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Thread: Forgotten Tales of Germania

  1. #21
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Breaking of the Leaguer


    “What happened after that? Were the brothers punished?” the young rider asked.

    The old man took a swig of his drink, lips pursed and looking thoughtful. After another swig, he replied, “No. Is the cold affecting your mind? How would the next string of events come to pass if they were stopped? Fate had planned another doom for the tribe…”

    ‘But the brothers remained in the village, smiling secretly at their deed. And though Baldovin suspected much of what may have happened, he did not say anything about it. To a mind that was as high as him, it seemed a deed done in kindness and not in glory. That the deed was done to secure the village. But he had no idea of what was waiting to come next.

    It came one day in form of a strange visitor. Two hunters of the village supporting a tired man indisposed to walk without his support. But he was no stranger as everyone soon found. Baldovin’s wife gave a cry and ran towards the man, her brother. He was given food and rest and bid to present himself to the council the next day.

    The council met early morning, with all elders and warriors gathered there. The brothers stood sombre and silent, for they perceived that this was not the time to jest. The visitor entered the hall and walked towards Baldovin. He took out an arrow, splattered with blood and handed it to the chief.

    Baldovin, his heart heavy with foreboding, spoke, “What is this kinsman? I fear that something bad has happened.”

    The visitor spoke, his voice choked with emotion, “Yes my lord, but what had my people done? First the Romans, and now this. But we were content to live a peaceful life, with our fields and herds.”

    “Speak plainly, brother! For we had no news of anything that happened.”

    He then spoke of the fate of the Cimbri. After the ancient defeat by the Romans, the remnant of the people had settled in the north, minding to their fields and herds. But then, a tribe came to their nearby lands, a people called the Angles. Though they left the Cimbri alone, it filled them with bitterness that the Cimbri never took them for their masters. And one day they came down upon them, in full arms and fury. The arrow that lay on Baldovin’s lap was the one that struck the chief, and ere he fell, he bid his son to take the arrow to their kin and bid them avenge the injustice. Depravation followed the raid, and none was left alive.

    A long silence followed the tale. Then Karl stood up and kicked his seat in anger, with a frightening yell. Gerulf sat with his head bowed, and Clovis sat with his eyes closed, remembering his fallen kin. But Adalbert stood and walked amidst the council. There he spoke long, his words potent and fell, seeking to rouse his people with wrath. And for the first time he was not to be stopped. All it took was Baldovin to glance at his wife, seated pale and rigid on her seat, tears streaming down her face.

    Baldovin, resigned and torn between his wife and honour, gave a silent sigh and assented. He then proclaimed his decree, that they would avenge the wrongs done onto their kin and friends. He ordered a host to be prepared, to be led by his sons. And continued by telling of their deeds against the brigands to the village, to prove their worth. All were astounded, as it seemed that a wind from the north had come to shake their tribe. Some were hopeful, eyes shining with dreams of adventure, and there were some with hearts heavy with foreboding at the breaking of the leaguer.

    Few days later
    Near the ruins of the Cimbri village


    The ground shook with the rumble of a large host. The warriors marched on with vigour, fuelled by the promise of a fight and plunder. The brothers had divided the host among them, choosing to them warriors of their like nature. Clovis marched with a band of men in heavy armour wielding spears, Karl with a band of brutes wielding heavy axes that would soon hew men instead of trees, and Gerulf with the band of hunters that prowled the village’s woods. And Adalbert marched with a dozen men of no less renown; oathsworn warriors of his father.

    Day and night they marched, without any stops save for some few hours to rest. But they saw no trace of their enemy, only wilderness and an uneasy silence. They even came to the ruined village, smoking from the charred remains of the huts and strewn with bodies of the fallen. But there was nothing else to see there, only the desolation of the village. After yet another day of fruitless search, they came to the stream that flowed near the ruined village. The men’s rigour was starting to come-off, and some had started to think about turning back. But the enemy was there, having rested the night on the other side of the bank.

    At dawn, one of their scout crossed the stream and was overpowered by the brothers. And they now knew where the Angles were. To lure the enemy to battle, the scout’s head was cut-off and hurled amidst where his tribesmen sat. And that achieved the end, for the Angles were so roused by the deed, that they armed themselves and marched, without even thinking of any tactics. And they marched into the trap that Adalbert laid for them. As the Angles waded into the shallows of the stream, the brothers charged the host fell upon them.


