Tale of the Week 15 - Submissions

[molls]

New Lands lie before us, new challenges await us, new stories are to be told!

Worm brings the icy winter to our homes.
Together with a load of scary barbarians.


A frozen lake, the night and the berzerkers make up for a scary story!

Rules:

1. Post a short text about this picture, with min. 200 max. 400 words, in a spoiler, with the picture in the front.

2. If you are a contestant you are honour bound to not read other contestants' writings until you have submitted yours.

3. The winner gets 1 point on the Leaderboard, if there are at least 4 contestants.

4. Deadline: last day of each week (Sunday).

[Dead Sun]

The Hum

The druid moans sound the chage, let us know they are here. Like wolves prowling around a lone goat or doe, licking their lips for the feast soon to come. That is they, the Hum as we know them. The druid pagans of Germania, wrapped in bear fur with axes or pickaxes, their faces painted blue. Not any demon of the underworld would face them, not any devil. They swarmed upon the land like the Sea Peoplees of old, destroying, marauding, raping, burning, maiming... killing. The blood would run in rivers before they even got tired, and they would EAT the flesh of those who fell to them.
The Moon casts an eerie glow on them tonight though, and it seems to give them power, give them bravery. We wait across a stream, summoning the courage that we havv left, sharing it together... but wolves eat goats and sheep and that is what our braver extends to. Our spears may be the sharpest in the world, but even that is not defense enough against these wolves, these dogs.
The moan... we hear it now as their reflections mirror their images into greater beasts tha already are. The moonlight glints off their weapons, and we know we die today, shield to shield, man to man, we are joined in death this way, and fall as one.
The Hum charge....

[bomberboy]

The March of the Brave
The brave mighty warriors of the ancient land of the German Tribes marched fearlessly across the frozen wastes of the plain. The small puddle reflected them in the winter suns weak and pale rays. But the cold didn’t bother these men. These men were thirsty, thirsty for Roman blood and to sink their weapons, may it be axes, spears or even the sharp canines of their teeth into the flesh of the enemy. The Romans stood in front like a wall of glistening steel the looked more like animated statues than men. The berserkers dressed in the sacred bear pelts shouted they’re war cry’s with a vengeance. No more will the Romans stalk this land no more will women be raped, no more will their children and grand-children be turned into puny Roman scum. They’re lives were shortened. The shouts of Latin war cry’s were automated over the air of battle but undaunted the Berserkers began to jog.

The centurion saw the berserkers moving towards them at a deadly pace. Without emotion in his eyes he shouted, “Release Arrows!” The men acknowledged and with it shot a forest of deadly arrows into the poor berserkers. A hundred fell but a hundred more ran on then as the arrows stopped the javelins begun.

Without remorse and emotions bordering along madness the berserkers charged the waiting line.

[Manoflooks]

Hmm...Ended of kinda unrelated to the picture, well, not as close as I wanted. Oh well.


