Setting
To the west the forest tries for the sea, but is interrupted by the Sentinel Mountains. Here rises the tallest peaks on all of Ellaria, cutting from the trees to the sea, the desert blowing against a wall of stone.
- 43 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
"SHIELD WALL!!!" Bjorn shouted, his deep loud voice echoing off the nearby rocks inside the valley.
The berserkers quickly huddled together and raised their shields just as a barrage of spears came whizzing down at them from the sky. They were quick to react, but not quick enough as one of the berserkers was suddenly impaled through the neck by a javelin which pinned his body to the ground. Another berserker was impaled through his thigh as he tried to crouch down below his shield. He let out an agonizing yell as he hit the ground, holding his shield above his head with one hand whilst grabbing his wounded leg with the other. Bjorn Ironside looked absolutely furious at that moment as one of the javelins was deflected off of his shield while another one became inbedded in it, piercing through to the other side and stopping just inches from his face.
The berserkers were in trouble. As Bjorn and his men were preoccupied with the javelins, the Germanic tribes were beginning to descend over the ridge and down into the valley with them. Bjorn waited for the barrage to stop before standing up and tossing his shield aside. It was littered with spears and now too heavy to carry as the Viking berserkers grabbed their axes and prepared to engage their enemies in melee combat. If Arminius and his Cherusci wanted to fight, Bjorn Ironside would give them a battle worth remembering. Glancing beside him, Bjorn noticed a javelin stuck in the dirt. Gripping the shaft with one hand, he pulled it out of the ground and hurled it at the incoming footmen, hitting one of them in the chest so hard that he flew backwards as he was impaled, hitting and impaling the barbarian behind him as well. The other two berserkers charged forward, slamming into the whole group of barbarians with their shields and crushing them under their own bodyweight.
Bjorn Ironside then reached for his own Viking axe and began fighting. The injured berserker with the wounded thigh would wince in pain as he snapped the javelin in half and pulled it out of his leg. He limped to his feet and kept fighting, holding his shield in one hand and his axe in the other. The berserkers were outnumbered 39 to 4, and Bjorn Ironside found himself surrounded as he spun around with his axe, hacking away and deflecting javelins to both his left and his right. As one of the barbarians tried to jump down off of the ridge on top of him with a knife, Bjorn flipped the barbarian over his shoulder and slammed him on to the ground before stomping on his face, and crushing his head against the rocks. Bjorn Ironside was an absolute brute. As the eldest son of Ragnar Lothbrok, he was known to be one of the largest and strongest Vikings in the whole kingdom. The berserkers he had brought with him were no ordinary men. They were the best of the best, and the Germanic tribes were about to see why as the wounded berserker swung around, hitting a Cherusci warrior in the mouth with the edge of his shield. The man's jaw was instantly shattered as his teeth went flying off to the side along with his blood and spit.
Yet despite their best efforts, the barbarians kept coming. It didn't take long for the berserkers to get covered in the blood of their enemies. Each swing of the axe sprayed blood everywhere as limbs and javelins went flying. Bjorn's face was speckled red, his beard dripping with blood as he gazed up to the mounted equestrian in the iron mask, making eye contact with the leader of his new enemies for the first time. Bjorn's eyes were bright blue, but there was a hatred and ferocity in his gaze so powerful that it pierced through that iron mask and could be felt by the rider behind it. For a brief moment between killing people, Bjorn Ironside raised his axe and pointed it at the rider on the hill. It was as if he was challenging him or her to personal combat. Bjorn was mad with fury, and wanted to fight the Germanic chieftain one on one, before he quickly turned to confront another attacking warrior, deflecting the javelin that had been thrusted at his hip by the lunging barbarian. Bjorn twirled around him, swinging his Viking axe backwards and lodging it into the man's lower extremities from behind whilst simultaneously ducking and dodging another javelin that came aiming for his head. He spun around again and planted that same axe horizontally into the second barbarian's neck before letting go of the handle and letting him fall to the ground.
