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Ragnar Sigurdsson

Ragnar Lothbrok is the son of Sigurd Hring.

0 · 235 views · located in Iskjerne Bay

a character in “The Multiverse

Groups

The Empyrean Norsemen have a well established space-faring kingdom on an isolated island in the Empyrean High Seas, originating on planet Gaia in the Milky Way and waving a dragon banner.

Description

Ragnarr Loðbrók, "Ragnar shaggy breeches", is the son of legendary Swedish king Sigurd the Ringtaker, the once sovereign of Iskjerne Bay's notorious Norse Kingdom who ascended to divine status as a Gaian titan and deity. Ragnar has several wives including Queen Aslaug Kraka the Volva, a witch and seeress descended from valkyries. By her, Ragnar Lothbrok is the father of Ivar the Boneless and Sigurd Snake-In-The-Eye among others. Ragnar also was married to Queen Lagertha the Shield-maiden, who bore him Bjorn Ironside, Hvitserk, Halfdan and Ubbe Ragnarsson, each of them becoming members of the Great Heathen Army following Ragnar Lothbrok's death at the hands of King Aella the Christian, who cast him into a pit of poisonous serpents. Ragnar Lothbrok was presumed dead.

Until now...

Ragnar first killed a giant snake, or dragon, that guarded the abode of the East Geatic jarl's daughter Thora Borgarhjort, thereby winning her as his wife. The unusual protective clothes that Ragnar wore, when attacking the serpent, earned him the nickname Lodbrok ("shaggy breeches"). His sons with Thora were Erik and Agnar, who remained in obscurity. Ragnar Lothbrok united the Swedish and Danish kingdoms and became the prototype for many Viking konungs who followed his footsteps. He promised to capture England with a single longship, but failed when his ship capsized and he was captured. Ragnar was tortured, whipped, caged, crucified like Christ as an insult to his Norse Pagan faith. Then, adding salt to his injuries, he was cast into a pit of snakes and the lid to his tomb was sealed shut. Ragnar Lothbrok was presumed dead. When given the opportunity to repent and ask for forgiveness, Ragnar responded with: "Oh how the little piggies will squeel when they hear how the old boar suffered." This of course was a prophecy foretelling of the coming of Ragnar's sons and the Great Heathen Army.

But the Great Heathen Army never came. Instead, they ended up lost at sea and teleported to Iskjerne Bay on Gaia, brought there by the same Bermuda Triangle that had led so many of them astray. Instead, they ended up at Ragnar's father's kingdom, a land that had been ravaged with wars and tyranny. Ragnar Lothbrok was all alone. King Aella carved a cross into Ragnar's forehead with a dagger and asked if he had any final words. Ragnar's response became immortalized forever as he said: “It gladdens me to know that Odin prepares for a feast. Soon I shall be drinking ale from curved horns. This hero that comes into Valhalla does not lament his death! I shall not enter Odin’s hall with fear. There I shall wait for my sons to join me. And when they do, I will bask in their tales of triumph. The Aesir will welcome me! My death comes without apology! And I welcome the valkyries to summon me home!“

Ragnar's words would not go unheard by the gods. As he was dropped into the pit of snakes, and the lid closed over what was to become his dark and lonely grave, suddenly Ragnar Lothbrok was teleported to Iskjerne Bay, beneath the high mounds. His father, Sigurd Hring, had heard his prayers. As predicted, the valkyries had heard of his torment, his courage and his deeds, and they had indeed summoned him home. Thus begins a new journey, and a new resurrection for the Ghost of England, about a man who has long been presumed dead. What you are about to read is an alternate version of Ragnar Saga, one based not on the whims of historicity, but on the dark corridors of the fantastic imagination, about a Swedo-Danish king who exists in a parallel universe within an alternate reality. This is the legend of Ragnar Lothbrok as it has never been told before.

Thus begins the Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok...

So begins...

Ragnar Sigurdsson's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking
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Livia had assembled her guards to leave, and were well on the way to doing so until they passed a mule cart. The Praetorians had been marching in formation as they left the settlement. Though they didn't seem to pay any heed to it as they all marched. However, Livia had caught the wounded man in the back of the cart, and she stopped then, and there in the moment. She didn't know what compelled her to help, but she figured if she was going to start digging up burial mounds, she would have to earn these people's trust.

She held up her hand, and made a fist, causing her Praetorians to stop in their tracks as well, their armor making a clanking sound as they abruptly stopped, and the men clenched their weapons closely.

"Julius, fetch the medical kit from our cart." Livia instructed. The Praetorian offered a sharp nod, before starting off towards what was left of the stables, and the Argosian mule cart, which had been guarded by two vigilant Praetorians since Ivar's fall.

Livia turned to face the Mule Cart, before she called out to it. "Hætta!" Livia called out, moving swiftly after the mule cart, towards it even, though her nordic words were twisted by a Latin style accent, the word itself was clear, and the moment Livia managed to catch up to the mule cart, was the moment that the Praetorian returned with a large white briefcase, that had a large red cross emblazoned on it. The Praetorian looked around, confused for a moment as he handed it towards the Legata, another Praetorian approaching with a large bidon of water, which sloshed inside the plastic container.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking
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Thorvald Asvaldsson and his son Erik Thorvaldsson were just about to enter the final spiked gate and approach the Iskjerne Castle in their slow moving mule wagon when suddenly they heard someone call out behind them.

"Hætta!" Livia commanded as she quickly started to approach the back of the stopping cart. Erik would discreetly move his hand towards his waistline to grab his small curved seax, but his father Thorvald would seize his arm and stop him, glancing at him quietly for a brief moment before turning around to look at Livia the Legata and her approaching guards. "Let me handle this," he whispered to his son. Thorvald Asvaldsson would remove his hat and nod quietly to the Praetorians, without making any sudden moves. Erik followed suit, easing up and and bowing his head quietly.

