CK II The Old Gods - From Greatness

[undercovergeek]

Aiken and his men steadied their weapons and stood firm. Other soldiers not of the brotherhood of the Chosen dropped their weapons and fled, others remained, frozen with terror. Aiken stood in the middle of his men shouting, trying to rally the fleeing, horrified soldiers. It had been difficult enough to stay calm behind the walls, but watching the Vikings roar, their swords and axes cleaving through flesh, their faces twisted in anger Aiken understood why a normal man might fail. But he and the Chosen were not like normal men, trained since infants to fight and defend their King, the elite of Aella's elite, Aiken pointed his sword at the Viking front line and roared - no speech, no inspirational monologue just a long gutteral howl of rage, his men took up the shout, enough to match that of the Vikings, and they charged into battle.

The lead Viking turned to find himself facing Aiken, despite his rage, despite his inhuman ferocity he froze, surprise showing in his eyes. Aiken smiled and thrust his sword through the Viking's eye, Aiken withdrew his sword and kicked the slumping Viking backwards into his group of warriors. He looked over his shoulder at the startled, frozen soldiers of the castle

'Fight!' he bellowed, and with one great cheer they rose from their fear and joined the Chosen at the gate.


'Back!' Aella yelled. 'Fall into the city!'

The remnants of his companies, even the honour guard broke apart, pulling back from Ouzegate. Aella watched with horror as more and more Vikings spilled into the square, overrunning the few men too weak or too wounded to retreat. They swept forward, a red and blue, fur trimmed tide, a tide of swords and axes and eyes of hate.

'My King', Aelfheah snapped, pulling him back. 'Time to go'. Aella stumbled after his guard captain trying not to listen to the slaughter behind him.

'Fall back to the harrying positions!' Aella called to those who could hear him. 'First company, whoever is left, shore up in the Stonegate Keep! The master at arms should be there by now, preparing the defenses! Second company and my guard, with me!'

Aella continued on, his mind as numb as his sword arm. He felt he'd had no impression on the battle at all, the Vikings seemed unstoppable and uncountable, his efforts had seemed so inadequate. Aelfheah held up a hand, his head cocked to one side, the remains of the company and the honour guard came to an abrupt halt. Aella looked around, the street seemed quiet even peaceful. It seemed so strange to have fled the horrific scene of blood and dismembered bodies to find the city so lazy.

'Damn!' shouted Aelfheah pushing Aella out of the way as a raging group of vikings burst from a side street. The honour guard and the remains of the second company fell into a line, but another group of Vikings ran up behind them. Aelfheah frowned, this other group had come from the North near the Main gate, the Vikings must have taken the Main gate already, if so, the city was lost.

'My King!' Aelfheah gasped, turning. 'We.....'

Aella looked just in time to see a huge Viking axe sheer through Aelfheah's upraised arm, then continue on to hit the Captain in the ribs. Aelfheah grunted, thrown to the side, his sword arm, weapon and all, flying free. He stumbled, and the Viking brought his axe around and down in a two handed blow. Aella stared, dumbfounded at the remains of the corpse. Then the Viking turned toward Aella, growling..........

Aiken's Chosen men were sorely pressed. Bodies lay scattered in the courtyard, the archers from the wall had regrouped and were pulling the wounded to safety. Viking corpses littered the square also, Aiken couldn't help but feel pride at how much it was costing the Norsemen to come through his gate, Mickelgate would not fall easy, not at all. Outside the gate more of them were grouping to assault the courtyard. The gates, Aiken thought to himself glancing to the wall. The Vikings had only smashed aside one of the massive gates, there were hundreds of corpses strewn across the courtyard but the Vikings had cleared many out of the way of the gate to get through to the defenders. There was the briefest of chances the Chosen could close the gate again.

