Råå, the largest coastal town of Helsingborg, this day was alive with activity. The trade at the harbour community usually kept the town, with craftsmen and traders all ready to sell their stock. But today brought those not of regular town life to its bustle, those who some could look upon as feral or an uncouth, or unpleasant or just not known. One such person was Freiga Borg, widower, farmer and raider of lands. And it was the latter that gave her cause to be here, in a town that she oft chose to steer clear of. Walking slowly alongside the grey-marl horse, her face was quite void of expression as she looked to the large watersides town, pausing just to take it in. The docks spread along the water’s edge, the longer raiding ships and those for fishing and short distant trade all bobbed in the current, men hauling barrels of goods and fish up across the beach and through the wooden settlements. Beyond the divider was the Jarl’s domain, his great home surrounded by the houses and stables and other craft stores. The community was vast but close knit, small pathways leading here and there. Freiga could easily feel overwhelmed by the numbers here, the bustle of her chieftain’s domain. Looking back over her shoulder, Freiga looked to the stretching green and woodland, a much preferred home for her. There was just reason for not carrying fondness for the town of Jarl Knutr, and it wasn’t a kept secret. Freiga had been the object of his wondering eye, and he wanted her as his new wife (the former dying during childbirth). His fancy for Freiga was not reciprocated, she found the senior to be a lecherous and volatile man with a slight madness about him. She had avoided at all costs attending the Jarl and entered a swift marriage to a farmer, and fell quickly with child. She sadly had lost the child, and Jarl Knutr’s advances were quietened by the dangle of another young maid before him and he took her as his wife. And although she mourned the child that was never born, she grew content on the farm and was surprised to learn of her husband’s excellence in combat. He had trained her well with sword and bow, showing a strong skill for the latter. And on the second year of their marriage, Freiga ventured with her husband on her first raid, and proved her worth. From then on, each season she returned alongside him. But tragedy once again struck Freiga and the year last, her husband Einarr lost his life. And since then, Freiga had remained mostly alone, although not embittered by the Gods decisions. And she remained on the farm. Freiga owned the land that had once been her husbands, although a majority of it was now claimed by his brother, leaving her a small farm to tend. Not that Freiga was bothered much by this; the blonde had a heart for adventure and travel after the loss of her husband. And if she could go beyond the grasp of their chieftain and that lingering eye, then Freiga would not turn it down. It was often a question why she stayed, and the only answer she ever had was “home is always home”. The surrounding area between Råå and the next town was filled with farming community’s and forests, where Freiga oft spent time enjoying the hunt. Of course so often she would come here to trade; it was the primary market for anyone seeking to make their needs. The farmers kept to their respective lands, although Freiga was not unwelcoming of guests. Those who knew her husband well and grew to be friends of hers through raids often came by. Quite the cook, she would often entertain a table full of people. The horse nudged her in the side and Freiga smirked, running a hand down the neck of the creature as she walked, heading up through the walls and into the town itself. Her first walk was to the stables to allow her horse his rest and some water, and following a left from the central stalls she handed over the reins of the horse before looking back. Freiga was known and a liked figure, and compared to some of the other raiders she was charming. Freiga was able to hold her own in both combat and social circumstances and was also quite a pleasure in conversation, mood depending, and when not geared for combat, looked nothing more than a female of the community. Dressed in the long course woollen gown, dyed blue with the aid of Woad, and the over tunic with a leather platted belt about her waist. The weather was mild, yet she still wore a cape of fur and skin although much lighter than her winter option. Her boots were crafted of leather soul and goat skin, strapped with strips of leather thong, well-worn and scratched, but a comfort she would not trade. Her hair was free and left to its wild nature, with the front sections braided back and tied in place. Walking through slowly, taking a small pouch from her waist that held a small