They Came From the North (Alvis Alendran & BMTH)

[Alvis Alendran]

The ice had lingered long this year. The men had grown restless because of it, used to being aboard the ships and out into the wider world by now, but such had not been the skein that the Norns had woven this year. Skadi had been slow to loose her grip on the world, but it didn't seem to both their leader. As the harbour was clearing up quickly, the ships was being made ready. Normally only one ship was out at a time, and even more rarely did they both go to the same place, but with the late start to the year, they was going to have to make up for lost time.

Standing tall at the prow of one of the ships, their leader was impossible to miss. A tall man, broad in the shoulders, with a mane of hair the colour of rotted frost. His eyes were a faded green, like old sea ice. He was a beacon to anyone that knew of him. Goðþormr Frostmane, Reaver of the North, and a rising star among the warriors of his generations. His successful raids had been the talk of many, and had attracted the young from many surrounding villages that had little hope of inheritance and sought to better themselves. Rumour and legend held that he had sailed for several season with the warriors of Jomsvik, and if such was true then he had been a member of the most feared company of warriors in the North.

Now, they were sailing farther west than they had ever managed before. One of the warriors approached Goðþormr hesitantly.
"My lord? Some of the men have been wondering. We're carrying far more food than normal. We leave little room for plunder." He asked hesitantly. Goðþormr turned slowly to look at him. His stare made the man flinch.
"We will not return until we have made out mark. If we must raid many places, I will not find us short of supplies." He explained. The man heaveed a sigh, but nodded.
"Yes my lord, I will pass the word." Goðþormr turned back to the sea. He strained his eyes, and smiled as he saw a shoreline emerge from the distance and mist. He gave a sharp whistle, and pointed. The men all gave a cheer, and began to make ready. They had a target. They would bring fire and ruin to this place.

 

[Valkyrja]

Laughter filled the candlelit hall, the dim lighting casting dark shadows among the walls as a small crowd of people danced, drank and cheered in the local tavern. It had been a prosperous week and the local village folk celebrated in earnest once the crops had been harvested, the fish had been cooked and the local sheep had been sheered and turned into clothing to ready for the winter months. Up on the hill was a small castle made of stone, the lights in the small windows flickering to showcase its stature as it stood above the village, watching for danger as the sleepy town let down their guard to enjoy the end of the week. Within the castle walls housed the Knotley family, the governing hierarchy that ensured everything went well within their small yet generous village.

“I am so proud of my people,” Mae pronounced, standing in front of the long bar, a square copper glass glinting in her hand filled partially with amber liquid. The petite woman held the alcohol in the air, her eyes narrowing in joy as she smiled among the crowd of her citizens. Despite being surrounded by the village people, she stuck out in a royal sort of way. The auburn brunette hair crowning her head fell to her ribs, two braids on each side of her head kept her bangs from falling into her face that swept the locks back over her shoulders. Her eyes peered throughout the room, the dark blue orbs engaging every person around her. Her skin was like porcelain, dark freckles scattered throughout her body in contrast to her pale color.

Mae's body was tied into a tight corset that sat beneath her floor length medieval dress. A cream chemise fell from her shoulders, revealing the pale, freckled skin, before falling to the floor in slight ruffles. Caped around the chemise was a black over dress with an elegant brocade woven into the rich black fabric. The cape laced around her waist, objectifying her curved, hourglass figure. All of the women surrounding her were wearing peasant dresses, similar to the chemise beneath Mae's over dress. A teardrop onyx necklace dangled from a thin white gold chain that hung delicately around her neck, a matching onyx ring adorned her ring finger. From first glance, she was clearly different from the others. Despite this, she treated others around her as equals although they clearly respected her as the superior she was.

This was one of the reasons for why she was so sought after, her citizens idealizing her in excitement for the wealth she promised to bring forth once she became ruler. Her father, Lord Edmund Knotley, currently dictated the affairs brought forth upon the land. He was a kind yet strict ruler, keeping his distance from his people while ensuring they were taken care of. Lord Knotley bore two children, Mae and Aisley. Mae was the eldest at 23 years of age, seven years of seniority over her sister. Although both women were mature, Mae was next in line to take the throne since there was no male heir. Seven years ago, Mae's mother had passed away during childbirth and ever since then Mae made it her mission to learn how to become a successful leader while also stepping into the role her mother would have held for Aisley. The best complement someone had ever paid Mae was that she was like her mother, Colette.

Mae was only sixteen when her mother had passed away, leaving her focus purely on her village. Despite her father’s pleas, she had never married; every man she had laid with was only temporary. This left her village solely in her tiny yet strong hands. Lord Knotley wasn’t elderly, per say, but a cancer ravaged his body and he had grown frail over the past few months. He had been setting Mae up to ensure she was ready and by her 25th birthday, Lord Knotley would hand her the reigns should he not pass away prior to then. The village was excited for Mae to take over, she was not only a fair and just leader, she was approachable and genuine as well.

“Here, here! To Lady Mae!” The male directly in front of her raised his glass, calling out her name. The rest of the people in the room cheered, raising their glasses to toast Mae. The room erupted in laughter and chatting as they drank, sang and enjoyed each other’s company over the next few hours. As the night grew late and the tavern began to empty slightly, Mae found herself dancing. Her body swayed along to the music her favorite bard fiddled in the center of the room. A small group of people surrounded her, dancing along with her as they all drunkenly sang along with the bard and danced around him. Laughter echoed through the hall but things suddenly became quiet as the double doors of the tavern swung open, both doors slamming against the wooden interior frame of the tavern.

“Lady Mae, you must hide!” Oliver was gasping for air as he spoke, hurried in his appearance and speech. He was the lighthouse keeper who was responsible for keeping watch for the village. “A fleet of langskip have been spotted, they’ve already laid fire to the shore,”

The dancing halted, everybody stood tentative as the doors finally slammed shut behind Oliver. Mae turned to the small crowd of people who stood terrified and silent, watching in anticipation as she made her orders. “Flee, all of you. Head towards the mountains and take cover. If you cannot make it through the forest, flee by boat. Should we lose our village, head west. Chief Godwin has a village on the other side of the mountains. Use my name and he’ll offer respite.”

In a frenzy to escape, the small group of people pushed out through the doors. A few glasses were dropped, ale and shards of glass and thin copper splashing over the wooden floor as her people ran towards the livery yard to grab horses. As the tavern hushed, screams and the crackle of fire could be heard from outside of the tavern.

Mae grabbed a thick wolf pelt that had been haphazardly thrown over a tavern stool by the entrance and brought the white and gray fur around her body, tying it into place around her neck as it draped across her shoulders. She looked over to Oliver, his commitment to her clear as he tightened his hand around the battle axe hitched within his belt. On the other side of his body rested a sheathed sword. As the keeper of the lighthouse, he was always properly weaponized in case of situations such as this.

"Your axe," Mae demanded, her hand outstretched. Oliver was quick to provide the sharpened, steel tool to her. "Go to the square and save as many people as you can. Command them to flee if they cannot fight." Her hands tightened around the handle of the axe, her toned arms reflecting the years of experience she'd gained while readying herself to take over the village. Without another word, Mae pushed through the thick doors of the hall, her sights on the humble stone castle situated at the precipice of the village. A few warriors rushed past Mae, their chainmail clinking upon their thick bodies as they rushed down towards the shoreline, three dogs barking and howling as they chased after the invaders who had laid fire to the shore. Her intention was to beat the invaders to the castle, collect her father and sister, and then fight for their home once her legacy was ensured. If she was going to fight, Aisley needed to be protected.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

The sound of wood on sand announced their arrival tot he men, and they began swarming free immediately. Goðþormr waved his men forward, taking brief stock of how the deployment was going. There was no shortage of the poorer men that had accompanied him looking to make some fast money to better themselves, and they moved forward in ragged mobs ten or more strong. What they might not defeat with pure skills, they could end with numbers. THe better off men, the ones from more noble birth or simply descended from long lines of raiders, moved to work together more effectively. Chainmail on each of these people, and far better crafted war gear on every one. Every one of htem carried a shield, a spear and some kind of personal side arm, be it axe or sword, but they were ready to spill blood.

