A/N: So, this story now has a beta reader. As awerse as I was to the idea of inviting one, when ScottishValhalla proposed to do it for the story, I thought "why not?". Now he has to suffer through the pains of seeing the unedited version, pointing out my mistakes and asking me questions so that this story can be a bit less unrefined.

Wait. Did I just agree to something that will make people suffer a bit less?! This is why I don't do business in the middle of the night! Or try to. And constantly make the same mistake over and over again... DAMN YOU SCOTTISHVALHALLA!
Anyways. The song for this chapter is Wrath of the Norsemen by Amon Amarth.

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Warmth. That was the first thing for the bunny doe to comprehend. It surrounded her, enveloped in a comfortable embrace, telling her everything was fine and she could keep sleeping as long as she desired. Still, there was a small little worm that gnawed at her heart, the feeling of unease and dread urging her to open her eyes and get up. But her body… she couldn't really feel it.

A surge of panic ran through her thoughts, but Judith squashed it with all the might of her iron will. The doe knew this sensation, there was nothing to write home about, and definitely no reason to panic. As a young bunny she was one of the most prone to head trauma and concussions, resulting in her losing consciousness more times in her life than Judith cared to count, And since she could think, the doe knew the time she would be able to feel and move would come soon enough.

The only question that troubled her was how did she manage to faint in the first place? The last thing she remembered was witnessing the fight between Nicholas and elder wolf from the Topia village. Seeing them cross their swords in a way that was more fitted for enemies rather than close friends they claimed to be has triggered something, the doe could feel it. There was something steering within, some force transcending the limited understanding of time and space that she had. A vast ocean was lying open before her, and so the bunny did the only thing she knew every other representative of her species would scoff at.

Judith, former head of clan Hopps, daughter of Stuart, former head of clan Hopps, dove head first into the abyss.

\m/

A massive headache struck Johan as soon as he came back to the world of the living, making the twenty something old deer wince and whimper. Something struck the buck in the head with tremendous force, he was sure of it. Enough to leave a hole even in the ash tree that grew behind his parents' house. Somehow still, his skull remained intact, leaving aside the excruciating pain that coursed through the ungulate's head.

Despite it, the buck gathered all of the strength that he could muster and tried to get up. It was then that Johan realised the clothes he wore were wet, making him shiver due to how cold the air was and realize that something lay atop of his legs. At First, he wanted to pull himself from under whatever was pinning his legs, so he threw his arms before him, and pulled, simultaneously thrashing his legs as fiercely as he could given his state. Which wasn't much, but thankfully the weight over his legs wasn't too heavy and soon Johan found himself free and able to stand up. Or so he thought, but despite his best efforts, the best he managed was getting to his knees to crawl on all fours like a newborn. His legs refused to support the buck and after a number of fruitless tries to make them cooperate, Johan gave up and focused on solving the other problem. His eyes were shut and unable to open. Some substance, probably mud from the time he spent lying on the ground and in the rain. Why had nobody found him? Granted he was probably not missed since he snuck away from the fieldwork to have a little fun with a young doe, and wasn't expected back home at least until sunfall, but the rain was heavy enough to drench his clothes, making the deer tremble with the cold that seemed to be seeping through his very soul. Yet, despite the numbing cold itself, his muscles burned and ached as if beset by the fiery flames of Hel itself.

Not knowing where exactly he was, unable to see his destination, Johan decided to lay down again. His hands wrought with tremors the deer reached out with his hooves to try and clean away the substance covering his eyes. Careful not to tear his eyelids, the buck, his breath shallow and constantly interrupted by the spiking headache, managed to finally free up a bit his left eye. Which, when opened, fell upon a small puddle of rainwater just a few feet to his left. The parchness that started scratching at his throat that very moment was the most torturous feeling he had ever experienced. Trying without success to muster up any saliva to at least moist this dryness, Johan once more started crawling. This time, with a clear destination in sight.

When the deer buck reached the puddle, he felt like all of the strength was sapped away from him, while the burning ache within his muscles blossomed with a new strength. Unable to give out any sound, the deer still managed to angle his muzzle so that his tongue would be able to reach the dirty water.

Johan never saw a single predator during his life, not venturing out further than the village fields. The village though was constantly visited by Jersey Hogburp, obviously a hog, who was responsible for collecting taxes. That one usually stayed overnight, at the villagers behest, to share stories of what was going on in the neighborhood. Jersey always obliged, considering he was offered a free barrel of local moonshine and warm company for the night.

Amongst the many stories, told by the hog, were a lot told of the evil predators. Creatures so fearsome and terrible, they could only be spawned from the very depths of Hel itself. Heldogs. The beasts hailed from North, crossing the mountains, that could be seen from the village, to kill and plunder their prey neighbours. They were a species (if the deer recalled it correctly) named Canidae, with long triangular muzzles, filled with gleaming sharp fangs that would easily render flesh from bones, blunt claws that would be used to grab their victim and then tear them limb from limb.

