A Whale Riders Journey - Updated 19 December 2013

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Well we can't have you nicking all the comments.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Chapter Thirteen – Axe Antics

As I pulled my sword free from the man’s torso, I placed my right foot on his chest and the blade came out with a soft sucking noise, the fight had been short but intense, I could feel my soul burning with joy after the kill, my heart thumping in my chest as the Gods poured their raw battle energy into my young body.

On how I remember the days of youth, when I could run all morning, fight all day, and wench all night, nowadays I am lucky to have a full night’s sleep without having to get up and use the night bucket.

It had been our first contact with our new Moorish foes, before we had even a chance to conduct our first land raid, we spotted a ship. Abdalla had informed me that the ship in the far distance and its unmistakable triangular sail was that of a corsair, and I had laid a trap for it, the majority of the men had hid below decks whilst a handful pretended to be the scared crew of a merchant ship. The Moors had taken the bait, and had swooped like a bird of prey for what they thought was an easy kill.

We had let them get close and even board, making a show of surrendering and allowing them to tie their vessel securely to our own; we had then stormed from below decks and massacred the lot of them, the man I had killed had been the ships master.

A trio of men from the corsair crew remained, cowering under the baleful glare of Huw and a group of thralls who in recent days had been under the tutelage of the little Welshman.

I looked at the three prisoners and noted that although they wore similar clothing to Abdalla and his men, they were lighter in tone, this interested me and I called my sailing master over.

Abdalla made his usual sign of respect to me, ‘yes my Lord, do you need my assistance?’

I nodded, ‘Yes, these men, are they of the same people as your own? For they seem lighter in hue, though their clothing is very similar to your own.’

‘They are from the Berber people my lord, we are more from the ancient peoples of deepest Africa, although we see no real difference, we are all one family, as we all worship the one true God, all mighty Allah and the Prophet peace be upon him.’

I had heard tale of this one God, to my mind it was very similar to my Christian upbringing, but I knew that both Christians and Moslems denied their similarities and focussed on their differences; I was glad that I could now call on the protection of the Norse Gods. Still I was satisfied with the answer, for I now had more practical considerations on my mind.

‘I wish to know where they sailed from and how many fighting ships are in the port from whence they came. I also want to know how many men are garrisoned there and what’s worth robbing.’

Abdalla nodded, he faced the men and spoke to them in the language that I would come to recognise as Arabic, I could tell from his body language that he was getting nowhere fast, his body tensed, his voice raised; the men although scared were making an attempt at resistance.

‘Well, what did they say?’ my own impatience was growing and I interrupted Abdalla mid sentence.

‘My Lord I regret to say that they claim they are simple sailors, that they did sail from the port of Saib, the last major port before the pillars of Hercules, but they do not know how many ship were in the port, nor the size of the garrison or what is worth stealing.’

My rage began to simmer, I had played nice, and I had asked these men simple questions, now it would seem that I would have to resort to more direct methods.

I fingered the hilt of my sword, contemplating my next action, I could not be seen as a madman by my crew, simply killing the men for no gain, there would be no profit in that and a Viking loves to make a profit; no I would have to get some information from them, no matter how small.

Maybe if I just killed one, the most obstructive perhaps?

I scanned the men in front of me, all very similar, dark features, the physiques of warriors rather than sailors, I wondered why they had allowed themselves to be captured, still it was of little import to the matter at hand.

The man in the middle seemed to be the leader, at first glance he seemed just like the others, but after more careful consideration I noted that he stood a little straighter, that his eyes looked back at his captors and not down at his feet, no he still had his pride, he was still unbeaten; I would have to kill him or at least break him to get the others to talk.

For the first time Abdalla noted my hand on my sword hilt, he shook his head, ‘no my Lord that will not work, these men have failed to die in battle once; they will not fear death again, it would bring to much shame on them and the God that we believe in.’

So killing him was out of the question then, perhaps I should be a little more inventive.

