The First Taste of Blood

[Lycurgus]

FATHER!" the young boy screamed seeinghis father tumble to the ground from the rough wooden stockade, a jagged spear end protruding from his stomach. The young boy ran towards the crumpled figure of his father and dived to his knees, cupping his father's head in his hands.
The dying man looked up at his son, blood trickling from his mouth, "Avenge me my son ..." he croaked out, "punish those responsible for my death, make sure ..." he never finished his last request.
"The young boy threw his head back and gazed up into the heavens, "I swear by Thor that I will avenge your death father, I swear by all the Gods that I will slay those who have murdered my father!" The boy let out a gutteral scream of emotion as he held his dead father to his body, feeling the heat drain away ...

"My Lord the Russians march from the south," Helgi informed Harald Bluetooth, the Chieftan of the realm.
"Order the men to their weapons Helgi and bring me my armour, we march forth to oppose them!" Harald declared.
"Soon a thin line of brave warriors were marching along the old track leading from the village, they took up position on top of the highest hill in the area, a hill the locals called the Dark Mound a sit was rumoured to be the site of evil sorceries. The Vikings stood their ground, gripping their weapons close to them, preparing to repel the Russian raiders.
Each of the men on that hilltop remembered the last raid, crops had been burnt, women carried off, livestick slaughtered or stolen and property looted and burned. The Russians had become increasingly bolder in their raids and demand sover the centuries. Once the two peoples had live din peace, they had worked together in the distant past the legends said to settle the land and pacify the wild tribes who lived there. The Vikings had settled most of the land and had gained control of vast stretches of farmland and rocky mountains with rich mineral deposits, but the Vikings were a disunited people, composed of warring tribes and loyalties. The Russians had been left with dense jungles and deserts, but they had grown strong as they were united and loyal to their motherland. The Russians had steadgrown at from teir Viking cousins, even though legend had it that they were from the same stock. The Russians had grown arrogant and greedy, threatening war if proper tribute wasn't paid, the peaceful Vikings always paid to avoid war. Then as time passed the Russians had begun raids and war parties to carry off more loot and tribute.
The men standing on that hilltop were part of a band, they had evolved over the last hundred years or so to take up arms and defend themselves properley. The Great Chieftan in the North, didn't care, so they ahd turned to their Clan Chief for leadership and several clans had decided to fight back.

The Russians appeared on the horizon, Harald could see their spears glint in the sunlight, they marched with discipline and rythm. Their officers barking orders concerning positions and structure. Harald turned to his men, "Right boys Lets give em ****ing hell! Kill a smany of em as you cam, don't give em mercy, they won't give it to you!"
Witht hat the Vikings charged down the hill, running towards the enemy across the fields. The screams from the Vikings filled the air, the Russians stood steadfast, their bronze armour guarding their bodies as the Viking horde smashed into them. Spears leapt around impaling fiend and foe alike as chaos riegned. Arrows arced through the air sending men hurtling to the ground. It was all over within an hour.
Blood covered the field, bodie slay trample don the ground and everywhere the stench of death clung to man and equipment like a plague. Harald surveyed the scene, he wasn't used to this ... victory! The Russian commander had been killed in the battle, the Russians had fled without their organised leadership. Harald grinned at the remainder of his men,just thirty were left, but they had beaten the Russians.

On the march back to his village he said a silent prayer for his father, promising that more Russian blood would be spilt to avenge the murder committed so long ago.
Back at the village everyone was gathered in the small village square, a man dressed in the colours of the Great Chieftan was standing in the middle of the crowd. Harald made his way through.
"Are you Harald Bluetooth, son of Hrafn?" the man asked Harald.
"Indeed I am, what of it?"
"You are requested to attent the court of the Great Chieftan, the Gteat Chieftan has died and as a Clan Chief you are invited to attend the acsension of his hier."
Harald swallowe dhard, this wa sindeed surprising news, the Great Chief was a young man, he wondered what had befallen him.
"What ahppened to the Great Chief?" Harald asked.
"He was pisoned, we don't know who by, but it is suspected that it was a Russian plot" the messenger from the Great Chief's Court said.
Harald stayed silent, it wa snot wise to voice too many political opinions in public, he would bide his time, but he knew now that he must act to save the Viking people from certain doom.

