The Legend: chapter one; a bad morning
(Since I haven't posted anything in a LONG time, I thought I should try and think of something to post... ANYWAY! Its short at the moment, but it will get longer. I only did this in a few hours, wile not in the mood to right.. be gentle)
The sounds of wood being chopped to make boats, and the sounds of children screaming with glee as their father played swords with them filled Bruadar's room. Groaning he pulled his fur blanket over his head. He and his friends had recently come back from scouting trip in the valley and needed sleep. Slowly sleep started to take him again.. Just as he started to drift to sleep, a weight suddenly landed on his stomach. Instinctively he lept from the bed, reaching for his Seax which lay on top of a heap of clothing. Searching for the invader, he spotted a sword on his bed.
"Ah! Father! Bjorn threw his sword into Bruadar's window!" cried a small voice. Bruadar sighed and walked to the bed, grabbed the sword and threw it out of the window. "Stupid! Hold it tighter!" he cried as the sword dug into the ground. "Or you will be meeting Odin far faster than you hoped!" With that, Bruadar slid the Seax home into its sheath and stretched. So he wouldn't get some sleep before his next scouting.
Recently howling had been heard in the mountains, which was bad for all wolves in the area had been removed. So he and his friends had been sent on search parties, to find, kill and return with the creature which frightened the children and women. But so far the searches remain unsuccessful. But not to let a day go to waste, Bruadar pulled on his Tunic and pants before making his way towards the door.
But just before opening the door, Bruadar paused. Something was bugging him. Shaking his head, he opened the door and stepped out into blinding light. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the light, but when he did, he stepped out towards a small well.
The village Bruadar lived in was a small fishing settlement. He and his father had landed with a Viking raiding party, which was searching for Fertile lands. After spending 6 months on the ship, Bruadar took every chance he could to stay active, leading him to become a scout for the village.
The village was a collection of huts and fields and farms. A 10 foot tall wooden fence enclosed the city from anything that might turn its occupants into slaves, or food. But as time began to pass, many families appeared on ships, wishing to start a new life. Farms popped up and now the small band of tents became a village.
Bruadar arrived at the well and reached for a ladle. He reached down in to the well and filled up the Ladle and took it out, He poured its contents over his head, the ice cold water blasting the cobwebs free from his mind as he fully woke up. Reaching in a second time he pulled more out, but this time drank deeply from it. Dropping the Ladle back down, he looked around. Since he arrived at the village, Bruadar had always wanted to run a farm, but his father didn't let him. Claiming that the blood that coursed through his veins was that of a fighter, not a farmer. Many years after that, Bruadar's father, Kar-toki passed away in battle with some strange people. His father claimed they were of the gods, with sticks of fire and thunder. But he thought nothing more of it.
After the burning of his father, Bruadar quickly took up farming in his off time. Dropping the ladle beside the well, Bruadar headed towards a lone field at the back off a hut. This field belonged to a farmer who fell ill a few years back. Bruadar helped in this farm and was quickly recognised as a farm hand. He enjoyed his time in the fields, digging up trees for the wood carvers, making wheat for the women to make bread with. But what he loved most, was the animals, he spent most of his time in the stables with the horses, making sure they were well.
Walking onto the soft mud of the field, Bruadar spotted the man who gave him the job of farmhand. "Hey! Jacobs! You sure you are fit to farm?" the old man turned and eyed Bruadar before grinning.
"I'm fit and healthy! Unlike you! You look like Fenrir chewed you up and spat you out!" Jacobs smiled as he examined Bruadar. Bruadar was tall for the age of 18, with his long dirty blond hair which now was soaking wet and in a mess. Being a warrior, he was well toned and fit with the scars of years of hard work showing on his hands and arms. But though he was 18, facial hair was never his strong point. Growing in silly and weak patches on his cheeks, he was always clean shaven, not wanting to be seen like some strange goat. "Thought you and Thors just got back from a scouting?" Jacobs turned and walked towards the horse and cart beside the far fence, Bruadar keeping pace.
"We did, but Bjorn decided to show me his sword this morning..." Bruadar groaned, wishing he could just go back to sleep. "I don't suppose you need any help?" He hated sitting still for long periods of time, being a scout drummed that trait into you.
"Well... I do have something you could help me with, as you can see I need seeds planted for next yea-" Jacobs was cut short as his horse suddenly reared and went wild. The two men jumped back instinctively, but as they went to calm the beast, it fell to the ground, an arrow buried in its neck. As the horse fell, the cart attached to it fell towards Jacobs and Bruadar, who quickly jumped out the way. Jacobs fell to his knees to see to the animal while Bruadar's eyes scanned the area. Everything seemed normal, but then it happened... a strange silence filled the village, and then seconds later the sky seemed to darken. Both men looked up, and what they saw, would have been the last of what many saw that day. Arrows filled the sky, hundreds and thousands, the sheer number seemed to block out the sun. Both men ducked and pulled the cart (which was on its side.) over the top of them to protect them. Soon as they were covered, an ear shattering drumming hit the wood, Jacobs cried in pain and went silent. The sound slowly stopped and Bruadar pushed the cart back over. Jacobs was lying face down in the mud. Arrows had broken through the wood in placed and now lay imbedded in the man's back.