"Thorkell!" Goðþormr called out to the captain of the other ship. The big man snapped his head around to look at the call. "Take people North, swing around the village, cut off escape. I'll meet you int he middle." Thorkell grinned at the word, and gave a sharp whistle, calling warriors to him. He swiftly picked a few from the group to move ahead of his force, the fleetest of the band. A half dozen of the were shield maidens, easily outpacing their comrades. Goðþormr grinned and moved into the village.

The defenders were moving in a ragged mess themselves, not much order to it, and it was costing them rapidly. Two or three of them woudl arrive, try to shepard the terrified villagers away, only to be set upon by a dozen enemies that would encircle them and pick them apart. No few of the men from the village were rushing forward to try adn help the defence, but it wasn't panning out well for them. There were more than two hundred attackers, and they knew their business. Goðþormr struck a man aside with his shield, staggering him, and letting one of his chosen men finish him off.

"Here! Rally to me! To me!" A voice called out over the din, one of hte defenders finally trying to rally his people into a cohesive force. That wasn't good, not for Goðþormr, since that could cost them time and men. He led him men at a trot to get to the centre of the village where it did indeed seem like there was the start of a dedicated defence. His own people were still coming in, many many more of them, but he knew what he had to do. He stepped forward from his people, and point his axe at the man that seemed to be directing the efforts.

"You. Me. Now." Goðþormr called out in a reasonable approximation of the language. He hadn't been to these parts of the world himself, but his father had purchases several slaves from the area, and Goðþormr had forced the language out of them. His foe nodded, seeing a chance for his people, if he could simply kill the leader of the attackers. Both men came at one another in the open, and crashed into one another like charging bulls.

Oliver was a skilled fighter, quick with a sword, darting blows in fast and accurate. Goðþormr was a brute, each swing of his axe biting pieces of wood out of Oliver's shield. Both sides were cheering as the fight progressed. Goðþormr hammered in a blow that broke Oliver's shield in half, but it seemed as though the other man had been planning on that, using the chance to land a light blow on Goðþormr's arm, making him drop his axe. The look of triumph on Oliver's face was short lived however, as he was not the only one that had been working a plan. THe metal shod rim of Goðþormr's shield hammered into the hinge of Oliver's jaw, breaking the bone and dislocating it hard. As Oliver howled in pain, Goðþormr stepped in to finish the fight. His hand clamped onto the dislocated jaw, and he jerked back on it as he kicked Oliver in the chest with all he had. The competing forces ripped the jaw clean off. He turned back to his men, the removed jaw raised high, hearing a roar of approval at the action. He turned back to see the pale, shaken faces of the remaining warriors that opposed him.

"Weapons down, or face worse." Goðþormr warned. Oliver made a pained gurgling sound from the ground. The warriors dropped their weapons, and stepped back. The frost-haired warrior looked up to the castle. "Yrsa, secure these people, then join us." He ordered. A tall, heavily built woman that seemed to be carrying a shield that was solid iron and a spear started to direct a few other warriors and shield maidens to corral the newly captured people into one of the buildings. "Bjorn, Ulrik, grab him." He pointed at Oliver when he said this, and two thanes stepped forward to oblige him, lifting Oliver up, and carrying him by his shoulders, but facing the ground so as not to drown in his own blood. No one else spoke as they advanced towards the castle.

The shield maidens that had swept forward ahead of the encircling force were hard at work. They'd turned back a group of villagers with a quick volley of javelins, but they noted that there were a few that seemed to be heading towards the castle. Thorkell was arriving, and began to give chase to a wolf-cloaked figure heading for the building. He gave course shouts at the person, looking to gain ground, but enjoying the chase as much as the catch.

 

[Valkyrja]

Thick tufts of smoke enveloped the air, the otherwise clear night sky barely glimmering above them as swirls of black vapor erupted above them. The waning moon attempted to toss shadows over the village, offering a haunting scene to the backdrop of orange, red and yellow embers that embraced the entire village. Mae ran the opposite direction from the chaos, her feet padding along the cobblestone walkway that snaked between huts that offered both personal and professional use. Behind her, the wooden huts burned to the ground, the straw thatched roofing easily transferring the fire from one hut to the other.

A few more dogs scurried past Mae, rushing down towards the shore as she sprinted up the hillside. Screams not only echoed from behind her now but from the forest further north. Mae looked upwards, glancing at the forest line that was embraced within darkness. She couldn't make out what was happening but she recognized a handful of screams as her people. "No!" She shouted out, her fingers tightening their grip around the handle of the axe she wielded. Sweat had begun beading upon her porcelain skin, tainting her vision as sweat burned her eyes. She blinked, shaking her head twice as she continued rushing forward. A stranger stepped out from an alleyway to her left, attempting to take her down as he roared towards her.

Raising her axe, Mae quickly swung it forward and hitched it within the delicate curve of the man's neck. It didn't stop his ascent upon her as his hands reached out and he cried out. Mae tried to yank the axe from his thick skin, her hands sliding down the handle as she jumped back. Just as the man was about to grab her, another dog rounded the corner and leapt up to attack the man.

The dog was successful in its pursuit, sinking its canines within the other side of the man's neck. His lower fang caught within his carotid artery, slicing the vein open and forcing the man to stumble back in shock. As he fell, the dog continued its attack, his jaw clamping down tightly as blood gushed and splattered from the tearing wound. Mae grabbed once more for her axe, yanking it from the man's neck. Freeing the sharp metal from his neck released another stream of blood, his jugular throbbing with each beat of his dying heart until his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Good boy," Mae muttered towards the dog before continuing her charge towards her home. She had nearly made it when the sound of a man calling out towards her came from behind.

Mae peered over her shoulder, her pace unrelenting as she caught sight of the Viking. This one appeared larger than the one she'd already taken down, his intimidating presence sending a chill up her spine. The spear in one hand and the shield in his other displayed just how uneven their fight would have been if she were to stop and try to take him. All she had was an axe. Her shield was within the confines of the guarded castle yet he'd surely be upon her before she had a chance to enter the gardens of her sanctuary.

Turning her head back to face the path she had been heading up, the sight of a marching hoard and a collection of her own people, some fairly bloodied, caught her attention. They were rounding the castle, blocking any sort of of path for Mae to guide herself through. Peering over her shoulder once more, she decided to try and best her follower through her cunning abilities.

She leered off to the left, disappearing between two huts. Slinking behind one of them, she quickly turned and swung around the other side in hopes of confusing her assailant. Crossing over the path, she darted to the right and continued on her path behind a few huts. Circling back once more, she discovered her failed attempt at trickery as she came face to face with Thorkell. Grounding herself, she quickly presented her axe, raising it over her head with both hands as she lunged forward defensively.

"Surrender now!"

She recognized that he had her bested but she'd be damned if she didn't go down without a fight. It was just the two of them, there was a small chance she could outwit him, surely.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Thorkell was enjoying the hunt that he was on, tracking after Mae, and she'd shown herself to be canny, which appealed to him greatly. A good hunt was more than he expected to get from a raid like this. His size notwithstanding, he'd been a hunter for many years, and knew most of the tricks that prey might make sure of. he also knew what it was like to hunt a predator, something that was doing more than blind flight, and there was something of that in this latest pursuit. Cornered foes made for potentially dangerous outcomes, and he had to be mindful of that.

When she came nearly right into him, he shifted back onto his heels, coming up short to prevent a collision. He was rapidly seeing that she was armed, and getting too close to a smaller person that knew how to avoid being grabbed onto could prove dangerous. Besides, he had significant reach on her, and he could play to that. Her shouted cry demanding surrender nearly won her the fight, as he had to put a great effort into not simply bursting out laughing. The cheek on this woman! Him! Surrender to her!

Thorkell instead swiftly rotated his spear in his hand, swinging the bladed head behind him, and crouching low. His shield came up to block her downswing, if it landed, but he took the chance to instead jab at her exposed midsection with the but of his spear, and he wasn't tyaking chances here, he put quite a bit of force into it. If the blow landed, it would likely send the wind out of her, and leave her ont he ground. He could hear the shouts of the other flanking warriors closing in on them, and he knew that really, he just had to buy a few moments of time.

