NationStates Jolt Archive

It is a dark night, and the moon shines like the impassive eye of a godess over the Moot. All the leaders of Vikingpeople are gathered here in numerous tents to await the upcoming Thing; what non-vikings would call a 'court of law.' Two men dressed in alike attire of fur capes and horned hats overlook the peaceful scene.
One of them lifts a heavy longbow and looks to his companion "You ready."
The companions looks away and hands the other an arrow, "just... just do it."

The arrow is set alight and sent into the middle of the tents. And another, and another. Soon the dull roar of the flames is only outmatched by the screams coming from within.

The two men jump onto a pair of nearby horses and ride into the night.
*****

From; The Viking Sheep Herder crier:

Attend all ye vikings! Our brother country of Vikingpeople has suffered a greivous blow at the Moot! To arms my brothers! We must find these murderers!

A black arrow is shot from above into the body of the crier. Three men dressed in wolf pelts emerge from the shadows, the one in the lead lifts his fist into the air

"Let the revolt begin!"

A man looked across the rolling green pastures of the land. Land that could soon be under attack...
He sighed heavily, the clouds overhead thundered ominously; the moment of peace before the storm... How apt to what was happening on earth.

A roan mare cantered in the distance, the man looked across; riding the horse was the second-in-command Threrir.
Threrir neatly dismounted from his steed and flashed a quick salute; the pair then embraced like brothers. They were in fact.

"How goes it?" The man asked Threrir. A boom of thunder clattered in the heavens. Threrir looked to the ground.
"A civil war, a revolt has caused another. The masses are looting everything in our brother country of Vikingpeople, the nomadic peoples of viking sheep herders are launching an armed revolt against the terrorist organization that started this."

"Terrorists?" The man asked.
"Yes, they set the Moot of Nomadic Peoples aflame, the people are seeking vengeace. When systematic serial killings began in Vikingpeople... anarchy ensued."

The man looked again to the rolling plains, his face inscrutable, Threrir looked to him, and asked "shall we intervene somehow?"

"No."
The man gazed across again, and began to walk at a fast pace towards the north. This land, his land was not going to get involved unless totally necessary.

A man dressed in silver attire tarnished black with age smiled over the burning village. The thatch huts were quick to burn, but stone... Stone walls were what they were about to face.
A man approached, blood drenched his face and hands, a grin was on his face. "My lord Stoneraven, we have advanced fifteen leagues, and only three survived the attack on the Moot. Soon we shall conquer."

Stoneraven drew a sword, it was polished steel, an ancestral blade he had kept since his birth. By this sword, many had sworn an oath long ago, some had broken that oath...
Their sons and daughters lay dead now.
Stoneraven looked over the legion that served his whim.
Many had kept the oath as well.

There were wrongs to be set right, and vengeance...

How sweet it would be

OOC:errrr... what tech setting is this?

A fortress lay in the north. Vikinpeople's Castle IceHammer; the place where history had been made more than once, and where it would be made again.

A crowd of people burst inward from the great granite doors, they shouted loudly to all the soldiers that garrisonned the fortress.
The Ravens were coming.

"Kings, and heroes and fools." Lord Icehammer whispered under his breath, "the Ravens have returned."

He slowly walked towards the south tower, from the outside it was a grand structure, brilliantly designed so that it could never be captured. On the pinnacle of this tower lay a mighty steel drum.

This drum was one of three, it was known as Earthshaker, folktales surrounded it and legends were made by it. The Trinity of the People had long ago sworn a pact of brotherhood over these drums. Every war in the history of these lands had begun under the clatter of these drums.

As it would be again.

Gradually Lord IceHammer reached the drum, without thinking he picked up the great wooden mace that lay beside it.
*****
The other two viking kings heard the drum. They heard the great vibration it made in the earth event though it lay over a thousand miles away

The Ravens had returned, and war was upon them

Tech setting is bronze age to Iron age
(ie. essentially middle ages technology, no gunpowder)

Along the green pastures wound a snake of horses and men; they were armed; they were ready. At their front they bore the flag of their people; a mighty viking warrior

Only a few leagues away a similar snake weaved through the land,

the armies of Nomadic Peoples and Crazed Vikings had arrived.

