11-26-2004
What is Dead May Never Die
Reldrik Blacktyde watched as the Sea Splinter's heavy iron ram cut trenches into the choppy sea, like it was clearing a path through a seamless blue mob. His arms and back already ached from rowing, but the pain did not bother him, they were almost upon them.
A pair of merchant vessels had been capsized and set aflame at the mouth of the bay ahead, a poor attempt at defense by the frightened villagers in the town beyond. As Reldrik and the rest of the reavers pushed the longship into attack speed, he glanced sidelong at their allies, two more longships from Pyke, and each carrying more than a hundred blood-hungry raiders. As they sped towards the floating fireballs, Reldrik reached down and put a hand on his father's longaxe, Ironreaper, before muttering a hurried prayer to the Drowned God. The Drowned God had guided his father to glory and power; maybe He would do the same for Reldrik.
The order came suddenly, and Reldrik had barely pulled in his oar and thrown his shield over his head when the Sea Splinter went crashing through one of the burned-out merchant cogs, filling the air with soot and fire. When the next order came, Reldrik dropped his shield and ran his oar out again, and the longship continued to fly towards the waiting shore.
The other two ships were still alongside the Sea Splinter, the raiders at their oars rowing with the same dogged tenacity that possessed Reldrik; they could almost taste the blood in the air.
Reldrik didn't even notice the arrows raining down upon them until one of them took the man in front on him in the shoulder, and he fell, taking another in his chest on the way down. Reflexively, Reldrik grabbed his shield and held it up just in time to stop another barrage from ending his raid prematurely. Reldrik hunched down behind his shield, drew his axe, and joined the battle cry that was growing among the raiders.
"What is Dead May Never Die," the men screamed as the beat their weapons on their shields, "What is Dead May Never Die!"
The arrows stopped, and Reldrik could see the thin line of militia standing uneasily in front of them. A sadistic grin crept across his face as the Sea Splinter hit the sand, and he threw himself over the bow, the war cries of his fellow raiders fueling his bloodlust.
The first one died before Reldrik's feet hit the ground, Ironreaper caught him in the neck in a mighty downswing and nearly clove him in two. Blood sprayed in his eyes and all over his armor, which frightened the next man onto his back, where he died, entrails exposed to the sky. Reldrik's third kill was merely a boy, too short and too skinny for the chain mail and helm he wore, but he died like the rest, screaming and crying.
The reavers had all but destroyed the resistance on the bank, and the bowmen on the docks began raining arrows on them once more. Some of the raiders shields had more than 20 arrows in them, making them appear as the trunks of uprooted trees. A few of the men had left the battle early and pursued women and children up towards the small town, hoping to get a head start on the looting and raping. Reldrik ducked behind his shield to avoid an incoming arrow, which missed his head, but found it's way through his shield and into his forearm. He paid the wound no mind however, and rushed headlong towards the docks with axe raised high, to repay each and every bowman for each and every arrow they had loosed upon them.
Raiders on both sides of him fell, arrows piercing their throats. Reldrik lowered his head and charged, hoping to close the gap as quickly as he could. He reached the bowmen before they could fire another shot, and brought Ironreaper up in a cruel slash that split three archers across the midsection. The bowmen howled and cursed as they dropped to their knees, each attempting to force his insides back inside their ruined chests. The ironmen behind Reldrik leaped over the first defenders and began hacking and tearing through the remainder of the men on the docks, kicking the bodies into the sea, so that the Drowned God might give His blessing.
The defenders being all but destroyed, Reldrik relaxed a bit and headed towards the town, to find what sort of loot he could acquire. He took the helm from the first man he killed, and placed it upon his head, the dead man's fresh blood flowing down his head and into his beard. He found a small pouch on the boy, with a pair of wooden figurines in it, a crudely carved knight in plate mail and what appeared to be a maiden in a flowing gown. He laughed and spit upon the boy's corpse, rubbing some of the boy's blood into the figures before fastening the pouch to his sword belt.
He found the majority of the reavers in the tavern, abusing the woman and girls that had gathered here for safety. He strode in, laughing, and headed towards the large barrels behind the bar. He found them empty, which shouldn't have surprised him, and grabbed a tankard before heading down the steps to find the ale barrels that most taverns kept in their cellars.
It was very dark, and the noise coming from the ceiling was deafening, the laughs of drunken ironmen and the wails of the unfortunate women creating a hellish cacophony that rebounded off of the cellar walls. Reldrik felt his way to what seemed like a large keg and reached down for the tap. Instead of a worn wooden tap, Reldrik's hand wrapped itself around something cold, metal, and sharp.
The last thing Reldrik Blacktyde ever knew was the deafening darkness, and the taste of blood.