Comments appreciated

[Jeremy 2.0]

I'd run 'er through a spell check and put some spaces between the paragrpahs just to make it easier to read. You certainly didn't waste any time getting to the (spear) point and that's not a bad thing at all.

Keep it coming.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good to see you back Lycurgus and looking forward to seeing where you take this. Would tend to agree with Jeremy 2.0 about spell check and spaces, but as Ive said before it is readable, and if this is any where near as good as your last offering then were in for a treat.

[unscratchedfoot]

Originally posted by Jeremy 2.0
I'd run 'er through a spell check and put some spaces between the paragrpahs just to make it easier to read.

I totally agree. A proof-read would benefit this story greatly, and Jeremy's comment as well.

Looking forward to another story from you dude filled with fighting and slaughter.

[Lycurgus]

Sorry about the spelling I was in a bit of a rush last night, but I did take on board your comments last time Chrisius. Thanks for the feedback everyone.

Harald stepped into the large chamber where Great Chieftan Snori Forkbeard lay in state. The huge pile of wood the body lay upon would soon be burning in the sea as the body was pushed out to meet the Gods. Harald looked in amazement at the assembled crowd, the Clan Chiefs of all the great clans were here, he felt a little embaressed all of a sudden, his own clan consisted of barely a few hundred people, most of them either women, children or old folks. Here he could see the mighty Wolf's Claw Clan, proudly displaying their fighting prowess in the shape of several dozen warriors. The other clans were similairly represented. Then he remembered his father all those years ago and the victory his people had achieved only a few short weeks previously, the embarressment soon faded to be replaced with pride.
The crowds suddenly hushed into silence, the large oaken doors of the hall were flung open and in strode Einaar Longbeard, the most respected man in all the clans, he was rumoured to be over a hundred years old and had been alive for as long as anyone could remember: he had advised the Great Chiefs in their dealings for just as long and his exact origins were shrouded in mystery and legend. Einaar cast his gaze across the hall and viewed the assembled crowd, his faced showed disgust at the finery on display by several members of the larger clans.
Einaar was followed by several attendants and women, the wives of Snori, none had borne him children so tradition dictated that a trial must ensue to decide who would govern the clans. All the Clan Chiefs hoped it would be themselves, the power and prestige the position brought were enormous, even if it didn't convene much political power.
Einaar stood in front of the funeral pyre and declared, "Clan Chiefs, great and small, children of Odin, here me now! We come here today in the presence of Snori Forkbeard to celebrate his life and to decide who will be our Great Chief. The tradition is simple, trial by combat, the last man standing is the Great Chief, all who wish to participate stand forward now!"
Around a dozen men stood forwards, proudly displaying their armour and their weapons. Harald watched the men as they one by one stepped into the centre of the room.
"Is there no one else?" Einaar asked.
As Harald listened to the old man's words he felt an itch in his boot, he reached down to scratch it, but lost his balance. With a small yelp the young Clan Chief stumbled forwards and tripped into the centre of the room.
The crowd looked amazed, no Clan Chief of such a small clan had ever entered the trial by combat in more years than anyone could remember. The crowd suddenly burst into uprorious laughter.
"I'm sorry I didn't ..." Harald tried to protest his true intentions, but the laughter drowned him out.
"SILENCE!" Einaar commanded, the hall fell silent in an instant. The old man walked over to where Harald lay on the ground protesting. He was tall, even in his old age and he bent down to offer his hand out to Harald.
"Young Clan Chief, you are either very brave or very foolish. You understand that the great Clan Chiefs are amongst some of the finest warriors of all the Viking peoples?"
"I know my lord, but I wasn't trying to enter, I was just ..." Harald was cut off by Einaar.
"You have stepped forwards, whether by consciense or accident it matters not, now you must respect the tradition of your fathers and stand with your peers."
Harald's heart beat faster when he thought of his father and the traditions of his anscestors. He grinned and clasped his dagger, proudly stepping into the centre of the room with the other contestants.