I called over my shoulder to my captain ‘Huw send one of your new pupils back on ‘the boat’ to retrieve my battle axe.’

Huw pointed at a young man hovering on the edge of the scene, ‘You move yourself and fetch his Lordships battle axe’, the young man ran off to fetch my axe.

I did not waste the intervening period. I stood staring at the three men, making each more uncomfortable in turn, I realised that my silence was unnerving them even more than if I had been ranting and raving.

Within a couple of minutes the young ex-thrall returned dipped his head low in subservience to me and handed me my by broad headed battle axe over with the reverence of a penitent Christian monk.

I swung the axe around in arcs, creating flashes of brilliance, now you must understand, this was no piddling little tool of war, on no, this was a fear reeking, bowl emptying, eye watering bloody two handed axe that only the strongest could wield. I was sure that the Berber corsairs would have never seen anything like it before – and I was right.

Their eyes were transfixed on the blade as I swung it through its rotations warming up my back and shoulder muscles, I smiled and talked to Huw, ‘Get five men to sit on him, hold him in a starfish shape’, while I was saying this my eyes locked onto the man that showed the most moral fibre.

Huw snapped his figures and five of my largest men moved forward, picking the man up in the air kicking and screaming and then unceremoniously dumping him on the deck; for an instant he struggled and tried to fight his way free, but a flurry of punches and kicks left him battered and bruised and he lay prone as my men sat on his arms, legs and torso.

‘Now make sure you keep him still; and keep away from his joints, I’m a bit rusty I’ve not wielded an axe for a while; I’ve been to keen with the sword.’ The men took due note of my warning. I moved over to the left side of the man, ‘Abdalla, ask him the questions again.’

Abdalla repeated his set of questions again; the man shouted something in return, I looked at my sailing master as if to say ‘well?’

‘He says that he is not afraid to die, and that you are a heathen unbeliever who will die in the fires of hell for all eternity.’ Abdalla shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

I laughed.

I had no doubt that I would burn in the fires of Hell had I been a Christian, but I was pagan and as such I knew I would spend my time carousing in the halls of Valhalla or freezing my family jewels off in Hel. No fires for me.

‘I’m not going to kill him, I’m going to chops bits off of him starting with his left foot, then right foot, then left hand and then right hand and then I shall move onto the knee and elbow joints and I shall make sure we have pitch to seal the wounds so that he shall live. Tell him Abdalla.’

‘Yes my Lord’, again Abdlla spoke to the man, this time I could see the words hit home as the man’s eyes widened; his friends too looked at me with new found fear in their hearts.

‘Oh and tell him I coat the blade in pig fat regularly, to keep the blade nice and sharp, it keeps the rust off wonderfully.’ This was a lie but I was counting on it working, Abdalla had told me that Moslems did not eat pork for religious reasons, so I thought I may be able to solve my problem without carving them up.

When Abdalla finished translating this time, the man thrashed about wildly to escape, yet more blows and hits from the crew keeping him in place. I raised the axe to swing down to sever his left foot and the man screamed, he looked at Abdalla then me, and suddenly he talked, then he talked in a torrent of words and did not stop talking until I rested the axe on my shoulder.

Abdalla had a broad smile on his face; ‘My Lord the man says that the port is empty of warships, they have sailed to fight the Greeks further east, the garrison had also been depleted of men so it is mostly men and boys, and the best news of all is that the port has just received its monthly stipend of gold that ensures the troops are paid. He also says that there are many merchants we could steal from. I do not think he is lying, he is too scared of that axe of yours.’

I mused on this, then excepted Abdalla’s opinion of the man, I could have chopped a bit off of him just to make sure, but I would soon find out if he was telling the truth; and if he wasn’t I would kill him and his companions in as bloody a way as I could think of.

‘Huw see that these three are locked and guarded below; Abdalla, you and your men will sail this vessel with half of our men, Huw, you will be captain of the vessel. We set sail for Saib.’

