While skinning the fur off of the large cat Aksel hummed a little tune from his childhood. Knowing he was alone he had his guard up, just in case. He heard the arrow coming at him before he saw it and he ducked his head and dove towards his shield. "Come out and face me like a man ya bloody coward!"

A figure darted through the trees and noisily surrounded him. He chuckled realizing who it was. he put his axe back and snuck into the woods and behind the perpetrator and kicked him in the back of the leg. He chuckled as the boy went down. The boy rolled over and said, "Did you know I was there the entire time?" Giving him an arm up Aksel nodded and grinned.

"You were noisier than a grizzly bear."

Reidun turned and blocked the sword with her own and as she pushed a little harder the other sword flew from her opponent's hand. Her sword now at his throat she looked at him stonily just before striking the death blow. She bent over his body and wiped his blood from her sword and onto his clothing. Hearing a baby crying her heart flipped and she left the few remaining men to fight and she ran towards the crying babe.

Barely ten feet into the woods she found the infant in the arms of a small girl of no more than five or six years old. Sheathing her sword she bent over the child who clutched the infant with desperation. "I'll not harm you." Looking further into the woods she caught sight of a woman who looked to be the mother. She appeared to be unwell and Reidun hurried the children to their mother and ushered them to leave quickly. "Go now, you do not have to die today."

Marewen slipped the powder into the woman's tea and walked quickly to the window to appear innocent. "So what will you do if he accepts the deal the Prince has offered him?"

Shaking her head she replied. "I guess I'll be marrying that old man's son. I can only hope he is kinder and better than his father." The quiet noise of the woman's head lolling to the side in slumber emitted a slow smile upon the princess' face. Hurrying to the door she slipped out and down the hallways ducking into the kitchens. The laundry was still not folded and put away yet. She smiled and took some clothes.

(Note to self Color code = FFA500)
Dialogue: Uffr was holding the cowering merchant by his tunic, "Little man, I'm not asking again, now where is your lord?" The man pointed east, "re-returning here" " See? That wasn't so bad, all I have to do now is kill your lord"

Battle: Uffr saw the enemy commander turn and without taking his eyes off the enemy group he yelled "Wall!" With trained precision the men under Uffr's command came together each protecting the man next to him. Uff gazed out across the hillside, he had predicted right, the enemy had formed a wall of their own, but were there archers was the next question. "Second rank" he called the two sides seemed to fold inward and shields went up to protect high. Now came the waiting game, but no! They must advance they were at the bottom of the hill and with the shields above the front line could reach under for the legs. Uffr slowly started walking forward beating Thunderedge on his shield, soon the whole line had joined in the increasing tempo matching the pace that the wall was moving, reaching a fast walk when the tempo evened. Then the walls collided with a force equal on both sides little progress was made, Uffr pulled out his Saxe, and went for a open man, then he felt it, the sword joy, the killing feeling and he knew Thor was smiling down on his men.

“So, what is my future?” The boy was eager and nervous. Understandable given his age, he couldn’t have been more than fourteen summers old.

Isgred knew he was going on his first raid with his father tomorrow. “Patience, young man. Did you bring what I asked?” The boy nodded and handed her a coin and a jar filled with tallow as a gift; she would later use the tallow to make herbal ointments to heal wounds. “Very well.” She took a knife out and run it lightly across his palm, so that a thin line of blood would appear. Isgred reached for a pouch with the bones, they rattled quietly as she emptied the pouch into boy’s hand.

“Throw them,” she told the boy and he turned the hand over, letting the bones drop onto the table. Isgred carefully studied the patterns. Some of the carved runes were clearly visible, some were hidden under a layer of fresh blood. The boy stared at the bones almost breathless, no doubt trying to see what only she could see.

She saw a lot of things – life and death, bravery and cowardice, hate and… no, no love. It didn’t seem like the boy was going to make it back from the raid – these young ones were sometimes trying too hard to prove themselves, often becoming reckless and putting themselves in danger’s way. Even though the bones never lied, they sometimes hid the truth in the most mysterious ways.