    Three brothers fought at the front, their bands mixed together as a host in frenzy and wrath. The Angles soon knew that they had met their match. Their men fell one after another, as the brothers fought as men burning with heat of their wrath. And this spurred on their warriors to fight with such ferocity that the Angles had never seen. And any that tried to flee were shot down with flaming bolts shot by Gerulf and his men. In less than three hours, the stream ran red and it was finally over.

    By evening the brothers reached the village of the Angles. They had followed the handful of wounded survivors who fled from the battle, but shot down before they could warn the village. The village was peaceful, having received no warning of the attack, and the few sentries at the palisade were overwhelmed by hail of arrows before any warning could be sent. The host crept inside the village.


    The host paused behind the outer houses, waiting for orders from their commander. The brothers looked at Adalbert, wondering what he was thinking. But Adalbert merely stood watching the villagers. A strange mood seemed to have come into him, his face contorted in wrath but his lips curled with an evil smile.

    He turned back to the host, raised his sword high in the air with one hand, and the pointed to the village with the other. He yelled in a hoarse fell voice.

    “Behold, great warriors! The spoils of your victory awaits!”

    He turned back towards the village, and picked up tankards of ale that were perched on a barrel outside the hut. The warriors rushed yelling into the villages, but Adalbert merely stood, and offered the ale to his brothers. Karl and Gerulf took a tankard each, too cowed to say anything to their brother in a perilous mood.

    But Clovis took no ale and went inside the hut, barring the door and windows to shut out the screaming of women and yells of rampaging men.’


  2. #22

    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    An interesting change to switch to Attila, I hope it works out for you. Your writing has a real saga-like feel to it, in that it sounds like it was written or spoken by some chronicler. I still wonder who the old man is.

  3. #23
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Great updates! I look forward to seeing how you blend the adventures and development of these great characters with the new possibilities offered by Attila.

  4. #24
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Thanks a lot for the kinds words.

    The next update is coming pretty soon.
    Last edited by m_1512; March 08, 2015 at 04:25 AM.


  5. #25
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    The Thing





    As the old man finished the tale, the moon stood high in the clear skies. He bid the young man to rest in the hut, and picked up what had first seemed to the young man as a walking stick. But it was a bow, long and slender and with it went a large quiver of arrows. He went into a nearby broken hut and settled himself in a warm corner filled with hay. The young rider did as he was told and entered the hut to rest.

    In the morning, the young rider awoke to find himself alone in the hut. The old man seemed to have gone, and this made him wonder if the old man had been nothing but a creation of his tired mind. As he sat and pondered, the old man walked out of the woods, carrying a mighty hunt. While he made himself busy skinning and preserving the meat, the young rider proved his worth by gathering and cutting up wood for fire. The rest of the day passed away with nothing but smaller errands, and as the evening came, the old man kindled a fire and took his usual seat to continue the tale.

    ‘The fight was won, but the strife wasn’t over. Clovis, disgusted with his brothers, refused to speak or even share a meal with them for days. The men had later proceeded to loot the entire village of all valuables and started on the journey home, after finally setting it on fire. Strained already as their friendship seemed, the brothers did their best to show remorse to mollify their much wiser brother. Nonetheless, it would be a week until Clovis would speak to any of them.

    The host was welcomed into the village as heroes. And not without reason, for they had returned in victory without any losses, except some bruises and cuts. The spoils were given freely as the warriors by now were ashamed by the efforts of Clovis. And the village hoped for many years of peace and respite, bolstered by the strength of the newly blooded warriors to their defence. But unknown to all, this act had set in motion something no one could have foreseen. And it came a month later in form of a messenger, mounted on a black horse.

    From the narrow path, the rider barged inside the village before the wardens could stop him. As he beheld the warriors that gathered around, preparing to charge him, he raised both his hands to the air. His shout rent the morning air in the village, and people started to gather around to watch.

    “I call the chief of this village to come forth!” He turned to the warriors who pointed their spears at him, he added, “Stay your weapons! Or will you break tradition and harm a messenger?”

    He did not need to shout twice. Baldovin and most of the village had arrived to see the cause of the commotion. And the chief was not pleased in the slightest, for it was not more than a month when the peace of the village was disturbed. He strode forward and called to the rider.

    “Who are you? And by whose authority do you barge into my village?”

    The rider, though had raised his hands and drawn no weapon, had remained calm and fearless all the while. He turned towards Baldovin and smiled.

