lothos's Story

"If a man does not strike first, he will be first struck."

Livia spoke these words almost under her breath, and in a language that sounded a great deal like English. Her breath was carried by the crisp wind as puffy clouds of moisture.



Livia withdrew her looking glass once more, and brought it up to her right eye, closing her left, and staring down at the motte and bailey ring fort before her, brilliant orange flames erupting up over the battlements. Her trebuchets for the most part struck their targets true. The orange flames reflected a deep burning hatred in her eyes. But she maintained her focus, despite being deep in thought. She noted the locations of the opposing trebuchets scattered throughout the settlement before them. No siege would be worth anything if they could fire back.

"Defensiones eorum destruunt." Livia said, without removing the looking glass from her eyes, and without any hesitation or remorse.

"Ac deinde frumenta et stabula." She moved slightly, sweeping her field of view across the burning city before her. "Metus dolor mors ac formidonis." She muttered to herself, and then she lowered the looking glass, bringing her gaze back to the siege engineers that were working the Trebuchets. They were working to make their adjustments, taking advantage of the superior construction, and range of their siege engines. The Trebuchets themselves used synthetic ropes, and high tension cords with laminated woods making them far more durable than their medieval counterparts. The counterweight was prefabricated out of a dense material the Taiyou called "Artificial mass" which increased the weight of the counterweight. Livia took a moment to marvle at the design, and the engineering that went into the trebuchets she was using to dispense misery upon the denizens, and the inhabitants of Iskjerne Bay.

Livia's legion lay poised in the highlands surrounding the decrepit Iskjerne Bay, they had been ordered to stay behind, and each of their Centurions had informed them that this was likely going to be a protracted siege, given the nature of the defenses set up before them. So every century of legionaries waited in phalanx formations, and they spread across the hills, giving the illusion that the army spread as far as the eye could see.

They all watched, unmoved and unimpressed at the pathetic display in front of them. The Iskjerne defenses had maximized their range and were still unable to hit them, this caused Livia's mouth to twitch, and the corner pulled up into a sly grin. The battle was tilted well into her favor, but she knew not to become too overconfident, as that could become their downfall.

Livia snapped to attention, turning sharply, and pulling the heavy wool cape close to her form. She marched through the Argosian battlements with precision.

"Catapultas eorum accipite!" She bellowed, her shrill voice carrying through the frigid air. Her boots made an audible metallic clunk with each of her movements, and her hips swayed with purpose, she grabbed the nearest artillery commander, and pointed down to the settlement.

The Commander nodded, and began relaying the orders to each of the legion's Trebuchet battalions, and the pause in firing took a moment, as they calculated new trajectories for the clay pots filled with jellied diesel.

"Parate!" The voice of the Argosians carried through the chilly air, as dozens of men worked simultaneously to prepare the trebuchets. They made subtle adjustments to the counterweight, and subtle adjustments to the direction the trebuchet faced, utilizing tabulators, and specialized artillery scopes, they calculated the precise trajectory, and performed their adjustments. Now each trebuchet was fixed on the defensive emplacements, where Livia intended to neuter their ability to fight back, and settle into the slow protracted siege she had planned to force upon them.

"Intendo!" They called out, and the final adjustments were made to each of the trebuchets, they could fine tune them now that they knew where each of the projectiles were going to land, now that they were ready, they awaited the final command.

"Aperta ignis!" They called out, and each of the six trebuchets loosed their clay pots in unison, in a perfect disciplined salvo, the flaming clay pots soared over the highlands and into the kingdom. Rather than being aimed somewhat indiscriminately, this time the flaming clay pots were aimed towards six of the Iskjerne Defender's trebuchets, and like before when they would shatter, they would spew thick, flaming jellied diesel in all directions, setting timbers, and crews alight in flames they would be unable to put out with normal water.

"Alterum excutere parate, esto velociter!" Livia called out, and the crews worked quickly to prepare the Trebuchets for a second volley.

It was at that moment the howling, and the sound of weapons caught the attention of the Argosian Equites protecting the left flank of the main army, their Centurion, Gaius Publius Titus caught the sounds and Livia too turned her head to the sound of the battle. She knew what Reginarus wanted to do, so she nodded slightly and gestured to the woods.

"Perge!" She shouted, and the Centurion nodded, departing with roughly a hundred horse mounted Equites cavalry, each armed with an oval shaped, lightweight nanosteel imbued shield, and long lance intended to dismount enemy cavalry from their horses, and maim them. They took off with the sound of rumbling hoofs and the whinnying of horses, descending down the side of the hill, and splitting up to try and encircle the Hestuhari and take them out.