The fires raged on for hours, silently the Argosians watched as orange flames illuminated black smoke, which slowly dimmed the sun, choking out it's life giving light, and casting a long shadow over the Argosian encampment, and throughout the entirety of the Great Ellarian Forest. However, as the time droned on, the fire split, and forged a straight path through the Great Ellarian Forest up, and into the Weargtooth Mountains.
"Reginarus." Livia said as she pulled the flap to his tent. "Ready your cohort, we will venture to Iskjerne Bay, and parlay with King Finehair, before we lay siege to his kingdom. I hope to avoid bloodshed, but I am prepared should I need to be." She took a step aside, and a Vexillarius behind her was preparing a white flag, while several Legionaries began preparing their weapons.
With her orders given, she would give Reginarus time to prepare his men, while she moved to the other end of the camp. Already, her cannoneers were limbering up the siege equipment for them to move out, while Livia's Eagle Cohort prepared her horse for her, a snow white steed that seemed to glow among the carnage. She figured the path through the Weargtooth Mountains would be a treacherous one, and rife with dangers, but the Legata was prepared for whatever challenges lie ahead. With a swift motion, she mounted her steed, while her men prepared her equipment.
With a whinny, the Horse moved with Livia back towards Reginarus' tent, at this moment the Legata was ready to move out.
"I'm going to challenge his right to rule through Holmgang, if he refuses, we will burn Iskjerne to ash, but if he accepts, I will defeat him in single combat. Reginarus, I am counting on you to take my place as Legate should I fall, and bring word to Lanius, my second in command."
Grasping the reigns, Livia started to move away.
"Let's move out!"
As he kept staring into the fire, Reginarus saw the mound become larger as it turned into a burning tree mountain which ripped forth through the ashy hot forest, covered in flaming hot fire, looking down at him. Reginarus locked eyes with the mountainous burning giant who stood above and before him, 300 feet tall and burning like a ball of fire. It looked absolutely enraged as it looked down at Reginarus and opening its large inferno of a firey cave mouth to roar.
"Reginarus," Livia said loudly as she pulled the flap to his tent, causing Reginarus to jump. He had been dreaming, as he woke up, sitting in a wheelchair in his own tent. "Everything okay?" she asked, looking down at the rifle in Ragnar's hand. Ragnar looked at the rifle before tucking it into his lap and rolling his wheelchair outside. He stopped to gaze at the Argosian firing range before wheeling himself over to the range and lifting his rifle into the air with both hands, pointing it at the target with three colorful rings encircling a big black dot. Ragnar aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger, flying backwards out of his wheelchair and bumping his head on the ground with enough force to make him blind and deaf for a minute as he almost knocked himself out. After a second, his ears finally started ringing as his vision became blurry. He could faintly hear Livia calling his name and asking if he was okay as he slowly regained consciousness. "Reginarus... Reginarus..." her barely audible voice starting to get louder and louder as the ringing in his ears reluctantly went away.
"Reginarus," Livia said loudly as she pulled the flap to his tent, causing Reginarus to jump. He had been dreaming, as he woke up, sitting at the table in his own tent, gripping his metal crutch like a rifle. "Ready your cohort, we will venture to Iskjerne Bay, and parlay with King Finehair, before we lay siege to his kingdom. I hope to avoid bloodshed, but I am prepared should I need to be." She took a step aside, and a Vexillarius behind her was preparing a white flag, while several Legionaries began preparing their weapons. Reginarus nodded and said, "I'll get right to it" as he limped to his feet and started adjusting his waistcoat or vestus before stopping and looking twice. He noticed the white flag, and immediately stopped Livia before she closed the tent flap to walk away. "No no no don't use that flag," he said quickly before grabbing his helmet with his free hand, his other hand still holding the crutch that he was leaning on to walk. He grabbed the paint brush he used to brighten the horsehair on his helmet and proceeded to hobble over to the Vexillarius, who looked similar to the Ulfhednar except in Romanized clothing, ordering him to hold up the flag. Reginarus stared at the flag for a second before using his paint brush to draw the Algiz Rune on the flag.
