@Wick I am interested in joining, but there are few things I need to know first before makin a character. First, what year is the current storyline taking place?
It says
This story is loosely based on history and the dates and rulers names are not accurate so you have been notified
in the OP. The year is not really specified I guess. It's all a mishmash of years and events.
Þórsteinn had left the sacrifice a little earlier and by the time it was over he was already sound asleep on Uffr's ship. He tried to enjoy the sense of being on deck again for a while before drifting into sleep, but it didn't take long to completely relax thanks to the lulling water. He had his back and head supported against his belongings, and his front covered with a cloak, under which he held a dagger in his hand, just to be sure. From the distance came the sounds of merriment and sacrificial games.
But from the ship itself came the sound of sneaking. "Wake up, Þórsteinn Halvardsson. I said wake up, you bastard!" the young man said and kicked Þórsteinn's leg.
And he did wake up. Above him, against the moon, loomed a tattooed, almost beardless face of a young, dark-haired man, and in his hand was a sword. Þórsteinn hardly recognised the chap just as he pressed his weapon on Þórsteinn's neck. "Ívarr Hoskuldsson..." Þórsteinn said. "Geir's little brother." "I am not so little any more, you bastard, am I," Ívarr said. "And you better not move and listen to me carefully." "You better make it short," Þórsteinn said. Ívarr felt the point of Þórsteinn's dagger against his ribs. "Always prepared after that night, I see," said Ívarr. "How ironic, that I could die just like my brother did, isn't it." "Maybe you should stop following his ways and sneaking up on people when they are asleep. I don't want to kill you, Ívarr," said Þórsteinn. "Your brother plotted against me, everyone knows it! That's why I killed him. I had every right." "Do you think I care about rights?!" Ívarr hissed. Muffled shouts of drunk people were coming from the rune stone area. "I have a duty to avenge my brother! I won't accept any silver, so forget about wergild." "Then what are you waiting for, you little shit? Do it!" said Þórsteinn. Ívarr said: "No, no, no. I am not going to bring bad luck on myself the very night before our raid by killing a fellow shield-wall mate! That would be a bad start, Þórsteinn. Especially since we've just had a sacrifice. Oh wait...you weren't there, you unbeliever! Now the gods are on my side! And I am going to see the priestess, and make her curse you as soon as we land! You are a dead man walking, she'll have you hanged for Odin's sake." "What are you talking about, you stupid maniac? You can't be serious, you can't be coming along! You're insane, you're unstable, just like Geir was!" Þórsteinn shouted. "Oh, yes; I am very much serious. My kinsmen in Skåne saw you passing through after your outlaw period was over. Rumours spread, you know. As soon as I heard you were going to Kattegat, I decided to come here myself. Now I have joined this raid, too, which was unplanned. But oh well, now I can both kill you and get rich! The gods truly are on my side!" "My knife is on your side, so you better shut up and leave and spew your nonsense elsewhere!" Þórsteinn said. A child in rags was watching from the dock. "I will leave. For now. But as soon as we get into a battle with the Saxons, you better watch your back." "They will never let you come along when I tell the top guys what you are like." Ívarr laughed at that."What! You think they are any better, you idiot? These are raiders, killers, thieves, and rapists. You think some of them are not on my side?" "Not if they have any sense in them." "You forget something, Þórsteinn. The word 'gold' makes even the most sensible men lose their minds." "You don't have any gold! You're piss poor! Your whole family is because Jarl Harald took it all from you, even though you're his cousins!" Ívarr laughed again, this time more manically. "But you do, Þórsteinn! Yes, I know... You hid some treasure that you earned in your exile, didn't you? Nice, foreign treasure, the people say." Þórsteinn glanced aside and saw that the sky was still red from the ritual flames. "And how exactly are you going to find that treasure, stupid? No one knows where I hid it! And I won't tell you, especially not if you kill me, smartass!" "You really are slow, aren't you?" said Ívarr. "Think!" Þórsteinn became angry and tried to push the enemy away. "Stop playing games!" "It's simple. We sail to the east, follow a river down south, and we find...Hmmm, who do we find? Oh, yes: your wife, Þórsteinn! The chieftain's daughter! I am sure that won't be a hard thing to do! Surely someone's heard of a northman of your disposition sojourning in those parts." Þórsteinn dropped the dagger and grabbed Ívarr by his tunic. "You will do no such thing! And she doesn't know where it is anyway!" "Oh, yes, I will do that. And don't say that... I know she knows, she must know! Surely you had no secrets between each other?! Also, what do you think is going to happen? Is she going to tell us where the treasure is, or is she going to be stupid and cover for you...even after we threaten her entire town with flames? Well, of course, she is going to tell us. But let me tell you a secret, we'll burn the place down anyway and loot it, and then her entire family will be put to a very special test. But don't tell anyone!" Ívarr took the knife from the deck and tossed it to Þórsteinn. "Better keep that." He grinned one more time and sheathed his sword. "Sleep well! We have a lot of rowing to do tomorrow!"
