The Expedition...

[Prince Olem]

The harbor of Hinaughril was not big, but it was teeming with people. Near two hundred armed and armored soldiers boarding four 'Drakkar' longboats. Olem stood overlooking the spectacle, as people from all over the Änwardyn capital came to watch and cheer on their soldiers. Unlike their usual raids, the soldiers were taking on extra supplies as well. Rumors spread like wildfire all across the isle kingdom that perhaps this wasn't just going to be yet another smash and grab. Olem smiled and turned away from the rail of the Hinhato castle, leaving the morning sun behind and entering the dark hallways of the grand stone structure. The soldiers were loading up most of the longboat's capacity with extra supplies - supplies that wouldn't be needed for the voyage to and from the mainland, and would just reduce the amount of plunder they could acquire. These supplies included extra wood, stone, more food than would be neccesary for the voyage, and construction tools, amongst other things.

Descending a spiral staircase, Olem quickly crossed the entry hall and exitted the castle through the main gates. As soon as he was outside the door, two heavily armed Kingsmen fell in behind him, one on either side. Walking down the cobblestone path leading down to the harbor. He would be leading this expedition personally, not something that would've stuck out if everything had been shaping it be just another raiding journey. Truth was, Olem had grander designs for his people than to simply raid. He would be leading the soldiers in establishing the first colony off Änwardyn. Of course they would be going to the mainland eventually, but their target would first be an island to the southwest of the Moriki island. An island that his earlier scouts had reported would suit the colony perfectly - fertile soil, plentiful fish and wildlife. The civilians of Änwardyn wouldn't be moving there immediatley, many things had to be considered. First the construction of a defensive position on the island, then perhaps slaves from the mainland to get the land tilled and ready for crops. Yes, it would be awhile before the colony showed any true purpose, but it was a step in regaining what they had almost acheived nearly fifty years ago.

The crowds parted before him, some in respect, some out of fear. Stopping at the top of the wharf, he folded his arms across his chest and watched the progress. "They'll be done soon," He spoke to himself, turning to one of his guards, he smiled again. "Run and tell my father we will be departing before the sun sets." The guard nodded and turned back towards the castle, not exactly running, but making a good pace. Turning back, he went back to watching the ships being loaded. "Yes, won't be long now."

[Prince Olem]

He had one more thing to take care of before he left. He turned away from the docks and headed back up towards the castle, to where he had told his military leaders, the chiefs of the different tribes, to meet him. The five of them stood around just inside the entry hall, apparently growing impatient when their Prince had not showed up on time. “I’ll make this brief,” He said as soon as he entered the hall, moving to shake the hand of each Chief - to do anything else would’ve been disrespectful. “I will be leading the soldiers of our grand kingdom to the mainland soon. As you may have guessed, this isn’t simply a raid - but the beginning of our expansion back onto the land our ancestors once sought to control.” He paused to gauge each of their responses.

“We will need more soldiers and more ships. I want each of you to return to your fiefdoms, send out foresters to collect at least enough elm for five new Drakkar and enough oak for a new Drekkar. Also, I want you to make it known to all of your tribesmen that all able-bodied men of age currently without work should assemble in the capital. Glory and plunder await all those who answer the call.” He looked to each of them, and each in turn nodded their head. “Gold will be paid for the wood upon its arrival to the shipyards here in Hinaughril, and more paid to each chief for every eligable man from his tribe who shows up.” That made each of the chiefs perk up - and Olem knew it, they probably would’ve done the job anyway, but with the promise of gold they would go about it enthusiastically. “Now, food and draughts have been put out for you. Take your fill and make all haste to fulfill my wishes.” Turning away from the chiefs, he left the castle once again, the guard he had sent away earlier now returned.