I turned away with a broad smile on my face, we had taken an enemy vessel and found out that the last port between us and the Pillars of Hercules was free of the enemy.

Fun was to be had.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

What has happened to young Dogface? He has become so blood thirsty...

It makes for a great read though. I'll look forward to this port raid, hoping Aed has some more tricks up his sleeve.

[Rex Anglorvm]

What has happened to young Dogface? He has become so blood thirsty...

It makes for a great read though. I'll look forward to this port raid, hoping Aed has some more tricks up his sleeve.

Well you may notice he used the psychological effect of violence, rather than the actual use of force, still he is no stranger to violence in warfare as we know, however I think we will see a transition from him being a young warrior with scruples to being a warlord with the terror that that implies.

Rex

[Rex Anglorvm]

Chapter Fourteen – No Mercy

We had set sail immediately I did not wish to waste time idling on the waves; I wanted to be at my enemies throats. With Abdalla sailing our newly acquired vessel and with Huw and the men keeping on eye on my Moorish sailing master, just in case he was tempted to sail for home, we made good time for Saib.

We sailed into the harbour just before dawn, I had instructed Abdalla to sail into the port as if we had been captured, so his men sailed in noisily and triumphantly, whilst my ship followed closely with a skeleton crew of dark haired men who at a distance would past for locals. My own shock of red hair would have given me away in an instant so I and the rest of the fair haired and fair skinned men stayed below on both ships, holding our weapons close, ready to pour out of the vessels and attack the town as soon as we had docked.

We had been below decks for an hour or more, the smell of sweat and fear was all around me, the heat and the anticipation of combat for some of my untried men making the atmosphere heavy and oppressive below decks. I had done my best to lift their spirits, but now only getting out of the damp dark hold would improve matters.

I also had a further ‘chat’ with our three prisoners; I now knew the layout of the harbour and also knew where the citadel was that housed the garrison, and most importantly where the recently delivered gold was sitting in that citadel.

I had a simple plan, the fighting men from my ship would be under my command and those on board the captured Moorish ship would be led by Huw; Abdalla would play the part of a frightened merchant who would be seeking refuge in the citadel; I hoped I could trust him, the plan hinged on him being straight with us and not swapping sides.

I could hear shouted commands over my head as I came in, the men had been trained to respond to simple one word commands of Arabic, and this helped them to create enough of an illusion to succeed in entering the harbour without any suspicion.

I could feel the ship bump softly against the jetty as we docked, then a few moments later, presumably after the second ship had docked I heard the command I was waiting for, ‘NOW NORTHMEN!’

I ran up the steps leading out of the hold, I had slung my shield over my back and had decided to use by battleaxe, after all it had worked on terrifying my prisoners, so perhaps it would be more useful than a straight blade on this occasion.

As I pounded up the steps, my men following swiftly behind me, the hatch on the hold was lifted and I could feel the cool night air caress my face; that was a blessing enough for me. I as jumped out of the hold and onto the deck, I could see that the skeleton crews had already overpowered the small guard that had been at the dockside.

I ran to the edge of the vessel and then jumped off onto the quay, my men close on my heels; on my right I could see Huw and his men jumping onto the quayside too. Our landing had been virtually unopposed.

Huw and his men stormed off into the town, their job was to cause as much havoc and devastation as possible, and also to smash into the rich merchants houses that we had been told about by our prisoners.

I wasted no further time but called for Abdalla, the sailing master trotted over to me, wiping a long blade on the back of his cloak, three corpses lay behind him, he and his little group of warriors had done well. ‘My Lord, we have taken the guard easily, shall I now lead us to the citadel and play my part as a frightened merchant?’

‘Yes indeed my friend. Well done on taking the quayside so easily. Let us see if we can deal with their garrison as simply’, I waved my hand to usher Abdalla onwards.