Þórsteinn watched him leave and approach the child he had seen before. Ívarr gave the child a coin, and pinched its cheek. Then he turned around and waved to Þórsteinn with a huge smile on his face.
It was not hard to guess who the captain or the ship was. Þórsteinn immediately recognised him when he saw his shaven face looking down on everyone in the street. He had never before seen a man so tall – obviously of distant giants’ brood! – and he surely was not happy to see one now after slandering one of his men. On the contrary, even the dishonourable though of flight crossed his mind, and he would have made for it had he not remembered that his name was stained enough as it was. Besides, he was not in the wrong, and he had both the deities and men as witnesses, unless they were ready to lie for their mate.
He decided to lay his hand off the axe and face the man unarmed. He was never the man to run away, but he was also never the man to be foolish. Best case scenario: he gets pardoned, maybe after paying a small fine to the captain and the jarl; worst case scenario: he gets thrown in jail, in which case he would at least have a sure meal once a day, however miserable.
The crowd went silent and some space around the captain and his men was made clear. However, everyone was still watching, and some wild eyes definitely hoping to see some blood sport. Þórsteinn stepped forward and raised his hand. “Hail!” he said. “I am Þórsteinn Halvardsson, and I meant no trouble. I was only looking for work. Your man is a somewhat hot-tempered! That is the whole story. You can ask anyone.” He pointed around at the crowd.
Uffr observed the scene, then laughed and said, "Orm you're going to buy us some new ale, yes?" A chuckle broke form the crowd. Then he looked down at Þórsteinn, a serious look taking his face. "And you, I see you are armed. And I hear you want work, and I have an open bench. Fight Orm Bjórr to prove your self! If you show me a good fight, I'll let you on board. If not . . . you may as well go join a whaling group" Uffr smiled at his joke not knowing Þórsteinn's background.
Þórsteinn smiled at the irony in the last remark, and from his gurgling he saw that the tongueless guard picked it up as well. ''You must be playing some kind of a trick on me, captain, don't you think?" he said and looked around for the crowd's support. "I am not going to fight a man in such a state. Everyone would say that I won that bench by fighting an incapacitated man." He looked at Orm and felt that, at heart, he really was a good warrior when he was not drunk. And that fist of his more of a hammer than a hand. "That would bring a great shame on me in the eyes of this entire fleet here. And the town. So, you will either have to take a risk and trust me with that oar, or give me someone else to fight, which I wouldn't recommend, because you'll end up with another open bench." This display of confidence (or cockiness) was cheered by some of the bystanders.
Uffr stared into Pórsteinn's eyes for a long, long time. Then he smiled, and slapped the man on the back. "Well I'm going to take the risk. But, let me down..." He motioned a quick slice to the neck. "Now get your belongings and get on board, I expect to leave at any moment" "And where exactly are we going?" Þórsteinn asked. "Why, England, of course!"
"Piss off! We're full!" the decrepit excuse for a captain told Þórsteinn and tossed him a half eaten apple core before untying the knots and ordering his men to push the ship off with their oars. Þórsteinn threw the fruit into the sea and spat in disappointment. There was no point in even replying to the geezer, let alone starting a fight with him.
There was but one whaler in the entire Kattegat, and with all its rotten planks and patchy sails, it looked more like a leaking bathtub than a proper ship, and its crew looked like a school class rather than a band capable of capturing the mighty sea beast. All of Þórsteinn's efforts to reach the town already seemed fruitless after no more than an hour spent in it.
There were a lot of merchants, however, and of course slavers. In his exile, Þórsteinn had grown completely unused to having slaves around, and the truth was, he came to the conclusion that slaves are for lazy people. He surely felt like a slave when he stopped by the seeress on his way into the town. The old woman made him clean her entire home before even considering giving him a hint of his future; and the things he heard were so vague that he kept cursing both her and her kind in his mind for hours afterwards. As he remembered this now, the capitan's straightforwardness seemed like a refreshment, however rude he may had been.