It was a rune he had learned a long time ago from an old friend, representing the meaning of protection, peace and prosperity. Afterwards, he nodded and turned to go carry out Livia's orders, limping over to his horse. It didn't take long for Reginarus to get his crew in order. Very soon, the towering cloud of smoke would be visible from Iskjerne Bay, but this was intended as the Argosians wanted to be seen by their enemies. Reginarus's one hundred legionaries were standing on foot behind him, ready for battle in a perfectly square 10x10 band formation. As his eyes drifted into the forest fire, Reginarus thought about the blazing giant from his dreams. He expected it to rise up at any second, but it never did. Nothing unusual happened this time as he rode his horse over to Livia to rendezvous with her back at his tent after his legionaries were in position with the other legionaries.
"I'm going to challenge his right to rule through Holmgang," Livia said unhesitantly. "If he refuses, we will burn Iskjerne to ash, but if he accepts, I will defeat him in single combat. Reginarus, I am counting on you to take my place as Legate should I fall, and bring word to Lanius, my second in command." Livia was blunt in sharing her plans and wishes openly with Reginarus, and he was keen to listen. "Let me fight him for you... as my debt," he said, offering to be her champion during the holmgang. Livia thought about it for a second, but didn't say anything. Instead, she grasped her own horse's reigns and started to move away, returning to her own cohort. "Let's move out!" she yelled, her voice soft but still loud enough to echo over the field as workers went about as close as they could get to the edge of the burning treeline, pouring buckets of water into the grass to prevent the embers from burning the field.
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Or rather, on his equipment...
Although his oxygen tank continued to work just fine, at least for now, what David probably didn't notice was that his M1-30 Carbine rifle was already starting to malfunction. The Gods of Gaia, known to the Ellarian people as the Titans, had sensed the newcomer's presence on their planet. One of those invisible spirits was none other than Sigurd Hring, who had become one with Gaia and had transcended beyond the mortal realms. Sigurd Hring had swore an oath to defend and protect Gaia from the advanced technologies brought into the medieval planet's atmosphere by foreign invaders and space-faring nations. David Baxter didn't know it yet, but Sigurd Hring was watching him carefully and preparing him for the long road ahead. The gunpowder in his 7.62×33mm round bullet casings suddenly became useless, nullified by the powers that be, along with any batteries or electrical equipment that Baxter had brought with him.
Meanwhile on one of Gaia's moons, the red moon Colossus, someone was peering through a powerful telescope and had witnessed the Silver Dawn as it ascended above Gaia's surface after dropping off its passenger. Erik the Red relayed his observations to Hrafn-Floki the Blind, who had taken a handful of Vikings to the moon where they had since then established a small isolated colony, far away from the happenings on Gaia's war ridden surface. Floki had gone into a sort of self-induced exile after the death of his daughter, and the Empyrean outlaw Erik Thorvaldsson had apparently gone with him to the bright red moon to start over.
Far down below on Gaia, on the continent of Ellaria, in the great forest which took up much of the continent, many new and chaotic things were starting to take place. The Argosians, led by Livia Caesarius the Legata and her new legion had set the Great Ellarian Forest on fire, shooting through the trees with their magically imbued cannons as they leveled a path into the forest from which to bring in their seige weapons, looking to head north through the Weargtooth Mountains, where Livia had planned to challenge King Harald Finehair of Iskjerne Bay to a duel. By now, the billowing smoke had risen so high that the Vikings of Iskjerne Bay could now see the rising black smoke over the mountains, alerting the natives that the Argosians had arrived, and were just a few day's journey away on the other side of the mountains. The smoke cloud was so large and thick that it could be seen from miles and miles away, even appearing visible to ships off the coast of the Empyrean High Seas, and to the Empyrean Norsemen in their own tropical kingdom to the far west. King Halfdan Svensson would notice the thin line of rising smoke on the horizon from his castle on the Empyrean Sea Beach.