“Your fate contains many things,” she told the boy. “I can see a great battle and I can see you becoming a hero. Beware the danger of cowardice in other people’s hearts.” That much she could say. The boy was excited at the mention of becoming a hero and he probably didn’t even hear her warning. But that wasn’t her problem. He paid for a prophecy and he got one, what he would do with it was his thing.

It was always annoying working with a newer raiding party. Of course the skirl was a veteran raider, but it was his first time leading his own raid. That had lead him into making some rookie mistakes, all very minor. Those minor mistakes though have compounded into the raiding party being barricaded inside a small hamlet, surrounded by a large militia made up of the surrounding villages. The skirl had stayed in this area for too long, causing the villages to finally strike back against the raiders with organized resistance.

They had been enjoying themselves in the small village when the militia came out of the woods already surrounding the village. They numbered about three times the viking's numbers. Harek had been eating an apple from the village's food supplies when the militia came out of the woods. That had been two hours ago and the rookie captain had yet to think of a way out of this. Harek was tired of waiting and wanted blood. He had gave the captain a chance, but time was up. Getting up he walked over to the captain and nudged him with his boot.

"Get a fire started and bring me any men with bows. Prepare the rest for battle." Harek began to stretch his sword arm and check his sword for rust. When the fire began to burn brightly Harek waved the five men who had brought bows for hunting over to him. He looked over at the armed peasants over in the woods and had the archers shoot one volley into the woods. The trees blocked most of the arrows, but one managed to land into the crowd of men. The peasant scooted back from where they thought the range of the arrows are. Harek turned around and told the men with axes to start cutting cottages into firewood. Harek couldn't wait much longer, he needed a fight. He needed to make a hole in the enemy and he was fairly sure he knew how.

The formation of Vikings slowly made their way towards the peasants. They were chanting while pressing forward in a shield wall. The peasants were backing up every time the vikings took a step forward. They weren't seasoned warriors like the vikings and most had never killed a man before. The militia had backed farther and farther into the woods. As the vikings reached the edge of the forest they stopped and for a second the world was silent. Harek stepped out of the formation in one hand his sword and in the other a burning plank from one of the houses. As he took a few steps forward he could feel the the dead leaves beneath his feet. It had been a while since rain had fallen. He held the flaming stick out in front of him and looked deep into the fire. He then turned to the right and threw the stick. It spun for a bit then landed in the brush a distance away. For a second nothing happened then a small flame could be seen growing. Harek let out a shout and 15 other torches came flying out of the formation and began to make more small fires.

The fire began to spread and grow quickly. The militia began to back away from the fires, causing a group to be isolated from the rest of their comrades. Harek let out a war cry and charged the isolated group. His fellow raider broke the shield wall and also charged. The combat was brutally short and the vikings showed no mercy. As Harek struck down the last man he looked for another target, seeing the frightened faces on the other side of the fire and began to sprint toward the fire. Right before he reached the fire three vikings grabbed him and began dragging him away. Harek was screaming bloody murder at the vikings telling them to let him go. The Vikings made their escape in the cover of the fire.

“Do you see the billows, boy?” Halvard asked his little son, pointing at the fjord. “How they rise and crash on the rocks?”

”Yes, father,” Þórsteinn said, staring at the sea through the hail. The truth was, he could barely see the water, because it was almost as dark as the cliffs it beat upon. “Is this why you and brothers pulled the ships on shore? Because of the storm?”

”Yes, yes, of course!” he answered and pulled his hood back on, this time clutching it with his fingers. “They would have shattered into pieces, the storm is so wild. The most violent one in years, I tell ya.”

Thor confirmed these words with a thunder.

“What about the people who have no yet returned?” Þórsteinn asked and wiped the damp hair from his forehead.

“They are at the waves’ mercy now, I am afraid. Maybe Njǫrðr will spare them, and take them to Nóatún and prepare a feast for them!”

But in a way known only to children, Þórsteinn could sense the worry underneath his father’s words, and the sea became a horrible realm in his eyes for the first time.

”Maybe the giants have taken them,” Þórsteinn said.

“Nonsense! You speak like your mother now!” Halvard reproached him. “The waves are alive, boy. They are Ægir’s daughters. They are merely crying for the passing of Baldr blessed by all the gods. Their sadness and tears cause the storms and in their misery they toss the ships into the sky, so Óðinn tells us.”