 

[Valkyrja]

By some sheer force of will, Mae managed to avoid the butt of the spear as she crouched down and then jumped back. Her axe swung out, clanking against the thick wooden shield and rebounding back towards her smaller frame. They began a dance, one trying to outwit the other as they each tried to subdue one another. Mae's target was to knock Thorkell down, bloody him until air no longer entered his collapsed and defeated lungs. She displayed this by her perusal of him, her swings of the battle axe in attempt to knock into any part of his body that may not have been protected by the chain mail that adorned his weathered skin.

This continued for a short while, the two of them engaging in the fight with what Mae considered the same objective. Although she very clearly stuck out from the others, her clothing and jewelry evident of her stature, most highly regarded governing entities resided within the castle walls once the sun settled behind the mountains. Did Thorkell realize who he was dealing with? If he hadn't yet, he surely did a few short moments later.

A span of his hoard closed in, just about to pass the little alleyway in which Thorkell and Mae were clashing, when three enslaved Englishmen broke off from the group after spotting Mae up in arms with one of the larger Vikings. A woman shouted after the men, calling for Mae as they ran after to protect her. Mae glanced up, her attention leaving Thorkell for no more than a second. Her distraction opened her up for his incoming attack, another attempt to knock the wind out of her. The moment the butt of his spear lodged itself against her midsection she let out a gasp and stumbled backwards. The lack of armor left her open to even the smallest of attacks but there was a significant amount of force behind Thorkell's blow, rendering her lungs paralyzed as a locking spasm in her diaphragm forced a strained groan from her chest and she hunched forward, one arm wrapping around her abdomen as she fell to the ground.

He'd caught her off guard, a cheating maneuver in her mind. The axe in her left hand stumbled beside her with a clang as it hit the ground. Mae looked up, glancing at the men who had mistakenly made her life their priority. Two men were captured in their attempt to flee to her side instantly, one of which had his head sliced clean off while the other was merely speared in the chest. Both bodies fell to the ground, the speared man to his knees before falling forward while the beheaded man simply went limp and crashed to the ground. The third man who had managed to escape such a fate in that moment rushed towards Thorkell.

Mae's eyes nearly glazed over when she caught the gaze of her attempted savior as he rushed Thorkell, trying to use his own body weight to subdue the man who would easily slaughter him with no more than a flick of his wrist. Mae let out a strained cry, her lungs still seized as the man was quickly overtaken. Struggling to get to her feet, Mae yanked up her axe and stumbled back a single step. She was still having trouble breathing but the strength in her petite body was clear as she rose to her feet, her axe once again in her hand but her arm down by her side before Thorkell finally overpowered her.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Years of honed experience came to the fore in Thorkell as the man rushed him. Thorkell was big, even amongst his own people, and eh dwarfed his attacker. He simply swept his shield around in a brutal arc that slammed into the face of the man. The smaller man went slack, losing all control of his body from the overwhelming shock of the hit. As he hit the ground, blood masking his face from a broken nose, Thorkell kicked him away. Yrsa, who had been herding them stepped up and bodily lifted the man off the ground, and paused to ram his face off hte iron front of her shield. The man howled in pain from the hit to his already broken nose, but Yrsa knew that Thorkell would only have spared the man for something specific later. Not her place right now to argue.

Mae was moving to a standing position, and Thorkell could admit a certain degree of respect for her action. But he was out of time, and out of patience for this sideshow. He feinted a hard blow with his shield, before sweeping the spear around, clubbing her about the shoulders and neck with the weapon haft. As she staggered, Thorkell came in to shield rush her, throwing her back into the wall of a buildsing, dazing her enough that he could knock her weapon aside. He gave a whistle, and two men came forward, carrying something that was a tool of their trade. They locked Mae's hands into iron manacles.
"Bring her!" Thorkell ordered.

The party was dragged forward, coming up the castle, which had managed to seal itself off in the face of the invaders. Goðþormr looked at Thorkell as he brought the mob of captured people.
"Anything I should be aware of?" He asked the big man. Thorkell nodded, and looked over to where Mae was being dragged up. They weren't letting her get her feet under her, not wanting to risk a break out. Goðþormr smiled. "Noble born from the look. Bring her to me in a few moments. Set her over by their champion." Thorkell nodded.

Mae was dropped tot he ground beside where two men were holding Oliver up, the ruin of his face, missing it's jaw was still looking around, blood drooling from the rips in his face. His eyes were a mask of pain, but they still registered Mae's arrival. Tears formed in his eyes, knowing that she hadn't escaped, adn his work had been for naught. Perhaps if he'd stayed with her, he might have been able to buy her the time, but now they were both captured, and he knew he wasn't long for the world in his condition. Even without possibly bleeding to death, he had no jaw, and that spelled an ending to him. He hung his head in shame for his failure, not looking at her again, not able to meet her gaze.

"Hail the castle!" Goðþormr called.
"Fuck yourself! And your mother! We've supplies for months, we'll die of old age before you breach our walls!" Came the resposne. It was bravely spoken by someone that fancied themselves worthy of such a response. Goðþormr smiled.
"Have you all a good view from up there?" He called.
"Aye, we have! What of it?"
"I am going to start bringing out your villagers! Where you can see! I'm going to torture and mutilate your men, and I'll have my men rape your women to death while you watch! Or you can open the gates, surrender, and I will show mercy!" There was silence at his words, the magnitude of what he was promising sinking in. Goðþormr gestured, and Thorkell grabbed Mae's chain, and dragged her to Goðþormr. "I'm going to start with her." Goðþormr called, grabbing Mae's hair, and pulling her to her knees, and aiming her face tot eh gate, letting whoever was up there see exactly who he was threatening now.

 

[Valkyrja]

For a second time, Mae's breathing was hitched as the surprise shield rushed her into the wall, her back flattening against the wooded structure as she wheezed. The soft, caramel colored hair washed over her shoulders from the impact, flaying out from the movement as she cried out and lost her grasp of the battle axe that had protected her up until this point. Although fairly dazed, her eyes narrowed as she glared at her attacker. She tried to lunge at him but his shield kept her pinned in place as two men stalked up to her on either side, the weathered iron manacles glinting beneath the moonlight as they easily captured her wrists within them despite her struggles.

Mae may have been restrained but she refused to give up as she struggled for naught. Her feet kicked up against the ground, her body wavering as she yanked and tugged at her arms and tried to regain control of her own body. "Release me!" She was screaming at them, her demands falling upon deaf ears as they refused to regard her with anything other than a tug of her own extremities. "By order of the Jarl, let me go!" Her voice was shrieked, causing a few of her own people to glance back and watch as their mighty leader struggled to bring her own feet to the ground. They watched her momentarily, horror in their eyes, before being shoved forward and cursed.

Finally at the gardens to her home, Mae's focus was purely on the castle walls, her mind swarming with concerns for her immediate family, her beloved guards, the future of her village. It was within these thoughts that she was then dropped before Oliver. Wriggling onto her own two knees, she knelt forward and looked up at the bloodied half-face of a man she viewed as family. Her jaw dropped (although of course not quite as far as his had), the mortified woman's eyes gazing over the face of the surely dying man.

"Oliver," Her breathing quavered as she spoke his name, her shackled hands outstretching and resting mere inches from his face. "What did they-" She couldn't finish, she already knew what they did to him The way his flesh had been torn and the bones had been cracked... they'd literally torn his jaw from his face. The entire front side of his body was dressed in blood, the deep red color soaking into the fabric of his tunic and staining any visible skin. His head drooped forward, his eyes no longer gazing into hers.

"Oliver," Mae commanded, his name leaving her lips with concern. He still didn't look up at her. "Oliver!" She cried out again, trying to get his attention. He hadn't died, not yet at least, but he could no longer look at her. "Oliver, look at m-" Her words were once again cut off, this time by the booming voice of Goðþormr. Her head jerked, now looking towards the bear-like Viking who attempted to command the castle.

The voice that met his was one that caught Mae's attention.

Nikolas.

