T’was a cold and rainy morn on the langskip
with its fearless leader King Ellenwood and his band of Jarls headed to the
Isle of Man. The quest was that of retribution, save the beloved Marcee. There
would be no bargaining, no pillaging, and no stopping on this trip, no, just
bloodlust and murder; for they took the lady of the land and the only
punishment for that is damnation to the pits of Hel. For on this day Odin
smiled on the King, and the King smiled in kind. It was a good day for
bloodshed and vengeance. The icy sea wind slapped the Kings long frozen curls
against the prow. This bothered him not, as his many furs and leathers that
Marcee had sewn kept him warm, and today they would keep him safe from Jormungand. The men were ready to feel the warmth of their
enemy’s blood. The King’s ulfberht, Callum, was freshly sharpened and still hot
from the iron. This battle looked to be a quick one. However, the Assbans were
known for using their piss wine to bribe trolls to help them in battle.
Bastards. Just passed the fog would be the land where the battle for Marcee
would start. There would be no war chant, no drum, none of the slant eyed man’s
fire. They knew the wrath of Ellenwood was coming for them and all their
bloodline. Marcee’s Garmr set off on this crusade as well, for she came from
Hel to protect Marcee and would continue to do so.
**
Garmr was the first off the langskip
racing over the dead earth into the infinite fog. The smell of piss and the
dreaded Pesta were heavy. The King shouted “Keep your eyes keen for the lady in
black and Odin help us, breath through your mouth”. The Jarls tied the ship down
and gathered their weapons. The hike to the castle of Assban had many mental
and psychological trials. The sea had been dry of fish and their crops were
poison for years, for they prayed to a false god by the name of Wallfund.
Idolizing his false promises and hatred of all things, even Loki seemed like a
good guy in comparison. The first trial would be that of ‘luck’. The shores
were blanketed with ponds, a breeding ground for Nokk. If the Jarl was of open
mind and short on coin he may not pass his trial with the Nokken. May it be the
beautiful man before him or stallion that promises to speed up his journey, his
death will be slow and no man alive can save them. Next was the Fossegrimmen.
His hideous fiddle playing could not be pinned down in the fog and would
eventually drive you mad if you let it. Because the hike took two days’ time,
the men feared the Mare. No man alive was stronger than the Mare. A strong
Viking is a rested Viking, and the Mare is patent and will sit and wait to get
you. There is no way to fight it and no way to escape it. Just pray to Heimdall
that you are in his favor. As they drew nearer the bone shaking howls of Garmr
could be heard in the distance.
**
How does one know they are in the realm
of Assban? Well of course the troll shit wiped on the trees and the stench of
piss wine. At the drawbridge was a golden tower for their beloved Wallfund. The
King looked to his men and scoffed “The gold it took to make all these towers
could have fed their people yet they give it to the Wallfund. What small minds
the Assban have! I wonder how they please their women.” The bridge was slick
with shit and vomit. The lady in black had been here for some time. Garmr’s
howls were becoming fainter, a sign that she was in the castle. There was going
to be a trail of blood leading the way to Marcee, for nothing in the nine
worlds had a stronger bond than this hound from Hel. The King had his biggest
men cut down a pine tree and his other men build large fires that had bundles
of sage. The smoke would purify the air before the battle and if they didn’t
throw the traitors bodies in the fire they would join their families in
Valhalla.
**
It
was nightfall as the men got ready for combat. War paint covered the exposed
skin. They had all fasted the night before just to increase their hunger for
killing. Not a man was lost on the hike and not a man would be lost in the
battle with the bitch men of Assban, or their drunken trolls. For their King
had led them in battles far worse and with smaller numbers. They were always
victorious and never in vain, for he fought for his people and the good of his
country. Duhlyse, the Lady Prince of Assban asked for a word with the King, for
“Bloodshead is in poor taste you brut”. The King yelled to his men to “Tear
down the wall! Cut off their heads! Spill all of their blood!” The Lady Prince
called for its eunuch bitch slave Kelmi. Kelmi tried pleading with the King for
mercy “for there are kids in the kingdom”. The King was disgusted by Kelmi’s
distorted face and vexing voice. He responded with “you mean your inbred kin
that are bathed in piss wine and fed to the trolls? There death is on your
hands peasants”.