The sea certainly seemed swollen to the boy, and in his childish imagination he pictured great sea maids trashing in the depths, weeping for their loss, and, much like he and other kids would when their will was denied, picking up the ships and throwing them furiously away as if they were toys. He longed to switch the subject.

“Is it true, papa? About mother.”

”Ha! Her stories about her grandmother?”

”Yes.”

”Who knows...” said Halvard. “We believe stranger things than her story, that’s for sure.”

”So her grandma really was a Valkyrie?” he asked wide-eyed.

”Go inside,” said Halvard. It’s getting cold.

He ushered the boy inside and followed him, althought he lingered for a moment, perhaps to say a prayer for the companions he knew would not return with the morning.

Warlord Vsevlad's archers proved to be too larger in number than they expected. It was the first time Þórsteinn's tactic seemed to be shaken and the men around him became confused. They were all on the edge, not knowing whether to fly or maintain formation. The deal was to occupy the archers while the vanguard advanced through the woods on their side unnoticed; but the enemy surprised them with their numbers, because their chief had hired mercenaries from the east whose bow skills were unreal, and Þórsteinn could have sworn he saw some of them shooting from horseback. The volleys were so thick that every time they loosed one an arrow would find its way through the gaps in the shields.

"We have to remain where we are!" Þórsteinn commanded. "Just stay where you are, alive or dead! We have to wait for the other group to come from around! Advance slowly in between volleys!"

The man to his right screamed as a splinter from the shield stabbed him in the eye. Þórsteinn raised the man's shield with his hand. "Hold the shield up!" But it was late, another volley was on them and the man lay dead in seconds with arrows in his thighs and liver. "Heads down! Shields up!"

Their pitiful situation encouraged some of the enemies to try their luck, thinking themselves invincible and sure to win. The fools wanted glory so they charged at the shields under their own arrows. Some fell pierced in the back before they even crossed the stream, while others knocked against the wood with their shoulders and boots, trying to break the formation.

"Don't kill them! Push them forward, use them as shields!"

But that idea did not come to pass, because the enemy did not care about his own men. They fell dead immediately after the archers let loose another round. Þórsteinn's allies, seeing the fallen men had armor and arms of considerable quality, hoped to disarm the corpses and spoil them once they were close enough. But no sooner they had approached the corpses that the second group sounded their horn and the men began charging from the right. Þórsteinn saw rocks, spears and arrows flying and the enemy's attention turn to the other side. This is when his group began the charge and in no time they were over the stream and on top of the hill mingling with the enemy. Here Þórsteinn slew a dark eyed mercenary just as he was reaching for his knife: he smashed his face with the head of his ax and fell down facing the sky. The lightly armoured band was as laughable in close as it was terrifying from afar. Here Þórsteinn's friend Vladimir threw his lance and it stabbed a richly attired man through the breast, who must have been a noble warrior because many of his comrades surrounded the body and tried to drag him away lest his arms be taken by the enemy and his burial denied. A heated battle began near the dead man, and soon his body was lost among his kinsmen and enemies who lay killed around and above him.

etc. etc.

Sitting up up from the fur covered bedding, the naked Vestar stood up and walked over to the sack of wine, to pour in the cup. He just finished his 5th round of sex with a local whore he picked up for the night. Upon drinking his wine, the woman spoke. I guess it is true that you can fuck as hard as you can fight! Vestar sighed, walking over to get his clothes on. Where are you going? You're not staying with me? Vestar looked over. Did you birth me? Are you my wife? No?.....then shut up and stay on your back like the whore you are and wait for your next pizzle...

Vestar found himself surrounded by three wolves that were looking to take the viking down. Savoring the meal to come, staring down the man and sniffing the air at the aroma of flesh, they were ready to pounce but something about this prey seemed odd. They actually hesitated to attack at first. Vestar gave a smirk when hearing the wolf from behind him charge. Through his training, the male worked on timing for his attacks. Tightening his grip on the handle of his axe, Vestar swiftly turned to swing his axe right when the wolf lunged at him, having his axe to meet the beast's head, severing it from it's body.