Erik watched distrustfully but curiously as one of the Praetorians walked up to Livia with a large white briefcase with a bright red cross on it, gazing at the wounded passenger in the back of the hay wagon before looking around. Soon another Praetorian approached the mule cart with a plastic water container. Thorvald and Erik glanced at one another silently before turning to look again at the Praetorian guards and their female leader. They understood Livia just fine, but they did not recognize her Latinized accent. Thorvald decided to try and speak to her and find out what she wanted as he looked down at the injured person in the back of his wagon before looking at her.

"Kveðja sómakona mín. Ég er Þorvaldur, sonur Asvalds víðs vegar um haf, og þetta er sonur minn Erik, sem er að ferðast mér við hlið. Þekkir þú þennan mann aftan í kerrunni? Við fundum hann á einni hæðinni, eins og hann er núna. Við vitum ekki hvernig hann komst á þennan hátt. En ég get fullvissað þig um að það vorum ekki við sem rændum hann. Við ætluðum bara að koma honum í musterið og skilja hann eftir. Við erum bara fátækir bændur, eins og þú sérð. Við höfum enga peninga en þér er velkomið að líta í kringum þig og taka það sem þú vilt. Vinsamlegast vinsamlegast ekki meiða okkur." the fifty-year-old man said, still holding his hat in his hands.

Thorvald's accent was just as bad as Livia's accent, it seemed, and although he had the appearance and makings of a true Norseman, and could speak fluently, it was apparent to the sharply tuned ears that Thorvald Bloodyfist was not a native to this northernmost part of the land. Nor was Erik, for they both had redder skin than the Iskjerne Vikings, as if they had been traveling for a very long time in the hot sun. Thorvald and Erik watched quietly with widened eyes, obviously very alert and aware of their surroundings, if not a little intimidated and confused by the well dressed Praetorians who outnumbered them considerably. What did they want with two poor farmers and a wounded man? Were they planning to highjack the wagon? Thorvald swallowed and lowered his head, making himself appear as humble as possible while hoping not to offend Livia and her guards as they examined the wagon.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking
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Livia quietly reached out to Ragnar in the back of the cart, she was trying to take a look at his wounds, and unlike the beserkers, and the other impoverished inhabitants of this village, Livia's hands would be clean, her fingernails well manicured, and slightly polished, her hands were calloused not from labor, but from years of battle, it was clear she knew how to wield a sword. She looked up and over towards Thorvald, and then back towards one of the Praetorians who was not otherwise occupied.

"Claudius, revertetur per viam portae, non potest dicere Generalis Hama reversus cum hospite." She instructed in Argosian, which sounded a great deal like ancient Latin, the same Latin spoken by the Romans.

"Etiam, Legata." The Praetorian said, bringing his hand across his chest, and bowing briefly. He turned swiftly, and began to move up towards the mountain, his footfalls heavy, and carefully disciplined.

After giving her instructions, Livia reached a slender hand out towards the back of the mule cart, and she placed an armored boot on the back to pull herself up and into the back of the cart, while turning her head towards Thorvald.

"Ég er Livia, fyrsta Legate. Ég vil ekki hlutina þína, ég vil hjálpa þessum manni." She said, her words once more being twisted by her accent, while she directed her attention to Ragnar, grimacing at the wounds he sustained while the Praetorian tossed the white briefcase into the back of the cart, and the second hefted the jug of water up into the back of the cart as well.

"Ef við komumst hann ekki læknishjálp, hann mun deyja." Livia added, this strange language which she had spent the latter part of her time here studying was broken, and difficult to pronounce but she kept trying. She looked over Ragnar, and noted the wounds covering his body, several puncture wounds of different types, lacerations, and he appeared to be succumbing to the effects of some kind of toxin. Livia was no doctor, but she had attended classes offered by the Taiyou in first aid techniques. If she could stabilize him, they could take him to Niihama to receive medical attention. She reached down to her waist, and pulled a pugio from it's sheath, the shiny, clean blade glinted in the sunlight, while Livia started to cut away at the leather straps, or fabric that held Ragnar's shirt on, if he had one. The blade sliced through the shirt fabric almost effortlessly, and Livia noted the wounds were packed with dirt, and festering.

She opened the white briefcase, which revealed dozens of stainless steel tools of various types, scalpels, forceps, scissors, hemostats, bandage scissors, and all manner of different tools, which glimmered in the sunlight.

Livia opened a bottle of a clear liquid which had some unusual symbols on it, a bottle of alcohol disinfectant printed in Taiyou. Once Livia opened it up, the strong smell permeated the back of the cart. She first doused her Spatha with it, and then her hands, rubbing the alcohol before rinsing with the water container. Once dry, she pulled a pair of latex gloves from the kit, snapping them onto her hands, she started with the larger, more obvious wounds.

She worked the spear wounds first, digging the dirt and mud from the deep lacerations, and then flushing them with alcohol, which stung, and then water, until the wounds appeared clean, Two of the Praetorians moved into the back of the cart to restrain Ragnar if necessary.

The Legata worked quickly, flushing the wound clean, and then packing it with gauze, with the larger wounds stabilized, Livia moved to the smaller wounds, flushing with water to clean the dirt from them, and then disinfecting them with the alcohol. Some of the smaller cuts, Livia began to take some thread, and a curved needle, and suture them closed.

"What happened to this man?" She remarked at first in English, and then she stopped herself. "Hvað gerðist"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking
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Livia took brief notes of the ligature marks on the wrists, and the legs, and she took brief note of the cross etched into his forehead. Livia did not move to flush this wound with alcohol, as she didn’t want to risk injury to the eyes, rather she reached up slowly to flush the cross shaped gash with some water.