'To me!' shouted Aiken running for the gate, hoping there were men who could hear, and who could respond. The Vikings on the other side of the gate realised what was happening too late. Aiken slammed into the gate and heaved all his weight against it. Men joined him and began pushing the gate slowly closed, Vikings howled and began squeezing through the closing gap only to be stabbed by onrushing defenders as they saw Aiken's plan. Men cried out, some died, others slammed their own weight against the gate and Aiken spared a glance over his shoulder. The Chosen and men of the castle had formed a perimeter, protecting the gate from the Norsemen already in the courtyard. They fought bravely, their backs to the gate, as Aiken and the men around him slammed it shut.

Aiken turned and leant back on the gate, the courtyard was red with blood, sickening lumps of bodies lay alone or in heaps, twisted and torn parts of his men intermingled with the Vikings. Behind him thumping began against the gate like low drums, more men rushed to keep it closed, the gates began shaking as the enemy outside vented their frustration.

'This isn't going to hold for long' a soldier said quietly to himself next to Aiken. 'The hinges are splintering, they're going to get through'

'And we will fight again' said Aiken slapping the man on the back

'My Lord!' a voice called. Aiken turned to see one of Aella's messengers come running into the courtyard. 'The Main gate has fallen, as has Ouzegate'

'When, how can this be?' shouted Aiken over the pounding on the gate behind him

'About an hour ago' An hour? Aiken thought in shock, how long have we been fighting?

'What of the King?'

The messenger looked to his feet, 'Aelfheah and his guard are destroyed my Lord, the King is missing, you must hold this gate'

The men around him began to shout, he heard wood begin to snap and the squeal of metal, there would be no shoring up of the gate this this time, it fell apart in its frame and fell inward, spilling Aiken and the Chosen across the courtyard. Vikings poured once again into Mickelgate square. Aiken readied his sword and sighed, 'Chosen men........... on me' he bellowed and ran forward. In front of Aiken was a huge Viking, covered in furs, his face a mass of scars, his axe covered in script Aiken couldn't begin to understand. Aiken gritted his teeth, shouted once more for his men and charged, swinging his sword. The Viking caught his weapon in an indifferent, armoured hand, ignoring any damage the blow may have caused, and then brought his own axe down on Aiken..... it was over.

[undercovergeek]

Aella's eyes fluttered as he came round, his instinct was to rub a hand across his aching face and stinging eyes. Before his mind and his memory caught up with recent events he reached up to do just that but his hands came up short, he heard the metallic clank of chains tightening. He frowned in confusion, felt the dried blood cracking on his skin, and then felt the rough wood against his face. He realised he was upright, chained tightly to the wooden stake, so tightly it had kept him upright whilst unconscious, his hands chained together out in front of him. He was in the courtyard of the main gate, surrounded by Vikings who stood silently, watching him. He scanned the crowd, there was no friendly face to offer him any solace. He breathed deeply and attempted to recall anything beyond Aelfheah's death. The Viking who had destroyed Aelfheah had turned toward him, Aella thought his life was over until he hit him across the head with the flat side of his axe...........

A scarred, black bearded, shaggy face came into his vision. The Norseman stood in front of Aella and looked into his eyes, he slowly looked Aella from head to foot and back up again, and returned his gaze to Aella's face again. The Viking sniffed dismissively and stepped away, he nodded at someone stood behind Aella. Aella heard a weapon being unsheathed and felt the sharp bite of a blade entering his back next to his spine. He tensed and grimaced at the pain, but would not cry out. The Norse warrior behind him made a cut parallel to his spine all the way down from the top rib to the bottom rib, Aella involuntarily gasped, and clenched his teeth. The warrior made two perpendicular cuts away from the spine along the top and bottom rib, Aella could feel the blood streaming down his back. Then there was nothing else for Aella to do but scream as the flesh was peeled from his back like he was been skinned like a rabbit.

The warrior stood back, glancing at his leader, the big Viking nodded his head again. He wiped the blood and meat from his blade, surveying this King of Northumbria's back, seeing how much it looked like a carved kill at the hunt, and proceeded to copy the procedure on the other side of Aella's back. The King began to shake, his legs banging against the stake, the chords in his neck stood out as he clenched his teeth and tried to stifle another roar of agony. At last the cutting stopped, Aella planted his feet and tried to regain his composure. He was aware of a brief conversation in a language he couldn't understand behind him, he tried to look over his shoulder, and saw the warrior there handing a bloodied knife to a younger, beardless boy. Then he glimpsed the boy hand the warrior a saw,

'Please..........', pleaded Aella, all resolve draining from him. The leader stepped forward and grabbed Aella by the throat, squeezing his neck in a mailed fist.