He took a salted herring from his pack and started chewing on it with a sigh just as he came across a marvelous vessel freshly arrived to the port: not a whaler, but a long ship. There was a handful or guards around it chatting. The rest must be striking some deal with the jarl... Behind it, Þórsteinn saw at least a dozen more similar ships peacefully floating.
"That's a fine ship," Þórsteinn said as he approached the guards seated on some barrels. "She must have a name, I am sure. Such beauties seldom don't."
"And who may you be?" one of them asked, a burly looking fellow with fat fingers holding a tankard.
"Þórsteinn," he answered.
"Þórsteinn...? So is my brother. That doesn't tell me much at all," said another man, younger, with flushed cheeks.
"Þórsteinn Halvardsson. I'm looking for a whaling crew or some work to do here," he said.
"Does this look like a bloody whaler to you?" the burly man said and got up all shakily.
"No, but you sure look like a whale...." Þórsteinn said and grabbed the hand of his ax.
The burly man stared at his eyes and started breathing heavily, biting his lips under giant red mustache. Suddenly his friends started laughing behind him. He turned towards them and started spitting and yelling gibberish, but the laughter went on. Now really mad, he kicked the barrel he was sitting on, and a whole lot of sweet ale started spilling down into to the water.
"He is so right, Orm! You are so fat! Almost as fat as your own wife!" said a skinny fellow who lacked a finger on his right hand.
This made everyone's laughter even greater -- although mixed with sporadic grieving for the spilled drink -- and Orm would have started a fight had he not been so drunk. Instead he stumbled and had to sit down, right into the puddle of ale that had spilled.
Now passers by had begun to gather around the scene and children pointed their fingers and started throwing pebbles at Orm, laughing at him for being clumsy. All laughed except one of the guards who kept only smiling and making weird noised with his mouth, but he too seemed to be having fun.
"Come on, Tongueless," said the fifth guard to the smiling man, "let's pick him up." Wen he got up, Þórsteinn saw a curious knife at his side, unlike any he had ever seen, very beautiful and ornate with some gems that must have been foreign.
The two of them together lifted Orm up and left him standing supported against a wall just as a group of men was heard coming through the crowd. The tongueless man pointed with his finger and his friend said "easy, everyone, the captain's here."
Description: Þórsteinn (far right) and his brothers:
Þórsteinn is a man of average height for his time, but an unexpected strength lays in him, honed by some years of rowing, hacking and labour. His hair and beard are brown with some red in it, and his eyes grey. He wears his hair tied back in a knot. His most often wears leather boots, dark woolen breeches, a belt, a tunic, a cloak, and his axe. He has tattoos on the back of his neck and his upper chest, crude depictions of sea beasts and a rune sequences dedicated to Ægir and Njǫrðr. His right hand had been burnt
"Class": Whaler crewman /Whale hunter/ Hunter/ Fighter for pay as of late
History: Þórsteinn comes from a family that has been in the whaling business for as long as people have hunted them in those parts. He and his brothers inherited their father’s ships two years prior to the story, but their partnership did not last long. Þórsteinnwas soon exiled from the land for killing a man who happened to be Jarl’s nephew with a harpoon. Þórsteinn learned from the other crewmembers that the man wanted to capture him in his sleep and give him to a Muslim chieftain to be his slave in exchange for a well-made saber. Þórsteinn tricked him by pretending to be asleep, and as soon as the man lay his hands on him, he turned over and pierced him through.
He was lucky the Jarl considered the youngster a possible future enemy for the title of the ruler, and thanks to this he kept his life, although the Jarl had to maintain an appearance of anger and ended up dealing some sort of justice. Everyone suspected this was the case, but of course everyone kept their mouths shut and let it all slide. So Þórsteinn ended up exiled from the country for a year and a half, and exiled from his hometown forever.
Þórsteinn this time in a Slavic tribe to the east until the ban was lifted, but no one knows a lot about his life there. He was apparently a hunter and worked for a local chieftain in exchange for a place to sleep and food, and he also went on expeditions to the east with traders and plunderers. The chieftain apparently grew to like him and praised his skill in fighting, navigating, sailing and raiding other neighbouring places, and for this he gave him many rings, trinkets, furs, and had Þórsteinn's current weapon forged for saving his son’s life, a ‘bastard’ axe, too long and heavy to be a normal one, but not quite long to be a two-handed weapon. Þórsteinn hid all this treasure except for the axe in a location only he knows about.