Her face turned once more, her attention now set on the castle as she stared up at the tower in which Nikolas stood, his shadowed figure clear as day despite the darkness of the night. Nikolas was one of very few Gedriht that had sworn their lives to her family. Not only that, Nikolas was the man that held the otherwise stubborn woman's heart. They weren't set to marry, it would be shameful for Mae to have married beneath her, yet her and Nikolas had an affair that had been hidden for years behind the castle walls. The only other one within the confines of the castle walls to know of it was Aisley.

Mae stared upwards, her heart thrumming in horror as she realized the loosing battle they were facing off against. Before she could even manage to peel herself upwards, Thorkell gathered her chin within his palm and roughly dragged her forward. Mae stumbled, trying to find ground as she was brought before Goðþormr, her body thrown at his feet. She was quick to pull herself up into a kneeling position but Goðþormr was even quicker as his fingers tangled within the tresses of her silken hair, yanking her the rest of the way to her knees. Mae yelped, her eyes glancing up as she was positioned like a tool.

There were a few shocked gasps from the crowd of enslaved people, their leader being used as a tool right before their eyes.

"Don't do it!" Mae shouted out, her body jerking as she struggled from the grasp in her hair.

Nikolas stared down in horror, watching as the woman he loved was dangled before him. The woman he'd sworn his life to hung in limbo. Her life being sacrificed meant that Aisley and Lord Knotley would remain safe. Yet Mae was the next in line; she'd been trained for this position. She was more than ready to take it over. It would take years to train Aisley, and with Lord Knotley being as sick as he was, their kingdom would surely fall into the hands of invaders.

Invaders such as these.

Mae let out another cry up towards Nikolas, imploring his consideration to save her father and sister. "Save them! Nikolas! Don't open the gate!"

Nikolas steeled himself, his breath caught within his chest as he contemplated his next move carefully.

"You heathens lie! You'll capture this castle over my dead body." Nikolas' voice boomed out, his statement being met with a rabble of disagreement and horror from the population of individuals that had survived the raid thus far.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr gave a sigh. People should know when they'd been beaten.
"I understand that you believe me to be less than a man of my word! Let me show you that I am not such a man!" He called. He gestured, and the men grabbed Oliver, and dragged him forward. They tossed him to the dirt before leaning down to grab his head, and tilt it up to see what had already been taken from him. Two men stepped forward, their feet pressed down on his wrists to keep them in place. The cobblestone path they stood on was a good ground for what they intended, and they drew out axes, flipping them over to expose flat striking faces. With practised ease they set iron spikes to Oliver's wrists. They paused, making sure everyone present knew what was coming.

The sound of steel on iron, followed by the grating sound of iron digging into the gaps between stones, finding a place to secure themselves after repeated strikes had nailed the once mighty champion to the ground. Gurgling screams were filling the air, making many of the villagers flinch back and look away. Oliver was shivering, weeping now from the pain and wounds on his body. A warrior kicked him, making him pull at the spike in his hand, and he jerked in response, jarring the other wound. Oliver was hacking and screaming, trying to avoid his pain, but every move only made it worse. Goðþormr let that go on for a moment before holding out his free hand. A large axe was placed into his hand, and he stepped forward, styill holding Mae's hair in his other hand, and brought the axe down on Oliver's neck, neatly severing the head in that stroke. He let the axe fall where it lay, and then turned to the castle.

He reached for his belt, and pulled out the heavy bladed seax knife there, and running the blade up along Mae's overdress, shredding the black material before the sharpened steel. He ignored the first few calls from the gatehouse at his action, taking hte chance to keep working, shredding the clothes on Mae until she was clad in only her corset and chemise.

 

[Valkyrja]

Mae watched on in absolute horror as Oliver was dragged before her and laid out. "No! Stop!" Mae screamed, her body thrashing forward as she tried to come to Oliver's rescue. "Oliver!" Her shouts were disregarded as she was held taut by the strands of hair upon her crown. Wide eyes watched on, unable to look away. Her body winced back with each clash of metal, Oliver now laid out like a pelt as he gurgled - his blood curdling screams missing the ability to woefully scream out without the lower half of his face properly affixed to his neck.

"Stop! Stop it!" Mae's demands were worthless as the men continued torturing the poor, pained man. She was unrelenting in her attempt to be by his side, the chain between her manacles clamoring about. There were silent tears cascading down her cheeks as she tried to rush to her helpless friend who felt nothing but agony for the last few moments of his life. Once Goðþormr stepped forward, dragging the auburn beauty with him, Mae's screams grew even louder in volume.

"No! No! Don't do this! Stop! No-" She flinched back as the axe cleared the air with a whoosh and sliced down into her struggling friend's neck like butter, severing his neck as it sliced his skin neatly. "Oliver!" She shouted, her body jerking in shock as she stared on at the head that rolled slightly off to the side. The only thing that tore her attention away from the growing puddle of thickened blood surrounding the carcass now rendered before her was the sound of Goðþormr's seax knife.

The steel let out a horrible sound that echoed within her eardrums and she once more tried to pull away from him, his fingers tightening their grip within her hair. The fabric woven against her body was sliced with ease into rags that fell to her slippered feet. She let out a cry, her body still trying to jerk its way free from her captor. At this display, Nikolas could no longer accept what was happening.

Nikolas was yelling down at the Viking, demanding he stop. His tone grew more grating at each tear of Mae's overdress. He'd already laid ruin to the wolf pelt he'd gifted to the young leader, the warm furs sliced apart and left barren at their feet. Just before the chemise was torn into, Nikolas finally ceded.

"No! Nikolas!" Mae screamed to him, pleading with him not to open the gate but it was too late. His gruff tone submitted to the opposing leader, offering entry to their sanctuary in exchange for the remaining innocence of his love. The Jarl was left with his youngest daughter, hidden and locked within the castle's maze-like corridors.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr grinned as the results of his ploy paid off.
"Go. Sweep the place, bring everyone within to the courtyard." He ordered. The majority of the men and shield maidens swept forward, flooding into the castle with a vengeance. There was going to be no stone left unturned. Goðþormr turned to one of his carls.

"Go back to the village. We'll be finding the lord soon, and I'd like to commemorate this with something...memorable." He ordered. The man grinned, adn set off at a jog, honoured to have been given such a task. He looked at teh protesting, combative woman in his grasp, adn let go of her hair a moment. To still her struggles, he slapped her across the face. It wasn't a light blow either, the kind that he'd used to send men twice her weight staggering to their knees, the kind meant to put some decorum into the unruly. Grabbing her manacles, he nodded to Yrsa, who followed him intot he castle proper. He directed her to clap Nikolas in manacles as well, before spiking those manacles to the floor of the courtyard. Goðþormr shoved Mae to the ground before him, but remained beside her, his hand flexing in readiness to act if she tried anything.

Warriors swept the castle swiftly, dragging out surrendered guards, maids, cooks and serving staff. There was some talk of the lord being missing, and Thorkell was eager to win himself more glory by finding the lord. Delivering Mae to Goðþormr had already put him above his peers, but if he managed this as well, he might find himself in a far better position within the warband. Doors were being kicked open or smashed in with axes, and no person was being allowed to remain. It was nearly a half hour within the castle before Thorkell finally stumbled onto what was a hidden trap door. When he crashed it open, he peered in, seeing and older, frail looking man and young girl.
"Your castle is fallen, your people are prisoners. Come now, or believe me when I say that the worst you imagine will be a pale shadow of what my leader will inflict on you." Thorkell warned, stepping back to allow them to emerge. "To the courtyard." He ordered.

 

[Valkyrja]

The scene playing out before the once fearless leader made her tremble. The gates to her sanctuary were slowly opening, welcoming the invaders into the warmth of her home only for them to lay ruin to it. Mae continued to attempt to tear away from the man who controlled her, the oils from his fingers soaking into her hair as he used her mane like reins to control the bucking woman. The moment his grip loosened even slightly, Mae was just about to make a run for it before the palm of his hand crashed across the tender flesh of her cheek, sending her careening back onto the ground as her neck twisted and made an audible snap from the impact, the edge of her lip cracking as the smallest bit of blood flooded to the wound at the corner of her mouth.