"SHIELD WALL!!!" Bjorn shouted, his deep loud voice echoing off the nearby rocks inside the valley. Ironside's roar was so loud that David Baxter could hear it as he kept on running, trying to get away. He noticed the battle for a moment as he peered through a clearing into the open valley below. There were berserkers and barbarians locked in combat, and the bloodshed was too much for the foreign stranger as he hid in the bushes and started walking backwards away from the clambering skirmish, his wide eyes traumatized and fixed on the battle. As he kept walking backwards, however, David suddenly bumped into something which felt like a tree behind him. But as the lost man turned around to look at what it was, there before him stood a very old man who was not looking at David at all, but rather, looking over David's shoulder at the same distant battle in the valley before. David Baxter didn't know it yet, but he had just bumped into Lord Bruce of Essex, an Anglish Norse viking who had once served King Sigurd in life, but had vanished into the wilderness long long ago and was presumed dead.
Lord Bruce looked much different now from the time when he had saved Takao Eguchi's life many years ago. Due to the time flux on the region, Bruce was now a very old man with dark thick skin, wild and wavey white hair and a long unkempt peppery white beard. His clothing was ragged and dirty, and he looked like a hobo or homeless drifter who must have lived in the forest for decades. Bruce of Essex had been there all along, since the death of King Sigurd, since the rise and fall of Prince Ivar, when the Empyrean Norse Kingdom was founded, when that noble sea dragon Urakena appeared and the Stjornhestr first set sail through the stars on its way to Dracos Valley on the lost continent of Xamoyos, far across the galaxy. Lord Bruce stared at the young man in front of him for a moment, his eyes still as blue as the ocean waves as he studied the strange new foreigner silently.
Meanwhile, the berserkers and barbarians kept fighting, completely unaware of David and Bruce's presence in the forest above. For a brief moment between killing people, Bjorn Ironside raised his axe and pointed it at the rider on the hill. It was as if he was challenging him or her to personal combat. The equestrian in the iron mask was unmoved by this display of bravery, however, merely turning their horse around and walking away from the ridgeline, disappearing from the berserker's view as more barbarians descended into the valley upon them. By now, Arminius had entered a trance-like state of consciousness and was preparing to confront the Iskjerne Berserkers face to face, when all of a sudden, as if by pure chance, the wind direction abruptly changed, sending the blazing forest fire towards the barbarians in the back of the line. The Germanic tribes began panicking as people began yelling and shouting for the front lines to move forward. But those at the front of the line were halted by Bjorn Ironside and his bear-skinned juggernauts, who were putting up more of a fight than Arminius had expected or anticipated. It was time to pull back and rethink his strategy as the equestrian in the iron mask blew into their curling sheep horn and gave the order for the barbarians to withdraw. They kept fighting as they started to pull back over the ridge, while those still down in the valley were left to their fate at the hands of the Vikings.
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He quickly questions, "Hello, do you mean me harm?"
He continues to spread distance between himself and the man, not being too casual with the way he does it. He lowers his rifle slowly, the bayonet on the end glinting in the light.
"I don't want any trouble."
"Hello, do you mean me harm?" David asked, continuing to put distance between himself and the crazy looking white haired drifter before him.
Lord Bruce glanced down at David's rifle, and the bayonet attached to it. Bruce had not seen a rifle since the time of Sigurd Hring, and he briefly thought back to those troubling times when chaos and civil war ensued throughout the Viking world. Oddly enough, and perhaps to David's surprise, Bruce showed no fear of him whatsoever, despite being unarmed. He just gazed at the young man for a moment, studying the frightened man's body language which betrayed his composure.
"I don't want any trouble," David said, looking at Bruce carefully and watching him for any sudden movements. It seemed as though the old man was still processing his words as the Cherusci and their allies continued to retreat, now being pursued by Bjorn Ironside and the last of his berserkers as a twist of fate.
"Shhh, be silent." Lord Bruce suddenly spoke, pointing his walking stick to the warriors in the valley behind David Baxter, who would be much more threatening to the spaceman than the old hermit who stood in front of him. Ironically, it seemed that Bruce had understood David Baxter in his own language. After all, Bruce of Essex was an Anglish speaking fellow who understood the common tongue, unlike many of Gaia's other inhabitants on the Ellarian continent, especially most of the Iskjerne Vikings who continued to speak Old Norse or similar descending dialects.