“Hold still.” She said slowly, dabbing at the gash with a piece of gauze, cleaning the dirt from it, and slowly, and carefully moving to suture the wound close. This close, the faint floral smell of perfume wafted from the heavy armor, and verdant indigo cape that the woman was wearing, her arms were slender, and lacked many of the scars that someone of her stature should have. Of course, not being cut was part of her skill.

When Ragnar gazed into Livia’s piercing blue eyes, he would see the soul of a cunning warrior, a brilliant strategist, and a woman who was wise beyond her years, touring the galaxy and representing her people on the council afforded her knowledge beyond what a simple primitive could ever hope to attain. Her service to both her own country, and the Taiyou allowed her to see battles that were beyond comprehension. She had the weathered look of a great general, or king, someone who had been used to leading their people in battle.

“I’m going to take him with me.” Livia answered, while she began to fish around inside the briefcase, reaching in to pull out a small box that contained a small syringe. The text on this box was printed in a different alien language, one that resembled a cross between runic, and cuneiform. Livia inspected the vial of dark purple liquid and then the label which was printed in Taiyou. The label stated the chemical was only to be used in case of extreme emergency, and that it was highly addictive. Fortunately, she didn’t use it, rather she fished around inside the box, digging deep until she pulled out another small box, this one had a picture of a stylized rattlesnake on it. The rattlesnake had a helmet on it with a red cross, and the text was typed in some strange eastern language.

Livia figured it was worth a try as she drew the yellowish liquid into a needle, she made sure to look at the correct dosage from the instructions, and using the instructions as a reference point, she slid the needle into Ragnar’s deltoid muscle, and pushed the plunger to inject the contents, a potent polyvalent antivenin that was designed to counteract the venoms of vipers and their related species. Livia didn’t know if it would work, as the Taiyou engineered the antivenin from snake species they knew of, but she figured it couldn’t hurt.

Once the needle was empty, she capped it and placed it in a small red plastic sharps box, just at the moment the Praetorians returned with their own mule cart.

“General Hama is expecting us, he said there is an ambulance standing by.” One of the Praetorians remarked in an English dialect this time, while Livia nodded, reaching into a leather pouch and producing a small handful of silver denarius coins, passing them to Thorvald.

“There is a cave in the mountains north of here, can you take us there? I will pay you for your trouble.” Livia asked.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking
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Thorvald Asvaldsson took the small handful of silver denarius coins in the palm of his hand, looking down at them before looking back up at Livia for a moment. He then turned and handed the silver coins to his son Erik the Red, who picked up one of the coins and bit into it to see if it was real. Thorvald then rested his hand on Erik's shoulder.

"Thank you kindly Your Grace, but this old man has already sworn his allegiances to another. Besides, I will only slow your haste. These old bones have been traveling for many weeks, and I am in need of some rest. I will send my son with you instead, he can take you to the mountains." Thorvald said, squeezing his son's shoulder gently before patting him on the shoulder and climbing down out of the mule wagon.

The red-headed young man stared at his father quietly before nodding and placing the silver denarii into his belt pouch and grabbing the reigns. Thorvald nodded respectfully to Livia and her Praetorian guards before putting his hat back on and slapping the mule's ass with his open hand. "Go now my boy, and be quick." Thorvald said as the four-wheeled cart started moving.

Erik the Red nodded and whipped the reigns, shouting loudly. "Yah!!" He yelled as the wagon started to pull away, gaining speed with Livia and Ragnar in the back of it as he carried out the Legata's wishes, taking her north towards the mountains. Ragnar began fading in and out at that moment, talking nonsensically in a way that was incomprehensible to both Livia and Erik.

"Aethelstan... Aethelstan don't leave me." Ragnar said weakly as he squinted his one good eye open and reached out to Thorvald, but the old man was already beginning to walk back towards the castle. Ragnar would blink slightly, beginning to feel nauseated and dizzy from the polyvalent antivenin Livia had injected into his shoulder. He tried to squint and blink, turning his head to look up at Livia again. With his blurry vision, he thought for a moment that she was a valkyrie. The sun's rays cascading over her head and shoulders with brilliant rainbow colors appeared to him like a halo, winged helmet or like the wings of an angel as he smiled very slightly at Livia before laying his head back and closing his eyes again. "Eir, beloved Eir, don't let my wife find out that I'm dead or she'll kill me." Ragnar muttered softly before losing consciousness and passing out.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking Character Portrait: Imperial Taiyou Army Character Portrait: The Ljosalfar Character Portrait: The Berserkers
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The attack came without warning in the middle of the night. Without even offering so much as a challenge, without mercy or respect, the shadowy figures snuck their way around the ring fortress, entering people's homes and without hesitation, noise or resistance, proceeded to massacre people in their beds while they were sleeping. For bigger families, the dark shadowy figures stood over their beds in number. The only sound they made was the soft thump and splash of the axe as they aimed for people's necks and heads, being more brutal than tactful, but with a certain way that seemed almost organized, or even strategized. As some people were still awake, even a great many of them had been kneeling in prayer with their eyes closed, only for someone to walk up silently behind them and slit their throats, or even just to hit them in the head with an axe.

The homes were burned and billowed with smoke, dry grass and bed sheets set on fire slowly and quietly, as King Harald Finehair walked up casually to the guards outside the castle where Duke Robert of Ellaria had been staying. Harald Fairhair looked calm and unaware of the impending danger as he stood outside the gatehouse, and gazed up at the battlements, where archers had been standing. He noticed that the archers were high up, but had a limited view to the horizon and the castle's circular moat, rather than the guards who were directly below them. King Harald nodded to one of the guards, walking up to him with a smile, folding his boar skinned cape back with one hand while resting his other hand on the hilt of his sword. The guards watched him quietly, as Harald casually stopped in front of them and looked around, smiling.