selection of nuts. She peeled one with her teeth, spitting the shell away before popping it in her mouth and crunching. The assembly was forming, there was a heavy gathering of men and women and talks and whispers. Freiga found herself slowing her pace down and delaying her entrance, simply observing the bustle of the town. Using her tongue to clear her teeth of any trace of the food before she once again took the shell of another and chewed, instantly wishing for something to quench her thirst. She had a fondness for the light snack, but they did leave her with a craving for fluid. Tossing the shells aside, Freiga rose above her reluctance to spy Knutr and walked forwards heading into the long house, weaving through the crowds. She was greeted warmly and kindly, one woman stopping and looking into the wide hazel eyes of the women, Freiga beamed. “Katla!” Freiga said, engulfing the woman in warm arms. “Freiga, I was hoping you’d tend, I have missed you” She said, a hand moving to her swollen belly. “You do not wait” Freiga said with wide eyes, this was the fourth time the young female nursed a pregnant tum. Freiga forced the slight envy from her eyes and looked as pleased as she could for her sister. “And neither do your nephews!” Katla replied, and three young males ran at her and nearly tackled her to the floor. Freiga laughed as she pretended to fall to the floor under the weight of the males, and their father crossed to them. “Children go play” he ordered as Freiga ruffled the hair of the eldest, and the trio ran outside and she accepted a cup, remembering her thirst. She took a mouthful and swirled it around her mouth before swallowing, listening to her brother-in-law speak. “There is an announcement” He said, drinking too. “Something to do with the raids” “Hopefully not that he is coming” Freiga said with a raise of his eyebrows. “He would not tear himself away from his comforts” The male laughed, and Freiga nodded as she turned to look to the others who came through to the assembly.

Dag Ahlgren forced his sore feet to a swift pace as he moved toward Råå's docks. A soft breeze of Ponente caressed his whitening hair and pushed back the woolen hood that covered it. He cursed under his sour breath, pulled it back in place and fastened the chain of his cloak. Then he walked on, booted feet stomping on the hard ground, cursing louder. His mood was not to be toyed with that day. If anything, these foul winds were ominous. That was a special day, thus demanding a special outfit. Beneath a black woolen cloak, Dag wore his good grey doublet, beautifully adorned with twisting, interwining lines of cloth-of-silver. He also wore a new pair of sturdy black breeches, purchased from a red-haired Gotlander. Around his scorny neck hang a thin silver chain, a piece of loot from some long-forgotten raid. Of long-forgotten raids there were many in Dag's past, and he much craved for a new one that'd be remembered, yet the winds didn't seem willing to do him the favor. He walked along the coast, eyeing the ships that rocked sweetly beside the stone docks. He recognized much of his own work among them, though only three held his wandering attention. His gaze fixed on the one he owned. GUNNVÖR was an astounding eighty-feet long Busse, one of the biggest and most graceful ships in the docks. It was a rather narrow, double ended vessel with a shallow draft hull, bearing the majestic semblance of a sea snake on both its prow and poop. It had space for sixty oarsmen, and needed sixty more men to be fully manned. Considering all aspects, this would be the longship of choice for any man willing to brave the vast western seas. Dag made his way through a bustling ruckus of sailors and laborers carrying crates of fish, cloth, wool, fruit and other trade goods and boarded GUNNVÖR. Ecgberht Hult waited on the deck. He threw him an apple, and Dag caught it mid-air. "So, how's recruiting going?", he asked the young oarsmaster, taking a bite off the apple. It was sweet and crispy, and he approved. "Like it?", responded Ecgberht, leading him to the captain's cabin. "They were brought with FRÍÐA from some southron germanic port." "It's not apples I came to discuss with you, oarsmaster", Dag scolded him. Ecgberht let a disappointed sigh. "We're good to go, Dag Ahlgren. But the gods are not. The winds have been blowing east for weeks, surely you have noticed!". "I've never needed divine consent before, have I?", said Dag, all the while devouring the apple. "Anyway, call a priest. Gods is their job as ships is mine". "True enough", agreed Ecgberht. "I shall see to it". "Good. In the meanwhile, how's recruiting going?". The dark-haired youth remained silent for a while, carefully weighing his thoughts before he spoke. "Egil Mattson has joined us