Thread: A Viking's Tale (Charon & ScarletAngel)

A sense of calm came over the Viking Lord as he readied himself for the fight. Things were always clearest to him in the thick of battle. Every motion an opponent made gave him subtle clues. The way a man shifted his weight, or how a shoulder moved- everything, however small or seemingly insignificant signalled an intent. In these moments, with death hanging in the balance, time seemed to slow for Orm. He saw everything. He caught the glance Lord St. Rose stole back towards his keep, but could not hear the words. He caught movement in the periphery of his vision and his head snapped in the direction his opponent was gazing. Did a stone move? He looked closer, but couldn't see how it was possible. But he was sure he'd seen something. The bang of a sword against a shield brought his attention back to the melee. b The Dragon beat his chest with his axe hand saluting Lord St. Rose. They closed the distance between them as the viking raiders encircled them. I will take you before you tire your Lordship Orm's voice was respectful and without bravado. You shall have a good death and those who knew you will long remember that in your final hour, you stood, fought and died bravely as a warrior. The Earl simply nodded, his mind focused on what lay ahead and taking his secret to the grave. The two men began the dance of death. Slowly turning as they sized one another up. Orm knew it would not be an easy victory by any means, desperate men had little to fear and felt even less. The Viking saw the attack in St. Rose's eyes a heartbeat before the man first swung his sword and blocked it with his shied. St. Rose pressed his attack, cutting and hacking with his blade trying to find an opening. Orm blocked the blows with his shield, turning as he did so, forcing the Earl to overextend. He brought the axe down hard at the Earl's neck, but St. Rose managed to block the blow just before it struck home Orm realized in that first attack that St. Rose must have once been a fine warrior otherwise he would have had no hope of defending while so overextended. The only fault the Viking could find in him was that he had let himself grow complacent, his muscles were straining to rememebr the training. The Earl had regained his position and this time it was the Viking who attacked. He swung the axe overhand, once, twice, three times in quick succession forcing the Earl to bring up his shield to defend. On the forth swing Orm took a half step in, hitting the shield with the shaft, the axehead above it. In a fluid motion Orm pulled back, down and hard on the axe, hooking the top of the shield and jerking it downward. Orm's arm came up and he drove the axe forward, the shaft sliding along the lip of the shield and there was a tremendous clang of steel on steel as the axehead smashed into St. Rose's helmet pushing him back off balance. The Viking chopped low with his weapon and St. Rose managed to get his leg clear before the axe struck him. The Earl's sword swung for the axe handle as it passed by. He struck it, but because he was off balance, it did little to the shaft. St. Rose planted his rear foot, catching his balance and pressed forward as his sword began to remember. He suddenly felt more alive then he had in years and as the memories flooded back of the battles of his youth, his prowess with the sword became more evident. He stabbed low, driving the Viking's shield downward to block and then with a deft twist of his wrist the blade flew upwards catching the Viking on the arm. Orm felt the impact of the blade on the chain rings and them crumple beneath the force of the blow. He grimmaced at the hit but now was not the time to concern himself with it. He was still holding his shield and as he swung the axw downward to regain his own momentum he bobbed the shield up and down to be sure his arm wasn't broken. The Earl blocked and parried another flurry of blows. Orm took a step back, resizing his opponent. The Earl was feeling more confident now, he'd struck the Viking a blow, two in fact and Orm had done little to him. His breath was coming a bit shorter now, unaccustomed to the strenuous work. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he wondered that if he should kill the Viking Lord, would his men give up and leave, or slay him where he stood. He rolled his sword and tapped it lightly against his shield inviting the Viking to attack. The Dragon atacked, this time faster and more viciously. A large piece of St. Rose's shield was snapped away as he was forced back. Orm's men were shouting now, watching their chieftain on the offensive. Earl St. Rose slashed at Orm's head and the Viking ducked out of the way- he'd seen the sword shoulder a half beat earlier turn. He countered with a vicious strike which embedded the axe in his opponents shield. He jerked on the axe, pulling St. Rose towards him, trying to free the blade. His shield hand grabbed the shaft of the axe as well and he used the momentum to throw St. Rose from his feet, freeing the axe as well. It was over in an instant, St. Rose never saw the blow. As he tumbled off his feet he felt the axe pull free from his shield, he felt the ground as he landed and then nothing. Orm pulled the axe from the back of St. Rose's helmet, using his foot to hold the corpse still as he pried. His men cheered and their voices carried over the wall and into the village. Triumphant, Orm raised his axe for all to see. By right, I claim this keep, and all properties and holdings of my vanquished foe. The men roared again. Prepare a feast to celebrate! He shouted and when the din died down he continued. I am Orm, now lord of these lands and the people of the village are now my vassals- you shall not bring them any harm. There is gold enough in the old Earl's vault- it is being counted and shares will be given. You will buy or trade with them- any man who steals shall deal with me. He waited to gauge their reactions and when he was satisfied they understood he released them and made his way back towards the keep tossing the axe back to the man he'd borrowed it from. A fine weapon, he called- perhaps you'll name it 'Earlslayer.' He crossed the courtyard and as he reached the steps to the keep the image of the Earl just pefore the fight flashed into his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment reliving it and what he thought he'd saw from the corner of his eye. Unconvinced that it was just a trick of the light, he began to follow the wall of the keep studying it closely, wondering what he saw. He followed it for a long way without finding anything and when he did finally look up he was standing in the gardens of the rear courtyard. There was a small pond in its center and a large number of ornamental trees and plants arranged around the grounds. He looked around, taking it in for the first time and found it quite nice. Turning he looked back at the keep. High on its wall there were numerous windows and he thought the view from them must be rather good. The air smelled like rain and a soft breeze blew on this side of the keep. Something than caught his eye beneath the near window. Stuck into the mortar of the stone wall, a small ribbon of fabric fluttered gently.