But as dangerous as any predator could ever be, they drank their water as if civilization has passed them by - by lapping at it with their tongues! Johan would laugh the hardest at these tales. It was rather ironic that now, lying in dirt and nearly dying, the deer tried to lap at the dirty water as if some dreamed predator. With the thought coming and going through his mind, Johan felt like he was forgetting something. But before the deer could even try to think a bit more about this, his mind went blank with darkness.

Next time he came to, the pain subsided a lot and there was more strength in his lithe limbs than before. Standing was still out of options, but at least Johan now could stay on his knees and drink out from the puddle by simply dipping his muzzle in it, without lapping at it. Having quenched his thirst, the deer tried to clean up the remaining dirt that covered his eyes. It was not a simple task for an ungulate, since the water didn't hold when he tried to scoop it up with his hooves. The buck had to keep his muzzle close to the water and splash at his eyes and then try and carefully clean them. Finally, after a large amount of effort, he was able to finish the deceptively simple task of clearing all of the soot from his eyelids.

Johan could finally see clearly. But the moment he looked around, the deer wished with all of the might that was left in his aching muscles and trembling bones that he couldn't.

\m/

Nicholas of clan Wilde retraced the steps his Heldogs took but a day ago, following the path that his nose would mark for them. The stench of taint was powerful in these lands, but only select few were able to hear it. Those who, like the fox, dedicated their very existences to the cause of eradicating the enemies of the Creator and their Cult. The taint, as Nicholas called it, not wanting to give those damned creatures any more recognition than they deserved.

By his side walked another of his brothers, Finneas, a fennec fox with temper just as short as his stature but ambition higher than the hovering peaks of Yggdrasil's mountains.

The duo surveyed the destruction wrought upon one of the villages of the prey kingdom Itania. As always, the strike was swift and deadly, the many corpses of mammals busy with their everyday activities lying in the ground testament to this fact. While Heldogs were not a unit created for raiding, their efficiency and conviction made them ideal for this grim purpose. They followed the exact given order - slay everyone but a single man, and the scream of terror both foxes just heard served to prove the orders were followed. Not that either of them doubted.

\m/

Johan was mortified and scared of what was revealed to his sight. Bodies of his fellow villagers lay broken and motionless in the dirt, blood having long since dried. Most had their throats sliced, stomachs gutted and heads cut off. No matter how used he was to similar sights, when it was done to those you knew on a daily basis, and the realization of the fact this same fate could befall him, the buck's stomach decided it could no longer contain whatever it was still left from the last meal, right after his lungs could no longer provide air for the scream the deer unleashed. When there was nothing left within to share with the world, the dry heaving buck once more lifted up his head.

What he saw made Johan freeze. For despite the fact he never saw a predator, his instincts knew the truth. In front of him stood something that was beyond comprehension, something even the Children he and his fellow villagers worshiped could not fathom to defeat. Hence their silence. Though the creature in front of him was barely able to reach his chest should the deer stand up, the lizardskin armor, patched in many places, along with the two blades at his sides told a story of a more than capable fighter. And Johan was no fighter. He just wanted to lead a life of leisure and pleasure. He didn't want to die here.

- Hm. You reek of taint. But say I let it slide for now and let you go. Would you be willing to do my bidding? - The voice was filled with malice and hatred so thick, Johan could literally feel their grip on his guts and heart, the latter of which nearly jumped out his throat. Probably his frantic nodding was the only thing preventing it.

- Good. We want you to run to the throne city. And everywhere you see mammals, tell them this: "The Red King of Teutonic Kingdom of predators is coming with war, to kill and burn everyone and everything in their sight. The Red King will start their march from the Wolfsmund Pass. Stop us if you dare." Are we clear? - The creature before Johan had its eyes covered with a black cloth, but where they should have been burned deathly green flames, making the figure look like the Reaper himself has wondered out from Hel to seek payment on the souls of the unavenged sacrifices. Somehow the deer found the strength within himself to draw his eyes back to the ground and nod in answer to the question asked.

- Good. We hate to repeat ourselves. Now, be on your way, tainted. Our patience for your kind is waning. - Scrambling on his knees, Johan decided it was in his best interests to heed the warning, despite all the pain and lack of strength he still suffered from. The deer never left his village, but he knew the road going through the village would take him to the largest town in the area. From there he would be able to seek out help and spread word among the other followers of the Father of All Knowledge that they were being hunted by the predators. There was no mistaking it. Only those rulers who stood on the side of the Creator referred to themselves in plural. And this creature, whatever it was, was a ruler, the silver circlet on his head revealing this for everyone.