"It's a good night tonight. Not too cold," King Harald said, hoping to initiate a conversation. He was still briefly thinking about his brother Halfdan's decision to go with Hrafn-Floki as the dark shadowy figures continued to move around the ring fort, villages and camps, their indoor fires being temporarily cloaked by the billowing waves of smoke, and a lack of witnesses in the surrounding area as they engaged in stealthy mass murder, nearing their way slowly closer and closer to the castle while slaughtering ruthlessly, men, women and children of all ages and ethnicities. These cloaked assassins would kill the Iskjerne Vikings, and the Argosians, and the Taiyou, and the Tartarean Normans, or whoever else might jeopardize their guerilla operation, seemingly without biased, hidden under the cover of the increasing smoke and darkness as they made their way around the ring fortress and into the battlements, either sneaking around the guards or proceeding to quickly pick them off one by one.

"C'est une bonne nuit pour une promenade, ouais?" the guard asked, watching King Harald gaze up at the stars for a moment. Upon seeing this, the guard would look up at the night sky for a moment also, taking note of the stars. At that moment, as if by pure chance or irony, there was a shooting star in the dark blue heavens. This trailblazing phenomenon caught the attention of everyone who would notice it, including the archers and the guards, except for those who weren't facing that same direction. King Harald stepped closer to the guard who had spoken to him, smiling and nodding quietly while keeping his hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, obviously not intending to use it, as that would be extremely difficult to draw from its sheath at such close range anyway. But Harald had another plan, instead using the arm he had used to hold his cape back, as he had unsheathed the knife on the back of his waist belt. He had to be quick now, and he would be, as King Harald turned abruptly and drove the knife into the guard's chain-mail throat protector.

The second guard would jump slightly and turn to look at Harald Finehair, being caught completely off guard by the sudden attack. He tried to react, but before he could even make any more sudden moves, the second guard was struck by an arrow to the throat by someone in the shadows. Soon, a small band of black-painted Vikings would step out of the shadows and accompany King Harald into the Iskjerne Castle, their axes still dripping with the blood of the many people they had just murdered in their sleep without prejudice. They had been the dark shadowy figures, and there were many more, as the inhabitants of Iskjerne Bay would soon discover as Harald's Vikings suddenly came pouring out into the streets, beginning to roar and shout as they revealed themselves to everyone in the area, gaining a little bit more attention as Duke Rollo woke up during the ensuing chaos and, upon smelling smoke, would look outside his castle window to see the blazing fires and running figures below. The kingdom was being raized and raided once again, only this time by King Harald, who was already inside the castle with him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking Character Portrait: Imperial Taiyou Army
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To the Argosians, it seemed that the treachery if savages knew no bounds, and was without limits for the small band of Praetorian guards, and thermir servants, and the small encampment they maintained outside of the main settlement, beyond its walls, where they could come and go without relying on someone to open the gates for them.

That fateful night, the contubernium of Argosian Praetorians slept in shifts as they normally did, four were asleep, two were charged with maintaining their equipment, and two stood watch on each end of the tent, which flapped and fluttered in the frigid wind. Two fires burned where each of the soldiers sat, making their home atop some stones, and one even managed to drag a piece of driftwood to serve as a makeshift bench.

The Praetorian on the south side of the tent was busy oiling his sword, applying a thin coat of synthetic oil on his sword, it was a practice given to them by the Taiyou to keep the razors edge on the nanosteel blade, the same synthetic oils kept their armor from rusting, and kept it's sheen.

The Praetorian happened to avert his gaze from the orange glow that reflected from his sword to see smoke billowing from the city. He acted quickly, moving into the tent and quietly rousing the inhabitants inside.

"The city is under siege, quickly to arms!" He hissed, rousting the other Praetorians whom all wore nothing but their purple tunics, without time to don their armor, they grabbed their swords and shields, and swiftly moved out of the tent, each of the eight Praetorians formed a defensive circle around the tent with their shields, each held their swords out, and over their shields while the my crouched, their eyes focusing into the darkness.

The first painted viking warriors would find themselves charging into the circle, and when they closed the distance, the Praetorians struck, using their large shields to block incoming axe blows, which clashed with the enameled nanosteel with a deafening metallic clang, the Praetorians drove their swords deep into their bellies, the razor sharp gladius swords slicing, and disemboweling efficiently as their honed edges sliced through flesh.

Once impaled by sword they were shoved back by shield, Argosian sandals digging into the mud, and blood soaked dirt.

"Hold the formation!" The Decanus called out. Anticipating the next wave any moment.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking Character Portrait: Imperial Taiyou Army
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When bodies slammed against shields with audible thunks, immediately followed by the sickening crunches of swords impaling flesh, and then the now dying viking warriors shoved back, there was yet another wave, slamming against the shields to meet their death, and then shoved back, slowly forming a ring of bodies that began to pile up, one after another as viking warriors fell against Argosian shields, and Argosian swords. The shield wall did not yield, for a time as the warriors slammed against them, only to be killed. The Decanus was there, in the fight, bracing against the weight of muscle, and flesh only to drive his sword into the belly of his enemy. This however could not go on forever. The never-ending sea of torches, pitchforks, and arrows were dauntless, but the Praetorians held fast, as the bodies around them piled up.