Leaving a handful of men behind to guard our vessels, Abdalla led us through the dark streets that led uphill to the one looming presence over the town; it had to be the citadel as described by our prisoners.

Already in the distance I could hear the sounds of fighting, people were screaming all around us and I could detect the distinct smell of smoke; Hugh’s men were about their mischief.

Just before we came into sight of any guards upon the citadel, we drew up short, our breathing heavy as we gathered some extra air in our lungs after our upwards climb.

I looked at my sailing master and prayed that my instincts to trust the man were correct. ‘Abdalla, it’s up to you now, you know what to do my friend, good luck.’

I followed Abdalla as far as I could; I slunk into some shadow cast by an awning over a shop, I already could see that some townspeople were hammering on the twin doors of the citadel to be let in; the noise of panic from the streets and the smell of burning buildings became more noticeable, which only increased the frantic pleas for help from the growing crowd in front of the heavy wooden doors.

I could see a growing group of men on the rough looking battlements of the citadel; they were shouting down to the crowd below, but my Arabic was not advanced enough at the time to understand what was being said.

I could see Abdalla forcing his way through the crowd; finally he seemed to make it to the front and stood shouting up at the men on the battlements.

I swear he must have argued a full ten minutes; my men behind me began to get anxious and frustrated. I prayed to the Gods that this night would not end in disaster; we would not be able to break into the citadel without deceit, a siege would take too many men’s lives.

I could see Abdalla brandishing his fist; shaking it rudely at the men above him; finally there was a shouted order, and the doors swung inwards; without a moments pause, the crowd surged forwards knocking over the handful of soldiers who had come to stand in the doorway and restore order.

‘NOW YOU DOGS!’ I had heard my own voice before I even realised I had said it, I ran full tilt for the doors my men pounding behind me; I could already hear the wails of distress and fear from the people at the back of the crowd.

‘CUT THEM DOWN IF THEY GET IN YOUR WAY’, I had no time to hesitate, already I could see more soldiers coming out of the citadel and into the gateway, they were beginning to cut down the townspeople so they could close the heavy doors once more.

The people of Saib were between us and the enemy, I pitied them, but I had no pity for them.

For I am a Viking…

[McScottish]

Apart from the quite extended use of 'I', your writing never gets dull and I am always eager to read more.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Apart from the quite extended use of 'I', your writing never gets dull and I am always eager to read more.

'I' see what you mean The perils of firing out a quick update methinks

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

For he is a Viking?

Surely it can't all be as easy as this, surely something must go wrong.... And when it does I hope Dogface is ready!

Nice to see an update, and good luck* for the next one.

*rep in our case...

[Rex Anglorvm]

For he is a Viking?

Surely it can't all be as easy as this, surely something must go wrong.... And when it does I hope Dogface is ready!

Nice to see an update, and good luck* for the next one.

*rep in our case...

Thanks SB - as you can see Aed/Dogface/Hakon is now turning into a fully fledged 9th century warlord, with all the necessary gore that entails.

[Ybbon]

Started

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Is this going to become a habit?

[Ybbon]

Oh the possibilities of replying with one word..

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Indeed.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Started

Is this going to become a habit?

Oh the possibilities of replying with one word..

Indeed.

Oi! Stop spamming my thread

[Rex Anglorvm]

Chapter Fifteen – Death of a decent man

I can look back now down a long travelled road and see how that day came about; my younger self ached to prove himself as a warrior and a leader without any qualms. He would brook nothing in his way, would trample, slash, hack, cut, smash and destroy anything that stood in his path to be a full blooded Norse warlord.

I remember now, how my axe blade whorled about my head, laying about me left and right, cutting a swathe through the crowd so that I could reach the doors before they were slammed shut in our faces.

I cared not who or what was in front of me; soon I had cleared a way through the mob of townspeople; to this very day I cannot say if I killed or maimed many or any non-combatant; for in the blur of battle, I find I have but a singular purpose, to destroy anything that is before me.

