Viking Charge (reloaded)

Disclamer

Shipwrecked against the pearly shore of the foreign island. Trees were dancing, full of wind that shook their voluminous crowns, absent life, right there on the stone ridge where our flags flapper proudly. The chieftain placed his Vendel helm on, blew his nose and then he grabbed his round shield and the longsword. Battle ready men awaited the mark for disembarking and so was I. My hand was itching craving for blood and my thoughts have settled on the valuable loot, hidden among the heretics in funny dresses.

“Lo, there are the warriors of thunder, sons of Odin, and butchers of death.” The Chieftain yelled pointing his sword at the sandy beach, “Victory is ours, and Valhalla shall wait for a moment longer! To the glorious red rain!” He shouted further as we jumped over the sides and took the shield wall.

Wood bashed wood and metal clinked metal, forming defensive formation. My eye was set on target, rustling in high grass that overlapped the rocky plain. Pointy helmets were sparkling, taken by the rays of Sun. My ax shall enter that polished object and the blood will be spilled in the meadow. Oh, what a glorious day to make battle?

“Advance, my sons, advance my heroes, advance to the victory! Write your history, here and now!” The Chieftain boomed from behind, then arrows flew over us, blackening the sky.

One foot in front of the other we moved forward catching crossbow bolts, arrows, and stones. A comrade laughed while moving sturdily at the hill. Their lines thickened with soldiers made up from the failure of their countermeasures. We paused, letting our second line to take a knee and gulp down a pure Nordic elixir. It had mushrooms that vapor in the night, grain yeast and poisonous herbs, taken from the shaman’s bag. Berserkers grew violent, mad, absolutely mindless in lust for skirmish and all for the glory of our Jarl Sverrisson the One-eye.

Their fire has stopped in wonder. Look on their ugly faces gave me a feeling of pride, strength, and desire to bash their heads. Grip over the ax handle tensed when our commander shouted and we broke our formation. Soon after, javelins followed the charge of our drugged berserkers, then our sharpshooters went against their longbowmen. Our first line drank the elixir, then charged their flanks. Oh, what a glorious day to make battle?

Nord3

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