By the time he reached the docks again the ships had been fully loaded and the soldiers were sitting around. Some checking gear, others wrestling, others drinking and making bets on how many they’d kill once they reached the mainland. Olem smiled, it was what he expected - these were veterans, they had been on countless raids and would serve him faithfully. He moved away from the small hill he had been watching from and down the dock that his Drekkar, the Schaecheng, was moored to. Climbing aboard, his second-in-command was quick to salute. “Shall we be departing, sir?”

Scanning the ship, he looked to the man and nodded. “Take us out into the bay and wait for the others to join us. We’ll be leading, so set a course for the south-west. The isle we call Emest.” The commander seemed confused for a moment. He knew the island, for sure, but there wasn’t anything of interest on it - a few poor natives who weren’t worth raiding. “Sir?” Olem, who had turned to look out at the rest of the small fleet, turned back. All it took was a scowl from the prince to set the commander in motion - hopping about the ship yelling commands. The raiders aboard the ship needed little encouragement, they were eager for battle and for plunder.

[Prince Olem]

The voyage had been easy sailing, or as easy sailing could be hoped for in the often storm wracked waters of the bay. They had made great time, and the beach was quickly approaching. The longboats of the Moriki were designed the way they were for several reasons - one of those was the flat bottom, allowing them to sail right up onto the beach before the soldiers disembarked. Two hundred raiders disembarked from the five ships smoothly, 50 soldiers, 10 to each ship, taking hold of long lines to pull the boats further up on the beach and anchor them so the tide wouldn’t pull them back out. The other one-hundred and fifty gathered around Olem as he laid out the plan. They had landed on the southern tip of the island, in the shadow of a barren hill. He had planned this carefully, and had taken in reports from raiding parties over the past year. Though usually raiders weren’t known to stop and build fortifications, none were willing to question Olem’s orders.

He split them into three groups, two of fifty and one of one-hundred. The first group, fifty in number, would travel to the top of the hill and begin construction of basic earthworks, while the second group, one-hundred would begin to unload the supplies from the ships. The third group would travel north along the island and round up any natives they could find - Olem often pushed the raiders, but he didn’t expect them to construct the blockhouse all themselves. Even his reputation for punishing insubordination wouldn’t keep him safe if he put the warriors to the work of slaves. The earthworks would be temporary, until a larger blockhouse could be constructed atop the hill. It would take awhile for the supplies to be unloaded, plenty of time for the first group to travel up the island and return with any slaves. He gave the slaving group specific orders to spare only those able-bodied men, the infirm and young should be put to the sword. The women, on the other hand, should be brought back to the boats. Olem was also aware of how the lack of women could demoralize a group used to raiding and immediately going home.

Appointing leaders for each group, he set them to their tasks. He himself would follow the group to the top of the hill and oversee the start of the construction. He held little doubts that the fifty slavers would run into trouble - they were outnumbered by the natives, true, but the natives were fishermen and farmers. His raiders were professional killers, armed to the teeth and thirsty for blood. Reaching the top of the hill with the fifty, the hill was small, but it gave him a good look out across the island. The day was quickly running out, he could already see smoke from the evening fires of the villages that dotted the island. The villagers wouldn’t even know what hit them.

[Azanael]

The landing went without incident, the ships slid home upon the beach head and the warriors disembarked, and moved to the rally points, following Olem’s orders without question. Once Olem’s orders had been issued to the assembled raiders they broke off and, in their respective groups, began to move off and carry out those orders. Those orders were not carried out completely without incident however, as always problems will occur.

The fifty who set off to the top of the hill to begin work on the earthworks had nearly reached the summit before they began to scatter. It seemed that Olem’s informants were not as good as he had hoped, whilst they had reported that there were no inhabitants on this part of the island at the time they had scouted it, now was a completely different story. This island was inhabited by semi-nomadic tribes and one such tribe had recently moved to the top of this hill. There they had built a temporary camp for their tribe members. Having seen the ships approaching their shores they had prepared themselves to do battle with the invaders, their warriors preparing a suitable ambush for the foreigners. This particular surprise was large balls of hay that has been woven together and, at the last moment, set alight and pushed with pitchforks toward the coming raiders.