The Norse claim that I am Odin blessed, that I can cleave my way through battle untouched, and that I have a fearsome presence in battle, one that cowers men into thoughts of defeat before they even raise a sword against me. I think that in part they are right, fore in battle I become ‘berserker’ I can tell you every move that I make against a warrior after a fight, but as for normal people, they are but inconsequential sheep to me, they do not count, they are as pawns on a chess board or as flies on a dung heap.

They matter not.

The last piece of the soul of a decent god-fearing man died that day at Saib; he was replaced with what became me.

I plunged out of the crowd like a raging storm blowing in the North Sea; the screams of the dead and dying echoed all around me, sounds that fed my bloodlust and made me burn to wield my blade against all in my way. Many people had already fled the scene; preferring to take their chances back in the burning and looted town; I was sure the men under Huw would welcome them with open arms. I was quickly learning that terror was an enjoyable as well as a profitable business.

The first sight that greeted me on plunging out of the crowd of men women and children was two Arabic soldiers struggling to shut the heavy doors before we, the Norse reached them.

They were however already far too late.

While they tried to pull the doors shut, a pitiful few of their comrades struggled to hold the first of my men back; I seized my opportunity and struck.

Before the first man had realised my presence I swung the axe overhead and down to the left virtually cleaving the man’s head from his body; a crimson spray shot out of the bloodied stump of his neck, the top of his spine sparkling white and unblemished; his body staying upright for a second or two before it fell to the ground with a thump. To this day I could not tell you what he looked like, as I had felled him from behind.

I snarled a greeting ‘Odin’ as the second man ceased his pushing of the doors and grabbed at his waist to pull his scimitar from his worn leather scabbard.

He did not have a chance, I moved with speed and power in those days, and as he still scrambled to free his blade, I swung the axe high and to the left, but this time took him full in the chest; this causes more of a crushing, rupturing injury, still fatal, but not quite as picturesque as a beheading.

As the second man fell to the floor I wasted no more time; ‘Open these doors! Move yourselves you craven sons of hags!’

My men had already seen off the handful of warriors fighting them outside the doors; apart from a handful of light wounds we had done extremely well.

Soon my men and I were pushing hard at the doors, the Arabs on the other side pushing back as hard, and even though our men were bigger, we were losing the struggle as the doors began to swing shut against us as more of the enemy joined their comrades at the doors.

With my shoulders pressed against the doors and my feet digging into the ground for purchase, I heard two high screams and suddenly a chorus of indignant shouts rose up from the other side of the doorway; and then the resistance against the door seemed to drop at the very same time.

My men needed no order or instructions; they pushed with all their might and the doors flew open; in front of us Abdalla was struggling to hold back three warriors while two more lay at his feet.

How had I ever doubted his loyalty?

I charged just as one of the men had finally got past the difficult guard position that Abdalla’s sword work had presented him with; the man’s sword pierced the Sailing Master’s right shoulder, I cry came from him and he barely managed to fend the men off and retain his blade.

This is often when Odin fills me with his battle joy, when a comrade is in danger; this is when the Gods take my mortal form and make me as steel.

Two of the three attackers decided that I was the greater threat; both of them were similarly armed, dressed in light chain mail and equipped with the scimitar that every warrior of Islam seemed to carry. The first man came at me with a flurry of sword word aiming to bedazzle me with his fancy footwork and artistry.

I laugh at such men. Battle is about killing the man in front of you as quickly and easily as possible and then moving on to the next. So that is what I did.

As the man came in close I simply met his swinging thin blade with the leading edge of my axe; remember this is a full Norse war axe. Not one of those simple Saxon one handed jobs. His blade shattered into a dozen shard like pieces, I’m sure with his last breath that warrior cursed the man that forged that blade. All I had to do was let the axe carry on with its own momentum, it crashed into the warrior with a ‘thump’ that echoed around the walls of the fortress. Straight into his chest, caving open his ribs, heart and lungs. He dropped to the ground dead in an untidy heap of blood and bone.