Screams rattled through the village as the dying and wounded cried for help, and the unharmed mourned for the dead. Looking around, Bruadar saw smoke rising from behind the hut, while a mixture of arrows and burning arrows lay in the mud, while setting other fields ablaze. Then it hit him, he had to get to his hut. Turning from Jacobs, he raced through the field, jumped over the fence and raced into the village.
Turning round the side of the Hut, Bruadar skidded to a halt, nearly falling over due to the mud on his shoes. Before him, corpses littered the village, many burning. Slowly, Bruadar started to make his way into town, stepping over the dead. The smell of burnt flesh, hair and wood filled his nose, causing him to gag and vomit. Wiping his mouth, Bruadar stood and carried on towards his hut. When suddenly the sounds of crying caused him to pause before setting off at a run. Turning a corner, he saw Bjorn, sitting over the corpse of his father and brother, weeping. Stepping towards him slowly, Bruadar cleared his throat.
Bjorn swung round, his training sword swinging wildly towards Bruadar who wasn't fast enough to avoid a cut on the cheek. "Stop!" Cursed Bruadar as he stepped between swings and grabbed the boys arm, twisting it. The sword fell form the boys hand and he cried out in sorrow.
"F-f-father! B-brother! They... they are gone!" Panting between sobs, Bjorn sank to his knees. While Bruadar turned towards the direction of his hut. "Bjorn... the man you are crying for is gone, welcomed by the Valkyries and Odin... don't weep for them! Be proud!" He knew he was lying. They had done nothing worthy of that honour. But Bjorn didn't know. Bjorn hiccupped and stood up, racing to follow Bruadar who was now heading home. He had to get his items. They both headed through the village, avoiding the dead as much as they could. Bjorn had to stop a few times to vomit from the sheer smell of the carnage. But eventually the got to the hut.
"Bjorn. Stay out here. Shout if you see anything." Bjorn nodded as Bruadar entered his hut. Inside the hut it was bad, Arrows had shot through the window and now the bed was a fiery pin cushion. This gave Bruadar a small smile. If it wasn't for Bjorn, he would be dead. Who woke him with a tool of Death. Oh the Irony...
Reaching a flap at the back of the hut, Bruadar tore it out the way before entering. Inside was his scouting gear and supplies. Grabbing is rough leather bag, he filled it with food. He grabbed smoked fish and dried meats, cheese's and bread, apples and berries. He threw the bag over his shoulder before looking around. Another small smile crept across his face. With all the fire, he was still unable to see the back wall.
Walking further in, he found what he was looking for. Grabbing his bow, he attached it to his pack, swung a Quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He turned to another wall, grabbed his spear, sword, shield and axe. Walking into the main part of the building. Bruadar Grabbed a belt and threaded the sword onto it, wrapped it around himself and stuck his axe through. He placed his Spear inside the quiver and grabbed his shield, swung that onto his pack and went to fill some canteenswhen an all mighty roar of thunder burst through the village.
"Bruadar! Help! People are he-" another crack sounded and Bjorn fell silent. Racing towards the door, Bruadar peaked out. Bjorn lay on the floor, faceing up at Bruadar with unseeing eyes. Bjorn was dead. Rage filled Bruadar as he looked up to see what happened. Men in strange outfits had entered his village and had lined up, facing the entrance to each hut. Watching, he saw fire and smoke erupt from huge sticks they carried, followed by a deafening crack and screams as the attack killed the occupants inside the house.
A row of men now started to line up at his door, and levelled there sticks. But Bruadar wouldn't die here. He lunged from his door, taking the men by surprise. Pulling his sword and axe free, he slammed into the men, attacking with everything he hid. Many men fell in the confusion, before men from other lines turned and lifted their weapons. As the last of the line Bruadar was attacking, a man shouted something in a tongue he had never heard before and suddenly smoke, fire and pain was al he felt and saw. Bruadar fell to the ground and was silent. He heard footsteps approach, as men came to finish him, laughing as the closed in. Bruadar was now expecting to see the Rainbow that would take him to his father. But it never appeared. A Man was not in Bruadar's view as his eyes started to blur, unconsciousness drawing closer. But before everything went dark, the man above him screamed and raced away, as another volley of arrows shot through Bruadar's sight. What was going on?
And as he watched, men jumped over him, each draped in furs. Screams followed, but just before Bruadar's vision faded. He saw a single man look down at him and call to his men...
(I know it's not the best, in fact it was just a quick put together. It will get interesting soon. I promise, just right now I had to get the feeling of where it was going to go. but as you can tell, Vikings and gun wielding attackers will make for a good story.. once it begins! bwahaha! You know the drill, rate and comment.)