Johan had to make sure this was not left without a proper response of the Cult.

\m/

Nicholas wasn't left alone for long after the deer buck crawled away. His ears were soon assaulted by the croaked loud voice of the diminutive sand colored fennek.

- Maybe enough with the charity, your highness? That was forty sixth wretch we set free. And you know that despite my trust, brother, my tolerance for your schemes grows thin and my desire to bite your face off only thickens. - Finneas was never one to sugarcoat things, always boldly stating his thoughts and feelings. Or staying silent when he knew it was not the time or place, up to an extent a lot of mammals believed the fennek to be incapable of speech. This was why the duo got really close from the very start when they were but a pair of wandering mercenaries in a band of vagabonds and pirates led by a noble in exyle, Robert of Locksley. Nicholas always depended on the smaller fox to express an opinion on whatever it was he concocted during sleepless nights, and now was no different.

- Believe me, Fin, we wholeheartedly agree with you, but that was necessary. Leaving no survivors is good and all, but who will spread the word of our coming then? Dead mammals don't walk and they definitely don't talk. We could be at the walls of throne city Paritus now, if we simply marched on, but that would not really serve our goal. Still, I must concur to the fact that this should be enough. What do you say, Fenrir? - The two foxes stood alone among the slaughtered bodies until the moment the name was spoken. Out of nowhere, as if he always was there, the wolf appeared beside the red tod, his towering presence forming the ideal triangle with the three canines at its points.

- You called, Nicholas. Finneas. What's the occasion? You want a spar? - The smile that stretched over the wolf's muzzle, revealing his long white fangs that contrasted with his black fur, directed at the foxes I front of him, was answered with a vicious snarl from the smaller and a matching smile from the taller.

- While your proposition is extremely difficult to refuse during normal times, I think we wasted enough time as it is. Work first, leisure later. Pease try not to forget that the mammals we do this for don't actually have years to wait. - Nicholas was still a young god, along with his brother Finneas, but he understood that for someone who lived as long as Fenrir, the concept of time could lose some of the meaning, if not all of it.

- I've got you for this, Nicholas. To remind me. Still, since we three are gathered here, what do you want, second Red King?

\m/

The wolf's mane was not in its usual eleven spikes, adorned by small sphere-bells, Finneas noted. This could mean a number of things, could mean absolutely nothing, but most likely he just wasn't able to finish it before being called.

The three of them were drastically different. Finneas wore an elaborate suit of plated mustarauta armor, mastercrafted and fitted by Hephaestus the Ramshackled himself (a ram, one of the few prey gods who was not averse to applying his talents to something related to war), and a pair of short dao swords. Well, short for a medium-sized mammal, but for the fennec fox they were nearly as long as his own body, including his marvelous ears. Most fitting with the way he fought and always surprising for his foes, since they didn't expect the diminutive tod to be able to wield them with any kind of speed or agility. They always seemed to underestimate the small god's monstrous strength. Force, earth and steel were his pillars, so he declared to other gods.

Then, there was Nicholas, wearing lizardskin outfit with mustarauta plates sewn in. A circlet from the same metal, adorned with intricate engravings of a burning flame and raging ocean, sat atop his head, the only thing that showed his true status among the predators of the Teutonic Kingdom as the Red King. The tod sported an assortment of blades hanging from his lizardskin belt: a battle axe at the small of his back, a straight broadsword at the right side, nodachi at his left. There was also a longsword behind his back, and last but not least eight throwing knives hidden in small sheaths attached to the chest of his jacket. With probably several more knives hidden in the nooks of his trousers and boots. All made of finely processed lizardskin, an obsession of Nicholas's. Fire, blood and steel were his pillars, so the red fox declared to other god's.

Nicholas of clan Wilde, named brother to Finneas, was the brain and the thinker of their trio. As well as one of the main striking forces of the Teutonic Kingdom, possessing battle prowess beyond expectations of even the strongest predator war-gods. He planned all of the Kingdom's war campaigns in the last three decades of his ascension to the throne, also taking part in most of the largest battles and overseeing the initiation and training of the king's personal guards - Heldogs.

The fox also supervised the civic and economic development, often visiting different lands and watching over their growth with his own eyes. How Nicholas managed that was not something Finneas was very willing to ever try. He liked his sound sleep too much for that, not mentioning the fact that sparring with Fenrir regularly to be able to use the wolf's ability to instantly travel was not a pleasant experience.

Speaking of the wolf. Fenrir was their muscle and experience, as well as Nicholas's personal transporter, ambassador and a fear factor during negotiations. There were few mammals who could say they were not frightened by the blackfurred wolf the size of a black bear and sporting an extremely aggressive headfur style,especially when his montante stood beside, nearly as long as the wolf was tall. He claimed to be extremely old, and both vulpines were inclined to believe this. The wolf's knowledge of historical events was way too specific to be gained from books or storyweavers. It could only be gained were one to see with their own eyes. And, there was not a living soul anymore to call the two hander he wielded a montante.