The second man, on seeing his friend fall so quickly and easily decided to try and finish me fast; he had the right idea, when a man has a ranged weapon like a spear or long axe, if you kill the distance and close on him with speed, then you can use a smaller weapon such as a dagger to great success.

Sadly for him he was not fast enough, nor was he armed with a dagger. As he come in to close on me and tried to wedge the tip of his blade between us I turned side on and grabbed his sword wrist with my open left hand, I then raised my right knee into his groin, hard.

His eyes almost crossed, it was quite funny at the time.

I then used my axe to swing behind him and into his back; which was no mean feat. You should try lifting a two handed war axe with just one hand and swinging it above and to the side of your head and then into the back of a struggling man! I think I must have shattered his spine, because he dropped like a stone and no movement came other than a twitching from his body.

Abdalla walked over to me as the second body had slid to the ground; it seemed he had already dealt with his last remaining opponent. ‘Thank you my lord, your arrival was most timely. I managed to dispatch the last dog myself, but I fear I will not be able to wield a blade for a while, until this shoulder is mended’, Abdalla pointed to his shoulder and lightly touched it; he winced with discomfort then nodded at my war axe. ‘I doubt that many men can wield that fearsome weapon of yours!’

Abdalla’s eyes were fixed on the axe with a mixture of respect, awe and a little fear. Hopefully it would have that same effect on all my enemies.

I was about to answer him when over Abdalla’s shoulder I saw them…

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Saw who?

Nice to see another update, and your story-telling is great.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Saw who?

Nice to see another update, and your story-telling is great.

thanks mate

[Rex Anglorvm]

Chapter Sixteen – The mountain man

Out of the diminishing ranks of the enemy came four hulking great brutes, they were as dark as night, darker than even Abdalla and his people, like a solid wall of muscle the four men came sprinting towards us holding massive two handed swords! The men were un-armoured, bare-chested and wore silken trousers and turbans; Abdalla looked at me and then at the big men and spat out one unfamiliar word ‘Eunuchs!’ with evident distaste. I didn’t know what he meant at the time.

When Abdalla and I had dispatched the last of the men holding the gate we had thought we may have had easy pickings with what remained, but it now seemed that the four men had galvanised what was left of the garrison into one last attempt at resistance. I could almost feel a visible shudder go through the ranks of my men, especially the Norse, who feared that these new imposing dark men had come from the underworld to claim their souls.

There was only one thing for it…

As the men came hurtling towards us I responded by charging directly back at them, the large men halted just for a misstep, startled that any normal sized man would seek to meet their challenge in combat. Whether through the realisation that these giants were indeed mortal men or the fact that my men did not wish to show the fear that they so evidently felt, my crew, which had been milling around the gate after I had cleared it with the help of my sailing master charged with me.

I chose the biggest of the brutes to fight against and though I am not a small man myself, and in those younger days I was fast becoming aware that I was taller and stronger than most, these men were beyond me in stature; I chose the largest man for one simple reason, if I took his head from his shoulders than surely no man would run from the fight when I led them.

We met at the head of our respective charges. The rest of the men around me seemed to vanish into a vague hazy perspective as all of my attention was focussed on the mountain of the man in front of me. I swung my battle axe at the giant’s head while I sung a battle prayer for Odin, my hearing acknowledged the fact that my Norsemen where joining me as we sung our way through the ranks of the enemy, even if my sight was locked onto the enemy combatant that wished to end my young life. The big man was more than ready for me however, as my axe swung down to cleave at his turbaned head he met my swing with his own weighty sword; it was the most powerful blow I would ever face that hit me that day, my arms literally shook out of their sockets and I felt a foot shorter after defending the driving blow that had met my own. With that one monumental blow I knew I had met more than my match, I needed to end this and end it sensibly; my other choice was to be pummelled into oblivion by the snarling face that was before me.