Mae barely caught herself as she fell to her knees, a cry leaving her bruised lips as the burning on her cheek throbbed. Goðþormr's lurid red hand print glowed upon her face, threatening her if she didn't remain subdued. His unspoken threat appeared to work temporarily as she was dragged into her home and shoved to her knees, left to rest at the heels of her captor, kneeling beside him like no more than a slave. With every flinch of Mae's body, she would cower back when Goðþormr would flex his fingers in warning. The hand print continued to burn upon her face as she stared about the courtyard. As she knelt here, Nikolas was brought before her.

Their eyes met in desperate need, the disparaging loss they both shared thickened the tension in the room as her once mighty warrior was now forced to his knees by a woman, his chains entrapped within the floor. Mae went to rise, to rush after the man who had handed the castle over to the invaders to spare her the horror of being taken in front of her people, but within a second of her movements, Goðþormr graced her with another reminder of the pain he could cause her at his hand.

This continued on for what felt like eternity. Mae was forced to watch on as her people were taken as slaves and corralled like livestock out into the courtyard. It wasn't until Mae finally caught a glimpse of her ill father and innocent sister did she finally rise, ignoring Goðþormr's silent threats of harm. She rose to her feet, quick in her attempt to dash to their side only to be easily snatched up by Goðþormr before she could make it three feet in front of her.

Her father had been weak and her sister, terrified. When they were captured, they were quick in their agreement to come peacefully. The Jarl stood tall, his pride for his legacy clearly unobstructed as he kept his chin up. Even in the face of uncertain death, he knew he needed to remain strong for his people. Aisley, on the other hand, was cowering in fear and trembling at the hands of the invaders.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr seized Mae as she bolted, a snarl on his face as he began to lose his patience with her stubborn refusal. He carried her a few paces to one of the outer walls of the castle, and slammed her back into it. He repeat this a few times, each one a little harder, each one meant to rattle her more and more, leaving her disoriented. He spied what was likely a hook made to hold a quiver of arrows or the like pounded into the wall, and he looped the chains of her manacles over it, leaving her having to strain to reach high enough to not simply hang on the chains. He snapped a hand up to her face, and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"You don't yet fear what I might do to you. Fine. I've not time to fix that yet. But know that when you do these things, I will hurt those around you. Especially those most precious to you." He warned her.

As he stepped back, there was a great cheer as Thorkell led the captured nobles into the courtyard. Seeing the jarl and his youngest, it was painfully clear that Mae belonged to that family line. Goðþormr nodded at this change in information, and Moved over to Nikolas, crouching beside the shackled man.
"There will be an order given to you. Complete it, and your dear sweet lady..." He looked over at Mae. "...will remain ondamaged. Refuse..." Goðþormr tapped a spear haft on the ground, making sure that the thick ash wood was clearly in view. "...and your dear lady will know what it feels like to have this forced into her ass, before I give her to the hounds as a toy. Think on that." He stood up, leaving Nikolas to contemplate that set of circumstances.

Goðþormr approached the newcomers, and jerked his head. Three warriors dragged the jarl away, dragging him over to where he was forced onto his knees near Nikolas. Goðþormr loomed over Aisley before he seized her neck, and lifted her an inch off of the ground with no apparent effort. He had been careful to make sure he supported her weight in a way that she could breathe. He waited a few moments for some kind of calm to come to her, or at least a focus on what he was about to say.
"The life of your guard here, the one that kneels chained, is in your hands. I will release you. And when I beckon you, you will approach him, and you will convince him to take you as his woman once. If you fail to convince him, I'll cut his body apart and you will watch him die for you failure." He told her, and then set her down. "Wait." He walked from her, and back to Nikolas.

"When the younger one comes...give her what she asks for. That is your order." He said quietly, before standing up, and gesturing at Aisley, beckoning her over to start what she'd been told. Thorkell gave her a light shove to get her moving.

 

[Valkyrja]

The fight in Mae didn't cease as she was grabbed by Goðþormr, his bear-like hand wrapping around her upper arm as he yanked her back and dragged her towards the stone wall. Mae's eyes widened once more, her gaze met with Nikolas' as he tried to yank himself from the manacles that held him to the ground. Mae's refusal to behave was met with the harsh clashing of the wall as her body was shoved against it. She let out a cry, followed by another as she was shoved into the wall a few times until the yelps stopped and her head fell forward, her vision blurred as her brain seemed to flicker within consciousness. Nikolas was now the one struggling to get out of his chains as he watched the woman he swore his life to suffer at the hands of the invader.

Still dizzy, Mae was easily manhandled into position and her head lolled forward before Goðþormr's hand grasped her chin, lifting her head up and craning her delicate neck to force her eyes to lock in with his. Her toes were pushing into the dirt beneath her body, trying to hold her weight up as her back was flush against the wall. The warning Goðþormr left her with made her eyes following him carefully as he returned back to the center of the courtyard and made a quiet comment to Nikolas, both of them glancing over at her a few times before Nikolas' eyes widened in horror.

The Jarl was set aside, placed upon his knees like a commoner beside his greatest warrior. He watched on in silence as his daughter was lifted into the air, too weak to fight for what he otherwise would have.

Aisley was squirming in the grasp of Goðþormr's thick hand, her feet flailing out for a moment until her eyes caught his and she listened to his demands. His demands were ridiculous, something that made her eyes practically bulge from her skull. Settled back down on her feet, she stood there woefully unsure of what was to happen. The Vikings wanted a show, they wanted to watch her get deflowered by the same man that swore his life to protect her family. The same man who was having an affair with her sister! Aisley couldn't... the thought alone brought a wave of nausea into her stomach. It wasn't until Thorkell pushed her forward did Aisley take any action.

She stepped forward, one foot in front of the other. Pausing once more, she glanced around at the prying eyes that awaited her instruction. She took another tentative step forward, Nikolas' eyes blazing into hers. One more step, before she turned on her heels and tried to run out from the castle walls, her futile attempt at escape not in vain.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr looked on as Aisley began her approach. It would be a fine moment, a fine show for the men to start commemorating their victory. He sighed when Aisley broke from her approach, and bolted. She made it farther than most expected ehr to, but Yrsa simply emerged from the shadows, and hammered the haft of her spear into Aisley's head, knocking her to the ground, ears ringing, almost delirious from the hit. Yrsa grabbed the smaller woman and dragged her back towards where Nikolas was pinned, and turned Aisley's head to look at him, planting her boot on her face to keep her in place.

"I did warn her what would happen if she defied my orders. Oh don't look at me like that, I'm not going to hurt her. The promise was what I would do...to you." Goðþormr mused, looking at Nikolas. "Bring fire." He ordered. A few of his carls had been with him long enough to know what was coming. THey returned with a brazier that had been set up in the castle, a large iron construct that had flames and burning coals within. Goðþormr held out a hand, and Yrsa fetched him an axe, handing it to him. Goðþormr placed the blade int he flames.

"Set him." He ordered. Hands seized onto Nikolas, and dragged him backwards, laying him down on the ground. They flipped him onto his back, and a wooden block was fed under his leg, just above the knee. Goðþormr lifted the axe, the blade glowing a bright red. "The price of defiance." He intoned, before letting the axe drop hard into Nikolas, severing the leg cleanly above the knee. Hot iron seared the wound, stopping the blood flow, but likjely also ensuring that the man would remain alive for further horrors.

 

[Valkyrja]

Aisley was making decent headway but was quickly subdued, her body falling to the ground in a heap at the world spun around her and she was rendered practically speechless from the knock to her head. Yrsa barely had to struggle to move the small girl, Aisley squirming a bit but once she was placed in front of Nikolas, she looked at him with the saddest eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, a hand reaching out to cup his cheek as her head remained facing him. Her chest heaved, the sorrow and regret in her eyes tremendous as they remained peeled upon his face. Nikolas wanted to know what they had demanded of her, he wanted to know what was going to happen now that she hadn't done what was instructed. Yet, the look on her paling face was all he needed to see. Nikolas' neck craned as he stared up at Goðþormr, his brows furrowed as he silently demanded an answer. At the request for fire, Nikolas didn't want an answer anymore. He wanted to be free.