The fighting was brutal in the extreme, the thirteen men hacked at each other, it was soon apparent that they had divided themselves up into their political alliances, with particular Clan Chiefs helping other Clan Chiefs. Harald felt an outsider, the other Chiefs weren't interested in him, they would periodically engage him before turning their attention to their more worthy foes.
This filled Harald with rage, he was on the floor for the seventh time, his arm gushing blood and his muscles aching, but he leapt back to his feet and screamed for Thor's might. His spear rammed itself between Holmkell Bearslayer's ribs, slipping between the bones and impaling several organs. Holmkell turned to look at Harald in horror, his spear falling from his hand's, blood pouring out of the wound and trickling to the floor below. The crowd watching let out a gasp of amazement, Holmkell had earned his name fighting the Dark Bear of the Night Wood, he had fought it for almost three days straight and many said he was the finest warrior in the north. Harald wiped the blood away from his face and pulled his spear back out again, Holmkell's body crumpled to the ground.
The other combatants looked on in surprise, but soon the battle was resumed, Holmkell's allies quickly turned on Harald, who was forced to defend himself as best he could. Hallgeirr son of Hallaor and Bror Lightfoot both came up against Harald.
Their spears stabbed out at Harald, he dodged as best he could flinging himself from one side to the other, weaving in and out as their spears leapt past his body. He lunged forwards with his own spear, missing Bror, and leaving himself open to Hallgeirr. Hallgeirr plunged his dagger into Harald's shoulder, crimson soon stained Harald's leather armour. Harald staggered backwards clutching at his wound, Hallgeirr stepped forwards to press home the advantage, Harald quickly raised his spear and cracked Hallgeirr's jaw with it, sending him reeling.
Bror lunged forwards aiming his spear at Harald's breast, but Harald manged to sidestep it in time. Harald now siezed the moment, he took his dagger and slashed at Bror's back, but his armour deflected the blow. Bror regained his balance and tried to swipe at Harald, Harald parried with his spear and managed to wind Bror. Hallgeirr now stepped back into the fight. Harald saw him coming and moved to the side just in time to trip him up.
Hallgeirr lay sprawled on the floor as Harald plunged his spear down and through Hallgeir's eye socket. Blood sprayed out and upwards, covering Harald from head to toe. The screams of Hallgeir were drowned out by the crowd baying for blood. Bror screamed in anger at the death of his friend and charged forwards consumed with rage.
Leaving the spear sticking out of Hallgeirr's skull Harald dived to the floor, he could feel himself getting slower as he lost more blood, but he still maanged to get out of Bror's way. Bror turned on his heel, Harald kicked out and hit Bror's knee. A scream of pain resonated as Bror fell down clutching his knee, Harald dived on top of him brandishing his trusty dagger and plunged it into Bror's skull again and again, pieces of blood and bone peppering his face in the process.
Harald stood up again, soaked to the skin in other men's blood. He quickly took stock of the situation, there were only three combatants left including hismelf. Three of the men had yielded and had been spared, they would now be in debt to the Clan Chiefs who had beaten them. Harald's face fell when he saw who was left, Thorir Godson and Ulfr Heavyhammer. Legend had it that Thorir's line were descended from Thor himself and all male heirs had taken the name Thorir, meaning son of Thor. Ulfr was widely regarded as the greatest warrior of the present day, he stood more than seven foot tall and it was said he could survive by drinking blood.
Harald gripped his spear more tightly and prepared himself.

[Lycurgus]