The power of the Berserker

The many ranks of the German berserkers were quiet. They walked in perfect discipline, not talking and focusing on making themselves have a concealed anger to release upon their enemies. The army was quiet, apart from two men in the last rank.
“Um…Ario?
Ariovistus sighed. Walking through these bloody forests in a blizzard was bad enough, having this idiot walking with him was…madness. Absolute madness. He was going into a rage, and when he went into a rage…man, there would be hell to pay.
“What! What do you want, Suevi. And make it quick, my bare chest feels colder when I speak.”
“Well…I think I saw a ghost. I’m scared.”
Ario slowly turned to look at him. His face turned red with rage.
Suevi stopped. His lip wobbled, and he looked like he might cry. Ario stopped him, by smashing him upside the head with his battle axe.
“YOU ARE SCARED!! For the gods sakes, you are a berserker! You were bred in the cloning chamber to not feel fear, to fight entire armies without a thought of danger, and you are SCARED!!!” Crows flew from his voice, and Suevi looked up from the dirt frightfully. fortunately for him, Ariovistus missed the look. Fortunate because the alternative would have involved his head, and mashing. Enough said.
He left Suevi on the ground, and rejoined the perfect ranks. Discipline is, after all, what Germans were known for. He focused on them again, on the lines of German wolves, ready to tear the throat of their prey out at a moments notice. Concentration was the key.
Without warning, Suevi knocked him down, yelling, “Look out! There’s a ghost in front of you!”
Ario looked down, and glared at his own reflection in the water. His eyes narrowed.
“That’s…IT!!” He swung his axe, and caught Suevi in the head with the gruesomely sharp tip. Ouch. He felt anger bubbling in his stomach, and released it.
With a primal roar of rage, he leaped and knocked out the men surrounding with a single blow. He roared “Who will take me on!”
No one came to face him. He then ran across the ENTIRE width of the Rhine, and leaped onto the Roman legion on the other side. Several minutes passed, and Ario ran back over the Rhine, having destroyed the ENTIRE Roman Legion. The power of the Berserker. *

*According to Rome: Total War

[Naturalist]

Tancred wasn't like the other Germans. He didn't like fighting. He liked dancing and signing!

The warriors didn't know this, but they suspected it. Tancred was always humming to himself on the march, moving in tune to the sound of their feet. But he hadn't run from battle yet, so they left him alone.

Until tonight.

The Germans had come upon a frozen lake, made camp, and turned in for the night. Tancred pretended to sleep, but after the last drunken German passed out, he opened his eyes and sprung up. He rummaged through his sack and grabbed a pair of skates made from swords attached to bits of wood and leather. He rushed towards the lake dressed in a skintight leather suit that was decorated with feathers and colourful leaves.

On the ice, he did a quick triple axel and skated around, beaming joyously. He started humming to himself. Then he did a spin, a jump, and landed it perfectly. He began to sing softly. “Oh, I don't know why you're not there…I give you my love, but you don't care …so what is right and WHAT IS WRONG!” He ended the verse loudly and heard grunting emanate from the camp. He looked towards the lakeshore, and many men were at the lakeshore, carrying axes and looking angry. But such was his joy at skating, Tancred didn’t care. He sang even louder. He shouted, “What is love? Oh baby, don't hurt me! Don't hurt me, no more!”



Tancred kept on, louder. “WHAT IS LOVE? OH BABY DON’T HURT ME—“

He was cut off--the warriors had stepped onto the lake. One of them opened his mouth--

“WHOA WHOA WHOA, OOOOH OOOOH! WHOA WHOA WHOA, OOOOH OOOOH!” he bellowed.

Thus Tancred, with his newfound friends, danced the night away.

[molls]

Exercise and Demise



“Now do you want to win this or not?“



The men started ranting:



“It’s so cold!”

“...in the middle of the night...”

“..and the land is so dark”

“Those axes are so heavy-“

“...and the moon is the only light we see...”

Belsarus felt an angry chill crawling up his spine.
”Cut the whining this instant! How do you want to compete against the disciplined Romans, or the furious Gauls when you start whining about the ‘oh so bitter night’ ?

You will be defending the pride and reputation of our nation in the ‘Patavium Contest’ soon and it was you to apply for the job, wasn’t it?”

The group shut down and remained waiting on the border of the frozen lake.

Belsarus faced the few painted old men sitting on the ground with strange instruments to his right.

“Druids!”

A faint whimper was the answer: “ – yesss ? “

In all his might, Belsarus shouted:


“ MUSIC!”


The druids began to hum and drum, playing their various percussion sets. And the air was filled with a slow, moving music.

“I am waiting...”


The group of “berzerkers” were getting in position, shivering but daring.


--


A first quartet began their gracious performance and soon the others followed.

Pirouettes, complexe figures and the most risky turnings in mid air were seen, as the whole bunch of wild men was ice-skating in a most nobel manner on the frozen lake.