Þórsteinn also claims to have married the chieftain’s daughter thanks to this feat, but she does not appear to be travelling with him, although his plans are to earn money in plunder to start his own whaling business and allow her to move in with him into a decent home because she’s from a richer background.
Since he can now return to the country, but not to his home town from which he is banned for life, he seeks work in other towns and ports.
Strengths: Experienced sailor; physically more than capable; navigation; knowledge of foreign herbalism and improvised medicine; understands some foreign languages he learned during his exile.
Weakness: He does not believe in using shields and much armor: more than often he’ll fight just in a tunic or even without it, if a battle breaks suddenly; he’s prone to disregard the opinions of the priests and try to go against their warnings if he thinks he could get away with it; he’s prejudiced against many foreigners after his experience with the Spanish Muslims.
What is the most important thing to know about your character: He has nothing to lose.
One paragraph writing example of dialogue or interaction with another character plus a second paragraph writing example of combat. If your character is a non-combatant (i.e. specializes in healing) use whatever specialization that character would have for the second paragraph.
“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.
Description: Þórsteinn (far right) and his brothers:
Þórsteinn is a man of average height for his time, but an unexpected strength lays in him, honed by some years of rowing, hacking and labour. His hair and beard are brown with some red in it, and his eyes grey. He wears his hair tied back in a knot. His most often wears leather boots, dark woolen breeches, a belt, a tunic, a cloak, and his axe. He has tattoos on the back of his neck and his upper chest, crude depictions of sea beasts and a rune sequences dedicated to Ægir and Njǫrðr. His right hand had been burnt
"Class": Whaler crewman /Whale hunter/ Hunter/ Fighter for pay as of late
History: Þórsteinn comes from a family that has been in the whaling business for as long as people have hunted them in those parts. He and his brothers inherited their father’s ships two years prior to the story, but their partnership did not last long. Þórsteinnwas soon exiled from the land for killing a man who happened to be Jarl’s nephew with a harpoon. Þórsteinn learned from the other crewmembers that the man wanted to capture him in his sleep and give him to a Muslim chieftain to be his slave in exchange for a well-made saber. Þórsteinn tricked him by pretending to be asleep, and as soon as the man lay his hands on him, he turned over and pierced him through.
He was lucky the Jarl considered the youngster a possible future enemy for the title of the ruler, and thanks to this he kept his life, although the Jarl had to maintain an appearance of anger and ended up dealing some sort of justice. Everyone suspected this was the case, but of course everyone kept their mouths shut and let it all slide. So Þórsteinn ended up exiled from the country for a year and a half, and exiled from his hometown forever.
Þórsteinn this time in a Slavic tribe to the east until the ban was lifted, but no one knows a lot about his life there. He was apparently a hunter and worked for a local chieftain in exchange for a place to sleep and food, and he also went on expeditions to the east with traders and plunderers. The chieftain apparently grew to like him and praised his skill in fighting, navigating, sailing and raiding other neighbouring places, and for this he gave him many rings, trinkets, furs, and had Þórsteinn's current weapon forged for saving his son’s life, a ‘bastard’ axe, too long and heavy to be a normal one, but not quite long to be a two-handed weapon. Þórsteinn hid all this treasure except for the axe in a location only he knows about.
Þórsteinn also claims to have married the chieftain’s daughter thanks to this feat, but she does not appear to be travelling with him, although his plans are to earn money in plunder to start his own whaling business and allow her to move in with him into a decent home because she’s from a richer background.
Since he can now return to the country, but not to his home town from which he is banned for life, he seeks work in other towns and ports.
Strengths: Experienced sailor; physically more than capable; navigation; knowledge of foreign herbalism and improvised medicine; understands some foreign languages he learned during his exile.
Weakness: He does not believe in using shields and much armor: more than often he’ll fight just in a tunic or even without it, if a battle breaks suddenly; he’s prone to disregard the opinions of the priests and try to go against their warnings if he thinks he could get away with it; he’s prejudiced against many foreigners after his experience with the Spanish Muslims.
What is the most important thing to know about your character: He has nothing to lose.
One paragraph writing example of dialogue or interaction with another character plus a second paragraph writing example of combat. If your character is a non-combatant (i.e. specializes in healing) use whatever specialization that character would have for the second paragraph.
“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.