Seconds dragged on to minutes, minutes dragged on to almost thirty before the first Praetorian soldier began to waver, his muscles were taxed, and the constant onslaught of bodies against his impermeable shield drew upon his muscles, as he struggled to maintain his composure. He jabbed his blade, impaling yet another savage warrior and sending him to his death, with all of his reserves, he shoved the barbarian back, into the piling mound of his brothers only for a flaming arrow to sail past him, and into the tent. The deafening clatter of pig iron on nanosteel echoed through Iskjerne Bay as the arrows struck shields, bouncing harmlessly into the ground, but with the tent behind them ablaze, the Praetorians were now no longer defending an objective, they were going to take as many of these savages as they could before they succumbed to greater number.

The Praetorian formation broke, and the individual Praetorians moved into the savage swarm, driving their blade into as many as they could before they were overtaken, each Praetorian fought valiantly, deflecting incoming blows with his large shield, and driving his blood coated blade deep into the belly of the nearest ash covered savage, it was a battle that would earn them titles on the highest Argosian honors once the legion learned of the betrayals here.

The Decanus too fought bravely, feeling what felt like someone punching his chest as an arrow seared into his armor, striking it with an audible 'tink' and a small shower of sparks, the Arrow stuck harmlessly into the ground as the Decanus held his blade firmly, staring directly into the eyes of Ubbe Ragnarsson as he drove his gladius into the throat of a nearby warrior, and immediately deflecting another axe blow with his shield, before impaling yet another, and kicking him off his glistening sword.

There was a brief lull as the Decanus stared with hatred at Ubbe, the Decanus spoke in carefully chosen Argosian words.

"Alea iacta est."

Immediately after uttering those words, the Decanus fell into his sword, which impaled him, and killed himself instantly, denying Ubbe and his savages the satisfaction of killing him, one last act of defiance secure in the knowledge that the Argosian legion would avenge their deaths, and with his last act of defiance, he left the flaming camp to the pillaging vikings, until the powder stores inside the tent blew, and a massive explosion engulfed all who were nearby, sending splinters of wood, iron, and nanosteel flying in all directions, and a plume of flame began to mushroom into the sky with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

nearly a hundred savages lay dead, or dying in a ring around the formation of Argosian Praetorians, and dozens lie dead around each individual Praetorian, whose purple robes were covered in the blood of their enemies. Fueled by light woods, and gunpowder, the blaze burned hot, intensely so, the orange glow reflecting off of blood coated blades.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking Character Portrait: Imperial Taiyou Army
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It took over a half hour for the pagans to defeat their enemies at the Argosian encampment. Hundreds lay dead or injured on the blood soaked hills. It had been the most brutal, most intense battle ever on Viking soil, topping even the likeness of Sigurd Hring's rebellion against the Taiyou Empire in former days gone by. The Vikings faced heavy losses. Their dead alone outnumbered the Argosians a hundred to one. It was a hard sight to witness, and yet it was only the beginning. What the Vikings now lacked in number, they made up for by seizing the Praetorian supplies and equipment, arming themselves with Argosian weapons and shields, and distributing the much needed wealth amongst themselves. Ubbe Ragnarsson, the grandson of Sigurd Hring himself, walked up calmly towards the burning encampment, wide eyes glaring at the Decanus as he struggled to hold back the onslaught of Viking savages to no avail.

"Alea iacta est."

The Decanus said to Ubbe as he glared back. The young Viking leader simply rotated his neck and shoulders before twirling his axe in one hand and stepping forward to greet this brave Argosian leader. He and his Praetorian guards had fought bravely, and Ubbe felt it would be an honour to kill him personally as he motioned for the remaining Vikings to stop their advances. But before Ubbe could step any closer, the Decanus suddenly fell on his own sword, committing suicide right in front of him. Ubbe Ragnarsson walked over to the Decanus slowly after watching this display. He had impaled himself, and was still sitting upright, resting on both knees with his head down.

Ubbe gently nudged the Decanus with his boot, but he didn't move. He glanced over at his fellow Vikings and shrugged, before walking past him. But as he walked by, Ubbe gritted his teeth and suddenly turned around, swinging his axe horizontally at the back of his neck, taking the Decanus' head clean off of his shoulders as it hit the ground and rolled forward, still wearing his helmet as his decapitated body fell over on to the charred grass. The Vikings roared with victory. It was done. Afterwards, the young prince would gather up the rest of his Viking warriors and continued forward towards the mountains, apparently looking to join the other groups that were already advancing towards the caves. Those who lingered behind him would make a mockery of the Argosians by playing soccer with the Decanus' head, kicking it back and forth like some sort of sick and twisted Viking ball game. It was apparent that the Iskjerne Vikings were no longer being civil towards outsiders and invaders. They had been pushed over the edge and were tired of being oppressed. They meant business, and they were now prepared to take their war over to enemy soil, and face them in their own backyard.

Meanwhile, the Iskjerne Castle was already under siege as Duke Rollo and his Ellarian Normans faced a similar fate. The Frankish army was a bit larger and better fortified than the Praetorians, armed with heavy crossbows which they used to keep the Vikings at bay. At least for a short while. They had barricaded the castle's inner doors and began dropping heavy rocks on invading Pagan heads, along with buckets of hot boiling water which melted their faces and burned their skins like sizzling poultry. Those at the front line would scream and cry out to their gods as they fell in agony. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the scene as King Harald watched from the castle's open courtyard, studying and observing the onslaught, trying to think of a good strategy. After a few minutes, he motioned for his Viking warriors to form a shield wall and accompany him in as he raised his own shield over his head and charged.