Belsarus smiled: The training went well.

He had brought those axes as accelerating tools for the pirouettes and it was only good fortune that his crew was used to bloodsheds (being berzerkers...) so that the first ... accidents with the axes while colliding fullspeed against other team mates during the fastpaced scating performance did not cause too much trouble.


Belsarus was confident that his group would win this years "figure scating contest".
The quality of this performance was speaking volumes.

The quality of the ice was speaking muted creaks, with increasing volume.

[Kátz]

The Last Stand at Lake Trasimene

Gaiobomarius, unlike any other Germans. fought to the last of his life and was able to touch his fellow companion berserkers that become his personal bodyguards. In his campaign, He led the Germans into so many victories that only the best Roman armies dared to cross swords with him. Especially considering the fierceness of his berserkers! He took part in the annihilation of Varus's legions and made him and the Roman army so ashamed that Augustus said: " Varus, give me back my legions! "

Some years after the Roman attack, The Germans, including Gaiobomarius, are no more longer patient enough to counterattack the Romans. Years after Years of victories followed the Germans and it seemed like it is futile for the Romans to resist or even stem this seemingly invincible tides of defeat.

After various campaigns, The Germans had succeeded taking Gaul and the lands of Getae and almost forced the Romans to an indignified defeat.

Finally, Gaiobomarius and his companions reached Lake Trasimene with 7800 men, a lake where a history was born, he saw the Romans pitched up camp at the other side of the river with 30000 men. Surely the Romans wouldn't want to repeat something that has already happened here? The Germans are known for their fierceness while the Romans are famed for having powerful armor troops, but easily intimidated by the mere sight of routing troops and death. He had somehow already foreseen a possibility of victory. He hid his troops at a forest where Roman corpses are still lumped and not buried. He has a plan, to throw the corpses to mock the Romans. The tactic was a success. The Romans are rushing to the Germans....

Before battle, Gaiobomarius and his companions looked down on their faces on their 'mirrors' and prayed to their respective gods. May the gods bless them once more......

[Juvenal]

A grim little tale from the end of Empire, hope you like it.

Target Acquisition

“I knew you'd come in useful someday you ugly bastard” Lentulus remarked as he adjusted the frozen corpse of his ex-Ducenarius to fit more snugly into the makeshift barricade.

The cohort had been trapped on this island for three days now. Most of them had died reaching this place after the castra had been overrun. A dozen bodies still lay on the shore where the bridge to the island had started, before Lentulus had set fire to it. The enemy had tried swimming across, but the Romans had killed them easily, so now there was a stand-off.

Every morning Alamanni archers crept up through the trees to take pot shots. Then in the evenings, young warriors came to taunt them. At first the Romans had tried throwing pila and plumbatae, but they dodged easily and it just wasted ammunition. Now the dozen surviving legionaries stayed behind their improvised works as much as possible.

But just as hope began to swell in Roman breasts, the weather turned and the lake froze. That evening, instead of taunters, the Alamanni warlord brought up his berserkers. The Romans watched fascinated as they took their potions, scourged each other and danced themselves into a frenzy around their camp fires.

Handlers lined the berserkers up along the shore to fix their attention on the target. Lentulus mouthing a silent prayer to Mars, got up to stand with his comrades.

The frozen lake, covered with a thin film of water due to the fires, cast an ethereal reflection of the warriors. The enemy, twitching and jerking to the compulsion of their geas, stepped out onto the lake and lowered their heads, like bulls ready to charge.

But then the strangest thing happened. Almost as one they stopped and, still looking down, began to scream and froth, their spiked clubs rising and falling as they tried to kill the beasts they saw in the water.

It was only a matter of moments before the newly frozen ice cracked and the whole band were thrashing in the water, their struggles rapidly weakening as the cold claimed them. A wail went up from the watching Alamanni and they rushed forward to try to save their champions.

Later they remembered their original purpose, but by then Lentulus and his men were already gone into the gloom.