[i]Healing House, Haakon[/i]

Things were moving too quickly for one warrior to handle on his own. Haakon gritted his teeth, clutching his sword as Harald’s men put the hall to the torch, but when they grabbed the little girl he sprung into action. He stepped forward, blade ready, his mouth open to issue a challenge that never came.

Instead he was blindsided, a sword hilt crashing into the base of his skull, setting his ears ringing and staggering him. As Haakon turned to confront the threat, another warrior stepped in and slammed the haft on a long-axe across his temple, driving the Viking to the ground, the earth spinning violently. Four more laughing dogs surrounded him and began to drive their boots into his ribs, head, and stomach, kicking and stomping him like a common beggar as he tried in vain to rise. 

The vicious beating lasted several seconds, and by the end of it Haakon lay clinging to consciousness, his face battered and his hair matted with blood. Despite the odds against him, the raider still reached out to cling to one of the men’s legs, his other hand groping desperately for the handle of his saex until the man shook Haakon’s grip free and delivered a final kick to his face, breaking his nose with a crunch and a spray of blood. The man then knelt and put his knee in the small of Haakon’s back, gripping his hair and pulling his head up before drawing his own knife and pressing the gleaming blade to his throat threateningly. 

The dazed warrior lay still, his mind in disjointed chaos. His vision was blurred, and all he could hear over the ringing in his ears was the crackling of flames and Hallerna’s shrieking protest.