The first waves of Argosian cavalry came in from the rear, through the dense woods and directly into the fray, their lances extended, they charged headlong into the fray and hardly made a sound, with only the stony, disciplined look on their faces. The first wave of Argosians would likely plunge their lances deep into several Hestuhar, aiming to either knock them off their horses, or impale them with their lances. Some Equites withdrew their Spatha shortswords, and took swipes at the Viking warriors, moving into melee range, and joining their Ulfhednar auxiliaries in supporting them.

The battle for Iskjerne Bay had truly begun.

The reaction was swift and immediate as the large wheels of death began rolling down the mountainside towards the formatiojn of Argosian infantry. A single decanus caught the rolling behemoths that began to barrel down towards the formation and he called it out, blowing into his cornu, and ordering the formations to break. Expectantly, as the stone wheels came barreling down the Argosian formations moved to clear a path out of the way, using their shields to protect themselves from the explosions and the fragments of debris that were surely to be ejected from the mill wheels as they exploded. They moved unimpeded towards the Argosian trebuchets, destroying them with a deafening crash, splintering the laminated wood and sending synthetic lines whipping about in all directions. One by one with each of the approaching wheels, an Argosian trebuchet was felled, and crashed down in a plume of dust, smoke, and debris with the explosion of the mill wheels.

Some of the Argosian infantry were also unlucky enough to fail to clear the paths in time, and they were crushed under the weight of the wheels as they surged down towards the Trebuchets.

But each Argosian commander knew the worst place to be was encircled by the formation of the mighty unflinching legion.

The Hestuhar that sailed behind the spinning wheels of death would find the legion’s formation ahead of them split, and they seemed to be able to split the legion with minimal difficulty, but the tide quickly changed as those very same Hestuhar found themselves entirely encircled by the Argosian legions.

The Cornu blew again, and the Legion moved around the Hestuhar, closing in on them with their formations, swords and shields drawn they began to trap the mounted calvarymen before cutting them, and their mounts down with methodical precision, while using their hardened shields to block the counterattack from both the horses, and the rider. The Hestuhar would find Argosian shields nearly impenetrable to their attacks, and they would find Argosian swords sharp, and honed true as they seemed to slash through tough leather, and flesh alike.

With the rear flanks secure Livia focused her attention back towards the village before them, and the incoming flaming terracotta pots that sailed like comets through the gloomy skies. Many of them struck true within the legion formations, some men caught in the inferno, and the screams of her own men rang true in her ears. But it wasn’t enough to break her own resolve, or that of her legion, and with the approaching calvary charge directly down the center, Livia gestured, and called out.

“Sagittarii!” She screamed, and as the approaching calvary charge began to close the distance, they would find the Argosian front line immediately fall onto their knees, propping themselves against their shields while archers with unusual looking pulleyed bows emerged from behind the front line. These archers unleashed a salvo of arrows towards the approaching fifty Hestuhar, and each arrow carefully aimed, and fired from powerful synthetic cam and pulley compound bows. These arrows were made of a lightweight carbon fiber material, with synthetic fletching, and sharpened spring-loaded barbed nanosteel bodkin type arrowheads which were tipped with a tungsten jacketed depleted uranium penetrator which allowed the arrow to penetrate even the thickest leather and plate armors. Many of these arrows would strike true into their foes, plunging into the hearts of the charging Hestuhar, those that took only wounding hits would find these arrows burrowed stubbornly into their flesh, with the spring-loaded barbs embedding the arrows into flesh, and muscle. The central charge would likely collapse before it ever reached the Argosian line.

Among the barren woodlands, the Equites would switch their tactics, answering javelin throws with shots from their own advanced fabricated pistol like crossbows, shooting hardened nanosteel bolts into the chests, and backs of the Hestuhar warriors that tried to challenge them, using their superior weapons and armor to offset the renewed vigor of their counteroffense, at least until the legion could direct reinforcements into their direction.

However, among the chaos in her own legion from the Viking counterattack, Livia wasn’t finished, rather she narrowed her eyes and then shouted towards several legionaries that were safeguarding what looked like food carts. At that moment, Livia glanced down to the Doctor Apothecarius at her side as he had been mixing an unusual beige colored powder. After a moment, he took a match to the powder, and it exploded with a familiar vigor, resulting in an approving nod from Livia.

It was time to finish this fight.

The Auburn haired Legata turned briefly to Reginarus, and then she grinned wickedly before she called in her native language. “Tonitrua infer!”

With her cries the wooden crates were thrown open, revealing five Argosian Culverins amidst the legion, something Livia was going to use to instill the fear of the gods into her adversary, and break the siege swiftly.

