim. There aren't nearly enough sea fights in Dakka Fiction

Okay now, for those whom expected slaugther and mayhem, s I know i promised well. It is coming is all i can say, having done this part I can get on with the real fun part Enjoy and commet as always my dear readers and friends.

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Somewhere far from the blood tinted sea and the blood letting happening there someone else was slowly succumbing to boredom and not the blades and arrows of her foes. Ashild sat with her feet hanging in the loose air up on the parapet of the first ring of walls that ran around the great castle at Dunheim.
She was not used to being surrounded by such amounts of high walls and dense stone, and the longing for the peace of the woodlands made her head hurt. But she knew she could not just leave either. Charsi depended upon her and so did many others whom had much to her surprise taken a liking to her, and saw her as a comrade in arms. She would never understand humans she realized as she sat there and looked out over the misty lands below the mountain citadel.
The fact that these lands soon would shake under the countless boots of several massive armies marching forwards like a rolling wave of darkness and cruelty made her bile rise. And she swore in her native tongue.
Swinging her legs back onto the rampart she got up and drained the last of the wine skin she had been slowly draining over the last few hours. She did not feel the need to go and watch while Charsi got her armour fitted, nor did she feel like listening to the endless discussion between the remaining nobles whom where busy preparing for the arrival of their enemy.
The half troll stalked down the dimly light corridors leading down to the courtyard, and the training ground where seasoned soldiers drilled those whom had taken up arms beside the regular armies to defend their homeland.
The bark of the war weary sergeants and the grunts of effort from the newly enlisted militia men filled the air in that particular courtyard.
She watched in silence as the relatively raw recruits, both young men and women where mercilessly drilled in the fine art of working together as a spear men unit. To form the wall of shields and to press steadily forwards with the sharp points of their spears leading the way while they allowed the crossbow men to fire between their shoulders to pick of enemy soldiers.
But the shouting and the din of the recruits struggling with their weapons and gear soon lost its novelty to her, and she left some of the young men looking at her swaying hips.
She passed homes sheltered below the massive walls and great towers, and the half troll saw children running around the streets playing oblivious to the coming storm. She smelled the aromas of cooking and the distant smell of homely comfort hidden behind the sturdy wooden walls.
As the woman whom stood head and shoulders above most folk walked down the muddy streets, she stood out like a great predator amongst lesser beasts.
A fine example of this came when a gaggle of children whom had been busy playing some game of sorts. Their eyes became wide with something resembling curiosity as the woman whom where rumoured to be noting short of a walking avatar of coming bloody death. But also according to some also where a gentle giant, one whom stood in defence of all that was good. And who cared not for the lure of gold or power but driven by her love to the black haired heir to the throne.

Several of the children where fetched by their mothers whom lowered their eyes when she attempted to look them in the eyes, and to make them realize she was not some brute.
“You know woman, I do not bite nor do I harm harmless townsfolk.” these words struck home in one woman in particular, whom after her friends had returned home layed her small trembling hand on the considerable larger hand of her counterpart in life.
“Pardon my kinsfolk, you are one of the few of your kin that have passed by here. I don’t think they know what to make of a woman who acts like you do” the woman said as she grabbed the hand of her child and led her boy back home while she threw the occasional glance back at Ashild whom now stood alone in the street and watched them go.
But the moment faded fast and she walked on down the muddied streets towards one of the inns she knew was to be found. As she walked down the last street of the street she caught sight of her destination.

She pushed the heavy oak door open and walked into the small common room that smelled of wet cloths and weary soldiers who sat at the tables scattered around the place and drank in silence for the most. But there where a good number whom kept up a lively racket as she ordered a mug of beer from the man behind the bar counter.
Taking the mug she found a unoccupied table and sat down heavily upon the chair and placed her long legs on another and leaned back against the wall.
As she sat there and sipped the beer while she stuffed the bone pipe with tobacco she found herself pondering when the armies of her foes would come into view, the siege would begin in earnest. For as of now she felt like everyone just waited for the finale storm to break, the soldiers where weary an many of the peasants and towns folk also lived in constant worry.
Alongside the bar keeper two serving pages where running to and from the tables with beer, meals and other things requested by the guests that surrounded her.
Just as a sense of calm began to settle down in her the moment of calm was shattered when the rather noisy group of soldiers whom where deep in their cups exploded into a tempest of raunchy laughter and crude remarks aimed at the of the serving pages, whom had dropped a tray full of full beer mugs.