At first I gave ground, I used his own momentum against him as he sought to cleave the head off of my shoulders. I would turn and dance out of his way using his own strength and energy against him as I twisted and turned and sought to run his guard down. I waited, biding my time and looked for him to grow complacent, just as I felt my own strength began to falter, and my attempts to suck down large lungful’s of energy replacing oxygen were becoming ever more ragged and useless, the giant stepped towards me and shoulder charged me, I was thrown from my feet and landed upon my left side with an audible crunch immediately I felt a soaring heat-filled pain in my side as I realised I had broken at least one rib, maybe even two. What was worse, was that my axe had gone spinning away out of my hands and now lay far out of my reach.

I can still remember looking up and seeing the look of triumph written all over the giant’s features, a wide ferocious smile and hate filled eyes looked down upon me, but the giant could not know that no Norseman would wish to die without a weapon in his hands, for if we do then the gates of Valhalla are ever barred for us. Just as he stood over me and prepared to dispatch me to Hel I rolled on my side in a fiery torment of pain and grabbed at the short sword that I always had strapped to my waist, pulling the blade free from its scabbard, whilst the massive swing of the giant missed me by a hair’s breadth, and from somewhere, maybe even from the Gods themselves I moved at the speed of Thor in his chariot, for in a fraction of a second I had regained my feet and turned to face the man once more.

The giant’s face twisted in a fit of rage and he lost all composure; that was when I knew I had him. So I smiled and poked my tongue out, after all I had only just begun to learn Arabic from Abdalla so I figured a visual taunt would work better than a Norse insult. The man’s face contorted still further, he reminded me of an angry bull that I had once seen gore a farmer who had prodded him in the wrong place at the wrong time, he came at me with all the grace of that bull. If I would have stood my ground I would have been trampled into the dust, so just as the man came sprinting towards me looking like he would do me some serious damage, I flung myself to his left away from his sword arm and landed a heavy backhanded slash just as his massive torso was passing me.

He sounded just like a wounded bull too! A bellow of outraged pain came out of him as he went past, I could see a large cut running the length of his back, as he tried to turn to face me once more I wasted not a second longer but ran back at him and smashed my heavy sword hilt into his face, smashing his nose and teeth, with the giant stunned from the vicious hit he sunk to his knees and I quickly moved behind him and with a fearsome blow took the head clean off his shoulders with the most powerful stroke I could manage. A fountain of life’s blood came roaring out of the stump of his neck bloodying my hands. His head rolled onto the ground, and I staggered forward in a mixture of pain and disbelief and picked it up from the ground, brandishing it high in the air after I had thrust it upon the end of my sword, and with a might shout of ‘Odinnn!!’ I called upon the Gods for their approval and became aware once more of the battle raging around me for the first time since I had clashed with the huge eunuch.

I could see that the eyes of my men and the eyes of what remained of our enemy were now fixed on the strange standard that I now held aloft, the eyes of my men held awe and wonder and not a little pride at what I had achieved whereas the eyes of the enemy only held fear that a normal warrior could kill such a giant.

First in one’s, than in two’s and then finally in groups the enemy dropped their weapons to the ground looking warily at the decapitated head on the sword in my bloodied hands and at my men as they moved amongst them and took them prisoner. Last to drop their weapons were the other three giants, all of them were covered in a multitude of light wounds, blood glistening on their skin, they looked at the soldiers who had surrendered to us with contempt stamped upon their faces, but still they dropped their arms too.

I let my arm holding the sword drop to the ground, I was in a great deal of pain, but in all truth I did not really feel it for I had killed a giant and I felt invincible….

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

It is back, and with a bang as well!

The duel description was very good, and I loved seeing Dogface back in action. It is such a shame this is one of your least read stories, but I hope you'll continue.

+rep and I'll look forward to where this rampant horde head off to next.

[Dance]

I like your writing style, Rex

+rep