Ummm...I hope you like my fanfic!I would really like you guys to review to this fanfic...Because I don't know if anyone will like it ,if you people don't give me your opinion!Also,without any reviews then I won't post chapter 2!.Thank you,Disclamier -I don't own Naruto ,but if I did that would total rock! -It
Ireland in around, A. D 848
From the cold and harsh climate of the North came the men, with their sleek black long boats, The boats or "Dragon Ships" represented the sea serpent who was rumored to live in these parts who took Larger ships down in a blink of an eye! But these ship sailed without a care, they glided through the waves with little trouble and then they found what they were looking for on the horizon, Ireland!
His men that he lead were fearless, ferocious, and terrible. They were like huge beasts, crying their war cry and waving there swords, axes, and spears. They did not honor the Christian good nor were they any servant to mortal fears. Yet the man who led them, Gaara the Red, a prince of Norway, known far and wide as the Lord of the Wolves, was different
He was a man above all others, magnificent with hair the color of blood, He toward over all of his countrymen with a lean and muscular strength that demand respect, loyalty, fear and Obedience. His mind, who was brought up to barbarism, stretched beyond it. He did not come to concur the land, but to forge a kingdom on it. But in the corner of his mind came other thoughts devastation, conquest, but he new now that was his other half thinking, not him.
He would try to understand this rugged land with captured your eye and never let go. He would learn to understand the people, the culture of the Irish who could be invaded time and time again, but never was conquered!
Aye, he would come to understand them and, in so doing, he would conquer them where others had failed.
He thought of all these things as he studied the coastline, arms on his hips and his legs planted squarely on the ground.
Ireland was to be his -- or he hers. He felt it within his blood, within his bones, and the feeling was like a strong wine or beer. I will make my mark upon this land, he decided, I will not shed blood unless the bug me or get in my way. If the Irish started war he would take up that offer and kill to his hearts content! Ireland thats where destiny awaited.
He spun about and the planes of his face were both ruggedly handsome and chilling as he faced his men, with a little smirk "Inland" he called above the whipping wind as he raised his sword high into the sky.
"We go a Viking inland, and on horses. And upon her, this rich green isle, we will dig deep roots! A kingdom awaits us!"
The cries of the men rose high in the wind.
And indeed, The Lord of the Wolves had come to Ireland.