They both moved towards a large depression; the WarMoot. A staging point of battle. One Lord IceHammer and several honour guards awaited them in solitary silence.

"Brother, why do ye call the Nomadic Peoples away now? The fell murderers of our people have to be dealt with, and ye call us away? Why?" The man bearing the flag of the viking warrior asked the Lord IceHammer as the army gathered around him and lifted him into the air as was the custom.

"Viking Sheep Herders; Brother Lord StormHand; the Stoneravens have returned."
StormHand crinkled his face, "Who and what are these men."

The army of Crazed Vikings was now within hearing shouting distance, Lord IceHammer yelled out to the man at the forefront, "Lord FlameBlade, explain the nature of the Stoneravens to our young brother."

Lord FlameBlade of Crazed Vikings was lifted into the air by his men, without a second wasted he begun his tale.

"The stoneravens, They were once-
*****
"We were once the proud guardians of the Viking Lands, sworn under the first king." Stoneraven muttered under his breath; sitting in the darkness of his camp. "The true warriors of the land, we... We were invincible, marvellous; our skills in combat were unparralled but-"
*****
"But then they comitted a terrible act, the leader of their band made them swear an oath to overthrow the First King and form their own nation." Flameblade said."
*****

"No less than we deserved!" Stoneraven shouted.
*****
"They rebelled and the land was split into three." Flameblade sighed and pointed to the other two lords. "But, the three lords that served under the first King now ruled, not the Stoneravens. They were banished-"
*****
"Into HIDING! The greatest warriors of the entire land forced to run and hide like VERMIN IN THE MUD!" Oh, but-"
*****
"That wasnt the end of it, the Stoneravens disbanded, but swore and oath upon the black blade ThunderClap that their children would return to-"
*****
"Begin our own nation, and gain dominion of allt he Viking Lands" Stoneraven cackled wickedly in the dark, "Oh we shall win our-"
*****
"Victory." Flameblade stared at the skies, "Is in the hands of the good spirits now, but... We cannot allow these usurpers to win. That much is sure."

While the three Lords planned at the Warmoot, the mob was gaining strength.

A huge force of peasants and yeomen had gathered to arms, their civilization had collapsed; or so they thought. Pillaging was a daily routine, and the army soon had a sizeable force.

The closest thing that the revolters had to a leader was a man by the name of Bjorn ForgeMaker, he had been first to see the Ravens slowly kill their people one by one, a quick call to arms was all he needed to raise an army.

Bjorn had been staring into the void of night when a scuttling sound caught his attention, panicking; the man lifted a heavy axe and swung behind him.

The blow barely missed a man dressed in black silver armour, who did not even flinch as the heavy metal whizzed past his face.
Bjorn eyed the intruder warily, "What 'ould ye be lookin' fer?"

The man's voice was gentle yet powerful; it commanded respect "I am the Lord Stoneraven, and I come with a proposition."

Bjorn wasn't phased in the slightest, "IceHammer, FlameBlade and StormHand are the three Lords, Stoneraven ain't one of em."

A brief scowl passed over Stoneraven's face but his anger was extinguished; or hidden; almost as soon as it had begun. "I am one of the lords, and I come with a propostion. What is your family name?"

"Bjorn ForgeMaker."

Stoneraven took a few steps closer towards him, his aquiline features sharply angled in the moonlight and whispered, "How would you like to be Lord ForgeMaker?"

Bjorn looked sideways at Stoneraven and smiled slightly, "Ay, that sounds about right."

"And thus Brothers FlameBlade and StormHand, I call the Warmoot to a finish, is our purpose clear?"

The two lords; raised above the crowd nodded towards Lord IceHammer, "We shall combat the Stoneravens and gain vengeance for their foul murder of the King." FlameBlade aknowledged. He ordered his men to lower him, they did so; he spread a large map on the bare stone of the Moot, the three lands of Crazed Vikings, Vikingpeople and Viking Sheep Herders spread out before them, one large section of VikingPeople was shaded red; the territory gained by the Stoneravens, and another large section was shaded black; the area in revolt.

