To Bleed for Ancient Gods

The Man of White Christ: Chapter Two

It was not long after the storm, the Norsemen of Rurik's band had all landed on the white beaches of Jutland and pulled the dragon ships inland a ways. They made their camp in the light forest near the coast, where they made camp for the night. In the morning, Rurik set out from his tent to meet with Chieftain Hakon. Hakon was a bear of a man, and a traditionalist in his own way. In his younger years he had been a berserker, a fierce warrior who knew no fear in battle. Now, he was much wiser, though he was rough and dressed in a thick tunic made of the hides of goats with a wolf pelt worn as a cloak, the wolfs' head being a sort of hood for him. He had no heavier armor or shield, only carrying a long, sturdy axe which was so commonly seen among the Norsemen. He was rather old to be doing this kind of work, having seen at least fifty winters, his beard was thick, black and gray. His once long black hair was now mostly gray and thinning. The two chieftains made plans to go out in search of a village, who hopefully they could trade with in order to make up for any lost supplies, and supplies used to repair the minimal damage to the ships. They took twenty men and two days of food with them and enough supplies to make a basic campsite if needed, leaving the third chieftain, Olavi to oversee the main camp. Through the forest they marched, hearing the sounds of birds, wild beasts and the general rustling of the woods. Farther and farther away from the coast, they made their way deep inland, hoping that whatever chieftain owned this land would forgive their intrusion, or at least be off on his own raids far across the sea. It was not long, maybe around noon, when the sound of loud bells drew them to the north a short ways. Out of the thick forest, they found a large hamlet that was not walled. It seemed like a normal enough settlement of the Jutes, small farms, a blacksmith, a stable, a mead hall, a marketplace near the middle of the village, all seemed empty though as a large crowd of villagers, maybe two hundred, were moving to a hill above the village where the source of the ringing was. It was a huge building, bigger than any long house or mead hall they had ever seen. It was built in the traditional style, decorative, with excellent jute craftsmanship, atop it though was a tower well the bell was located, where what looked like a brown robed man was ringing the bell. Down below the tower, above the entry way there was a tall, wooden cross which sat firmly erect. Rurik and Hakon drew their weapons, both with the same intention as they approached the building, for they were to fools and new exactly what this was before them. The men drew their weapons as well, charging up the hill, like lightening they moved swiftly, breaking down the doors of the building. At the pulpit was a man dressed in purple robes with lace, around his neck hung a gold cross and his hair was cut short far above his eyes. He spoke both in the tongue of the Jutes and read from his book in the tongue of the Romans, it wasn't long before he ceased and their was a gasp of fright among the village people as they saw the armed Norsemen enter, the monks who stood near the entrance went to flee but were quickly caught by the Vikings. The other monks who stood around the altar stood back as Rurik and Hakon walked down the center aisle, along with a few men who quickly began destroying the altar, tossing the podium aside amd throwing candles and chalices to the floor, pointing their weapons at the monks. Hakon took the speechless priest by the throat, and Rurik stood before the mass of peoples. "How could you betray the gods of you farthers!?" He shouted in anger, "Blasphemy to the Allfather which should be punished with death!" He spit at them, cursing them for their sins. "Could you forget Thor, who protects us from the dark armies of Jötunnheim with his mighty hammer? It is his wrath you should fear! Not the wrath of some... Some carpenter! The wrath of Oden, and the freezing Neifelhel that surely awaits you all!" He spit at them again, before turning the men loose on the monks, who's throats were slit, skulls split and stomachs slashed, as blood spilled all over the floor of the church. Now many of the villagers fled in terror, pouring out of the church, the priest said a prayer in frantic Latin before Hakon lopped his head clean off, blood squirting everywhere as his body fell to the floor. The Norsemen proceeded to sack the church of everything valuable, then set fire to it as if it were a mighty pyre. They took what they pleased from the villagers who were far to afraid to resist, mostly simple commodities like rope and twine, but also some mead and food. They occupied the mead hall that afternoon, and watched as the church burned through the night. Filling the hall with Oden's hails, and songs of the gods, all while feasting on the villages food and drinking up their mead. In the morning they left, setting out for their camp, all with quite the story to tell.