**
Not
one hours’ time and they had broken in. Met by no surprise by piss drunk trolls,
their ulfberhts and battle axes ripped their limbs off with ease. The smaller
and faster men were ordered to ‘set the houses on fire and kill every women,
man, and child. Not even the animals make it out alive’. The King followed the
sound of the trusted Hel hound. Howls, bones being broken, and men’s screams
could be heard thoroughout the castle. Behind him were the sounds of steel on
bone and the scent of burning flesh and hair. This was starting off as a great
battle. The Assbans underestimated the amount of wine it would take to get a
troll drunk and how ‘well’ they battle. They have big mouths and small brains, but
only someone who has cut one up would know that. Upon entering the great hall,
the King spotted Kelmi naked throwing itself to another of the golden towers
praying “Let the lady in black ravage that awful man before he can get me. For
I have done nothing wrong and everything is his fault”. The King laughed out
loud and put his ulfberht away. He looked upon the foul beast of a person and
said “I will take as much pleasure in killing you as I do bedding my wife,
beast”. The King grabbed it by the neck and flung the bitch beast across the
room hitting the cheap gold tower. As its spine cracked against the tower, the
tower crumbled and broke into shit dust. For it was nothing more than a painted
tower of troll dung. The Beast started to scratch at its face and slap itself
screaming “HE HITS ME HE HITS ME! WALLFUND, SEE HOW HE HURTS ME! I AM YOUR
HUMBLE SERVENT!” The King again laughed, “Are you part Troll? I can smell your
shit from here and so can your God!” The King was done with Kelmi’s games. He
grabbed its head in his hand and slammed it like a rotten fruit against the
cobbles. The smell of filth filled the air. “Good riddance!”
**
Now
in the underbelly of the castle the King could smell the hell hound’s rank
breath. Marcee was ever closer. The King needed no fire in the darkness, for he
relied only on his keen sense of hearing and agility to get to the oubliettes.
Nearing them he happened upon what seemed to be a pond with an island that had
a sky hole just above it. Under its light was the beloved Marcee on a throne of
thorns and spikes dripping with what one could only image was her blood. By her
side was a sickly strange looking Garmr. Not the hound that fought its way from
Hel to find her. Out from behind the throne slithered Duhlyse. Not man or woman,
this swine had the boldness to put its hands on the King’s woman and attempt a
grin saying, “See how she quivers with pleasure as I stroke her?” as it ran a
sharp bone dagger across her bare chest where her medallion once hung. The very
medallion that the King gave her the first night he bedded her, and promised
that ‘as long as she wore that, he would be with her and protect her’. Rage
filled the King’s eyes; all he could see was red. The shimmer on the water
surrounding Marcee was a telltale sign of Nokken. The sparkle the water gave
off was one the King had never seen in his many years. ‘How many Nokk could
there be in this small body of water’ thought the he. He emptied his pockets of
silver and stripped down to his bare chest in preparation to cross the clearly
crooked pond. He wanted to use nothing but his strength to protect his one, his
all, his love. “I know what she is, you fake! You are no King you are just
using this Hulder to win battles for you. Is it even a female? Let’s find out!”
Duhlyse went to cut off the small bit of cloth that was covering Marcee’s
flower as the King charged. Forcing the vile scum against the throne of thorns,
Duhlyse screamed out in agony. Holding its bone dagger hand high above both
their heads the King whispered in its ear, “I am going to kill you now”.
Breaking out into psychotic laughter Duhlyse shouted, “Not before she dies!” It
turned its head to the hound and shouted “Kill her”! The beast lunged for her. In
the blink of an eye the King had the animal’s throat in hand. However, as he
did this Marcee, or what was Marcee, melted away into the pond. “Nokken be
gone!” screamed the King, letting go of the obviously dazed hound. A sharp pain
in the king’s right side took him by surprise. The bone dagger was drove deep
into the King’s neck and ear, staggering, he head-butted Duhlyse unconscious.
The King broke off the bit of dagger that was not in him and went on to shake
the hound back to its senses. The use of Marcee’s blood on the throne, and Nokk
must have thrown the hound. Once on its feet Garmr again was off running but
now with the fire of Hel in her eyes. The King was quick to follow, running
across the pond and grabbing up his gear. Running alongside the hound toward a
tower that held what looked to be a body. “Marcee my world, speak to me!” He
grasped her cold bare body that only donned the sacred medallion. Her left
wrist had a deep gash across it. “This was where they got all the blood for
their vile trap” thought the king. He wrapped her in his furs and carried her
to the boat. Live or die he had her in his arms again and Assban was nothing
but an ember.
**
A
few hours at sea and Garmr began to pace the boat. Was known hounds from hel
had no place on open water but Garmr had braved far worse conditions. Soon deep
howls followed the pacing. The men began to speak softly amongst themselves,
all different theories. Some thought ‘the kraken was coming for the women to
give her a proper Viking sendoff’. Others said ‘a vortex was going to appear
and take them to Hel because of that damn mutt’. The King worried not,
continuing to navigate the dark night sea under the winter stars. The hound all
of the sudden leaped from the stern to the bow, where Marcee lay. The hound was
crouching over her and bearing its teeth, with all hair on end, along with
everyone else’s. The King shouted at the beast “what has gotten into you dog?”
Realizing that this was now a standoff, the King pulled out Callum and took the
beast’s head off. Instantly Marcee shot up gasping for air screaming, “Noooo!”
The King grasped her in his arms so tight he hurt her. She was alive, but what
of her hound?
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