Harald levelled his spear and ran forwards against Thorir, Thorir swung his own spear and Harald was soon lying face down on the cold stone floor. Ulfr had by this point come up behind Thorir, his massive warhammer came crashing down on Thorir's head cracking his helmet apart and shattering Thorir's skull in two. The crowd were screaming their approval as Thorir crashed to the ground still alive, but screaming and clutching his mangled head.
Harald crawled backwards as Ulfr strode towards him asking him if he wanted to yield. Harald thought about it for a second, but he remembered how his people had beaten the Russian, even though they where outnumbered and had expected to loose themselves. He took up his spear once again and lunged upwards. Ulfr grabbed the spear and tore it from Harald's hands, he quickly snapped it in two.
Harald started panicking, he only had his little dagger left and Ulfr was covered in thick animal skins and metal armour. He didn't have time to ponder long though, Ulfr smashed his hammer down and struck Harald's leg, the bones poppping out as they snapped. Harald couldn't feel the pain, he was already in agony from his other wounds and had lost a lot of blood. As the blood drained from his body he began seeing visions of the Gods, they were coming to take him to Valhalla. As Odin stepped orwards to greet him Harald could hear the God say, "This is not your time Clan Chief. Take up your weapon and earn your place at my side!"
Harald snapped back into conciousness, the pain in his leg now shot through him and it filled him with rage. Ulfr was walking around the hall boasting and swaggerring about his impending victory. As he turned round his jaw dropped when he saw Harald stagger towards him clutching his dagger in his fist. He composed himself and began laughing. Harald only became angrier at this.
Ulfr stepped forwards and brandished his mighty warhammer, he swung out hitting Harald in the side of the head. Harald staggered for a moment as his head spun, he put his hand up to where he had been hit and felt the bone there soft to the touch. He also realised he couldn't see out of his left eye as it was hanging on his cheek, popped out of the cocket by the blow. He let out a cry of rage and called upon his father to aid him before staggering forward and lunging at Ulfr with his dagger. Ulfr was taken by surprise that Harald was still functioning, and the dagger blow sunk into his neck. Ulfr pulled the dagger from his neck and once again took up his warhammer, this time Harald put his arm up to parry the blow. The hammer smashed through his bones and Harald lay on the floor bleeding and barely breathing. His chest was making a raspy sound as he lay there half unconciousness, his right eye let him see Ulfr standing over him.
"Harald son of Hrafn, known as Bluetooth, do you yield?" Ulfr asked him.
"Never!" Harald cried back and staggered up again, the adrenalin and rage keeping him going.
"You must yield if you wish to live, but I will kill you if that is what you desire," Ulfr responded.
Harald threw himself forwards and beat with all the might he had left on Ulfr's body. Ulfr easily pushed Harald back to the floor. Still Harald tried to get up. Ulfr shook his head and raised his warhammer back over his head. Harald felt something cold and hard as he flailed around on the floor, it was a dagger, dropped by one of the combatants. He snatched it up and plunged it into Ulfr's ankle. The giant man cried out in pain and sunk down. Harald lay back his strength totally gone.
Ulfr looked at Harald and stepped back, "I yield!" he declared.
The crowd gasped in shock. Einaar asked Ulfr, "Why do you yield mighty one?"
"I cannot defeat this man, he will not surrender and I fear that even in death he would continue to fight me. I yield to my Geat Chief," and with that Ulfr knelt down on the ground. The rest of the crowd slowly followed suit stunned at the day's happenings.

Harald sat upon his throne, a patch covering his left eye and splints and bandages covering his body. Einaar handed him Thor's Hammer the great symbol of office for the Great Chief. Harald grinned as best he could without many of his teeth.
Harald signalled for the hall to be quiet as he was about to speak, "My People listen to me. We must take up arms to defend ourselves from the Russians to the south. Our forces are small and no match for theirs, we fight amongst ourselves and we give in to them. But remember they are not invincible I have defeated them! They were once part of us millenia ago so the legends tell us, let us marshall our forces and defend our traditions and our people!"
The cheers sprang up immediately, led by Ulfr. In war there would be glory and booty ...

[Lycurgus]

Here is a screen attachment for you all, showing where Harald comes from and where he fought and beat the Russian raiders.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Fantastic stuff

[Easthaven I]

Very cool! Good fight.

[Footie Mad]

Quality work, screenshots are icing on the cake.

[unscratchedfoot]

Well done. A bit on the brutal side compared to the gentlemenlike rumbles I'm used to but defnitely good stuff.

[Lycurgus]

"My Lord terrible news from the south, Aaarhus has fallen to the Russians. The Russian merchant community there opened the town's gates in the night and dozens of Russian warriors spilled in," Einaar informed Harald.
"This is indeed grave news, we must retake the city, my own lands lye close to it! Order the clans to assemble for war, we ride as soon a spossible," Harald proclaimed.
Einaar left the room to inform the Clan Chiefs, Ulfr remained at Harald's side. "My Lord," Ulfr began, "do you think it wise to take on the Russians directly, their forces are so much larger than our own?"
"My friend we must. If we do not then they will soon be on the gates of Trondheim itself!" Harald replied. He sank back into his chair and contemplated the upcoming fight ...