The large bolts and heavy rocks continued to rain down upon them, but with a roof of Viking round shields now overhead, the Norman projectiles had little effect on King Harald and his Viking warriors. Once they reached the castle's inner entrance, the Iskjerne Vikings quickly used their axes and brute strength to hack away at the barricaded doors, as Rollo's guards tried desperately to push back against them from the other side. But the Vikings were powerful and fought with great fury, and every time one of them rammed into the door, a dozen or so Frankish mercenaries on the other side would be pushed back momentarily before recovering and stepping forward again to keep the doors from breaking. It was only a matter of time. Soon as the first axe blade pierced through the thick wood and its metal blade shined on the other side, the guards knew that the barricade could not hold much longer. The Vikings were literally hacking their way in, splintering the heavy arched doors one plank at a time. Duke Rollo shouted for some of the guards to step back and ready their spears as he stood above them on the winding stone stairway, terror in his eyes, for he himself had been a Norseman and knew fully well what the Vikings were capable of.

"Les voilà. Sois prêt!"

Duke Rollo shouted, pointing his guards and mercenaries into position. Just then, the heavy wooden crossbar would crack and split as the twin arched doors swung open. The first wave of Iskjerne Vikings stormed in, only to be met with spears as more crossbows rained down upon them from the stairwells above. It would be a hard fight to get through, but eventually the outcome would be the same as before. Only this time, someone else was also making moves. Bjorn Ironside and a small group of Iskjerne Vikings had their own strategy for penetrating the castle. While those at the castle's entrance led by King Harald had rammed their way in, drawing the attention of those from above, this was only a distraction. Bjorn Ironside and his handful of diehard Vikings were climbing up the backside of the castle, using ropes to make their way up to the battlements.

Once at the top, they stealthily snuck up behind the guards and quickly cut them down. Some of the Ellarian Normans, alerted by this sudden infiltration, barely had time to turn their attention on Bjorn's raiders before they too were faced with the stampeding Nordic bludgeons and axes. Bjorn Ironside himself grabbed one of the guards by his throat and lifted him up by his neck, throwing him over the side of the battlements only for the helpless man to scream before his armoured body hit the ground below with a metallic thump. Upon seeing this, King Harald gazed up and made eye contact with Bjorn Ironside, who nodded down to him before turning around and walking away, presumably entering the castle from the rooftop. Duke Rollo's guards continued to fight and kill as many of the invaders as they could, but it was no use. Soon, Bjorn and his men came roaring down the stairs, knocking archers over and hacking down the guards above, giving King Harald's group more of an advantage as they stormed into the open halls and swarmed the castle from within.

Duke Rollo was trapped. He tried to walk to his right, but King Harald's army was already coming up the stairs. He turned and tried to go left, but Bjorn's posse was already advancing towards him. With no other choice, Rollo quickly turned around and bolted into the guest chamber behind him, slamming the door shut. He had abandoned his guards to die as the small remainder of them stood outside the bed chamber, defending the door with their lives. It was only a matter of time. Their gurgling cries could be heard on the other side of the door as the Vikings showed no mercy. The last guard's torso could be heard sliding against the door as he fell to the floor. Rollo used all his strength to flip the bed and dresser up on end and slide them against the chamber door, creating a temporary blockade. It took a minute for Bjorn Ironside to push his way into the room. But as he opened the door to greet his uncle, Bjorn was slightly surprised to find the room completely empty with the window open. He quickly ran over to the window ledge and looked around, but his uncle Rollo was nowhere to be found. Bjorn scowled, placing his hands on the window ledge and gritting his teeth as the other Vikings started to enter the room. A moment later, King Harald entered, but Bjorn just shook his head quietly.

King Harald nodded and snickered, turning to look at the boar-skinned warriors behind him. He made a wave of his hand with his wrist, as if unsure but yet undaunted by what just happened. It was Duke Rollo, after all, a man they had all been aware of and whom they had once respected. Rollo had served Sigurd Hring and fought hard against the Taiyou army, and against Erling Snake's crusader knights. There was no telling what he was capable of, and King Harald seemed mildly impressed, if not a little bit amused by Rollo's escape.

"Well... What are you waiting for? Find him." King Harald said quietly, his deep raspy voice showing a hint of malice or anger, despite his smile and very calm demeanor.

By that point, Ubbe Ragnarsson and the remnant of his group had already met up with Halfdan Ragnarsson and the other two larger groups of Iskjerne Vikings who had descended into the caves. A dozen of them were equipped with weapons, armour and shields that they had confiscated from the dead Praetorians, while the remaining Vikings still had traditional weapons and armor. They made their way through the dark labyrinth of caverns and tunnels, holding oil lamps and torches. Finally, the time for their revenge had come. No longer would the Iskjerne Vikings stand idly by and allow their villages or fortresses to be invaded and destroyed by bullying foreigners. For too long had war and famine, pestilence and the plague of death and suffering been hurled upon them, guided by powers and circumstances that were out of their control. These hardened people, these veteran warriors of the far north, they had somehow managed to survive everything that the gods had thrown at them. Now it was time to fight back, this time in full force as they made their way towards the Rikkisopi Caves, numbering in the hundreds with only one goal in mind. To avenge Sigurd Hring, and ensure once and for all that Iskjerne Bay would remain in the hands of Iskjerne natives. Only this time, there would be no warning, no messengers to alert the Taiyou Empire of the horde that was coming to destroy them. The Vikings were absolutely mad with fury, and there would be no mercy.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless Character Portrait: The Svinfylking Character Portrait: The Berserkers
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During the Argosian conquest of Ellaria...

There was something happening among the Iskjerne vikings, as they now appeared to be in a declaration of war with the Ellarian barbarians, the Tartarian nobles, the Argosian legion, the Takayama shogunate, the Detente and many others. King Harald Fairhair seemed like he had gone mad, but in all reality, most were not wars that he himself had started. Rather, these were wars that Harald Finehair inherited when he became the King of Iskjerne Bay.