The Vikings scattered, parting to avoid the flaming balls of hay that tumbled down the hill and straight toward the awaiting ships that had been pushed far onto the shore. Some of these balls of fire hit raiders, instantly igniting their furs and oiled leathers, creating more chaos in the ranks. Screams ensued, and then war cries followed as the raiders charged up the hill to attack the tribal warriors. The Tribal Warriors’ weapons were primitive, and yet dangerously effective in such ambushes. Once the flaming balls had been unleashed the warriors unleashed barrage after barrage of stones flung from slings. The stones were not enough to kill a man with one hit, but they were enough to cause cuts, gashes and nasty bruises; and, if aimed correctly, could knock a man out with a hit to the head (even if he wore a helmet). Intermittently thrown with those flung stones were hardened wood spears; their tips fire hardened and their accuracy to be remarked upon.

Within the first few moments of the ambush Olem had already lost six men: two burned to death; one had been hit in the throat with a stone, cutting it open as well as crushing the wind pipe; and three others who had received spears to the chest before they could raise their shields in defense. Two others were badly injured with spear wounds, and five others had sustained minor injuries from the stones. One of his boats had also been hit by a flaming ball, despite the best efforts of the group assigned to unload the supplies, and had caught flame quickly. The ship would soon be entirely consumed unless Olem’s men could do something about it. And if the Tribal Warriors at the top of the hill could not be dealt with they would continue to cause grief for the raiding party.

Only with the screams of the burning Vikings did the group that had been sent to find slaves become aware of the fighting that had begun. They quickly turned their column around and headed toward the top of the hill. The Earthwork’s Group would arrive at the top of the hill first, with the Slaver Group arriving a few minutes later. The Supplies Group was busy with putting out the fires that had broken out amongst the already unpacked supplies and the burning ship.

The Tribal Warriors at the apex of the hill had formed very primitive defenses, an earth mound surrounding their camp, and upon that earth mound were where the Tribal Warriors had retreated to when the Vikings had crested the hill. From there they hurled their extremely accurate spears and flung their stinging stones. They did not appear to have any armour, nor did they have swords or arrows. No doubt they were used to fighting other tribes similarly armed and armoured. Now that their element of surprise had run its course the Vikings should hold the upper hand with their superior armour and weaponry, but only time would tell.

OOC: Apologies for the delay in getting to this. Enjoy.

[Prince Olem]

The raiders had been moving in loose formation, they rarely traveled or fought in a single, tight group, and it had saved many of their lives, as the burning bays missed the majority of the raiders in their wild path down the hill. Olem had been right behind the group, and witnessed the first barrage. It only took him a minute to realize what had happened, was happening - he hadn't been appointed general of the Moriki simply because he was the current King's son, he was also a ruthless, battle-tested warrior. His strong voice sounded above the din of battle, "Afar the torch was lit and now it has grown to a river of flames! Fearless we rush upon your blades, until death or victory and fame! Ilmarinen! Let our hymn be heard upon meadows of blood and mountains of skulls! Hear the sound of swords fill the night, feel the winds of death upon your skin, see the arrows fly, flaming in the sky and hear the screams of men, as they die! Onward! Let no man stand while Olem fights!" When they had first started up the hill Olem had been in the back, but it didn't take him long to un-strap Vidar, his mighty spear, and his shield from his back and charge forward amongst his men - most still trying to figure out what was happening. He quickly reached the front of the group, and his mighty voice acted as a rallying point for the raiders, each man taking up the tune that would raise their morale and strike a deadly fear into most opponents as they drew weapons and rushed to their general's side. The captain Olem had sent out with the slaving group was one of his most trusted, and his faith in the man was rewarded as it took little time for the captain to turn his raiders about and charge up the opposite side of the hill - the men overjoyed to find battle come to them instead of them having to seek it out. As soon as they heard it, the slaving group to joined in the song, their line effectively cutting off any escape for the tribal warriors.