with his SONJA". "That makes two". "And two is all there'll be". Dag flung the bare core to the sea. "And why is that?", he asked, though he knew the answer well enough. "None of the great captains and shipwrights care to take part in this venture of yours, Dag. Dangerous they call it, and madness! And even if we convinced some of the fisherfolk to come, you know they wouldn't be much help, so I didn't bother with them in the first place! Well, that's all I could do, if you can exert some power to gather us ships, then do it, dammit!". All of a sudden, Ecgberht lost his composure and became again a sweating, trembling boy. Dag could now see the long days of negotiation taking their toll on his protegé. "All right", he said in a calm, reassuring voice. "Have some rest, boy. I'll take over from here on". A sigh of relief escaped Ecgberht's lips, yet his face still held a good amount of worry. "They won't come, Dag", he said, "we're alone". "I'll see that they do, son". Dag stood up and left the cabin, a thousand worries swarming in his mind. He had just set foot on ground when he heard Ecgberht calling from behind. "When are they announcing it?", asked the boy. Ægir's grace, how long has he been at the docks?, thought Dag Alhgren. "Today", he answered, yelling over the rising zephyr.

Tostil lay comfortably on his bed, the many furs and heat of the room comforting him as he enjoyed a brief moment of indulgent relaxation. Divna stood before him, her slender form keeping his eye as she moved from the bed, her lengthy dark blonde hair tangled and matted somewhat from their morning activates. Grinning he sat up and stretched out, his muscles still slightly sore and his head somewhat foggy from the previous day’s activities. One of the freeman families on his estate had needed to extend their home to better accommodate a pair of twin boys that had been born several seasons ago, and then afterwards the father, Hlenni, one of his best fishermen and good friends had needed experienced drinking companions to celebrate the occasion – something he had gladly done and with great enthusiasm. It seemed an appropriate end to start of the raiding season as any, marking the time that he spent away from his land and doing what he loved to do, what he waited each year to do. He wasted little time washing and dressing himself, strapping on his full arsenal of weapons once more. He spared a moment to hold the blade of his sword in his hands before him. The metal was dull and showed some signs of heavy use, but the edges were still keen as ever – not bad for such an old blade taken from his father’s enemies all those years ago. He swung the sword mockingly through the air several times before he sheathed it, a slightly unstable grin still lying upon his features as he wondered who would be tasting his blade this year. As he stood Divna approached him from behind, her arms slipping around his waist as she embraced him and her familiar scent filled his nostrils. The feel of her naked form against him filled him with happiness as he turned and returned the embrace, the pair sharing a deeply intimate kiss as she gripped at him with what felt like the force of the All-father himself. “Be safe my brave one” she whispered into his ear as her hand gently caressed his cheek, her emerald eyes boring deep into his own as they again shared a moment together. A confident grin once more returned as he pulled her down onto the bed, pinning her below his lithe frame as he again kissed her. Moving away from her embrace he chuckled softly and replied “Do not worry my tender wolf, the gods have always smiled upon me”. Moving towards the doorway he picked up the small sack that he intended to present to Einarr and the gods before turning back to Divna as a wild look crossed his features as he cheekily added “And if not then I shall go to Valhalla and demand the gods themselves that you take your rightful place beside me” before he turned and slipped away into the frigid cold of the morning. Divna stared after him, her heart already aching as she said a silent prayer to the gods. Odin, far-wanderer, grant him wisdom, courage, and victory. Friend Thor, grant him your strength. And both be with him. ---------- Råå was bustling as it always was, Tostil wasting little time as he made his way through and towards the Earl’s longhouse, shouting a few greetings to those he recognised as he was eager again to see his friends and companions. The mood was light and there were many who had gathered, his eyes searching through the crowd for a few moments before he spotted Freiga stood towards the rear with her sister and brother-in-law. Making his way through the throng he greeted them eagerly “Freiga!” he boomed clasping her arm in greeting before he turned to Katla and