    “By the authority of the High King of the Franks! You may be the chief of this village, but this land still belongs to him. Call off your men if you do not wish to declare rebellion to the High King.”

    Baldovin stood there, stunned into silence. He had never expected that his hidden village would ever be discovered in his time. At length, he called to his men to return to their posts and invited the messenger to his halls. The messenger was one Geremund, one of the hirdmen of the Thain. He was inclined to be haughty still, for the treatment he had received at the gate.

    In the hall, he was offered much food and wine, and the chief, his sons, and some elders sat around while Geremund ate. A heavy unpleasant silence lay in the air. Baldovin speaks, to try breaking the silence.

    “My apologies, Geremund. It has been a while we had visitors. So how is the High King Genseric?”

    Geremund replied thickly, chewing on the meat all the while.

    “I do not doubt it. Genseric is dead, he fell in battle long ago. His son Faramund is the High King now. But I think that you no longer care about tidings of your people.”

    Baldovin brushed the snide remark aside. He had a more worrying question.

    “Taunt all you want, for you may have earned the right to it. But I need to know this. How did you find us?”

    “Ha! Now that is a tale!” Geremund replied with a snort. But he did not start until he had finished with his meal and was seated with a large flagon of ale.

    “As I told you, after Genseric fell defending against Saxons, Faramund was proclaimed High King and the first challenge he faced was war and impending loss of lands. And so he gathered the hosts of many tribes to himself and marched to war. With a great host, he beat back the Saxons and even begin to oust them from their lands. But the war was not over, for the Saxons were unwilling to wield. And it was then that we first heard tidings about your existence.”

    “It was no secret that you had the favour of Genseric, for you had been his most trusted Hirman ere he released you from duty. And such was your renown that people started carrying tales of your prodigious skill and your legendary hosts. But here lay the problem; no one could tell your whereabouts. Some said that you were part of a legend and cannot be found again, while some said that you fell first against the Saxon onslaught. But such was your renown entrenched that Faramund even promised his own golden chain for any man that can find you, to call you to aid us in war.”

    He took a large swig of ale, and here many could detect in the guest the first sign of jealousy. But he was oblivious to this and continued his tale.

    “So Faramund marched to war without your aid. His success against the Saxons earned him renown, and confirmed his right to rule. But he had instructed his brother, the Thain Theudemer, to look for any tidings about you. I led a band of scouts behind the main host, and was patrolling the northern lands when I heard of a raid. That a band of warriors had entered the lands of Angles and destroyed their host and their main village. And the warriors were seen entering our lands after the raid.”

    But Gerulf, with his usual drawling manner, interrupted the tale, “So you discovered our village solely based on tidings of a distant raid? You may be of renowned wit, but so much wit?”

    The messenger was irked, but restrained himself as he had a retort ready for such an occasion.

    “But I have the wit to listen fully before letting out the taunts. That is not how I found this place. After those tidings, I sent messages to both the High King and the Thain, and I was ordered to find your village. For they were convinced that this bold raid could have only been done by Baldovin’s warriors. But something seemed wrong, for I could not believe Baldovin would allow depravation and pillaging. So an entire band of riders scouted our lands to find you. And I came across a village where I heard a tale of a band of brigands simply being found dead near the woods. It was then not hard for me to track your village, for I was once a huntsman too.”

    There was a heavy silence after he completed the tale. The elders stared with hostility at Adalbert, as they believed now that he had brought this on them. But Baldovin’s mind was stuck on another point. He had not been told of the pillaging. He turned towards his sons and stared hard until their heads were bowed down.

    He continued, “I did not of any pillaging, for you are correct that I would never allow it. And it was not a raid, it was a matter of honour, to avenge wronged kin.” He waved a hand towards his brother in law, and continued, “He is the last of the remnant of the Cimbri people, and they were attacked wrongly by the Angles.”

    Geremund gaped at Baldovin, looking incredulous. He shook his head in disbelief, and said, “And did your wife’s brother tell you all the details? That his people were not raided, but that they had started the feud with the Angles. But it is over now; the Angles, or what is left of them, are leaving the lands for the land over the sea.”

    It was Baldovin’s turn to appear shocked again. He shook his head in regret and gave a heavy sigh, as a man wearied. Finally he stood up and spoke to Geremund, “But what is done, is done. I thank you for coming; you will rest and feast with us ere you leave. I hope you will not betray our leaguer.”