As soon as Olem crested the hill, a spear came soaring in at him. A sure death, if it had hit, but a swipe of Vidar knocked the deadly bolt off course and it landed harmlessly beside him. While the spear had missed, his block had opened up his defenses for a moment, an opportunity several slingers had taken advantage of - one skilled marksman even scoring a hit on Olem's ribs, and as he took a breath, the sharp pain signaled it was probably broken. But such a small wound would never cause Olem to pass on a chance to wet Vidar in the blood of his enemies. He threw himself forward, fully committed to the battle, summoning a limitless rage - the embodiment of a berserker. Adjusting his shield to balance and defend his body, he hurled Vidar. A moment later one tribal warrior fell skewered by the horrid, razor-sharp weapon. Stopping only long enough to get an axe off of a wounded raider, Olem charged on, never missing a word of the song. Several tribesmen tried to pull the spear from their comrade's chest, but only served to quicken the man's death as the barbs twisted and tore chunks of flesh from the warrior's chest. With a wicked snarl, Olem reached the earthen wall near where his spear had downed the tribal warrior, his remaining raiders at his back.

Back on the beach the one-hundred set to unloading supplies rushed around to extinguish the flames. Several of the longboats were pushed back into the surf, to the limit of their mooring lines, for safety. The bow of the Drakkar that caught flame was doused, but the damage had already been done and it would need heavy repair to be seaworthy - the saving grace was the ship was on the beach where water could not rush in and fill the hull. The raiders were smart enough to tend to the ships first - the supplies were far less important than the longships that had brought them there. With the ships wetted and secured, and with the first barrage over, the supply crew then went to work on the supplies that had caught fire - kegs of fresh water, packages of cured meat, wooden boards, piles of ropes, stacks of pelts, and a few lesser items. Some of it would be lost, but it was far from a complete disaster. With the ships and supplies secured, and leaving twenty to guard the beach, the remaining eighty would charge up the hill to join their brethren in battle, should there be any breathing bodies left to hack and slash.

(The words for the above song were taken from several different sources. I take no credit for them.)

(Also, I'd like to award 10 points to anyone who recognizes the Atilla reference.)

This post has been edited by Prince Olem on Jun 4 2008, 05:22 AM

[Kaine]

The words of the mighty Viking Prince filled the men surrounding and within earshot with pride and determination, raising their morale from battered and unstable to firmly intent upon destroying all whom opposed them. They all charged up the hill under the constant hail of stones and spears; often a Viking would need to stop and kneel down so that he could not present so much of a target whilst he removed the offending weighted spear from his shield and then jumped up and began to run again. It was true that had the Vikings been more of an orderly army they would have sustained more damage from the Tribal attack, and thus Prince Olem did not suffer many more casualties in the fighting that ensued, at least until they reached the earthen mound around the camp.

Prince Olem was perhaps gifted with luck that day for when he reached the mound and leapt onto the earthen mound he effectively passed over another of the enemies traps and surprises; the first of his fellow raiders were not so lucky it seemed. As the raiders behind Olem reached the mound and began to ascend it, one stepped upon something, and then another, and then three more. The hated Tribal Warriors had placed sharpened wooden spikes within the fresh soil of the mound and as soon as the Vikings stepped on the fresh soil it compacted down with their weight. The leather soles of their boots only able to take so much, but they were not able to take this; each foot that stepped upon a spike was skewered straight through. Howls of pain flew up into the afternoon sky to combine with the cries of the wounded from the spears and stones. Those damn Tribal Warriors had been crafty in their surprises and their ability to lessen the ranks of Olem’s men so that they could have a chance at defending themselves and their people.