her husband “Oh-ho, so another little warrior on the way eh? More reason for me to behave myself if they turn out like your husband no?” He grinned as Katla smiled softly and he received a mocking thump and a mug from the man who repeated his statement of a few moments ago, informing Tostil that there was something new to be announced concerning their raiding this year. “Is that so?” he replied as he wondered what it may be, his thoughts going back to the last year and the unimpressive results they’d had, the dwindling wealth of the eastern lands almost making the trip not worth the time and effort it took them all before he shrugged. Such announcements and decisions were beyond his control, his taste for slaughter and plunder a much more pressing issue as far as he was concerned. “Divna sends her regards” he said lowly, his gaze moving back to Freiga as he spoke “I think she has missed you and wanted you to know you are still always welcome with us.” His grin faded somewhat as his thoughts turned back to the last raid, back to the skirmish in which she had lost her husband and she had been left alone in this world. Tostil had been very close with the man, the pair having fought together many times before he had left to go drinking with the gods, leaving her without child and without a certain future, and he without any he’d consider as close as a brother. Turning his thoughts away from such matters he downed his mug in one and added “Besides that I have found myself missing your company also. For what other woman as fierce and able to drink as much as I is there hmm?”

It was early morning. Too early, Erik thought, for smithing. Nevertheless, the work had to be done. He knew not when or whether he'd be back this year. All he knew was that it was raiding season, the only time of year he could get away from the hot coals of the fiery furnace and bury himself in the midst of even more fiery battles. The morning air was lined with mist; morning dew dripped from the leaves and all was quiet in Råå, for now. Even so, Erik stood over the anvil shirtless, donning no more than his leather pants and boots. He wiped his brow as he hammered his latest project - an iron sword - to completion. Once it was done, he grabbed a cloth and mopped his brow. Smithing always worked up his appetite, and Erik hadn't had breakfast yet. Returning inside his hut, Erik sat down near the fire, where he had left a rabbit roasting over the fire. Satisfied that the meat had been well cooked, he removed the rabbit from the spit roast and began to dismember it into smaller pieces. He quietly thanked the Gods before taking his first bite. Meanwhile, his young apprentice was just getting out of bed. Sven had seen seventeen summers, he was moderately tall and well built, with deep blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that hung past his ears. He was well disposed, polite and kind... but a little craven. His mother had given him over to Erik when he was fifteen, since his own father perished a long time ago. Erik had acted as the boy's mentor and father figure ever since. "Now, you're sure you can handle this, boy?" Erik asked. "Of course, sir," Sven replied, a touch of apprehension in his tone. "I need to know, because I can get somebody else to look after the Smithy if need be." Sven looked at the floor for a moment. The boy longed to prove himself and Erik knew that. He got up from his meal and ruffled Sven's hair. "You'll do fine, lad. You've been with me for two years and you smith some fine goods. The Smithy can manage without me." Erik's voice was firm, and yet reassuring. Sven looked at him and smiled. "Look after yourself, sir, and may Odin watch over you" he said shyly. Erik grabbed the rear of the boy's head and two touched foreheads for a moment. "I told you already boy, it's about time you stopped calling me 'sir'. Erik is fine. You're a man now." "Alright, Erik." Erik was always slightly paranoid when out in public. Smithing weapons for the wrong people had made him enemies in the past. Even the Earl didn't have much fondness left for Erik. Although the fisher folk and some of the older ones still called him 'Sunderskull', he knew he would find no allies in the longhouse. Striding inside of the longhouse, Erik was clothed in his leather pants, boots and surcoat - with a layer of chainmail underneath. Glancing around the gathered crowds, he noticed a few familiar faces - Freiga and her family, along with Tosti Svavarson. Nobody he particularly cared to associate with, but not enemies either. He grabbed a horn of ale and leaned up against one of the longhouse's walls. Erik didn't need to be at the front with all the rest, he just needed to attend and then he'd be off, free to fight as he willed for the rest of the summer.