    Geremund looked in Baldovin’s eyes and spoke, “It is too late for that. Faramund has decreed a Thing and all tribal chiefs have to present themselves, or rebel against the High King.”
    Last edited by m_1512; March 08, 2015 at 04:37 AM.


  6. #26

    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Ooohhh so the secret village is not so secret any more. I can't wait to meet the High King, excellent writing as usual.

  7. #27
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    I should probably have found (and read) this sooner, but better late than never. At least from my point of view - it would have been a shame to miss out on this.

    I really like the different personalities of the brothers, and the conflicts that seems to be causing. Well, I'm enjoying all the characters, really.

    And I think the idea of having the old man telling the story is an excellent way of framing things.






  8. #28
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Finally managed to catch up with this m, I'm really enjoying it. As Merchant pointed out there is a very saga-like feel too it which I enjoy, and it seems to fit the setting really well. Good job.

    The drama really unfolded in that last chapter - looking forward to more.

    Also, I can't help but think is this Elder one of the brothers?...
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  9. #29
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Quote Originally Posted by Merchant of Venice View Post
    Ooohhh so the secret village is not so secret any more. I can't wait to meet the High King, excellent writing as usual.
    Thanks. I am actually working on fleshing out the other characters, and some lore.

    Quote Originally Posted by Caillagh View Post
    I should probably have found (and read) this sooner, but better late than never. At least from my point of view - it would have been a shame to miss out on this.

    I really like the different personalities of the brothers, and the conflicts that seems to be causing. Well, I'm enjoying all the characters, really.

    And I think the idea of having the old man telling the story is an excellent way of framing things.
    Thanks for your kind words.

    That could be perhaps said as the easiest method of narration. But even then, I make some mistakes here and there.

    Quote Originally Posted by Shankbot de Bodemloze View Post
    Finally managed to catch up with this m, I'm really enjoying it. As Merchant pointed out there is a very saga-like feel too it which I enjoy, and it seems to fit the setting really well. Good job.

    The drama really unfolded in that last chapter - looking forward to more.

    Also, I can't help but think is this Elder one of the brothers?...
    Thanks, mate. I am also looking forward for some of your new projects.

    Thanks, I am writing a sort of discourse on the next one that should explain some conflicting things.

    Which one? The rider or the old man?


  10. #30
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    The old man?
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  11. #31
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Quote Originally Posted by Shankbot de Bodemloze View Post
    The old man?


    Seriously though, I don't want to spoil the surprise. But what surprises me is that there is no curiosity about the young rider. I guess this would make the end quite nice.


  12. #32
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    I think it would be too easy for us to just ask who the young rider is then?
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  13. #33
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    By the way, this is not abandoned. Just had not the time to complete the next chapter. Hope to get it to you soon.


  14. #34
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Ways of the Franks


    The tale of the un-hiding of the village took an entire day to finish. And although the rider was eager to continue, the old man had bid him to rest, for he proclaimed that the next discourse should be one in daylight. The next morning, the two men sat down to break their fast; after the usual routine of work that had been decided without any words.

    As they ate, the old man spoke with a grunt, “You are learning to be patient. That is good, for haste often miscarries the stroke.”

    The rider swallowed his mouthful of meat, “And you seemed to have learned to talk in yet more riddles.”

    “But it is riddles that makes you focus on words that needs to be kept. But this is not the time for pert words, but for what I was not willing to tell you in the night.”

    “I am listening, as I was in the night.”

    “Listened, yes, you would have. But remembered, I doubt. Either ways, the ways of our people is best taught to a fresh mind.”

    The rider seemed irked, but mastered himself. He felt that it was best to humour the old man, for he hid words of wisdom among his riddles. He nodded to indicate his undivided attention.

    The old man put down his wooden bowl, and drained a flagon of water and started talking.

    ‘The ways of the Franks in the time of Adalbert were a bit different. They were still based upon the ancient laws of the Sweboz, but influenced by various other peoples. The people still lived in numerous tribes, but now they had an authority that could gather them as a unified host. While this was not wholly a bad thing, it had its drawbacks. For it meant that the tribes now had to answer to one high chief of all, and they no longer had the freedom of the ancient times.