IceHammer looked away, his eyes moistened in very un-Vikinglike emotion, his land was eroding away.
"We know where they will strike next," FlameBlade siad, looking up at IceHammer.
The Lord of Vikingpeople snapped to attention, "Where and how?"

FlameBlade motioned towards three fortresses; Thunderclap Keep, Castle Starflame, and lastly, his hand trailed over Castle IceHammer.
"As for how we know this..."

A man bearing a heavy axe was brought forward, a grin on his wrinkled face, IceHammer gazed at him curiosly, "Who would you be?"

The man bowed low towards the Lord IceHammer, "Bjorn Forgemaker m'lord."

OOC:errrr... what tech setting is this? We are talking about Vikings, The People who fond America first.

Stoneraven was sitting in deep thought; he lay on the ground, a mug of mead in his right hand. He hated mead usually; he thought it the sugar-teat of the weak. But this mental excercise required intoxication.

Gradually he pulled himself to his feet, the mead had made the floor spin, he envisioned his enemy, and pulled out his sword.

When Bjorn approached he could not tell Stoneraven was drunk, but was glad of his self-control when the blade stopped a literal millimetre from his nose.
Stoneraven growled in a voice that was slightly slurred, "What did you tell them."
Bjorn stuttered, "They, I, I told 'em what 'oo told me to tell 'em, they-they think we're gonna attack Thunderclap, Starflame and IceHammer."
Stoneraven smiled dryly, "Excellent," he reached for a wooden horn on his belt and blew it thrice. Within seconds a commander dressed in sealskin appraoched, "Lord Stoneraven?" He asked tentatively.
"We move for the centre of Nomadic Peoples, set a course and tellt he camp that in three weeks we shall reach the StormHand Keep, soon to be renamed Forgemaker."
Bjorn smiled uncertainly as Stoneraven and his commander dissappeared into the camp. He stood for a moment, a frown on his aged face, then walked away smiling
"Forgemaker keep." He said to himself, as if trying to dispel his worry, "yes, yes I shall be a lord."

OOC; by the way, there is a Viking Lands region that would be glad to have any countries with the word 'viking' in them, come on and join!

Fhrajrij the Bold was one of the lower soldiers left guarding the Keep. StormHand's entire elite fighting force was at the Warmoot. All that were left was the expendable soldiers, and the ones who were soon to retire into Grandparents.

On the horizon was a steadily growing black stain, as the sun rose it became more and more apparent. Fhrajrij did not bother with it.

Hours later, he heard chanting coming from that stain on the land. Then he became worried.
"Klasat," he called to one of his comrades, "do you have that strange device with you from that other land? You call it a spyglass?"
"What of it?" Asked the man.
"Bring it here and tell me if those are people over there." Fhrajrij pointed to the blot.

Klasat looked out, and frowned, "Yes... they are... people."
Fhrajrij looked out to the chanting stain, "And their standard?"
Klasat looked away, "a raven."

Both warriors looked at eachother and both uttered the same word at once.
"Ah Tanj*"

*A curse

Bjorn Forgemaker stood at the great hall of the keep. All around him the dead bodies of the few remaining guards lay in bloody piles.
Stoneraven aproached Bjorn, the old man was standing in shocked silence at the many dead, and the fact that he now owned this place.
"What do you think Lord Forgemaker?" The man whispered to him quietly and held out a sword.
Bjorn accepted the sword with little more than a word, "I can't believe its mine," he muttered softly.

Stoneraven smiled greasily, "good, may I see that sword?"
Bjorn handed the sword back to Stoneraven and turned away, gazing with awe at the hall.
The point of a bloody sword went through his chest; he was shocked as it gutted him, he lived just long enough to see the false Lord Stoneraven standing over him twirling his sword,
"You've served your purpose old man," he laughed and walked away while Bjorn slowly died.

The three Lords were stationed at each of the three castles when they saw something disturbing.
Smoke

Smoke rising out of the sky, in the direction of StormHand keep.