Fenrir would be the one to predict the outcome of different actions proposed by Nicholas, suggest the results that needed to be achieved, the ways they have been achieved by various mammals in the past. The red fox would constantly complain on the impossibility of outlines drawn by the lupine, spend nights trying to find a way to achieve the desirable, and then would triumphantly present a course of actions. That would be mercilessly criticized by his smaller brother. Then meticulously reworked by Nicholas to try and circumvent whatever faults the sandfurred tod would find. Only for Finneas to find more. All of this would repeat a lot of times, while the wolf would nap. Black wind, fire and steel were his pillars, so the wolf declared.

Somehow, the three of them worked together. Finneas was… apprehensive at first, when Nicholas suggested they help him rule. Despite having ambition to rule over his own kingdom, the fennec fox was not someone who thought it would be easy. Especially with his personality. The red fox has managed to persuade him though. Despite the fact that he, the smallest of the group, was the least vocal when it came to propositions, but was the first to criticize and point out weaknesses, Nicholas thought it was the most important role for an advisor, and Fenrir concurred. While most mammals would hate him for this quality, more often than not daring him to propose something better himself, the other two listened to what the fennec had to say and tried to work around all the problems and inconsistencies he would point out. Finneas couldn't deny, never ever openly admitting the fact, it was good to be appreciated.

\m/

This time, Judith could distinguish herself. She was not the same mammal whose body and mind she shared. She was another being with a completely separate life and soul. Not a deer buck, not a fennec fox.

Still, not having figured out the way to control this new power of hers, she was stuck in another mammal's nightmare. For she couldn't caracterize what she was witnessing through borrowed eyes by any other word. The bunny doe heard stories of predators from the North and how their wrath knew no bounds. Many different species lived in those cold lands, divided between many fiefs and castle-cities that constantly warred with each other for dominance, land, resources and mammals. Most of the times the much larger fiefdoms of prey lands, with kingdoms and empires that claimed dominion over them changing each other almost every generation, didn't think of the North as anything but a snow-covered land of barbarians.

Yet, there were times in history, when Norsemen would become the stuff of nightmares and bring terror upon their prey neighbours. It didn't happen often and usually it was in response to an external threat. But woe be to the one who would think it was a wise thought to conquer the separated lands of the northern predators. The lands of the North would unite under the rule of a mighty predator, a warrior so fierce and mighty, he would have enough respect to make the scattered Jarls of the North to put aside their small strifes and ambitions. They would gather their warriors under his command and entrust the path to victory into his hands.

The Norsemen would march as an unstoppable force towards the threat and crush it in one fell swoop, but they would not stop on that. They would fall upon those lands that dared to try take their homes and bring wrath upon their heads. No place, no castle, no town, no village in their way was to be spared. Riding their battle lizards, with blades and spears they would strike flesh of prey mammals without mercy. Children and old ones, women and men, no one was spared. Swift strikes of those who knew no hesitation ended lives without fail.

Knowing she could do nothing to save the dying around her, nor stop the charging lizard of the coyote rider behind her, the bunny tried to focus on the assailants. It was hard, all the tears and constant head movements of her host not helping at all. As well as the fact that all of the Norsemen seemed to be shrouded in shadowy mist, making them seem like a mirage from afar. But the lizard's scream at her back was more than real. Judith never expected it, but she would, maybe through shared senses, but no less real for that, feel and experience the thing that was staff of legends and stories.

The true wrath of the Norsemen from two thousand millennia before her birth.

\m/

A/N: So, for the past month I have been a very lazy being. Or at least I wanted to. I wanted to go on a three-week long vacation starting from August 6, to watch TI8 in its fullest. Instead, I got stuck and my job didn't let go of me till August 13 (and I had to fight for it), add to this the fact that I couldn't actually transfer to night-mode living because I had to go to work on Tuesdays of both weeks of my two week long (had to shorten it) vacation! Yes, being irreplacable is a good thing, but when nobody can replace you for just three damn weeks, its bad. AND I HAVE BEEN PREPARING FOR THIS YEAR'S TI FOR SEVERAL MONTHS NOW. Oh well, at least I had the strength to see the final day. OG and LGD were so good. Best finals since TI3. I am happy I could at least watch these games without worrying about having to go to work.

What I am saying, is that I didn't actually touch this chapter until like two weeks ago. And I am going to have a lot less time for writing since some new components are entering my real life. I hope I have earned at least a bit of forgiveness from some of you for being so late with the updates. And I probably will be upkeeping this slow not-schedule in the future.
So, please do suffer if you so please.
Howleys.