    This started when the Franks first begin to assert their identity over the Sweboz. But then, many peoples had started to assert their own identity over the people. But our people went further, they elected a Thain as chief of all tribal chiefs. The Thain held the power to judge the people, and to call all tribal chiefs to a Thing. And the Thing is where the Thain gathered all the chiefs in his hall and made plans for conquest. While all this gave the Franks more power to resist the Romans, it took away much freedom of the older days.

    You may think that these changes had come to remain. Not quite, for the Romans bought yet more of their ways, the concept of kingship. A concept which our people, in the time of Adalbert, despised. And so it was not a title that all held. Faramund, son of Genseric, was the second to hold the title of High King. His father was given the title for his victories against the Romans. People then were also concerned where this path would lead them, glory or the ruin of all. Now coming back to the ways of our people in Adalbert’s time.

    Faramund went on as the High King, for he accepted the title as it was given to him for besting the Saxons. His brother, Theodoric, was given the power of Thain. Power? Or rather a relic to sate ambition of a high born. But they had only got those titles, and had yet to consolidate their hold over the various tribes that made our people. And for that, they needed champions and this is where the four brothers come in.’


  15. #35
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    What a place to stop! Just as we were about to discover how the brothers will be the champions Faramund and Theodoric need.

    I can imagine the storyteller stopping to have a drink, or poke the fire, or trim his toenails, while he waits for his listener's impatience to grow - and grow... Very nicely done.






  16. #36
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Right you are, I had to stop to get sleep before getting up for work the next day.


  17. #37
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    A Gathering of Wolves


    ‘And now we continue our tale where we left off. Adalbert’s village had been laid bare to their people, and they had received the summons to attend the Thing called by the Thain. By now, Baldovin had seemed most defeated in spirit and felt he could bear the shame to go amongst his people once more. The elders were wroth at what the hot headed son of their chief had done. And they seemed not sorry at all to hear that the brothers were going, after what seemed to them as unheeded deeds of insolence time and time again. And so the brothers set out to attend the thing, taking with them a proper host of warriors, most of whom had fought with them in their excursion. They went by horse, for they had long leagues to cover ahead of them.

    By this time, a great number of tribes had taken to settling on the eastern side of the Rhinaz. On the western side of the river lay the Roman lands. Perhaps it could be as a safeguard against the Saxons, but I believe it was due to the lure of trade with Romans. But that is where the people, whose summons the brother now answered lived. The northern lands there were occupied by the Franks, while the southern ones were occupied by the Alemanni, then friends and allies of the Franks.

    The Thing had been arranged in an open field, lying on the borders of the Alemanni, for they too had been invited to it. And such was the numbers of the host that had arrived that an array of tents had been put up, quite akin to a city in the open. Each tribe was to come with their chief, or their emissary, and were allowed to come with a small host of men for protection from brigands. The camp was set up some leagues inland from the river as the border lay aligned to a Roman fort on the other side, and it would have greatly worried the Romans.

    As the brothers arrived at the camp, they were struck with awe at the majesty of the strength of their people. It just did seem like a mere gathering, for the smaller hosts combined could be counted as a strong army. After they were settled in their tents, the brothers went for a stroll. And it was not just a camp, there were market tents, tents of entertainers of all sorts, and even a hastily made shack for a tavern. There were no tents, however, for the High King and his guests. They were staying a hut in the centre, strongly built and made like home. And as the brothers strolled, they found themselves at a distance to these men. Three men clad in armour and cloth befitting one of high born. They were Faramund, High King of the Franks, and Theudemer, Thain of the Franks, and Sigfried, High King of the Alemanni.

    Faramund was the tallest of the three, and towered above them all. His hair was dark, as was his eyes. On his forehead, he wore a band of silver, as a token of his rank. As for his build, he was well built but less stocky and resembled a figure of a high chief better than anyone else. His face was sharp like that of a hunter, but even more remarkable were his keen eyes, as they resembled two emeralds that shone in faint light. His mood was calm like a river, yet he could be stirred to great wrath and that made him fell in battle. His brother Theudemer was almost as tall, perhaps bit less, but was stockier than his brother. With bright hair the colour of dry grass, grey eyes deep with thought, he resembled a forest, deep yet full of thought. But unlike his appearance, his mood was inscrutable, and men would waste much efforts on reading his thoughts. The two brothers, as always, were dressed simple and as warriors, each girt with a sword; and in the case of Faramund, a horn wound by gold. Their guest, however, was much different from his hosts. Although he was powerfully built, as one who could throw a man many feet afar, he was dressed in a more regal manner. He wore a band of gold on his head, with hair the colour of wood. His blue eyes were bright yet warm. He appeared less of warrior, but more of a chief who rested his strength until the last moment.