With torches lit, the legionaries prepared for a moment, and once the culverins were aimed, and calibrated, they fired a single salvo, the crack of the Solium powder echoed through Iskjerne bay like thunder, and five twelve pound cannonballs were hurled towards the gates of Iskjerne bay from unbelievable range, and with insidious accuracy, splintering wood, and iron alike and sending shrapnel hurling in all directions.

Five more wagons were opened up, revealing another set of Culverins, which fired in tandem with the first volley, except this one was aimed at one of the Iskjerne trebuchets, and even though it was reinforced for fire, Livia had bet it would not be reinforced for the volley of cannon fire from her own Culverins.

The cracks of cannon fire echoed through the bay like thunder, and the flashes of the Solium propellant bathed the countryside in a lightning like light, and on that signal, Livia’s army began to advance towards Iskjerne bay, using the cannon fire as cover, which timed itself in volleys, one after another to provide suppression, and cover for the advancing legion.

Marching alongside her troops, Livia knew she was tempting the gods, but she also knew King Fairhair was going to meet his demise in due time.

Very slowly, snow began to fall.

Uhtred watched from a safe distance, boredom evident on his face, a face that did not belong to the man he once was. "Oh, Sigurd..." Some lessons had to be learned with blood and tears it seemed. A shame for his people.

"Oh, Sigurd..."

A light breeze whirled faintly, ever so slightly, waving through the hair of the one who spoke out loud the name of the forgotten one. The acknowledgement from mortals would not go unnoticed by the gods, or the ancient ones. Sigurd, the ancestor of the Vikings of Iskjerne Bay, was all but a distant memory and myth to the people who were still living. Yet even now, the very mention of his name out loud was suffice enough to summon a very faint response. It wasn't much, as a single dry and dead leaf fluttered in the wind, twirling through the air past Uhtred the Godless, going randomly in no particular direction. This alone was suffice enough. As the battle for Iskjerne Bay seemed neverending, still there was no answer, no magical help from the other side of Hel.

If ever there was any hope for the Vikings, then a new leader would need to take responsibility and support the efforts made by those of the distant past. Livia and Ragnar seemed unstoppable, even despite the betrayal/loyalty of some of the ulfhednar who appeared to be fighting amongst themselves. Blood and tears, a very hard and strategic uphill effort by the Iskjerne Vikings who were statistically out-numbered, lacking the technology or advantages of such a powerful political army. But what could be said of it? The Vikings themselves had started their campaign, outnumbered and against all odds. Yet they put up a huge and epic fight for survival, battle after battle against superior forces time and time again. There was never any shame in that, for they were always doomed, predestined by the Norns, ever since a few generations ago when Ulfric Ellrulfsson paved their destiny. They should have never even lasted this long, and yet they gave everything. They gave their all, for a future that some already knew was unattainable.

Uhtred himself obviously watched from a safe distance away, having a lot of thoughts and much to say probably that he kept to himself. But it's much easier to watch from far away and judge than it is to be the people involved in the fighting itself. At that moment of realization, Uhtred the Godless must have wondered to himself if he was even worthy enough to utter Sigurd's name, as Livia and Ragnar pressed forward against King Finehair and his remnant army, slaughtering and conquering everyone in their path, including those who betrayed them. Ragnar himself was the son of Sigurd Hring, and this too would not go unnoticed by the titans who judged everyone equally according to their deeds, and not by their own thoughts or what was said. Opportunity was everywhere, as King Harald himself had still not given up hope, and adjusted his armor, preparing to meet his adversaries face to face. Uhtred the Godless must have wondered in the back of his own mind how he could compare to such bravery, or make a name for himself during the midst of all this chaos.

Was he completely Romanized? Or was he still a Dane? That was something Uhtred the Godless would have to decide for himself, without Sigurd's interaction. As he stood there, watching from a safe distance away, Uhtred had his own small army no less, standing behind him and awaiting his orders. Among them were some familiar names and faces, but who were they? Were they Heathen vikings on the side of King Harald, or Christian vikings on the side of the Argosians? Perhaps that was the irony and fate predestined by Sigurd long ago, from someone so ahead of his time that he had actually already planned it all out before vanishing into oblivion, only to breathe slightly once again as his name was whispered into the fading wind. Uhtred the Godless had been acknowledged by the gods, in total irony despite his seemingly calm demeanor. But now he would have to stop being neutral and start making a name for himself if he wanted to keep his favor amongst them. Uhtred the Godless was faced with a difficult choice.

Destiny is all...