The army of Lord StormHand had been out of armour and off guard when they found themselves in a canyon pass. They had gone through this pass before, and it was never believed that any danger lurked there.
"I tell ya BlotYar," a soldier told his friend as they led the horses through the long canyon "I'll be glad when we get 'ome to a nice pot a stew."

A black arrow was shot into his head from above, panic ensued, no one could be seen from the heights.
Another arrow was shot, another person fell
and again
and again
and again

BlotYar picked up his son BlotSkar and shoved him away, "Run BlotSakr! Run man Run! Tell the lords!"

The pair of warriors ran like the winds out of the canyon, towards the three castles.
That as when they saw the smoke in the direction fo their home.
"BlotSkar," his father told him, "I think there 'aint much of a home to go back to."

OOC: Yes indeedly-doodly we would like a viking country to come to our region

Stoneraven looked out through the spyglass he had pillaged from one of the dead soldiers, he saw a faint image of Starflame castle, StormHand was there.

StormHand was the youngest of the three Lords, his father had never passed down his extensive knowledge, and thus was foolish, young and sometimes irrational. He was not the most worthy of opponents... IceHammer and FlameBlade would be difficult, but StormHand... he would fall...
Just as his father had...

StormHand was sleeping at the moment, he was dreaming... he saw thunder, a mighty storm.
A flock of ravens flew over the storm, and it dispersed.

a raven changed to a man

The ravens... His father

his father defied them.

he fell

"NO! FATHER!" StormHand lunged out of his bed, andrenaline shooting through his veins.
He couldnt remember what he had just shouted, what he had just dreamed

But... he felt something was coming.

And that something had just happened.
Something was missing.
His people.
He searched through his soul, he had felt a connection to his lands ever since he was born...
The land was dying.

The ravens had come and conquered.

The ravens were here

"STONERAVEN!!!" StormHand shouted, he raised a gauntleded fist into the air; his very soul raged as he realised the terrible truth.

"m'lord?" A servant had entered his room.
"Prepare for battle!"
"But sir-"

"Do as I command!" StormHand opened a chest on the opposing wall and dressed himself in armour.

War was upon them

Lord FlameBlade looked out into the distance, faintly, he could see the armies of StormHand in his castle. They were... moving? Mobilizing!?

"Guards." FlameBlade called out, two men in identical armour appeared at his side almost spontaeneously.
"Yes M'Lord," they both shouted in unision.

"Send out a third of our forces to assist Brother StormHand, and find out what they're doing. Also send a message to IceHammer. Something is happening."

"Yes sir!" The guards spilt up and left to do their seperate tasks."

FlameBlade retreated into his memories and ascended the castle to the parapet.
"Kings and Heroes, villans and fools." He whispered softly.

Stoneraven looked out to the slowly approaching horde, it seemed his presence had been noticed...

He looked through the spyglass to FlameBlade's distant castle, a fairly large section of his armies were leaving.

A devious plan came to mind.

"Attendant!" He called, a servant appeared at his side,
"Leave half of the volunteer forces here, the rest of our forces mobilize to attack FlameBlade." Stoneraven commanded, the servant wordlessly drifted off.

"Well well well, this will be interesting." Stoneraven muttered, "Kings and Heroes, villans and fools."

Lord IceHammer was also observing the proceedings from his castle tower, from what it seemed. There was a large encampent of Stoneravens outside the ring of mountains, FlameBlade was mobilizing a third of his armies to meet with StormHand's...

"We must prepare for battle too then, general! Assemble the soldiers!" IceHammer reached at his belt and took out the solid diamond hammer that had been crafted for centuries and used for millenia,

It was time!

*****
Frerir, the brother of Lord FlameBlade led the mobilizing armies of FlameBlade. Through the sounds of the calm before the storm, he could hear some of the enemy in the mountains, waiting...

"FlameBlade's armies to me!" He shouted, the army met with the forces of StormHand, and the soldiers marched out to the mountains.

There was nothing there.

Behind them, a large force of men dressed in peasant's clothing appeared.

This cannot be all of them, Frerir thought warily, he glanced over the Stoneraven forces.

A large army had begun to invade the castle formerly occupied by Lord StormHand.