Aarhus appeared on the horizon, Harald could see the smoke rising from the hearths of the town's houses and workshops. Behind Harald the clans marched, proudly displaying their banners and symbols. The Great Clan Chiefs marched at the head of their men, Harald out in front along with Ulfr and Einaar.
The Vikings came to a stop at the small river known as Muddy Brook, here the river fed into the surrounding lands and created a small marsh. Barely a thousand yards away the Russians stared at them, shouting obscenities and waving their weapons around.
Einaar looked grim as he saw the Russian force, "My Lord, the Russians outnumber us greatly, they have hundreds of men more than we do!" he informed Harald.
"That they do my wise friend," Harald answered him, "but they are nothing without their precious leaders. Once they are gone the rest of them run fleeing not knowing what to do!"
"I hope you are right Harald," Ulfr said gripping his spear ever more tightly.
The two armies faced each other neither one daring to move first. The Russians had stopped shouting and their leaders had ordered them into position. Like ants they marched as one and took up their alloted roles, each man knowing his place in the battle.
The Vikings looked on in awe as the Russians moved as one, their own forces were divided up into the clans and were scattered across the far bank of the river. They continued to shout obscenities and gestured towards the Russians.
This state continued for hours, the Russians standing perfectly still, the Vikings getting angrier with the frustration of waiting.
"Maybe we should make a move?" Ulfr said.
"No, if we wait for them to strike first then they will become bogged down in the marsh," Einaar scolded him.
"Your words ring true wise one," Harald said, "but I have a secret waiting to be used."
"Sorcery?" Ulfr asked.
"No, that I leave to Einaar," Harald said, "I have studied the weapons of the Russians and have found their archers lacking in potence, but having much potential."
"That isn't a secret, archers have been around forever!" Ulfr gruffly commented.
"True my friend," but we have never used them, the Russians will not expect it."
"My Lord!" a cry came from Clan Chief Surla Sharpmind of Clan Lokar, "the Russians move out!"
Sure enough Harald could see the Russian formations march down the gentle slope of the hill they were on and advance towards the shallow river.
"HOLD YOUR FEET!" Harald shouted to the Viking warriors. His men obeyed, not running out to attack but staying where they were.
"Einaar, order the archers to begin firing!" Harald commanded. Einaar set off for the back of the lines to carry out his instructions.
"Ulfr you will accompany me," Harald told his friend.
"It is my honour to guard you in battle My lord," Ulfr beemed proudly.
A whooshing sound filled the air all of a sudden, the Vikings looked skywards to see a hail of arrows arc through the overcast sky towards the Russian horde. The Russians panicked not expecting this, their shields were hastily raised to meet the incoming missiles. Most, however, were not quick enough, dozens of Russians fell to the ground dead or screaming in pain.
"STAY PUT! NO ONE IS TO MARCH!" Harald continued to shout.
Einaar reappeared next to Harald, "My lord, I have prepared a little something of my own, I ask your permission to retire from the battle for a moment and ready my gift to you."
"Sorcery?" Harald asked.
"Yes My Lord," Einaar responded.
"Then go my friend, do what you must," Harald granted him.
The Russians were on the move again, their warriors back in position, advancing with spears levelled. Another barrage of arrows filled the sky, this time the Russians were better prepared, more of them raised their shields and fewer fell. They were upon the river, wading into its shallow waters and crossing to meet the Vikings. Harald raised his spear above his head and waited for a moment, till the first Russian troops had crossed over into the marshy grounds.
Harald brought the spear crashing down with his order, "PART!" the assembled Vikings moved out of the way to show the small group of archers who had already caused so much carnage in the Russian lines.
The archers readied their bows and after a further signal from Harald they fired straight and level into the Russian warriors. The Russians fell into the murky waters, becoming entangled with each other. Arrow after arrow found its mark, the Russian warriors unable to protect themselves properly as they stumbled to find proper footing in the marshy ground.
The Russian leaders bellowed orders to their men to retreat back across the river. The Russians pulled back, still under a hail of arrows. The Vikings gave up a cheer, but many were thirsty for blood, a few ran forwards and screamed their battle cries, swearing death to the Russian invaders. As they charged across the river they were cut down by the still disciplined Russian warriors.