The hapless page where pale with fear and embarrassment as he knelled down to pick up the broken pottery and the tray, but just as he got up a hard kick from one of the soldiers sent him flying. He landed hard, and by the sounds coming from him he was weeping now. Both from the embarrassment but also due to several bloody gashes on his hands due to the broken poetry he had landed.
None of the other guests in the tavern said or moved to help the poor boy, and even the bar keeper stood still and dared not intervene between the boy and the drunk solders whom where forming up around him in a rough circle.
But before anyone of the drunken bullies could further humiliate the poor boy the door was opened, and in stepped a man clad in partial war plate and with a grim face came into view. His scarred face was as set in stone and one of his hands came to rest on the hilt of the sword he carried on his side.
The grins vanished like morning dew before the rising sun from the faces of all the gathered drunks.
The man whom stood and and glared at the drunken gaggle of men where none other than the duke of Kaupang. And it was clear to one and all that beneath his stony features his blood boiled with anger and disgust.
He crossed the floor with his steel shod boots echoing his coming like the bells of a church. And before any of the drunks could speak or draw steel to defend themselves a brutal blow from his gauntleted hands sent one man falling down like a pole axed animal.
This spurred the friends of the stricken man to howl in dismay, and several of them fuelled by a mix of alcohol and bad tempers hurled themselves at the duke, and before anyone could react or seek shelter the whole tavern exploded into a massive bar room brawl. It was everyone against everyone as men hurled themselves at whomever did not fall into the category of brothers in arms.
Ashild saw this unfold and was about to get and leave when a of duty guardsman gave her a painful blow to the back with a chair. This act made the blood that ran in her veins, and was not of human origin boil. So instead of a yelp of pain the man where rewarded with a low snarl. And the massive woman turned and seized him by hair and one handed hurled him head long into the wall, as the man impacted with the wall his head split like a ripe melon and he slumped down motionless and with gore staining the wall. turning around to see if there where any more fools that wished to die she was rewarded with a glancing blow from a flying beer mug.
Deciding this was not something she would shrug of, she swung at the nearest man, and caught him square in the chest. Caching him of his feet and slamming into a comrade of his, her blood rushed and she could feel the berserker rage simmer, and as she sidestepped a blow from a burly trooper and backhanded him across the face before head butting him several times and leaving him dazed and bleeding on the floor.
Her eyes swept across the swirling mass of drunken brawlers she saw the lone duke, whom where laying about him with a cold and calculated style. His lip was split and his gauntleted fists where stained with blood and hair.
She saw his lean to one side and thus avoiding a blow aimed at his head and punch the offender hard in the guts before kicking him hard in the knee. The man dropped and seemed to be in great pain as he rolled over to one side and clutched his ruined knee.
Then suddenly someone drew a knife and lunged for his exposed back, Ashild saw this and before she could stop herself she grabbed the axe hanging at her belt and was about to hurl it at the would be knife wielding fiend. But somehow he had sensed what was coming and turned just in time to avoid a savage stab in the back.

Seeing this new assailant the scarred veteran drew his sword, and without any hesitation slashed the man across the guts, before reversing his swing and embedding the sword in the skull of the knife wielder whom sank down onto the floor and la there motionless.
This act of violence alongside with the sudden arrival of more men whom clearly had been summoned by someone whom had decided that the calling of the castle guard was needed. The men clad in war plate and armed with halberds poured into the room and showed no mercy to the drunken brawlers. Anyone whom did not cease their brawling where pummelled with blows and placed in chains to be dragged of to the prison to sleep their drunkenness of, and to face judgement at the hands of the thane.
One of these men whom wore the symbols of a sergeant at arms approached his lord whom stood and where cleaning his sword for blood and hair.
“Sire are you in need of a healer?
“No sergeant I am not, but your worry is noted.”
“What happened here sire? The place looks like a whole horde of screaming Picts stormed in!”
“Some of the less savoury locals decided that harassing the serving pages would be a good idea, that and several others deemed it the best time to settle scores of their own when the first blows where thrown.”
to this the sergeant at arms nodded and ordered his men to start hauling the battered and bruised individuals of to the prison.
The soldiers of the guard seemed to recognize Ashild and made no attempt at apprehending her, although at least two men lay dead around the tavern as a direct result of her. Most likely those men where not going to be missed. Or more likely the warrior woman was deemed a bit to unhinged to be tangled with, over something as trivial as a bar brawl.
But she did not miss the glare she got from them still, she would indeed need to keep her temper in check. Even disliked and more or less unwanted soldiers where still protected by the law.
When the last of the bar brawlers whom had resisted the attempt to force order upon them was lead out of the tavern and the back of the last castle guardsmen disappeared the duke placed a purse on the bar counter, and spoke a few words with the man whom stood behind it and where pale as snow as he surveyed the damage done.
Then the man whom had for so long watched his own land slowly being ripped apart by the war that now where at his heels looked at her, and signalled for her to step outside with him.
“I knew I would find you somewhere where beer was to be had. Although a bar brawl was something I did not expect to find.”

“Well what can I say, drink makes men loose their minds.”

“Ah wise words indeed, and fairly true I suppose. Although I think loosing ones mind may be a good way to relive the tension we all are feeling in one way or the other my dear. Something tells me that when the siege starts in earnest, we will all wish for the time to brawl in a bar.”

“So you came all the way down into the lower quarters to lecture me? And here I thought you noble born where busy.” Ashild said and stiffened a yawn.

“No that I did not do troll, I came here because your presence is wanted. And I cam to tell you that your Stygian saviour is on his feet, but the gods know he seems to have lost all sense of friendliness.”
She looked the duke of Kaupang over with her ice blue eyes and seemed to consider a reply but it never came. Instead she just nodded and gestured for him to lead the way to wherever the remaing nobles, and the Stygian named Agrai whom had recovered from his ghastly wounds thanks to the skilled healers of the castle.
They walked in silence back up the cobbled streets until they stood before the last gate, that guarder the entrance to the citadel.
After having climbed the narrow winding stairs p to the floor where the council where being held they entered the great hall, where they where meet with the nodding of heads and looks of weariness upon the faces of those assembled there.