Granted, the Norwegian king had made an oath to restore Iskjerne Bay back to its native people. He fulfilled that oath with honor, giving the land back to the Iskjerne vikings by restoring their rights to lands, refurbishing Sigurd Hring's old viking settlement, replanting and rebuilding with communal assistance from the Iskjerne vikings themselves, liberating them from all foreign relationships, invasions, policies and religions.

That sounded like a good idea, but this was not to be the will of the gods. For whatever reason, the nature spirits didn't return quickly to repollinate the old settlement. Iskjerne Bay had also inherited a pestilence, a great plague of barren mounds and the feeling of death around every corner. Many were those who died performing legendary feats and engaging in heroic battles, and King Fairhair had also demonstrated a lust for power through xenophobic behavior. This behavior, however, did not go unnoticed. The gnomes, elves, dwarves, and other races were slow to repopulate and repollinate Iskjerne Bay, and the gods were unresponsive when offerings and sacrifices were made to them.

King Harald Fairhair had waged no war on the nature spirits, but it would take some time for them to return in great numbers. Fairhair did purge the vikings into a bitter conflict with the Argosian nation, the Taiyou city of Niihama, and the Tartarian Norman duchy. This perhaps had racial or cultural implications, and his total genocide of foreign affairs in Iskjerne Bay had only added to their complications. With the lack of goblins and ogres, dragons and giants, only the statues of the gods remained.

There was a slight breeze, low dark clouds hovering swiftly over grey skies, a murder of crows and large black ravens squawking as they glided down from their perches on the tower balcony when King Harald opened the doors to the large stone crescent patio and stepped out on to the balcony, resting his whole bodyweight against the stone railing which separated him from gazing hundreds of feet to his death. He gazed up at the rolling clouds and peered out towards the mountains, studying the direction of the black billows of smoke escalating from the sloping horizon. He knew that the great fire would not cross the Weargtooth mountain range due to the sparsity of woodlands and shelters.

As he looked down at the small kingdom below, he noticed two people walking slowly up to the third entrance of the castle, assisting what appeared to be two more people who had been wounded. It was Bjorn Ironside and the last of his own personal berserkers, the rest of whom had been slaughtered by Ellarian barbarians led by a Germanic chieftain whose identity was concealed behind a facemask-visored helmet. King Harald listened to Bjorn's venture to capture Duke Robert, as did Queen Lagertha who sat across from Bjorn Ironside next to King Harald on her throne, remaining motionless and listening quietly to her eldest son's exploits. King Harald was displeased to find out that Bjorn Ironside, even the large berserker son of Ragnar Lothbrok had failed to capture Rollo on account of the Cheruscans, Chatti, Harii and other tribes that had ambushed Bjorn's gang.

Harald Fairhair slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne seat and cringed. After a moment, he raised a mead horn and gave a toast to Bjorn's safe return, vowing before all of the volva and witnesses in the great hall that he would seek revenge against the Ellarian barbarians after their battle with the approaching Argosians. This didn't seem feasible, had it not been for the tone and manner in which he said it, for it was evident that the Great Ellarian Forest was burning, and that the Ellarian barbarians must have suffered many losses in their fight with Bjorn Ironside and his party of Iskjerne berserkers. Capturing the Duke Rollo was no longer a priority, but neither were the Ellarians as even now, the Argosian legion was already approaching the kingdom.

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Bjorn's return was not celebrated very long on account of all the circumstances and mead shortage. Soon, everyone would return to their posts, and their plan to make their last stand against their enemies would resume much as before. Bjorn Ironside shared what little information he could about his venture into Argosian/Ellarian territory, but said nothing about his encounter with Odin as his eyes scanned over the leather map that King Harald rolled out over the round table in front of them.

It was a Map of Gaia...

Little did the House of Finehair know that the Iskjerne ulfhednar had already been defeated, but King Harald had never put much reliance on the front line to begin with. There were still Iskjerne hestuhar, svinfylking, kattrfylking and shield-maidens, specialized archers armed with the Tartarian crossbows they had seized, and many a berserker and war machine to deal with. King Harald was expecting the Argosian legion to utilize seige weaponry, and thanks to the great (although slow) progress of Iskjerne Bay, the vikings had some seige engineering of their own. Prepared for any attacks from land, air or sea, the Iskjerne vikings waited.

Meanwhile, to the far west of Iskjerne Bay and more southward towards the tropical regions of Ellaria, the Empyrean Norsemen had just launched a full-scale space expedition across the galaxy, and indeed, in an attempt to circumnavigate the multiverse using elven and dwarven alchemy, reaching for the stars. Things were not so advanced in Iskjerne Bay, where the lack of magic had been replaced by human strength and perseverance, and King Harald's "advanced" weapons were but medieval catapults and trebuchets made of simple metal, wood and stone. Such weapons were still magnificent, however, comprised of some of the most advanced human engineering that Gaia had to offer.

Human beings were a confusing lot, their human natures full of inquisition and unanswered questions, revelry and rivalry, and the chance for uncertainty. Here in Iskjerne Bay, in the midst of the Milky Way galaxy, pure-blooded human beings were still in existence, untainted by computers, tracphones and technology, without augmented repairs or simulations, threatened by entire space empires yet still remaining, 100% human, uninfected and unmutated by the whims of the goddesses of fate.

Gaia was indeed a remarkable planet. The mortal Iskjerne vikings stood in defiance of the gods, against time and space, and against the very spirits of their own innate destruction. One particular deity was Sigurd Hring, the native god and titan, who observed their offerings and sacrifices whilst subservient to Odin and the other more powerful deities who held him back from intervening in their human mortal affairs, even though Sigurd was being humble and modest, for Iskjerne Bay was his kingdom and not even the gods themselves could stop him from ruling it with an iron fist.

