Thread: Drowning in Sin (heartlesskitten x Kuro)

Cerdic was in the middle of yet another silent prayer when he heard the first screams. His head jerked up at the ring of steel and the sound of shouting in a foreign tongue. Northmen. The big monk jumped up from his bench and snatched his oaken walking staff. He had no weapons anymore, monks were forbidden to shed blood and that meant no blades were allowed to them. He was a man of peace now, a man of God no longer in need of his martial skills. Gripping the staff, he ran toward the noise, noting some of the monks fleeing. His flint colored eyes flashed with rage as he saw the torches thrown into the monastery's living quarters, the doors closed tight and he could hear the muffled cries and prayers of what monks were unlucky enough to be caught. The Northmen were in the Abbey, ransacking it for the treasures of the church. Silver and gold ceremonial goblets and platters, velvets and silks of the priest vestments were stolen. Cerdic paid it no mind and ran to the door that was barred, a heavy beam propped up against the door and he kicked it hard until it fell away. Yanking open the door, the monks were laying on the ground, crawling under the smoke. He pulled several of the younger ones out, coughing against the smoke. Run brothers, hide, he ordered as they scrambled to their feet, The devils are in the Abby. Are you coming with us, Cerdic? a young man asked, his eyes wide. We need you. No, go now, to the town and get the guards, he gripped the staff and headed toward the tall Abby, relieved to hear an end to their pleas and a slapping of feet against earth as they ran away. Cerdic walked quickly towards the sound of the raiders, unsure why he bothered and ignored the fact he was likely walking into his own death. The men were armored in boiled leather and some had mail, they all had axes and round shields, and a few of them had swords. One of them was pawing through the shed, his back to Cerdic and he did not look up when the monk silently approached him. With a hard swipe, he hit the man in the backs of his vulnerable thighs with the staff. The Viking howled in pain and when he turned the staff hit him square in the face, the wet sound of breaking teeth audible as Cerdic pulled back and hit him again, crunching in his nose. The man fell, gurgling on blood as the monk continued to pound his face to pulp, blood soaking the thick golden beard. Cerdic looked at the axe still in the man's belt and his red and white quartered shield. He was forbidden by his vows to shed blood but as he could clearly see, the staff drew blood as well as any sword. He looked up at the sound of the Abbot screeching and Cerdic cursed, watching the scrawny man being physically thrown out of the Abbey followed by a tall blonde man who was laughing, his handsome face scarred and bearded. He could hear the man asking the Abbot something in Norse but the head monk only responded with a high pitched litany of Latin prayer. A furore Normannorum libera nos, Domine! he held up his cross, made from gold and bronze that had been a gift of the Bishop. Why thank you, I'll take that, too, Sven said in his native tongue and reached down, snatching it off the old man's neck. Shut him up already, Sven, one of the other Vikings grumbled, He whines worse than my wife. Very well, this shit hole doesn't have as much wealth as the one farther north did, Sven agreed, then casually ran his blade through the Abbot's throat, ending his life in a blink of an eye and a spurt of crimson. Without thinking, Cerdic dropped his staff and snatched up the dead Vikings shield and axe. He had no armor, but his anger at the brutality of the raiders drove him forward rather than into hiding. The hood of his robe flopped back as he ran at the first man who came at him, a short, stout Norseman who held a two handed axe. Cerdic blocked the first blow, the force ringing against the iron boss for the shield and up his arm with a jarring force. The massive swing had momentum turned the other man around, and Cerdic buried his axe into his side, ripping downward to spill his guts. Spinning away from the dying man he faced another who slammed him with his shield, Cerdics arm felt numb but he held onto the axe. He shoved back with his shield, locked in against the other. he grunted and tried to overpower him. Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he gave the Viking a mighty shove and whirled around to face the tall blonde man. The monk now fought two, moving as fast as he could, unencumbered by heavy mail. He blocked and parried the big mans sword, knocking him off balance for a second, buying enough time to move and bury his axe into the other mans shoulder. Sven cursed loudly as he stumbled back, not expecting that sort of force and skill from a Christian priest. Most only cowered and shat themselves while they wailed to their dead god. Cerdic lost his axe, it had bit deep into the bone and when the Viking howled and turned way the handle slipped from his hand. Now only with his shield he faced the leader of the raiding party who swung the broad bladed sword hard and fast. making Cerdic backpedal under the rain of blows. He felt a sudden tug of his robe and realized as he fell backward he had stepped on it in his haste. Cerdic tried to roll out of the way but it was too late, the sword came down slashing deeply at his bicep, laying it open under the woolen robes. Sven pulled back and stabbed downward, burying the steel in the monks upper chest. The big Viking was about to take the monks head, when he heard more shouting from the back of the monastery. Saxon guards are coming! one of his men called out. Grab everything you can carry, make for the ship! Sven ordered, leaving Cerdic where he lay. Once the Vikings had left, Cerdic rolled over, coughing and groaning in pain. He could feel the blood running down his arm and the pain that radiated from the chest wound nearly made him faint. Crawling forward, he reached for the stone steps to pull himself up. Stumbling, he made his way towards the herb fields and the bee skeps, in the back of his mind he knew the raw honey could be used to keep the wound from festering but at the moment is attention was focused on getting away from the raiders. He floundered into the bee field, his head spinning and he felt faint from blood loss. His eyes focused on a figure standing near one, a tall slim figure with long pale hair. Cerdic stared in shock. A woman? A female Viking raiding the honey? Surely he was about to succumb to his wounds and he collapsed, hitting his knees, his vision blurring as the figure looked over at him. Cerdic coughed and blood trickled down his chin as he stared up at the sky.