“Ah how good to see you my dear!” the old duke of Noregard said, and his face told her that he was genuinely pleased to see her.
Some of the others she did not recognize but figured they where assorted captains of the army, or some of the lesser nobles whom had thrown their lot in with the rebels. Then there where the Stygian whom stood out in the way a lion would stand out amongst lesser predators. His wiry features added to the burning hate that could be seen plainly in his eyes. It was clear to see that he intended to take as many of his enemies with him before they overcame him, when battle was joined. His armour had been mended and his sword returned to him after he had lost it at the desperate battle at the bridge.
“It is good to see you warrior! Knowing you still walk amongst us gives me hope” he said in a low tone to her as he pulled out a chair for her.
Then she saw Charsi, and felt her hearth flutter with a feeling she was not sure was. It made her chins blush and she had to put every fibre of will she had to make herself regain her posture before she embarrassed the poor girl too much. The dark haired woman looked at her lover and sent her a smile.
“Now then! Since we are all gathered here and you all know more or less know what we will be discussing lets get on with it shall we.” the old duke said and took his seat at the far end of the table.
Beside him sat the man whom commanded the citadel guard and the elite formations of foot men, and on his other side sat the duke of Kaupang. Whom had gathered what remained of his forces after the brutal blow he had suffered when the enemy crossed the river, and butchered the six thousand men he had sent to hold it. The loss of such skilled warriors hung heavily upon the man whom had begun to show the signs of age, despite being in his prime.
“As you all all too well know, our enemy is coming to begin what will be the most crucial battle of the war of freedom so far. He has mustered every soldier, militia and savage tribes men he can. Their numbers are to put it mildly almost endless. But we still have the chance for victory! In his lust for victory has he sent three armies north to strike at the duchess who, guards the border marches. “

Pausing to sip deeply from his wine glass the man continued after setting the fine glass down.
“When the enemy stands at our gates, the defence of this hallowed castle and all those whom dwell inside its walls will fall to us ladies and gentlemen. Therefore have I alongside Duke Brage and Duke Einar allocated you to where you will be of most use. Same goes for your men”
“Where do you have need of me then! For I have many a score to settle with these devils!” said Ashild and looked directly into the eyes of the old man.
Before he could answer her however a voice that until then kept quiet broke in, it was the voice of one whom in the span of a few months had seen everyone she had known and loved die, and found love with a giant from the north.
“I know I am no seasoned veteran or masterly skilled tactician, but I too have scores to settle with the throne robber. He murdered my father, sent feral beasts to murder my foster father and tried to have his deranged henchmen take my life. And sine you all are so bloody determined that I should lay claim to the throne I set this as my demand for me doing just that. Let me stand on those walls and greet the first bastard to climb over with a sharp sword. With Ashild by my side no man will lay hands on me. And if you do not agree with this take the damned throne yourself! I never dreamt or asked for it anyhow.” said Charsi whom had quietly risen from her seat and walked over to Ashild, before sitting down in her lap and gripping her hands in her own.

“Well I will be damned.....” said Brage and smiled, the quiet and almost melancholic man from the great woodlands seemed to find something amusing.
“If I had any doubts about your right to the throne you just dismissed them. Unless anyone can conjure up a very good reason for disagreeing with this I see no reason to oppose your wish.” and it seemed no one had any wish to oppose the demands put forwards by the reluctant heir to the throne.

“Well then, now that these things are out of the way I have only one more thing to air before we all get some sleep. And that is the matter of the Stygian army we have heard about.” duke Torvald said and turned to the Stygian whom sat silently and sipped cautiously at a cup of strong wine.

“When if ever can we expect it to come to our aid? How many men dose it number and whom commands it? Asked the duke of Noregard, and regarded the other man with keen eyes.

“I received word from a person whom I know and tryst, that the army crossed the Pontar valley two days ago. And entered the hinterlands that lies beyond that place. From there it will take them at least a week of rapid marching to reach Noregard, and then two days to get here at maximum. As for their numbers, I was informed that the god king has sent forth the single greatest army to ever leave Stygia. Their numbers will be enough to match those of our deranged foe.”
he however did not mention the fact that is was his lord and eternal master Thoth Amon whom commanded the army. The very one whom had sent him north to rescue the dawn of light from the tide of darkness spilling fourth from Kels.
The old sorcerer whom could with a flicker of his hands do more harm than most armed soldiers could hope to do with sharp steel and burning hatred he mused silently as he listen to the others talking amongst themselves as they begun to depart the room.
He too rose from his seat and made for his chambers, it was time to meditate, to let his inner self wander and to make ready for the coming battle.

