RE: Aegroto Dum Anima Est, Spes Est. [ Izzy x Guy]
Ragnar stood on the bow of his smallest long boat, Wave Rider and smiled with anticipation. He was a man of only 20 summers, yet as a Jarl he could command over two hundred men. As the land approached, he allowed reminded himself of his motivation behind these raids.
As a boy in only his twelfth year, he had been captured by Roman soldiers whilst on his first voyage. For three years he had served as a slave, rowing up and down the River Themes loading and unloading supplies from the ship. As well as packing muscle onto his broad frame, these years built a great fierceness and hatred inside Ragnar. A ferocity that came out when he led his fellow slaves on a uprising, attacking and killing the four guards aboard the ship whilst they were out at sea, before sailing back to the North, leading the former slaves as a Jarl.
In the years since, those 15 slaves had become 250 men, all warriors born, trained in the art of the shield wall and he was no longer a slave, he was a Lord of War.
The small temple was less than an hours march from the bay in which they had moored Wave River and soon the band of men were hidden in the trees, scouting their prey. Ragnar looked back at his men, his small raiding party of 30 made up of 10 of his best warriors, his Wolf pack. With 20 unblooded young men, his Wolf cubs allong to get their first taste of killing. He looked to his scout, who signalled his findings. 11 armed warriors, 4 priests, 8 priestesses and gold in abundance.
He smiled, this would be too easy, this would not be battle to be decided by the shield wall, it would be open, it would be a massacre. He unleashed his men, hearing them howl their war cries like a pack of angry wolves. It did not last long, within minutes his men had killed all of the guards without a loss to themselves. He was just about to give the order for them to loot the temple, when a huge man appeared at the doorway of the temple. He stood almost 7 foot tall, a good head taller than Ragnar or any other man. He was clad in good quality armour and hefting a a double handed sword the size of most men. Ragnar smiled and spoke in the Gaulish tongue
“You are not Roman. You, like I, were taken from your country of birth and used. I have no anger with you. Step aside and I will allow you to live.”
The giant made no sound, only lifting his hand to point to himself before running it across his throat and pointing to Ragnar, a challenge that only evoked laughter from the Viking.
“Do not expect a warriors death giant man, I am not known for my mercy”, he answered, stepping forward as his men created a ring, swords beating against shields.
As Ragnar stepped into the ring of men, he unbuckled his belt, letting his long sword, two short swords and knife fall to the ground in their scabbards. He lifted his arms and two of his men stepped forward, removing his helmet, crested with a wolf's tail and pulling the mail over his head.
He stood before the giant, bare chested, even his gold and silver arm rings, the spoils of wars, placed on the ground behind him.
The giant looked back at him, sizing him up, confused but angry and stuttered, unsure of whether he should attack. Before he could react, Ragnar spread his arms, dropped his head back and howled, a sound echoed by his Wolf Pack. His body tensed with rage, his muscular figure detailed by striations veins and scars. The giant took this as a sign and lunged forward, hefting his huge sword and swinging at Ragnar's head, aiming to remove it from his shoulders. At a speed born of a while lifetime of fighting, Rangar lunged forward, ducking under the blade at the last moment and moving behind the huge man. Wrapping his arms around the giant, he tested his strength, squeezing the mans neck as his opponent struggled to shake him off. Despite the size difference, Ragnar was too strong for the man, who's feet slipped on the earth, made slick and red by the blood and guts of his former colleagues. As the giant man slipped to his knees Ragnar again howled and twisted with all his might, breaking the giant man's neck with a loud crack. His Wolf Pack again howled to the sky and Ragnar stepped over the huge corpse, picking up his swords and entering the temple.
He heard the screams of the priestesses before he saw them. He called back to his warriors, “kill the priests and sacrifice them to Odin, Thor and Hela. Loot the soldier, their armour was good. Take anything valuable that you can carry to the ship. Once we are back I will pass it all out. Anyone hiding loot will be punished, they must learn that I am their gold giver, I am their Lord of war. And feast on the priestesses”
He let them run through the small temple, as he walked the outskirts of the building, looking for areas where valuables may have been buried. As he turned round the outside of the temple, he heard the sobbing and smiled sinisterly to himself.
He looked upon her, her delicate features and blue eyes looking up at him with fear. Her blonde wavy hair ran down her back and nothing but a thin toga covered her plump ass and tits. Ragnar chuckled, well, they always said that the Lord should take a tithe of everything won.
He reached out, grabbing her thin arm with his large, powerful hand and lifting her up, seemingly without effort and dragging her with him.