    As the spoke, Clovis observed that despite the richer raiment than his hosts, the High King of the Alemanni showed much respect and deference to Faramund, also the brother of his wife. He spoke first, with his hands raised and a smile on his face.

    “My heartfelt wishes to you, kinsman, for your great victory against the Saxons. Why, I believe there would be ballads made in your glory.”

    Faramund smiled, “No, for I do not believe them bested, but just pushed back. I feel that they will return again, but many years would pass for that.”

    Theudemer, who had been gazing across the field all the while, turned his head, “And we can also praise the spirits that our allies remain rested, even though we had called them for war.”

    Sigfried’s smile faltered, “As before, I assure you that I speak the truth. I was prevented from aiding by this new menace from east.”

    But as Theudemer made to snort, Faramund gave a stern glance before nodding at Sigfried, “What do you mean? Surely you can tell us more.”

    Sigfried sighed, “I would not grudge you if you disbelieve, for I myself could not believe the turn of events. It started out with your call for aid. I gathered all my warriors in the centre of my lands, as is our custom. But before we could set out to march, messengers rode in from the eastern border. A strange assortment of men had entered the borders, and the tribes there needed our warriors to be a hand. And so we went there to see for ourselves, and kept following them until they were out of our borders.”

    Theudemer smirked, thinking, ‘Ah... so this is his strength! To be nothing more than an armed escort for outlaws.’ But he kept his thoughts to himself.

    However, Sigfried seemed to have guessed his thought, and continued, “Yes, we followed as we had not the arms to fight them.”

    “How come?” asked Faramund, intrigued, “for your hosts are more numerous than ours.”

    “Numerous, perhaps, but not so armed. These men, they were as numerous as a host, and heavily armed. Each man wore tunics of chain rings, and upon it, vests of leather. And many had Roman looking capes, but stained with what looked like mud, and blood. Each had a peculiar helmet, and carried large weapons. Long axes, spears, and swords. Even their shield shone as one embedded with too much metal bolts. Shod in metal, their march was like a rumble, a rumour of approaching might.”

    Theudemer shook his head, “But if they were so mighty, why did they leave your lands?”

    “Because I arrived with a large host, one that was twice as numerous as them. Perhaps they did not want to risk battle, or perhaps they were in a hurry. But we kept following them at a distance and somehow manipulated them towards the borders. They crossed the borders into Saxon lands…” Sigfried trailed off.

    Faramund stopped, an arrested expression on his face. He muttered, “Which are now, our lands.”

    But Theudemer burst out, “Into our lands! You sent off a band of outlaws into what at that time would be our flank? What use then is your fine host? These outlaws could be ravaging villages, for all we know.”

    There was silence as the men stood for some moments. Evening had set it with its cool shadows. The men around had started lighting torches. Faramund raised a hand, “Peace, brother! You forget that they would instantly be marked by our riders patrolling the lands.” He started walking towards his shack, the men following.

    Theudemer shook his head in disbelief, “But brother, they seem to be dangerous men. Men who were not even daunted by a host twice their size.”

    “And yet they were in a mood to flee a fight. I do not think we need to fear them yet, for they seem to be outlaws hunted by Romans.”

    Sigfried nodded, “Exactly my thoughts. I came here to consult with you, for I did think of approaching the Romans to get some news of them.”

    Faramund nodded, “It is well. Be not hasty, and we will decide tomorrow what should be done about them,” He gave a slight glance at where Adalbert and his brothers walked slowly and continued, “among other things.”


  18. #38
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Great chapters! I am intrigued by this mysterious menace from the east.

  19. #39
    m_1512's Avatar Quomodo vales?
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    Thanks, I've made a ballpoint pen sketch of this new menace. Figuring out how to bring it to the laptop.


  20. #40
    Caillagh de Bodemloze's Avatar to rede I me delyte
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    Default Re: Forgotten Tales of Germania

    I like the way you've described the relationship between the three leaders, with Theudemer seeming to have less faith in Sigfried than Faramund does. I wonder if that friction, although only slight now, will cause trouble in the future.

    I'm also looking forward to seeing the effects of this eastern threat, and to seeing them appear in the story.






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