As the nobles and their comrades held the last council before the enemy arrived, little did they know that the enemy had already crossed the last ford that lay between them and the great citadel at Dunheim. Before them fled terrified farm folks and villagers, whom where allowed to run in terror before the massive army that came ever onwards.
The night itself was illuminated by burning torches and the deep rumbling of horns and drums as the soldiers walked forwards under a starless night sky. Their minds set upon the brutal and bloody battle that lay ahead of them.
As they passed the small farmsteads and hamlets folk fled head over heels before them, shrieks of panic and the calls of people looking for loved ones could be heard.
At the forefront of this truly impressive display of power rode the elite cavalry, dressed in their best suits of war plate and with banners fluttering in the gentle breeze. These men where well trained and none could claim they where of less skill or dedication than their counterparts that awaited them. But even they knew whom was the true heralds of fear, from time to time they could make out the dark shapes in the distance as the Draconian guard spread terror and fear as they rode like devils seeking fresh blood ahead of the army and set fire to towns, burning farms and slaughtering refugees in a orgy of blood and a lust for vengeance.
Their task was simply, while the main bulk of the army was to allow refugees and those fleeing before them to run unharmed and unhindered the Draconian guard would spread fear amongst those whom fled before them.

King Erik sat on his horse and gazed out into the night before him, and smiled as he saw the flames reach for the heavens as they devoured farms and homes. Let the rebellious rabble fear their king as he came to silence their pity full attempt to rid themselves of him.
He intend to leave enough of them alive so they could rebuild and toil until they dropped dead from exhaustion. But that was just the farmers and labourers, anyone else would die a bloody death for their sins.
He was dressed in a ornate suit of war plate, and at his hip hung a sword he had taken from a executed noble. It looked so much better at his side than at the side of that old fool whom had had before. He looked to his side, and saw his marshal sitting motionless in his saddle with a emotionless face as he looked out into the darkness.
“Why so gloomy marshal! Smiling will not kill you know! And beside, soon you will have a whole citadel to call your own after we put the devils whom occupy it for the moment. You and your knightly brothers will no longer have to make due in a ruin as you do know!”

“Yes my king” was the short reply that came from the mask clad marshal, whom sat on his massive charger and brooded over the unfolding events. This madness would not be the beginning of peace in the north, that he knew. His spies in both Stygia and Thessalonia spoke of preparations for war. And what was worse that the ruler of Stygia had sent fourth the largest army to ever leave the Stygian realm. Even now the great army marched north to Noregard. He only dared to hope that the armies sent to the border marches would be able to deal with the witch whom ruled there. Although he had doubts about it, the nobles chosen to act as its commanders where far from able generals he knew and dreaded. But no matter. If they crushed the castle at Dunheim, and cut the head o the rebel armies then.....well it would be a wholly different game of thrones then. Without their leaders, and the loss of so many men would leave the few that where left with very little hope.
His moment of silent consideration and brooding where shattered by the voice of his “beloved” king.
“When we stand before the walls I want every man of note to be assembled, I feel a need to hear what my generals and officers have planned beside just hurling themselves at the walls. Also make sure to have some wine ready, I fear it will drag on to no end.”
“Of course your majesty, it will be done as you command” said the Draconian, whom where glad he wore the mask. For his face would have revealed what sort of thoughts that filled his mind.

And then after a hour or so riding alongside a wide road the lead elements of the army could see the massive citadel of Dunheim rise out of the mist at the far side of a great valley split in two by a grand river.
And before their eyes they also saw that the rebels had put the farms and the last few small hamlets to the torch themselves. The only emotions this stirred however was the aggravation of missing the chance to grab loot and food before the bloody task at hand began.
So in the light of the fires that blazed away the assembled host of the realm began to encircle the citadel that looked down at from its mountain top nest.
As the soldiers did this they also begun to dig many deep trenches, that would be lined with sharpened wooden stakes. These pits would both act as a deterrence to any attempts to storm the camps that would be erected behind them. But also they would help guard the great siege engines that would be erected by the siege engineers.
And so it was the great siege of Dunheim and the last act in the great war in the north begun.
The first of the loyalist troops to see the massive horde that rolled across the lands and formed up in front of the citadel was the night watchmen whom stood in almost utter silence and watched their enemy come closer. Each and of them felt a claw of dread worm itself into their hearths, and the cold realization that now there was other way out of this than to fight like devils.
As the torches and the constant blaring of horns came closer and closer the guards let their own signal be heard.
The clear and strong tune produced by brass horns sounded all along the walls, alerting their comrades to the coming of their foes.
The captain of the guard whom was a seasoned soldier looked down into the sea of enemies, and calmly turned to his underlings.
“Send word as fast as you can to the dukes! And for the sake of all things holy someone put those torches out! We need not reveal ourself to the enemy. They will be up here soon enough.”
but the good captain had not needed to worry, the nobles had heard the blaring of horns and the signal from the night watchmen. And where already engaged in a hectic rush to dress themselves in armour, and ready sharp steel. But most of them practically slept in their armour but still such things took time. The pounding of countless boots could be heard up and down every street as the garrison mobilized the men, and the silent but palatable fear amongst the citizens could also be felt in the air.
On the walls the men took up their designated positions, and looked down at the hated enemy, almost everyone of the men manning those walls where a bloodied veteran of the gruelling civil war, while some of them where raw recruits whom had never seen battle before.
While these things took place someone else whom had no other wish than to live in peace, and in the company of each other where dressing themselves in armour.
She stood by the side of her beloved and helped her adjust the straps on her armour, she handed her the ornate gauntlets and she strapped the sword belt firmly around her waist. Taking up the helmet engraved with the royal coat of arms and handing it to her she swallowed a desire to just lock the door, and wish for it all to go away as she handed it over.
Then it was her own turn to be helped on with the suit of war plate, to feel the small hands of her lover struggle with the buckles and straps and to hear her curse under her breath as she pulled at them hard to secure them.
Ashild looked away for a moment to blink away the tears that had somehow begun to trickle down her chins. She did not wish for Charsi to see her weeping, not now at least.
“I suppose none of us two ever imaged we would be standing here, in a castle besieged and surrounded on all sides. Ready to make a stand on a fortress wall with no hope of escape eh?” she said before taking her weapon from Charsi and strapped the weapon belt on herself.