It was a trick, they sent these to die, and they... they have already taken the castle...
Frerir stood still as the other soldiers poured on to the cannon fodder, they had already lost a castle, and the remaining defence guards inside.
"Tanj."

the three lords had acted swiftly, the armies of StormHand besieged the Stoneraven castle, while the other two Lords gathered their armies for a full siege.

"Taking the castle was not an act of war, it was an act of mocking us; they can surviv for two months on the reserves in the castle, in between that time, we remain here. They cannot leave, but their forces are too great in number for us to invade, it is a stalemate." FlameBlade concluded morosely. IceHammer just smiled, the war was nearly over... two months and it could all be over.

Stoneraven looked out smiling at the armies 'beseiging' his castle, this was of no concern. It would actually make things easier, so much easier.

He descended from the tower thinking how this entire campaign had started about half a year earlier. A few flaming arrows fired into the night had taken away what little order VikingPeople possessed. IceHammer had lost his kingdom.

It was night, and faint lights lined the walls of the castles,over a hundred archers grasped heavy longbows; the arrows they held were all aflame.

Stoneraven grinned as he looked out. Three words ended the lives of thousands. "Fire at will."

The camps were burning.

The stars were falling.

Everywhere the standards of FlameBlade, IceHammer, and StormHand blazed a bright red. The warriors were unprepared for such a thing, and a hasty retreat was made out of range of the falling arrows.

Over half of their food was gone, and an eight of the warriors had perished in the flames.

Lord FlameBlade fervently wished the flames of hell would be much hotter to Stoneraven when the eventual came.

FlameBlade and the other lords sat morosely facing eachother, they were unprepared, again, they were fooled, again, they were suffering
again.

"That is the final straw," StormHand said quietly, his voice dripped with silent fury as he spoke. "We must storm the castle, every second we have wasted, and every time we have waited has only led to more suffering, my people have been decimated, the people of IceHammer have revolted into anarchy, what else can we do?"
"The castle is too well fortified, I never expected to attack it," IceHammer whispered, unkingly tears were brimming his eyes;his warriors had born the brunt of casualties throughout the entire campaign, and he was slowly losing his kingdom. If not already lost it.

To a lord, the land he protected was sacred, their was no other reason to live save to guard and protect the land. IceHammer was failing that sacred value.

"IceHammer speaks the truth, there is little to nothing we can do."
FlameBlade said tersely, his legs and arms crossed in hard thought. "What we need is... to attack silently, to attack swiftly, and to attack without being seen, nothing that our warriors or ourselves posesses."

StormHand's face spread wide in shock, "You suggest dishonest battle? Guerilla warfare? Such things have never been done and should never be done."

FlameBlade nodded, "How do we defeat them?"

Each Lord did not asnwer the question.

OOC: Once again, we need viking countries to join our region; form a viking nation and join

Stoneraven grinned inanely, his fingers twitched and found his sword.

Realising his excitment, he slapped himself viciously on both cheeks, passion was the enemy.
"Fight without anger, and you shall not know defeat." He whispered as thin trails of blood dripped down his pallid face.

"Are the cloaks ready?" He asked an attendant, the man nodded wordlessly.

The cloaks were the expert assassins of the Stoneravens; they had spent decades training for this moment, it was for situations exactly like this for which they were trained.

"Then begin the operation," Stoneraven instructed.

From outside the castle walls, in the camp of the three Lords which had hastily been erected. They saw a large collection of men leave the castle.

FlameBlade borrowed one of the rare spyglass instruments that IceHammer carried with him. They were berserkers; raw rage kept controlled until needed to wreak havoc. The warriors went into a berserk trance in which they could not feel pain and mortal wounds would not do damage.

While the Lords prepared for the battle. The Cloaks snuck around into the forest.

The berserkers were fakes; the remaining revolters had dressed in bear skins to fool the armies. The cloaks were to kill them from behind.

It would be too easy.

Too bad this is Iron to Bronze age. I'm modern-tech and my soldiers all wear fur into battle, have horns on their helmets, and carry swords or battle axes along with rifles or machine guns, etc. I was hoping there was another modern-tech that did that too. Oh well. Carry on.