The group of slavers also found out about this particular surprise as they had essentially been cut off from Olem’s group because of the hill between them. They suffered a few major injuries from these attacks also, however for the main the Vikings managed to pick their way through the spiked ground and crest the mound to begin engaging the Tribal Warriors in melee combat. Once the melee was engaged by Olem’s group and the Slaver Group there was no longer hope for the Tribal Warriors, the Vikings’ martial skill far surpassed that of the primitive tribals and what damage the Tribals had done to the Vikings did not come close to the slaughter that followed. The Vikings killed every Tribal on that hill, though two of the most fierce of those fighters were able to be captured for their leaders enjoyment should he wish to interrogate them or have fun with them in some other manner.

All in all the casualties you suffered for grandly outweighed by the Tribal dead. In the slaughter at the top of the hill only five more of your men perished, bringing your total casualty list to eleven dead Vikings. Another ten of your men were badly injured by the spikes in the ground, all of whom would take some time to heal from those injuries, they were quite crippling and may even spell the end of fighting for those warriors; only time would tell. This brought the list of seriously wounded up to twelve. No more of you men suffered even minor injuries during the slaughter, there were a few hits by the stones and perhaps one or two broken ribs but these men were Vikings and they would survive such minor injuries. This brought your total of dead and wounded to twenty-three in total.

When both the Slaver Group and Olem’s joined back up again the leader of the Slavers sought Olem out and pointed northward, ”My Prince, northward there is a trail of perhaps fifty souls. No doubt they are the women and children of this Tribal Camp fleeing to safety. These Tribal Warriors must have been here to keep us occupied so that the women and children could escape. What will you have us do?” As soon as he finished speaking four Vikings walked forward, between them they dragged the unconscious bodies of two tribal warriors; both had many ritual scars upon them denoting the amount of kill they had performed in their lives, there were a lot of ritual scars. The Vikings waited for Olem’s orders regarding them.

Azanael: Editted and supplied a more in depth and detailed post. Enjoy.

[Prince Olem]

By the time the battle had wound down, Olem's furs were soaked in blood. He had taken down his fair share of the tribesmen, and besides the broken rib, hadn't received any major injures. He was approached by the men who had found the tracks, and he was about to answer when the two prisoners were drug before him. Immediatley, a smile spread across his dirty face. Olem turned away from the prisoners and to the men who had wanted to chase those fleeing the hill, "Let them run, they won't get far. Set groups to prepare the pyres on the beach and shore up the earthworks here atop the hill, this will be our camp, also send a group to round up and tend to the wounded. Then pile all the tribesmen's corpses on the east side of the hill, out of sight of any other isle natives." Nodding for them to be on their way, he turned back to the four Moriki holding the prisoners. "Tie them up at the center of the camp and stand guard." He went to turn away, but stopped, "And, don't hurt them too bad. We need them to be able to walk." The raiders had begun to grin, but the grins quickly turned to scowls at Olem's last statement, they may not have been happy but none of them would dare defy him.

Afew hours later things were back on schedule - a pyre had been erected and set ablaze, containing the bodies of the dead Moriki, traps had been removed, the breeches in the original earthworks had been repaired and even added to, most of the essential supplies had been brought up into the defendable camp, all the dead tribesmen had been piled on the side of the hill facing the ships, and the wounded were mended and, in most cases, passed out drunk. Olem sat on a barrel chewing on a piece of meat infront of the two bound prisoners, who had recently awoke after having been beaten unconscience. Tossing the greasy bone aside, he wiped his hands off on a fur and simply sat there for a moment longer, listening to the sounds of his raiders moving about the camp. Most had been allowed to celebrate their victory, while seventy men had been kept in reserve, preparing themselves for the plan Olem had been formulating in his mind - he would let one of the prisoners go, and after feeding him afew tales, the man would run straight to check on the women and children who had fled the village. Turning his attention back to the prisoners, he flashed a toothy smile. "Congratulations, we haven't had worthy opponents in some time..."

(Not finished.)

This post has been edited by Prince Olem on Jun 4 2008, 10:20 AM