“No I cant say I ever imagined being announced as a queen, but these last few weeks has been filled with so much madness that I know not what to make of almost anything any more. But I know this to be true! No one has ever had so much confidence in me, or been willing to risk so much to save me as you have. Let the very gates of the abyss open for all I care! I do not intend to die on my knees should my hour come in these coming days and nights.”
Not expecting to hear such fighting talk from the normally more gentle and sensitive woman she had come to love so dearly Ashild smiled. Yes she thought, fate may have dealt them both a rather unexpected hand of cards, but she too would be damned if she laid down and waited or death now.
Feeling her moment of melancholy pass and being replaced by a much more familiar feel she smiled. Her blood was rising and she felt the part of her that was not human growl within her mind.
“Let us greet these devils then eh darling! My axe wishes to caress their necks when they climb the walls.” she said and opened the door and stepped out followed by Charsi. So it was that they made their way to the walls, passing troops whom many of bowed their heads in respect for the young uncrowned queen. It was clear that the news had spread like a wildfire amongst the men, even if they feared the coming darkness they had something to rally behind now. Something larger than mere freedom and a hope for the chance to see the coming of a new dawn.
Meanwhile on the battlements the dukes whom made up the council of the royalist council stood beside the lesser nobles, and looked out into the gloom. Not one of them could escape the feeling of tension, and maybe dread. For before them where amassed the full might of their enemy. Countless soldiers waited below for the gloom to lift, and give them enough light to make the first assault upon the walls.

King Erik sat in the great tent and listened to his commanders lay out the plans they had for storming the citadel, his head throbbed with pain and he reached for the cup of wine laced with black lotus. He himself had no plans of being in the first wave, let the fools die in his place. There where always more men to replace those whom died serving him and the throne.
His unshaven face gave him a look that would not be ill suited for a robber, but the ornate armour he wore dispelled that illusion. But still, he looked far from particulary regal at this moment. But he cared not either.
The only man whom was not replaceable beside himself in this tent where the hooded man standing beside him, the marshal of the Draconian knights never revealed his face to the common nobles or generals, only he and the other members of that insidious order of fanatics knew his true looks. A horridly scarred face ruined by the wounds he had received at the hands of the dark fiend they kept chained down in the bowls of the ruined fortress that served as their headquarters.
Erik had been there once, and seen the beast when he had meet with the man to convince him to join in his plot for the throne. That part had been the easy bit of the coup, the rest well that was all water under the bridge but still.....it had been damned hard worth but oh how it had been worth it in the end. To see the look upon his fathers face when he had rammed his sword trough the old man and seized the throne that day. He was brought back to the event at hand by the voices of his generals whom argued about who would lead the first assault, they where all capable of doing it, and doing it well but it seemed they wished for him to have the final say.
Looking at the men whom awaited his finale word in the matter he spoke with a weary tone.
“The honour of commanding he first assault upon the walls will fall to my trusted marshal, he will be the extension of my authority as your king! Heed his every command and preform your tasks well! Now get out and begin to prepare your troops.”
the looks upon their faces made him almost burst out laughing, the shock some of them showed where quite amusing he thought as he sat there and sipped his wine. And felt the soothing effects of the lotus. And beside, now maybe those bickering fools would fall silent. Not for fear for their king, but the masked devil they all knew had no second thoughts about killing anyone whom questioned his commands. He knew he had to be there when they begun, but that would not be until the sun began to rise. Instructing his servants to wake him when it did he retired and left it all to his marshal.

the advantage of being a troll ay, everyone else gets arrested and she gets off scot free.

Good new entry, it sets it up for the siege nicely, though it could do with a read through to get rid of some extra words that you typed in twice.

Yes that and being a woman seems to have its benefits. And beside would you pick a figth with her?

By the Emperor no, that one is more woman then I can handle. I think I'd have to climb in a cupboard and cry.

Can't have a good fantasy story without a tavern fight. Nicely written, Trondheim.

I'm conflicted about the siege. On the one hand, I want Ashild to win. On the other, I'm starting to like King Erik though. And the Draconian Guard are certainly interesting, even if they aren't good people.

 LoneLictor wrote:
Can't have a good fantasy story without a tavern fight. Nicely written, Trondheim.

I'm conflicted about the siege. On the one hand, I want Ashild to win. On the other, I'm starting to like King Erik though. And the Draconian Guard are certainly interesting, even if they aren't good people.