But the gods had made council, and the heavens themselves were of one accord, so that the Iskjerne vikings and their equally mortal enemies would be destined to battle without magic or luck, modern science or technology, and especially without the help of the gods. Ellaria's great forest burned slowly, consuming more and more of the enormous continent with every passing minute. There was silence and the cumbersome feeling of loneliness in that moment as the enemies of Iskjerne Bay neared closer and closer, bringing that same global pandemic with them as they approached.

But despite even all of the other stuff that was already happening, there was still more beneath the surface. Be it by some sacred vampiric ritual or perhaps a tumor of energy prescribed to dark magic, or the curse that had consumed the kingdom, the tumuli and burial mounds in Iskjerne Bay were not all lifeless and dormant after all, some of the skeletal bodies and mutilated corpses groaning or tossing in their graves. Unanimated, still dead, the corpses would not rise from their resting places... this was not a resurrection. This was merely a trembling, a subtle signature of things to come as the shores of Iskjerne Bay became more darkened.

White caps and waves started to approach and recede from the rocky fjords, as the unsettled and cremated spirit of Ivar the Boneless made its draugr presence felt, not upon the living but upon the already dead.

King Imar...

The new king of the dead...

Like the great world serpent, he emerged from the deepest darkest depths of the Great Ellarian Sea, his own tattered and sunken, burned and charcoaled funeral ship lying in abysmal ruins and broken pieces at the bottom of the sea. His own body had been turned to ashes, which now mixed with the soot and sand at the sunless sea floor, but King Imar had inherited his mother's and father's curse, being both the son of a famous viking konung and an equally talented famous witch. He had started as a false self-proclaimed mortal god. But now Ivar the Boneless was no longer a slithering half-paralyzed cripple. He was not even a physical person anymore, but his restless spirit had become a draugr, a type of Old Norse ghost, vampire or revenant.

Such was the situation in Iskjerne Bay that even the primeval forces remained silent, awestruck by the situation. Sigurd Hring would grin, giving testimony to his cause. King Harald and King Halfdan, and indeed Floki the Blind, were all now competing against one another in a freezing cold triangular war for absolution. Clearly the Iskjerne vikings had been outnumbered, outpowered and outsmarted by the Argosian army. But fate always seemed to rear her head as the vikings resolved to stand against them, continuing as planned.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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Uhtred laughed as he watched his guileless children feign making war. “Quaint,” he smiled as he sipped his mead

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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Vae Victus


"Benedicite omnes formas intelligentiae." Livia said to herself once they crested a hill overlooking Iskjerne Bay. "We made it." She thought to herself as she watched from afar. The settlement was pitiful, she could smell the starvation and disease from where she stood. The icy wind whipped the heavy pelt she was wearing, and whisps of auburn hair whipped around her face as she squinted, surveying the ring fort below. Clasped in her right hand was a looking glass, and with purpose, she brought the looking glass to her right eye, and watched below.

She recalled the memories of the trek across the mountains, their fight with the Ulfhednar, their burning of Ellaria, and the brutal killing of her praetorian guards. All these events culminated into what was about to transpire. Now Livia stood poised to conquer the great Iskjerne Bay. She was poised to lay them low, and exact vengeance for everything they had done to her people.

She looked both directions, to her left, and to her right as her legion, now united and three thousand strong began assembling along the mountain passes overlooking Iskjerne Bay. She had laid out the plans with her consul, and explained them in great detail. She was going to encircle Iskjerne Bay and force them to surrender, and failing that she planned to lay siege to the settlement, and kill them all.

Livia silently rested her hand on the pommel of her gladius, and she lowered the looking glass, and bit her bottom lip.

She turned around, and watched as her war engineers were finishing the final preparations for their trebuchets, which towered over their crudely made fortifications. Her army was assembled in large blocks of infantry, each legion was bearing it's banner proudly despite the blistering cold. Now was the crowning moment, and Livia was ready.

"Patria parva non potest cum magno contendere; pauci cum multis contendere non possunt; et infirmus non potest contendere cum fortibus" She called out, and her men all raised their weapons in agreement.

Each of the six trebuchets they brought with them were loaded with terracotta pots filled with a mixture of diesel fuel and polystyrene, they were readied and prepped, and the moment Livia would give the command, they would be loosed below.

Livia took a deep breath, the frigid air stinging her lungs.


"Parate!"

The dozens of Trebuchet crews began tighting ropes, pulling the arms of the Trebuchets back, checking the weights, and making sure the oil was applied to all the moving parts. The fires were lit on the wicks of each of the clay pots, and in unison the sound of tightening rope, and creaking wood filled the air.

"Intendo!" She cried out, and each of the spotters using their calculations made fine adjustments to the Trebuchets, and then moved away.

Livia cast a brief glance to Reginarus, before she took another deep breath.

"Aperta ignis!" Livia bellowed, and the Trebuchets released their charges into the ring fort below, each clay pot would erupt into flame on contact, shattering and spewing the sticky burning liquid in all directions, liquid that would be difficult to put out using water alone.

With the first salvo loosed, Livia raised her hand to the five Ballistae situated on rock outcroppings, and she gestured forward, each of them fired simultaneously, concentrating their fire on the gates of the ring fortress with weighted tungsten bolts, with the intention to either knock the gate down, or splinter the wood.

There would only be a brief pause as Livia's siege engineers prepared for the next salvo.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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"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.

"The swords collide
With power and force
As mighty men
Show no remorse"


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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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Very slowly, snow began to fall.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Livia Caesarius Character Portrait: Yoko Kayabuki Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Seno Miyagi Character Portrait: Iskjerne Vikings Character Portrait: Uhtred the Godless
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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.