Thread: The Viking and the Lady || wintersday & irish_texan ||

Ragnar breathed deeply through his nostrils, taking in the exciting and foreign scent of the countryside he was about to conquer. Every time he went on a raid, he took the time to appreciate the peaceful stillness of the land before bringing down the hammer of war upon it. The calm before the storm relaxed him all of the tension that had built in the pit of his stomach during the arduous longship trip across the sea seemed to dissipate in these few moments of peace. The warm breeze gently tickled the tall, soft grass as Ragnar gazed out with steely grey eyes at the quiet pastoral scene before him. The delicate clouds floated silently by in the azure sea above him, and the merry sound of birds chirping made its way to his ears from across the meadow. The only sign of civilization nearby was the tiny curl of smoke in the distance, from beyond the treeline. They were close to a village, which was good because Ragnar's men had been getting anxious. They were much further inland than was comfortable for Vikings. Typically raids would only occur along the coastline, but Ragnar had been feeling confident. Even so, this would be their last conquest before returning home. Ragnar had ordered his men to follow about a kilometer behind him. Most jarls would send scouts ahead for their raids, but Ragnar preferred to do his own scouting. It was the only time he could enjoy the calm before the storm that he loved so much. His heavily shod feet tread more lightly than one would expect despite his large and muscular frame he moved rather gracefully. Ragnar bore a large one handed battle axe upon his back, and a small short sword on his left hip. He did not have his weapons drawn. Unlike his men, Ragnar did not work himself into a frenzy before battle. He preferred to fight with discipline and precision, which set him apart from nearly his entire race. For him, battle was an art form, and a beautiful one. Which was why he liked the calm before the storm. It was a form of meditation for him, preparing him for the wild melee ahead. As he crested the ridge of a small hill, he saw something that caught his eye. A flash of fiery red hair. A young woman stood in the field, nearly one hundred yards away. His interest piqued, he dropped into a low crouch. Knowing that his men were close behind him, he moved quickly and silently, like a hungry predator, in a wide arc around the distant figure. Keeping his distance, he moved lithely through the tall grass, staying hidden but flanking the blissfully unaware woman. Within minutes, the woman was between Ragnar and his men. Perfect, He though to himself with a smile. Now I wait. He did not have to wait long. Moments later a loud cry broke the stillness. A young man whom Ragnar must have missed came running from the forest, obviously fleeing from Ragnar's men. Ragnar smiled, a ferocious glint in his eye. And now, he thought to himself, as an arrow pierced the man's back and protruded from his chest, dropping him instantly to the ground, the fun begins. The redheaded woman turned to witness the young man's death, and wasted no time in following his example and fleeing. She turned tail and began sprinting toward Ragnar, unaware of his presence and preoccupied with the band of fearsome Vikings who were now emerging from the treeline. When she was no more than twenty feet away, and looking behind her at the raiding party, Ragnar stood up, leaving his hidden position in the tall grass and planting himself firmly in front of the petite young woman. Exactly as he had hoped, she ran headlong into him. Though he barely moved, the impact knocked her off her feet. Shocked by the unexpected collision her gaze snapped up at Ragnar's face. Her initial look of anger and shock almost immediately gave way to dread, but she was quick to hide her fear and put on a look of defiance. He could see it in her eyes. Her hair wasn't the only thing about her that was fiery. This one had spirit. At first glance, Ragnar immediately liked her, though he was careful not to let his expression show it. As their eyes locked, Ragnar knew that this woman would hold his interest. He stroked his beard thoughtfully as he smiled down at her aggressively challenging stare. For a few silent seconds, their wills battled intensely through their eyes.