Yes i figured it was due time for that now. And thanks for liking it. But really? Well i suppose i did a good job then, when the evil throne robber gets some sympaties

From a sea fight to a tavern brawl? Nice change of pace. The relationship between Ashild and Charsi continues to be well-developed and I agree with LL ... the baddies are shaping up to be quite interesting characters in their own right.

All the better for when Ashild splits their heads.

Consider me subscribed.

Many many thanks for the kind words to you all.

When dawn broke it was with the company of the sun shining upon a blue sky. It was almost too good to be true, and it was. For beneath the sky and in the warmth of the rising sun the first signs of the coming assault upon the walls could be seen from said place.
Ranks upon ranks of soldiers from the Kels army stood silently in the sun and awaited the call of the bugle their commander.
The knight rode to the front on his massive charger and gazed upon the walls where he could see his enemies looking down upon him, he could almost smell the fear, the hate and the wish to get to grips with the killing.
He had longed for this day ever since that first clash of swords near the city of Turin. That day the earth had turned red with blood and the air had been filled with the howling of the lines as they charged towards each other. fuelled by hate, distrust and long buried feuds given fresh fuel to fan their burning desire for revenge.
He had killed so many men that his dreams had been haunted by their faces for a long time after that day, but they only joined the countless others tht haunted him as he closed his eyes each night. But the dead was dead. And none could dispute the honour he and his comrades in arms had won. However blood drenched and questionable it was in the eyes of some.
But he would never come to view the man child that sat on the throne as a true monarch, the fool was seldom of use these days. But he would serve him non the less, but for now he had something to take his mind of that particular problem.

“Men of Kels! Before you the enemy awaits your coming, they will fight as cornered beasts. I will not lie to you, the battle will be hard, brutal and without any mercy!” the marshal said and pointed one gauntleted hand at the battlements up upon the mountain.
Riding along the front ranks he gazed down at his assembled troops and let them behold his dark glory.
“But you will give no quarter, leave no man alive! Let your hate, your thirst for revenge for your fallen comrades guide your sword hand! TODAY WE END THIS!” he roared and drew his sword and pointed at the citadel that lay behind him.
So with a massive howl the soldiers of the Kels army began their advance towards the enemy, siege ladders where carried by the men. While the siege towers where pushed and hauled forwards by others. Behind them great machines of war begun to hurl stones the size of wagon wheels at the massive walls in hope of breaking them down by sheer brute force.
These men would be the first to reach the walls, and the first to feel the sharp reply from the defenders.
The men manning the walls looked with a almost stoic gaze upon their foes, and when the enemy came well within range they sent their greetings from afar, arrows and crossbow bolts whistled trough the air, and knocked men from their feet when they found a target.
But it was not enough, for even if they thinned the enemy ranks it was no hope in stemming the tide that where thundering towards the walls. And with great cheers from the besiegers the ladders reached the walls. Behind them the steady rumbling from the siege towers could be heard as they too drew nearer and nearer.

Up on the walls the royalists awaited their foes with baited breath, the battlements where lined with soldiers from all walks of life. Most of them had lost their homes, their loved ones or both to the ravages of civil war. Now as the last battle loomed they made ready to sell their life’s dearly if need be.
Duke Torvald stood beside his fellow royalist leaders and watched the speech given by that infernal fiend whom sat p high on his horse. His hate filled words could be heard across the wind, that man was indeed brave even if he where a murdering whore son.
He stood above the first massive gate in the walls and watched the banners that displayed whom where here this day. The bull from Kaupang, the snarling wolfs head from the woodlands to the north and his own. The bear standing on its hind legs snarling. And then there was the royal banner that proudly showed the enemy that the queen of Kels, whom would be crowned after the war was won stood beside them. The banner showed a white horse set against red and with a ring of golden laurels running around the white horse.
So this is how the last battle begins,with blaring horns and the thunder of the enemy as they charge at our walls, let them come! I no longer fear death or a sword to the neck he thought.
Then his thoughts where interrupted when a new banner joined the ones already flying proudly, it was attached to long spear, and showed the fanged maw of a great serpent. He then realized whom it belonged to, looking to his side he saw the Stygian, Argai standing there dressed for war. His golden armour repaired and his sword ready to spill blood. He bowed his head to Charsi and Ashild, and nodded to the other nobles and him, it was clear he too intended to fight.
The man seemed to have undergone a change of sorts, his posture was one of regal might, his gaze was like that of a golden eagle and his hands gripped sword and shield firmly. Then there was the sense of calmness that emitted from the man as he planted the banner.
It was clear he did not fear the coming storm, it looked more like he finally had made peace with either his gods or himself. He was a different person than the brooding warrior whom had meditated in silence for hours upon end after awakening from the deep sleep he had been in.
Thorvald was about to say something to the man, but stopped himself before the words escaped his mouth. No words where needed between the two men.