His arms yanked upwards, an attempt to free himself once again. "No!" His voice was cut short as men came down upon him, moving him into position. Nikolas tried to move himself from their grasp, kicking and flailing as they positioned him. By the time the heated axe was brought down upon his leg, it was too late. Nikolas let out a roar, the pain just barely enough to knock him unconscious.

The Jarl stared on in horror, his silent terror joined with his people. Aisley screamed out, her head shaking as she tried to look away from Nikolas. Her arms curled up, her hands covering her face as she cried. Across the courtyard, Mae turned into a bucking, wild animal.

Her shrieks echoed within the walls as she kicked out, her body practically swinging from the hook holding her up. She was kicking herself up the wall, her cries desperate as tears cascading down her cheeks and she yanked and tugged against her restraints. "Stop it! Stop it!! No! Nikolas!" She couldn't watch yet she couldn't pry her eyes from her beloved. Her shrieks carried over the crowd, the harrowing void in her chest shattering helplessly.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

There was a certain amount of snickering over the absolute show of grief and rage that Mae was unleashing. Goðþormr pulled the axe away from the wooden block and now severed leg. hat one act had taken what had been a proud warrior and made him into a burden for his people. Still, his value to the others made him useful alive.
"Thorkell, do you have your slave tamer?" Goðþormr asked. The big man nodded, and pulled out what looked like a leather tube, stitched shut, and seemingly filled with sand. It was a slavers tool, meant to knock out a slave or hurt them without leaving permanent damage or marks. Goðþormr advanced on Mae, and very calmly hit her in the stomach with the weapon. He struck her again in the ribs to drive the air from her, leaving her winded and gasping.

"Your display is starting to become an irritant. If you will quiet, I will show mercy. You will not like the result if you refuse." He warned her.

Several of the warriors were moving through the village, assessing all that remained for loot. It was looking fairly promising. This had been a good call indeed.

 

[Valkyrja]

If Goðþormr expected Mae to subdue to his beatings when the man who had protected her entire family and laid with her the evening prior was squirming in anguish before her very eyes, he'd be horribly disappointed.

Mae's struggles for escape didn't stop but the pain upon her body was evident in her reaction. She let out a cry through clenched teeth, her head falling back as her back arched once the slave tamer smacked against her stomach. Even with the chemise and corset still flush against her body, she could feel the pressure against her skin and it hurt. "Nikol-" Mae began, her call out to the man cut short as the slave tamer then knocked into her ribs, leaving her winded and gasping for air despite her lungs once again locking up.

Nikolas looked up, his neck craning as he glanced over to what was rightfully his Master. His face bared the tellings of agony but his clenched teeth kept his groan restrained as he caught Mae's desperate glance. He wanted to tell her to stop reacting, to protect herself and that he would be okay. Yet, he was unable to provide any sort of comfort, the agonized look upon his face succeeding at promoting quite the opposite, actually.

As Mae squirmed against the wall, her diaphragm locked in place from Goðþormr's minor attack, she appeared to clearly not want to stop making a scene. Her arms twisted, her fingers snatching down upon the chain holding her up. Mae then gasped, her lungs finally filling with air. In the same moment, she tugged her body weight up and kicked out her left leg, aiming mostly for Goðþormr's crotch but would have been happy to land her feet against his body at all. As her left foot came in contact with his body, her eyes stared up at the malicious Viking with an anger that fueled the burning embers behind her gaze.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr shifted slightly as she attacked him, her blow slamming into his thigh. It was a hard enough hit, showing she had more strength than he had given her credit for perhaps. But there was really only going to one real answer to this. He couldn't let the defiance pass. It would make him seem weak, and he couldn't have that. He snapped a hard hit into her forehead to daze her, and then looked to Thorkell.
"Bring her. And the younger one. We've a proper punishment to complete. Spread the word, the real performance of this night is in the village square." Goðþormr ordered. The jarl was manhandled back to his feet, and half carried between three excited warriors, taking him towards the village square.

Goðþormr was famous in some circles for what he did, for his strength, and his brutality. That reputation attracted a certain kind of warrior to the warband. Thorkell unhooked Mae, and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her along quickly. Yrsa was all but dragging Aisley along with her, her hand like an iron clamp on her arm.

The village square looked different. There had been a raised platform, likely used for announcements from the jarl, or for auctions and market days. Now it was surrounded by torches, casting harsh flickering light onto it. There were two posts, a little over waist height on it now, with chains hanging from them. Aisley adn Mae both were deposited onto the ground facing the platform, an iron spike being driven into the cobbles to pin Mae's manacles down, but leave her able to move about somewhat. Goðþormr looked at her from where he stood.

"Just remember. This didn't have to happen." He told her bluntly. He stepped back, and moved over to the platform. The surviving warriors from the raid had assembled, all of them. The villagers were corralled with them, so no one would miss what was about to happen. They dragged the jarl to the platform, bringing him to the posts, and putting him on his knees. They chained his hands to the posts, and stepped back.

"My brothers!" Goðþormr called out. There was a pregnant hush that fell onto the crowd. "I have offered mercy. But it has been declined. So I now choose to commemorate our victory! To show the Gods the strength of our will! And so I make my offer to the Allfather this night. Bring forth my tools." As he finished, several warriors rushed forward with what looked like shipwright tools, with several additional chisels among them. Two shield maidens stepped forward, adn made short work of shredding hte cloth from the Jarl's torso. Goðþormr lifted a sharpened awl, and with deliberate care, began to drag it along the back of the Jarl, carefully carving the image of an eagle into his back, slowly and carefully, taking pauses to account for his pained movements.

This wasn't simply malice, there was the pull of ritual here now, everyone knew it, most everyone could feel it. What was happening was rooted in old legends, and seeing it happen by someone that seemed to know precisely what they were doing was not something that one was able to see often, if ever.

 

[Valkyrja]

The weakened mew that came from Mae's lips as the slave tamer smacked against her thick forehead was enough of a tell for the effectiveness of Goðþormr's attack. Her head lolled forward for a millisecond as Mae lost her wits briefly. Snapping her head quickly back up, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she gasped. Her brain felt like mush, had he snapped the tool against her forehead any harder he would have potentially knocked her unconscious. For now, she appeared dazed and slightly confused about her surroundings. Even when Thorkell snatched her up and threw her over his shoulder, she seemed briefly weakened.

Her manacle'd hands swung against Thorkell's back. After another moment, her head arched up and she looked at the scene they were walking away from. Nikolas remained chained down, his leg partially severed and his jaw clenched as he watched Mae being helplessly carried away from him. Aisley was squirming and crying, her sobs far too audible for someone in her governing position. She was a mess. She tried to tug herself away from Yrsa but only managed to stumble and fall, her squirming body now being dragged along by her arm.

Finally, Mae looked over at her father. He was weak, but it hadn't been from the invasion. He'd been weak for months, the cancer ravaging his body and leaving him a pale shell of a man. Regardless, his head rose as he faced his impending doom with dignity. He had come into the world as a leader and he intended fully to leave the world as a respected ruler. Of course, he had no idea what was about to become of him. To hold a straight face while being tortured was a skill no man possessed, no matter their will.

Now restrained to the ground, Mae tugged her arms upwards in hopes of loosening the iron spike that forced her into a kneeling position. Her sister sat beside her on her knees, her hands also chained to the ground as she sobbed and pleaded with their captors to release them. Mae watched on in horror as her father was spread out atop the stage, the firelight sending harrowing shadows upon the scene as he was restrained. His eyes met hers and he nodded towards her. His strength was refined, he knew his time was up and his nonverbal motion was a sign of his kingdom on to his daughter as he accepted his fate.

Mae was shouting now, demanding they release her father at once, her words simply falling upon deaf ears as her tantrum-like display continued. She yanked her arms upwards, trying to break free from her chains as they stripped the clothing from her father's upper body. It wasn't until Goðþormr stepped behind her father, kneeling down with determination and an awl within his hands, did Mae finally grow silent.