"STOP! NO ONE MOVES WITHOUT MY ORDER!" Harald shouted above the din. The rest of the Viking warriors obeyed.
The Russians regrouped on the other side, their formations were reformed and their leaders ordered their own archers to the fore.
"My Lord they bring their archers up," Ulfr said, "we will be cut down!"
"We must charge them then, we have no other choice," Harald said grimly, resinging himself to the course of action, "I had hoped they would have become fragmented by now."
Harald raised his spear once again then brought it down, the Vikings screamed and ran forwards. Their cries were foul and arcane, calling upon the Gods for strength and to strike down their enemies in the worst possible ways. The Russian archers loosed off a barrage at the advancing rabble, the front line of the Vikings fell instantly, arrows protruding from their bodies. Still the Vikings ran on undaunted by their kinsmen's deaths. The Russians loosed another barrage of arrows and more Vikings hit the ground to be trampled by their comrades.
Finally reaching the Russian lines the Vikings smashed into the wall of warriors with their raised shields that the Russians presented to them. Spears were thrust into the Russian lines and dagers were slashed towards Russian faces and arms. The Russians stood their ground, their discipline and their armour repelling the Viking attacks. Harald sat atop his horse barking orders to his men, but the Russians would not be moved. The Russians suddenly began moving forwards, not running, but walking slowly forcing the Vikings back, hacking and stabbing as they moved.
Harald shouted for the Vikings to retreat back to get out of the way of this unstoppable force. The Vikings fell back running and shouting in all directions, many despairing that the battle was lost and preparing to flee the battlefield.
Then as the sun crept out from behind the clouds overhead and the light drizzle that had dogged the battle lifted Einaar could be seen across the river atop his white charger Pureblood, legen said it was a gift from Odin himself. Einaar let out an unholy shriek and charged forwards towards the Russians brandishing his staff, to the end of which was tied a bundle of rags. The Vikings stopped their flight and watched as the old man raced towards the Russian lines ignorant of fear or despair. The Russians had taken no notice of the lone rider and continued to persue the Viking warriors. Einaar waved his staff at the Russians and using flints kept hidden in his robes he lit the bundle. Throwing the bundle into the Russian horde he threw his arms up to the Gods and screamed a curse at the Russians.
A crack of thunder echoed across the battlefield and a flash of pure white light sapped the sight from men's eyes. Regaining their sight the Vikings looked on in disbelief as scores of Russian warriors lay dead on the ground, their flesh ripped from their bones and blood running like a river across the grass. More Russians were walking around in a daze, deafened by the noise and wondering what had happened.
"TO THE KILL MEN! TO THE KILL!" Harald ordered, his men emboldened by Einaar's sorcery charged back at the Russians. Still dazed many of the Russian warriors put up no fight, not even noticing the oncoming Vikings. Soon Russian screams filled the air, spears harpooning organs; bones smashed apart and flesh ripped from bodies by sharp daggers. The Vikings found themselves filled with a new bloodlust, they tore at their opponents, many went insane, stabbing and hacking at their opponents even after they had been killed.
By the time the sun sunk beneath the horizon the remaining Russians had fled and all around lay the bodies of Russian warriors, horribley disfigured and brutalised by the rampaging Vikings.
"My lord I bring a message from the men," Ulfr said to Harald, "they want to fight on, to attack Aarhus tonight!"
Harald grinned his toothless grin, "The order is given, we ride now!"

The Vikings soon reached Aarhus after only a short march, their blood rage keeping them going. The town lay deserted before them. Dozens of women and children rushed out to meet them, crying for joy at seeing their liberators.
"Where are the Russians?" Einaar asked one woman.
"They never came back after the battle My lord, they left a few soldiers behind, but about an hour ago they too fled when a messenger arrived to tell them soemthing. I don't speak their tongue but it must have been bad news, the messenger was covered in blood and the Russian guards just ran," the woman told him.

Harald slept in Aarhus that night, The Clan Chiefs had proclaimed a new title for him, Harald the Great. He had done something no one else ever had ... he had defeated the Russians in open battle, twice now, and he had forced them to flee. No more would the Vikings bow their heads to the Russian hordes!

[ChrisiusMaximus]

This is great

[Centauri18]

Very cool.