Ashild and Charsi had left the nobles standing there and looking at the enemy that came closer and closer. They now stood beside the ranks of heavily armoured spear men and sword men that waited for the ladders to reach the walls.
The men nodded to her and made it clear they knew whom she was, and what she represented. The tension was thick in the air as Ashild drew her axe and swung it back and fourth by her side.
As she stood there she suddenly became aware that Charsi gripped her hand and squeezed her hand hard, so hard that it hurt.
Turning to look at her she saw that the small woman was almost on the edge of tears, but it was not of fear. No this was something else, she could smell it. Beneath the stench of sweat, leather and the strong smell of the men around her she sensed that Charsi was trembling with anger, or maybe anxiety.
“Dont fear the enemy, they can not hurt you. The ones you know and trust are with you, and any man that dares lay a hand on you in anger will die!” she whispered in her ear and kissed her hand as they stood there, side by side.

“I know, I know Ashild! But this whole bloody mess seems so fuelled by hate and greed I know not how it will ever end! Promise me that you will never leave me” the black haired raven said and with a practised move drew her sleek sword from its scabbard. The keen blade reflected the sun as the first ladders slammed into the walls. And the howls of the enemy could be heard as a glittering storm of arrows forced the defenders to seek shelter behind shields, and the sturdy parapets.
Somewhere along the line the hard voice of duke Einar sounded and as the first soldiers from Kels sprang onto the walls, the men of Dunheim greeted them with cold steel and burning hatred,
“FOR THE QUEEN! FOR FREEDOM!” was the call that went up as the swirling battle was joined.
The first man to die by her hands was a man armed with a morning star and a sturdy shield, he swung at her and missed. Then as he tried to block her return blow in time she feinted a lunge and when he took the bait she drove the blade home into his neck. The blood gushed out and coated her blade as he tried to scream, but only managed a gurgling sound as he fell backwards, and tumbled over the wall, he hit the ground far below with a sicking sound.
But then she barely cheated death or serious harm as a sword cut by her chin with mere inches to spare, before she could even react her attacker cried out in pain as a pair of spear men ran him trough with their weapons and drove him to the ground. They yanked their spears free, and one of them used the butt of his spear to crush the skull of the man.

All around her the sounds of steel upon steel, shields breaking and the screams of men dying filled the air. The battle raged back and fourth in a almost rhythmic pace as the two sides put their backs into clearing the battlements of their opponents.
Then suddenly she went flying through eh air, and slammed into the wall of the tower behind her, winded and feeling dizzy she could barely make out what or whom had sent her flying. Standing there snarling was a immense figure, clad in heavy mail and leather armour and armed with a heavy war hammer a massive troll mercenary snarled and swung its weapon in a wide arch to clear more room for its companions whom only now had climbed up the ladders to join the fray.
The beast smelled like a wet dog, and its fanged maw where frightening to behold. As it hacked and pounded men flat around it the beast seemed enjoy this madness.
But then as it turned towards its first prey the beast seemed to catch sight of something that made it howl in anger and slam its weapon hard down upon the ground. Then she saw the source of this sudden outburst of pure animalistic rage.
Standing over the still form of a troll slain by a brutal axe blow to the head Ashild pulled her axe free and licked the sharp edge of her axe clean. Her face was covered in gore, and her armour was also covered by the same grizzly mess. It was clear she had been busy for the few moments Charsi had lost sight of her.
The troll snorted and seemed to say something in its crude tongue to her, the words must clearly have bit home because Ashild barred her teeth and howled as she rushed forwards.
Then as if two massive primordial giants where slugging it out they came together. Sparks flew and the air was filled with grunts and curses, as they both seeked the edge that would allow for the killing blow.
Charsi was winded but not hurt, or so she at least felt like. Staggering up and grabbing her shield that lay beside her she firmly gripped the sword in the other hand and threw herself at a new enemy. She could not match Ashild in the sheer terms of strength but the black hired raven possed a stubborn streak and she had a temper to match the fiercest wolf. Seeking to guard Ashild as she struggled with the towering brute she kicked hard at the back of the knee of a Kelsman whom cursed and fell forwards upon the waiting sword of the man whom had been fighting him.
Ashild felt the blood boil in her veins as she locked horns so to speak with the brute that stood before her, he was so strong that she almost could not believe it. But she matched him in that matter, and the two stepped back, before launching themselves at each other once more.
Then with a inhumane effort Ashild broke the guard of her foe, and planted the wolf headed axe in his ribs. The troll grunted in pain and reeled backwards as she delivered a brutal blow to his jaw. With a last gasp for air the great warrior fell forwards and move no more. Gasping from the effort, and feeling her aching muscles burn Ashild managed to pry her axe free from the corpse at her feet.
Looking around she saw that the enemy had been pushed back for now. But that the sige towers had rolled so close that a bow shot would have hit them. As the last Kelsman died upon the walls or beat a hasty retreat, the defenders took the moment of calm to draw their breath. And steel themselves for the next wave of enemies.
For this had been noting but a test of their steel and will to fight, however brutal and bloody it had been. All around lay the ruined corpses of both royalist and those whom served the false king.
But there was no time to remove the dead, just to get the wounded away and to have a sip of water before the creaking of the wheels mounted upon the trio of the first siege towers got so close she could almost feel it.

“Damned animals! How many are there of them?” said the duke of Kaupang and wiped the sweat from his face. Around him lay heaps of dead enemies, his men and himself had been at the front of the first wave. And it had been bloody and grim, how many he had killed he did not know. But he knew that there was still plenty to go around.
“Push those ladders down! And for heavens sake have someone bring up more water!” he called as he allowed himself to peer over the wall and onto the land below.