It was afternoon, and clouds veiled the sky with a jealousness only matched by the hoarded food of the Three Lord's armies.

The Cloaks had caught them in utter surprise, half of their number were now either dead or wounded.

The three Lords just sat together in stunned silence, the enemy was seemingly unbeatable; and now that one in two of them were incapacitated...

"Count thine blessings friends," FlameBlade said quietly, the other lords did not respond, even though FlameBlade expected StormHand to explode in anger.
"We still live, and we can still fight... I hope." IceHammer sighed.

StormHand turned away and gazed up at the skies, "We could-"
He stopped short of completing his thought, "No, we cannot."

"Go on Brother, we need a good idea, and if it is not a good idea then we need a good laugh." FlameBlade motioned towards the youngest Lord. "Go on."

StormHand looked at both of the lords, "We could-

OOC: The next post might take a few days.

Remember that the viking lands is free and open for people to join!

Three battallions of men came from the mountains at a slow and grim pace; towards the castle kept by Stoneraven, but they did not carry weaponry.

They carried coffins.

The three Lords were busy praying for the disrespect of the dead when the coffins arrived. The slain of the Stoneravens and of the allied forces. The Lords nodded in unision; StormHand looked towards the castle and wved his hand; the catapult lying next to them began to be pulled closer.

When they had reached a certain distance, FlameBlade murmered a prayer to Odin, and gave the command, "Give them back their dead."

"My great lord Stoneraven! The enemy catapults dead bodies into our fortress, soon disease will spread rampant! What shall me do my lord?"
An attendant rushed into the hall where Stonraven was training, he was afraid, the bearer of bad news was always either rewarded or killed.

Stoneraven did not even flinch at the announcement, "Everything has gone according to plan; it is time to strike the final chord. We must defeat them in open combat. Prepare for war; our battle dawns."

"What are they doing?" FlameBlade motioned towards the doors of the great castle.

The gates were opening.

IceHammer leapt up from his seat, "They are preparing for battle, get the men ready, there shall be no tricks here, just the honour of war."

The men from the castle poured out into organised ranks. They marched forwards, their feet all hitting the ground at the same time.

It was like thunder rolling across the land.

The men under the armies of the three Lords were not phased, they shouted in unision. "We shall not fall!"

Lord FlameBlade was at the forefront, he grinned morosely, "no we shall not."

Lord FlameBlade was back in the comforting walls of the mighty Kristaag Keep; his brother Frerir beside him. Neither of them spoke.

It has happened so fast

FlameBlade turned towards his brother mechanically, "Send a message to brother IceHammer, we shall meet in the Warmoot one month from now to conclude." Freir wordlessly walked off; his footsteps echoed down the hall.

It was like a dream

FlameBlade sighed and leaned back on his throne. He could remember the entire battle so vividly,

But the dreams were gone now

He shifted through the myriad of thoughts and gossamer veils of memory until he was back at the battle.

The battle of Kings and heroes, villans and fools.

*****

"Kings and heroes, villans and fools
Under sky and star and sun
under mountain and the moon
the battle shall be won"

The army echoed the chant as they neared the enemy; the stoneravens.

FlameBlade and the other two Lords were at the forefront.

StormHand clapsed his sword in a fierce grip, he could picture Stoneraven among them,

He would pay!

FlameBlade grasped his own sword in a firm grip; there was a battle at hand; they had to win for th egood of the people, of the land.

He would fall

IceHammer held his axe weakly, the entire momentum of it had carried him away, he feared and hated the enemy.

He would die; and bring reparation

"We call upon th eancient power
Seas and sky and land
for victory upon this hour
for battle is at hand"

The armies steadily gathered in speed, the berserkiir rage was upon the warriors.

The armies were going to clash

"For the debt that must be repaid!" The Stoneraven vikings shouted fiercely, the armies met and all were enveloped int he noise and confusion of battle.
StormHand weaved his way through the battle, all he wanted was one person.

He saw Stoneraven up ahead.

This is the time
StormHand marched forward
Fear me you coward
Stoneraven caught sight of him and smiled inanely. StormHand lifted his sword to the front of his head.

Prepare to fall