She didn't have to see Goðþormr carving into her father's back to know that was what he was doing. The Jarl's face twisted in agony, his breath hitching in his throat as he clenched his jaw. There was a clear attempt to remain stoic and quiet as his head lowered, his eyes tightening as his body trembled from the scarring. Mae's gaze remained upon her father's face, her eyes wide in panic as she found herself no longer breathing. Aisley was screaming, her howls of horror incessant as she tried to turn away from her father's torture.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

The Jarl might not have been worth much as a warrior, but he seemed resolute to remain stoic and maintain his dignity. Goðþormr could respect that, more than a little. In his own way, this Jarl was playing his part, giving this moment the gravity that it deserved. Aisley wasn't seeming to understand that, and he knew that something would have to be done. He chose to trust his war band, to trust that they knew what needed to happen at this point.

One of the men from Thorkell's ship stepped behind Aisley, kneeling behind her and wrapping his hand around her mouth, muffliing the sounds from her, preventing the noise from carrying far enough to ruin the moment. Goðþormr was known as one who could perform this ritual fast, but also one who could stretch it out far longer than others.

The intricate passes of the awl had etched a bloody image into the back of the Jarl, nearly without flaw. it was a work of art at this point. It was a shame to mar that, but there was still work to be done. As Goðþormr passed the awl away, he instead drew out a well honed seax. He laid the cold steel against the Jarl's back, knowing that this moment was often one of hte hardest for the victim, the fear of what was to come being brought into vicious, painful reality. Goðþormr made two clean cuts along the back, the blade easily parting skin and muscle, ticking gently along hte bones of hte ribs. They were long cuts, which would prove useful later.

Goðþormr handed away the knife, and lifted a well formed chisel and small hammer. He was calm still, no sign of the pain he was about to inflict on his victim showing anywhere on him. The chisel came to rest on the lowest rib on the left side, and Goðþormr made a single hard stirke with the hammer. It was a fast tink of metal on metal, and a faint cracking sound as the rib was parted from the spine. He waited a moment to allow the Jarl to cease his movements before moving up tot he next rib.

Each blow was fast and sharp, no wasted effort or misdirected movement. There seemed to be no extra damage done to the Jarl, simply breaking off each rib cleanly. It took what felt like an impossible amount of time to complete that piece of the ritual, and every man from the North stood with bated breath for the last piece of the ritual.
"Allfather forgive you, and take you into his embrace. May you feast with your ancestors, for you have shown your strength this night." Goðþormr said quietly to the Jarl, a verbal acknowledgement of the efforts made to maintain his dignity. He wasn't sure if the older man had any of his senses or mind remaining, but he would do this as he saw fit.

Goðþormr plunged his hands into the wide, gapring wounds on the oder mans back, and pulled the lungs out of hte body, laying them on the shoulders of the man, knowing that there wasn't long left. The warriors watched, in awe as they saw the lungs actually inflate under their own power, drawing in painful, shaking breath, and then again. It was a sight that no one present would ever forget.

 

[Valkyrja]

Aisley remained writhing, her sobs muffled behind the palm of a stranger that stood behind her. The poor girl was a mess, completely emotional over watching her father being sliced open before her eyes. The man clamping his hand down over Aisley's mouth was lucky - had his palm been pressed against Mae's lips, his skin would have been bitten clean off from his palm. Aisley, on the other hand, was simply an emotional wreck. She wasn't capable of harming anything other than herself in this state. The tears that cascaded down her puffed out cheeks blurred her vision as she whined.

Mae continued to watch on at her father's suffering. Tears built up within her eyes but remained there, the woman refusing to let them fall as she tried to remain like her father. Her eyes were peeled, her breath simply baited, until Goðþormr lifted his next tool and began slicing deeply into her father's back. The pained expression that spread across the Jarl's face was met with an agonizing groan as he tried to suffer with a semblance of dignity. It wasn't until Goðþormr took to her father's back with a chisel did Mae finally react once more.

It was at the sound of her father's roar, one that echoed across the center square, that Mae leapt into action. Her entire body jerked upwards, her arms trying to fling up and release the iron spear from her restraints that kept her attached to the ground. She let out a scream, calling for Goðþormr to stop his brutality. The metal spike between her manacles came loose, upending from the cobblestone and flinging into the air before clanging down upon the ground loudly. Mae was rushing towards her father's side, trying to rescue him from his pain as he clenched his teeth and tried to quell his screams. Mae made it all of three steps before her body was tackled by the force of two men, bringing her back down upon the ground as she screamed out.

The two men, one on either side of her, grabbed a hold of her shoulders and upper arms, pulling her body back and forcing her onto her rear, facing her father. Mae was screaming, her body yanking against her captors. A third man walked up behind her, grabbing a hold of her hair with one hand and a firm grip was now pushing up into her chin, trying to close her loud mouth. The man knelt behind her, holding her tightly as he forced her to watch her father die with the inability now to open her maw. Groans continued to come from her throat as she struggled.

It was then that her father's lungs were tactfully removed from his body, brought up upon his shoulders. The Jarl's eyes were wide, his breathing strained. Mae could see his lungs struggling to expand, quivering from the pressure. She watched on in horror as they eventually stopped moving, the Jarl's heart ceasing to beat within his chest as he waded off into death.

The tears had finally begun streaming from Mae's eyes as she watched her father's figure slump against his restraints. By all intents and purposes, the kingdom now rested within her chained hands. This should have been a glorious moment for the young woman but as her eyes rose, catching a nefarious stare from Goðþormr, she knew it was only the beginning of her fight. She would kill him.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr looked at Mae as she'd made her escape from the pinned manacles, but instead of fleeing, she'd come at him. It had been a glorious doomed attempt at vengeance, and he could think no less of her than he had thought of her now departed father. She had spirit! A raging spirit, unlike her sister that was simply sobbing uncontrollably under the care of her captor. He stepped away from the platform, never taking his eyes off of Mae, and approached her.
"Always remember this moment. It didn't have to happen like this. Your own choices led to this happening." He told her bluntly. He turned away from her, and made a simple gesture for some of his better placed people to approach him.

"Thorkell, what is the largest building here?" He asked. The big man pondered.
"There's a large storage building on the edge of hte village, likely used for trade goods coming from the other nearby villages." The man explained.
"Can it be secured?"
"Easily."
"Do so, and house the villagers there for now." Thorkell nodded, and moved away to make good on his new orders.

"Yrsa. what has been found for valuables?" Goðþormr asked.
"Not as much as we had hoped. They seem to have vast stores of food however. It seems likely that their farms are bountiful, and the land fertile." She explained. Goðþormr looked out at the small castle, his mind starting to move in differing directions.
"How many people did we lose?"
"Perhaps twenty one, most of them from Thorkell's ship. Less armour and sense there." He nodded slowly.
"So what you're telling me is that we have a village that has vast food resources, and we have nearly eleven score warriors on hand." She nodded slowly, starting to see the direction his mind might be going in.

"Aye sir." Yrsa answered carefully.
"My band is mostly made up of second sons or those who will inherit nothing, myself included. Why wait with baited breath and hope that our elders die for our convenience? We can carve our own spaces out of this land. We send a shipload of food back to our homeland as tribute to my father, and gather any others that might wish to try their hand in this new land, under their new Jarl." Goðþormr was already warming more and more to the idea. Yrsa nodded quickly this time.
"Yes my Jarl. Shall I pass word down to the others?"
"Spread the men out. Secure every structure, every weapon, every person. I want patrols through the woods, make sure no one approaches without our knowledge. And once all of the prisoners have been collected into the outbuilding...well, I'll break the news to them myself that we're not going anywhere." Yrsa nodded, adn set off to get word out.

It was a painstaking process to herd everyone into the storage building. It wasn't easy to fit them all in, but there were only two doors, which were easily closed and guarded. It took all three of the men that had been restraining Mae to haul her to the building, and once she was there, they all byut threw her into the mass of people already assembled there. The villagers all moved to catch her, keep her on her feet, still seeing her as their lady, and knowing that this day had been hard on all of them, but her most especially. What had been done to Nikolas had spread through the population, and all of them were beginning to almost become numbed to the horrors that had been inflicted. Aisley was pushed among them as well.

It took nearly half an hour to get everyone put in, and there were odd looks ont he face of the warriors around them as they spoke to one another.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" One man asked Mae.