"Come. Quickly," Lord Bruce said as he turned and walked deeper into the forest, away from the blazing fire and away from the valley. The old man had apparently deemed the younger man to be innocent and not nearly as dangerous as himself, despite his appearance, as he started heading deeper and deeper into the wild, heading into the Viridescent Woodlands and back to his secret hideout at the Grove of Yggdrasil, where Lord Bruce had spent most of his life as a hermit after Sigurd's death. It was entirely David's choice whether or not he wanted to follow Bruce, or if he would rather take his chances with the others he had just encountered. Either way, Lord Bruce wasn't sticking around or waiting for him. Bruce knew what dangers were waiting for them in the other direction.
It was almost always taken as granted that humans were the main ruling species in the Multiverse, with almost all other species being in incredible minority. With humankind taking up so much of the occupiable space, there was bound to be drastic differences in them.
So he decides to follow the old man, just because he feels he might learn something, and also because he doesn't want to get an axe or sword stuck in his chest.
He jogs after Lord Bruce, hopefully not to his demise.
The Battle of the Valley below...
It was as if Bjorn Ironside himself was about to have a panic attack. His life flashed before his very eyes, and in the distance beyond the trees, in the midst of that heart reckoning battle, Bjorn saw what appeared to be an old man in Viking armor wearing a hooded cloak, just walking casually along as if nothing was even happening. This is it, Bjorn thought to himself. Odin is here, watching, waiting for me he thought. Bjorn Ironside's blue eyes became brighter and wider, and for a moment, he could almost feel his own warrior spirit leaving his body. He started to feel tired, very tired, and he knew that this would be his very last battle. Or at least he thought. Bjorn started to get the feeling like he was standing on his own grave, and for the first time ever, fear struck him deep inside.
That's when everything changed.
Suddenly, he felt a calm cold breeze on his face. The winds had changed, and as he looked up towards the trees, he watched the branches and leaves sway in the other direction. It was very delightful for some reason, though at the time he didn't understand why. But as he came back to his senses, the old man in the hooded cloak disappeared from his sights, and suddenly Bjorn noticed that the Germanic tribes were retreating, heading back to the Groenbogs from whence they came. It was the Cherusci who were now panicking as they tried to run away from the blazing fire that was engulfing the Great Ellarian Forest behind them. Fate it seemed was not without a sense of irony. Arminius had withdrawn from the valley, along with all his barbarians, and like ghosts in the wind, were now disappearing back into the forest.
The old man he saw in the mist was not Odin after all, and if he was, then it surely wasn't Bjorn he had come to collect. The tide of the battle had suddenly changed, and as the Southern Germanic tribes fled away from the battle, Bjorn Ironside and his Northern Germanic berserkers were now pursuing them over the ridgeline, chasing them towards the Groenbogs like the madmen they were. Bjorn took a deep breath and continued fighting until there was no one left in his sight to kill, placing his axe in the backs of many a fine warrior until alas, the rest had vanished, leaving the 3 remaining berserkers winded and tired, with no more battlecries or voices yelling off in the distance. Everything became silent once again, and all he could hear now was the crackling of the burning trees as the forest fire became visible to him.
Meanwhile...
In the Blazing Forest...
His name... was Wōđanaz.
The one-eyed raven was none other than Muninn himself, one of the fylgjar whom Wōđanaz had sent down from his highseat to explore the realms and relay back everything he saw. Whatever the raven saw, the man with the black hat also could see, and everything he saw, he retained as memory. Wōđanaz contemplated whether or not to intervene with the light elves, but instead he did nothing, only observing the events on Gaia as if peering into a crystal ball. The raven cawled as it flew over the forest, over Bjorn Ironside and his lucky berserkers, over J the Devil, over the Germanic tribes led by Arminius and the equestrian in the iron mask, flapping its wings as it flew between the billows of rising black smoke before heading over the Weargtooth Mountains.
- 43 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2