As he peered over the parapets he caught sight of the bodies laying at the base of the wall, some riddled with arrows while some where men where men from both sides, that had either fallen or been thrown into their deaths. Looking up at the sun that still shined on he knew the stench would be horrid come next day or a few more hours.
Just as he where about to say a few words to his second in command a arrow whizzed past his face and bit into the chest of the man behind him. He screamed as he staggered backwards and fell head over heels down the stairs before coming to a stop near the bottom of the stairs.
Feeling the adrenalin suddenly boil up once more the duke cursed whomever down there had taken the chance to shoot at him.
The archer whom had sent the arrow did however not get the chance to celebrate, a hail of arrows from the defenders alongside a few massive bolts from the balistast mounted upon the towers answered him in kind before the archer captains ordered their men to cease waiting arrows.
But they would pay those whore sons, for every one of his men that had given their life’s in the defence of these glorious lands. They where perhaps battered and torn between hate and the lamentations for those whom they had lost.
And then there was those damned towers, that now where a mere stone throw from the walls. Once more the archers in the Kels army began to sent showers of iron tipped birds of prey up at the men whom took shelter,and answered them in kind with their own arrows and bolts.
“Look lively men! The devils are coming back for a second turn of bloodied noses and bruised egos!” he called out to his men as he lower the visor on his helm, drew his sword and steeled himself for a new dance with death.

He never had imagined himself standing beside these men of the north fighting for freedom, and a young queen that most likely never had imagined she would be just that. The fighting had been brutal and bloody, no quarter where granted or asked for. He did not enjoy the killing of wounded or dying men but he understood the reasoning behind it, even though it was more likely down to sheer cold hate.
His sword was stained by both blood, hair and gore and his shield had several arrows embedded in it, a spear had just missed his leg and a axe blow had caught him in the shoulder but failed to do any serious harm beside giving him a rather unpleasant bruise.
He could hear the nearby captains and nobles shoring up the will of their men by encouraging words , and by the fact that one and all lead from the very front. Then there was that giant of a woman, she was most definitely in her element here, she had hacked, cleaved and maimed all but a few of the men that had gotten in her way, those whom had not died that way had either been hurled of the walls or as a few troll mercenaries had done, fought her with a savage lust for both blood and her flesh. The heavy mail and leather armour she wore did little to hide some of her more visible attributes but any man whom thought her just a domesticated beast from the north was long dead, or shown to be wrong.
As Argai, prince of Stygia and one of his homelands most accomplished warriors stood there with curved scimitar in hand and waited for the enemy he felt himself smile. Yes this was indeed a cause worth bleeding for, and then there was threat pretty queen. He knew she was way beyond him but still motivation went a long way to motivate fighting men to keep at it he thought and grinned.
“Don’t they ever stop coming Ashild? I mean we killed all but of a few in the first wave that stormed the walls!” Charsi said as they knelled behind the parapets and waited for the siege towers to close the last few meters between them and the walls.
“No it don’t seem like they plan on stopping just yet. But they will need to soon thought, their men must be just as weary as we are. And beside, they have the time on their hands. We don’t in here.” her lover said and spat blood and sweat. The blood came from a split lip courtesy the troll she had hacked apart, his massive fists had bruised and battered her more badly than she first thought.
“I suppose I do not have stomach for becoming a queen that is fond of war, but then again. Maybe that will be a good thing after all these years of strife.” she said and looked as if she wanted to say more but she did not but she did not need to say more either, both Argai whom had eavesdropped of sorts and Ashild recognized the wisdom in her words.
No a a ruler that knew the horrors of war and mayhem, and thus wanted to strive to prevent any such ordeal ever unfolding again in their realm was perhaps not a bad thing.
Then with the sound of screaming iron the ramps on the great towers feel down, and crushed the parapets where they feel, their great frames riddled with arrow, cross bow bolts and balistast shots.
The shouts from the Kels troops whom now swarmed out their shelter inside the towers where greeted by the equally angry shouts from the defenders, and the twang of bow strings as the bow men turned their bows towards the men swarming around down below.

The first man to set foot on the ruined parapet was greeted by a face full of steel as a Boyar slammed his axe directly into the face of the foe. The head was cleaved in two, and the top piece fell down spilling brain and blood all over. Then the fighting escalated in earnest. It was clear to the defenders that the first wave had been the rabble, mercenaries, light foot and other less experienced troops.
These men however wore the black plate of the Kels most battle hardened regiments. Armed with war hammers, shields and a will to fight to the last man, they all had sworn their life’s to the false king and would rather die than to disappoint him. With the fury of a storm they hammered into the defenders and the battle began in earnest.
“DEATH TO THE QUEEN! DEATH TO THE LOYALISST!” was their battle-cry as they swarmed forwards. But they where greeted in kind.
Opposing them was the men of the knightly order of the Boyars, standing beside the battle harden veterans of the armies of Kaupang.

Oh man, that ended far too soon. Great job, me expects more soon, the Picts demand it.

Ever heard of cliffhangers. And yes well not tomorrow at least, my inner troll will be occuiped with other things than typing

Damn cliffhangers.

Great new entry, Trondheim.