Thread: One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure [VIKINGS - boyo111 x Temptationist]

RE One Man's Trash Is Another Man's Treasure VIKINGS - boyo111 x Jokerama The ships crept out of the mist from the east, the high prows breaking through the mist before the wide, low hulls appeared. Oars dipped into the dark, foreboding sea pushing the boats forward. The small fleet, 23 strong, each ship holding men and women along with supplies as the excitement rose while the oars dipped and rose bringing the raiders to shore. Rollo stood in the prow of his ship, naked from the waist up, the tattoos dark on rippling muscles as his arms tightened on the haft of his large axe, a hand around the neck of the serpent attached to the prow. Ragnar hung in the rear of the center ship, eyes darting about as they planned and thought, the beach and the lands of Kent came into view. Floki's lean, dark form hung off the head of the dragon, limbs swaying the body fore and back his high pitched laugh echoing in excitement off the waves as they neared the beach. Rollo grabbed his long handled axe and leaped from the bow of the boat to the beach, sauntering past the tide line to the long grass along the small beach's edge. Bjorn came behind, an appraising eye from his nephew with sword, shield and armored. The freshly shaven sides of his head bristled in the faded mist of the morning. No armor today uncle? Bjorn asked, a titter from Floki behind who leaped to join them. Rollo turned then looked at the green fields that stretched before them responding reverently, I'm armored by the gods. Pounding his chest with a closed fist while the men gathered about, the boats pulled up onto the sand, the dull scratching of wood on sand surrounded them for a moment. Well, let's hope the gods keep you that way, Bjorn joked recalling the archers they had faced in Wessex and Mercia. Laughter scattered among the men that formed a line on either side of Rollo as Ragnar, Rollo's younger brother and King of the Vikings, walked through them and led the way with a wry smile. If they don't then I will curse you with my dying breath, and welcome you to Valhalla with the next, Rollo replied in mock seriousness as the raiders strode off the beach swords and shields at the ready. The men around laughing as Bjorn rolled his eyes and followed with a fading blush on his cheeks. On the rise ahead of them a small village was still a rush of activity as they stalked across the field, the shouts of the villagers echoed in the silence of the morning, shapes ran over the rise, scattering in all directions. Nearing the thatched huts only a few men stayed in the middle of the village, a small hunting bow aimed at them. The small fletched arrow sunk into Bjorn's shield in front of Rollo. Bjorn looked at the quivering arrow and raised an eye brow, Rollo laughed and ran forward bringing the axe down on the man with the bow. Leaving one man alive Ragnar questioned the man on the ground next to the dead villagers. The raiders went through the huts, the villagers gone, only a stray dog left to scare the raiders away. The dog's incessant barking was silenced with a loud whine, as the meager possessions of the huts were pulled out. Valuable metal was placed in the center of the huts as spoil while the ships were emptied and the supplies stored in the village. Rollo listened as Ragnar talked to the old man, the old man whined and pleaded as piss soaked his pants, Ragnar's threats with a dagger and Rollo's bloodied axe persuaded the man to tell them about the castle nearby. Rollo listened intently, learning some of the Angles language by listening to Athelstan and Ragnar in the past he had kept his knowledge of the language to himself. Brother, Ragnar came up and clapped Rollo on the shoulder, I think you should lead the next raid. The intent blue eyes looked up at him, the easy smile that came to Ragnar's face, as most things came easily to Ragnar. Rollo simply shrugged and with a wave to the men they walked on, the mass following him across the rolling green fields. The road was not that far from the village, the old man had told Ragnar that a castle was nearby. That much he understood. If there were spoils they would be there, Rollo knew it and while Ragnar had just gestured away from the village Rollo made up his own mind. Turning up the road, the men followed expecting something, anything, it did not matter since there was bound to be something in the land. Ragnar wanted the land, the obsession with farming had brought them here once before, Rollo had not minded since they left fairly wealthy, but since the death of Siggy home felt hollow. Empty. He wanted something, anything, that he did not have to share with Ragnar. The soldiers waited near the castle, that made Rollo pause as the men lined up beside him. Bjorn on his right as his shield, Rollo's hands gripped the stout handle of the axe tight, the muscles of his arms tightening as they formed the shield wall and walked towards the soldiers, the line a pitiful resistance to the hundreds of raiders covering the field. The raiders were a dark line that spread, like a great scythe ready to slice the castle from its foundations. The soldiers wore links of chain and carried sword and shield, one was mounted who stayed behind the line that advanced towards them, feet stomping across the ground a slow swell that built to a thunderous roar. Rollo felt the tension build as they slowly closed, the smell of sweat from the nervous men at his side assaulted his nostrils, the castle loomed behind the soldiers. Raiders and soldiers stepped cautiously forward on the plain, the road a wide dark curve in the green fields about them, the soldiers stopped but the raiders kept moving faster and faster. In a few heartbeats they were together, the clash of arms rose and fell as the wave of raiders fell upon the soldiers. Men cursed and cried out as the soldiers tried to hold them back, the raiders were all men eager for plunder and blood. The soldiers, mostly older men, perhaps seasoned but a few who had never been in a shield wall who cowered and were the first to fall. The smell of piss and fear surrounded Rollo as he leaped through the line, axe swinging behind and above his head to come down and land on the head of a soldier as he touched the ground. The dull sound of blade on helmet came before the splatter of blood, the warm touch of it on Rollo's skin sent his heart racing. Giving a deafening yell, lost amid a dozen others, he jabbed and swung the axe at the men around him, nervous swords shaking and shields raised in fear as the soldiers stepped back then fell at the innumerable raiders that crowded around. Come on, Rollo yelled as the soldiers fell back or down, blood soaking into the ground at their feet. The horseman rode at them, sword pointed down to run them through. Rollo stood before the horse, facing this once before he had learned. As the horse came he ducked to the other side and brought up the axe, the horse's momentum brought it into the axe blade and as the shrill whinny came the axe had bit through the chest and almost to the leg of the rider before the horse fell. The rider grunted as the horse fell trapping the soldier's leg beneath, before the horse could rise Rollo stepped over and brought the axe down into the man's chest. Armor and bone separating before the heavy blade. Turning towards the castle Rollo noted the silence as they were under the walls, the doors closed, but nothing sounded within. Eyes went from the high walls, to the towers at the corners, no one seemed to be in sight. What do you think Bjorn? Turning a cool eye towards his nephew, hefting the axe onto his shoulder the blood dripping down the haft, darkening the wood. Should we knock and see if anyone is home?