Post by ragnar on Dec 8, 2019 16:39:17 GMT 1
He had left his mark on this world; the battles forever forged their place in history. Poets would share the tales for generations to come, songs would be sung in local ale-houses, and stories would be shared on the battlefield to inspire victory. Despite the many triumphs, his real legacy would be left with his children; the sons of Ragnar. For they would go on to eclipse what their father had achieved and more.
His bones had grown old, his reflexes had slowed, and his strength was leaving him by the day. War, fame and glory was all he had known and was what he desired, yet the flame no longer burned bright.
It was time. He was a warrior, not destined for a life of politics. He picked up his axe, which felt heavier than usual, rested it on his shoulder and headed towards what would be his final battle. The vast halls of Valhalla awaited him. His place on the table would be set alongside his father, Odin, and his oldest friend, Oorali. The drinks would be many and the glory would be boundless.
However, before he could leave the mortal plane and look his old companion in the eyes, he first her had to avenge her.
Oorali had suffered a painful death at the hands of a brutish giant. The giant was known not only for his fierce skills in combat, but also for his honour, intelligence and bravery. He had accepted Ragnar’s challenge once before but was ambushed on his journey, robbed, and savagely beaten. The events of that day did not sit well with the Norsk or the giant, who prided themselves on their honour and word, despite the desire to part each other’s head from body.
It was a long walk south to the meeting point. Ragnar knew he had finally found his chance of a glorious death. The air was dry and the trees unwavered. The chosen location was in open plains under the height of the blood moon.
He heard the giant before he came into view. Heavy footsteps thundered through the mountainous valley, entwined with the scraping of a gigantic sword through the coarse sand. This was not his first encounter with the beast but he knew it would be his last..
There was no time for quarrels or rituals. As soon as the giant noticed Ragnar, he charged with unbridled rage. Both warriors seemed not to care for their defence and more determined to tear the flesh from each other with vicious hacks and crunching blows that shattered bones. The battle continued at a vicious pace and both warriors grew tired; it was then Ragnar saw his window. The giant was now swinging the huge sword with only one hand and it left an opening. He charged towards the giant and took the sword through his shoulder, before swinging his axe towards the unprotected kidneys of the giant. With his available hand and last ounce of strength he dragged the axe horizontally across the giant’s torso to gut the him alive. Blood gurgled from his mouth as Ragnar stared into his eyes, watching the light slowly fade. He led down beside the giant as he took his last breath and awaited the Valkyries.
His bones had grown old, his reflexes had slowed, and his strength was leaving him by the day. War, fame and glory was all he had known and was what he desired, yet the flame no longer burned bright.
It was time. He was a warrior, not destined for a life of politics. He picked up his axe, which felt heavier than usual, rested it on his shoulder and headed towards what would be his final battle. The vast halls of Valhalla awaited him. His place on the table would be set alongside his father, Odin, and his oldest friend, Oorali. The drinks would be many and the glory would be boundless.
However, before he could leave the mortal plane and look his old companion in the eyes, he first her had to avenge her.
Oorali had suffered a painful death at the hands of a brutish giant. The giant was known not only for his fierce skills in combat, but also for his honour, intelligence and bravery. He had accepted Ragnar’s challenge once before but was ambushed on his journey, robbed, and savagely beaten. The events of that day did not sit well with the Norsk or the giant, who prided themselves on their honour and word, despite the desire to part each other’s head from body.
It was a long walk south to the meeting point. Ragnar knew he had finally found his chance of a glorious death. The air was dry and the trees unwavered. The chosen location was in open plains under the height of the blood moon.
He heard the giant before he came into view. Heavy footsteps thundered through the mountainous valley, entwined with the scraping of a gigantic sword through the coarse sand. This was not his first encounter with the beast but he knew it would be his last..
There was no time for quarrels or rituals. As soon as the giant noticed Ragnar, he charged with unbridled rage. Both warriors seemed not to care for their defence and more determined to tear the flesh from each other with vicious hacks and crunching blows that shattered bones. The battle continued at a vicious pace and both warriors grew tired; it was then Ragnar saw his window. The giant was now swinging the huge sword with only one hand and it left an opening. He charged towards the giant and took the sword through his shoulder, before swinging his axe towards the unprotected kidneys of the giant. With his available hand and last ounce of strength he dragged the axe horizontally across the giant’s torso to gut the him alive. Blood gurgled from his mouth as Ragnar stared into his eyes, watching the light slowly fade. He led down beside the giant as he took his last breath and awaited the Valkyries.