 

[Valkyrja]

It had been seven years since Mae experienced the absolute worst day of her life. Seven years since her mother passed away. Ironically, it was the same time that Nikolas had provided her comfort and, in so, took her virginity. Seven years since the private affair started up and seven years since Mae had begun being formally groomed to take over the throne.

For seven years, that was by and far the worst moment Mae experienced. Until now. Today she lost her father, nearly her lover, her kingdom. She'd been stripped bare of the formal overdress that provided any sort of distinction of her otherwise humble appearance. Stripped of it in front of the people that worshiped the ground she walked upon. Mae had made a promise to her people that they would never go without food or shelter, they would never have to experience the hardships they had heard about from travelers' tales. Unfortunately, her promise had been broken as she celebrated and danced with her people that evening.

The sun had begun rising towards the east, the splatter of pink and orange hues reflecting off of the expansive ocean that had carved the path for the Vikings. Mae's tearful eyes glistened upon the reflection as she stared at the man who had taken everything from her. His words carved into her chest, clawing at her heart as it thrummed loudly and persistently. Mae knew she wasn't at fault for her father's undoing, no action she could have taken would have lead to his ultimate survival. These men were monsters and the fact that Goðþormr was incessant on the fact that Mae's actions caused her father's untimely death simply confirmed it.

Regardless of her beliefs, Mae was still struck by his words. Her composure faltered as she tried to leap at Goðþormr, her body jerking forth. The three men containing her nearly lost their grasp on the wild woman, struggling to hold her back as they yanked her back towards them. Mae wasn't going to give up - her will was far too strong.

Mae's struggles continued, trying to pry herself from the three men surrounding her as she listened on to Goðþormr speak of his plans. They were going to take her village and claim it as their own. All of her and her peoples' hard work for naught. She watched as her people were corralled like sheep, her sister lost among the shuffle. As soon as the men holding on to her began walking, Mae began bucking like a wild stallion. She screamed at them to release her but their grips upon her steeled, the hands on her upper arms digging into her flesh until light pink bruises formed upon her skin. The man holding her hair released it, instead choosing to grab a hold of her kicking feet. His arm wrapped around her ankles as they tried to carry her. Even suspended from the ground, Mae's struggles were difficult. She managed to kick the man who held onto her legs and he responded by slapping her across the face and grabbing her throat, threatening her with death if she tried to hurt him again.

Mae saw right through his words. As much as it haunted her, she recognized the interest Goðþormr took upon her. She was they key to understanding their land. If he intended to be even a half decent Jarl, he'd surely use her as guidance. She knew what minerals the mountains to the west held, she knew what terrors swarmed the forest under cover of darkness. The alliances that had been built beneath her father's ruling were now indebted to her. Mae's knowledge of the land far outweighed the worth of any other prisoner.

It was in this certainty that Mae kicked the man once more, knocking him in the nose as he reached down for her ankles. He let out an angry shriek and was quick to palm her throat, squeezing it tight. The other two men released Mae, both of them needed to subdue the angry man. Mae took this temporary lapse in security as a chance to run, although she was quickly taken down once more by the three men.

If she didn't want to play nice, they would simply drag her without restraints on her feet. They brought her to the storage building at the edge of the village, tossing her in with her peasants. She cried out, her body just barely about to crash to the ground before she'd been lifted to her feet by those that swore their lives to serve her. With the doors now shut, the four wooden walls surrounding the expansive group of survivors shrouded them within darkness.

The majority of people that had been crammed together were praying to their Gods for sanctuary. There was a sense of horror shared upon the crowd as they realized the brevity of their situation. Would they live to see another day? ...Did they want to?

Mae was at the center of the crowd now, offering comfort to her people as they held on to each other and shared in prayer. There was doubt in Mae's mind as she was questioned about what the warriors were doing - would it make sense to inform everybody about their plans? For a moment, Mae glanced down at the onyx ring that sat upon her ring finger. She toyed with it, her thin fingers dancing upon the piece of jewelry that had belonged to her mother. Glancing back up, she took stock of the people surrounding her. They had been stripped of their valuables, what little there had been. They seemed to be faltering, loosing touch with reality. So many people were sobbing, trembling, terrified for their lives.

"They plan to harbor themselves within our kingdom. Use of force will not be tolerated and we will take our land back." Mae found Aisley, grabbing her younger sister and pulling her to her feet. "They will pay for what they've done to us, to my father." Mae removed her ring, sliding it now on Aisley's finger before gripping her hand within her palms. Aisley had jewelry from their mother but because she'd been taken during the evening, she had left it all behind. Mae still wore the necklace with pride, willing to claw a man's eyes out if they tried to snatch it from her neck.

"Woden is with us, he will protect us. And we will fight." As Mae spoke, only about half of the people within the building were listening. The others were downtrodden, panicked about being crushed together, and the oncoming war.

 

[Alvis Alendran]

Goðþormr waited until he had heard for certain that the villagers had been accounted for. They were going to have to pick through them, find those that were more...tractable, people that they could work with to make things work around here. They couldn't keep them all as prisoners forever, and frankly it would be simpler to start killing the ones that caused the most trouble.

He smiled slightly at the thought of the Jarl's daughter. That one wasn't going ot be killed for certain, there was yet too much value in her. But that didn't mean that she couldn't be...persuaded in other ways. Pain, humiliation, degradation, these were all things that were useful tools in his arsenal, and he was willing to take the time to do this right. Still, there needed to be some examples made, some statements that had to be given.

He began to make his way out to the storage building that was currently packed with the villagers and those that were there to keep them under control. The building was already fairly radiating heat from the packed mass of humanity within it. They would need to do something, and do it quickly or they'd start to lose people to that alone. When Goðþormr entered the building, all sounds seemed to stop, chatter died out, and eye turned to the man who had so brutally slain their Jarl.

"People of this village! After much consideration, we have decided that rather than simply sell you into slavery and burn your homes, we're going to stay." He announced in a loud, clear voice that carried well. "I understand however, that there are some among you that might argue against my right of claim through strength of conquest! And we will certainly be addressing that."

He looked out over the mob of villagers, picking out Mae and Aisley easily enough. He pointed directly at Mae.
"Bring them forward." He said firmly. The crowd seemed to part somewhat as warriors plunged into them to go for their targets. One man grabbed onto Aisley easily enough, and started to drag her away. One man got a hold of the warrior, trying to pry him off, but Thorkell came up and hammered a fist into the man, laying him out clean. He moved back after Mae, and grabbed for her, knowing that she wasn't going to be going easily. Another man arrived to help him, making the transit much easier. Several more were moving to her defence, but Yrsa and several of her shield maidens came in fast, harsh blows to bring the men to their knees. Tyra looked up to her newly coined Jarl, who gestured that she should bring hte men with them.

Four men had made a play for defiance, and were reeling, listless, but brought before Goðþormr. The Jarl took stock of each man, weighing what he wanted done with them in his mind. He point to the middle two.
"Take their eyes, and their tongues. Cast them out. The others...well, we'll be dealing with them specifically later." he had a grim smile on his face. "Tell the scouts I need them to find me an oak tree."

Many of hte warriors laughed as others moved in to pin down the two men that had been sentenced already. What they had been ordered could be done fast and brutally, but that would leave them dead in minutes. Goðþormr had said to cast them out, so there was clearly some desire to see them alive for some time. Their heads were held in place, and each eye was gently, but methodically pierced, ruined, and then they moved on tot he tongues. Screams were already in the air, pain and horror overwhelming the men, one of them babbling mindlessly, saying anything that might spare him what was coming.

It didn't help him.

Blades heated by torches to be hot enoughj to burn were produced, and they carefully sliced the tongues from their mouths. Once it was done, the men were dragged from the building, and tossed outside. They both curled up, arms around their heads, curled in balls of pain and despair.

Goðþormr sighed.
"Defience is not something I will tolerate, and it will avail you to nothing good. These other two men...they will pay an even higher price for what has happened, believe that. And you will bear witness to it. Now then, relocate these people, and ensure someone is with them. Select your place of dwelling my warriors! Those of my house will join me in the castle as my housecarls." He nodded to Mae. "Bring the women." With those words, Aisley and Mae were bundled forward, following after Goðþormr towards what had been their home, but now seemed to be their prison.