The warrior began to saw at one of Aella's ribs, the King whimpered at the horrific vibration of the implement cutting backward and forward, biting through his bone and flesh. There was a brief pause and then the warrior gripped the severed rib, and pulled. One moment the rib was a part of Aella's rib cage, the next it was pointing to the sky over his shoulder. A loud wordless scream escaped from the King, he slumped against the stake, all his energy put into the scream. The warrior stood silent, unmoving behind him, only stirred to action when Aella's scream had subsided. Tears of agony ran down the King's face when he started sawing on the second rib, and another primal scream escaped him as it was pulled to its new position jutting from his back, the warrior continued on to the the third rib.

He cut through the bone and snapped it back to join the others, Aella screamed again. Not wordless this time, this time he called to his God. The warrior frowned, he couldn't understand what the broken man was shouting but from his skyward pleas and ranting he gathered it was of a religious nature. Affronted that the prisoner would disrespect his own King's presence with garbled words of his untrue faith, he simply reached into Aella's back and snapped the fourth rib without sawing, and pulled it.

Aella wailed, his strength draining, his hands and feet shaking against their bonds. The warrior started on the other side of his back, grabbing hold of the first rib, sawing and snapping the bone back, then the next and the next. Aella had nothing left, simply hanging from the stake, he didn't make a sound as the seventh bone was broken. The warrior looked at the broken, bloody mess that had been his King's nemesis for so long, wordlessly and without remorse he snapped the last bone and peeled it out across Aella's back. The black bearded leader surveyed the symmetrical lines of bones poking out of Aella's back and slowly nodded. He lifted Aella's head up by the hair and looked into his eyes once more.

'I give you your wings, behold your blood eagle' he said to him.

Aella didnt understand a word of the gutteral language, he was beyond any comprehension, his breathing shallow, his life leaking away behind him. Aella felt movement behind him, the warrior reached into the wreckage of his back and dragged out two lumps of glistening viscera, his lungs. He felt a brief moment of panic as he couldn't breathe, and then started to slip away, as the darkness came the bearded leader held his face

'I am Ivar the Boneless and I avenge my father'.

[undercovergeek]

well............ now thats out of the way i can start the game! update soon

[JasonPratt]

All things considered, I think Aella at the end could have mustered a raspy "Swina bqllr"... ;)

[undercovergeek]

All things considered, I think Aella at the end could have mustered a raspy "Swina bqllr"... ;)

Lol, you reckon?

[Staggerwing]

All things considered, I think Aella at the end could have mustered a raspy "Swina bqllr"... ;)

That would be assuming his piglets had not high-tailed it west as soon as the first Heathen Army sails were spotted along the coast.

[undercovergeek]

So this will be a tale of Earl Alfred of Dorset, half brother to King Aethelred of Wessex. He is the Count of Dorset and Somerset and holds those 2 provinces. Passed down from the great Chiefs of the Southern clans he has the talents for greatness - he is quick, ambitious, dilligent, just, and a brilliant strategist. Heir to the Duchy of Wessex, the seat of Southern Kings, and Marshal to his King.

I present to you, Earl Alfred



I think thats it for major cast and crew for now - major events in the game will be presented in story format as above, with accompanying screenshots - there will be no mention of demesne events or minor events unless really pertinent to the tale - this saves me having to write a paragraph or two about the results of the great feast, or Great Uncle someone marrying Great Aunt someone. Hope it goes well..................

[undercovergeek]

Alfred looked to his left, Cynehelm his Marshal had picked a long splinter from the table and was cleaning his nails, nodding in all the right places, or so he hoped. Looking to his right he saw Oscytel his Chancellor, counting the stones in the wall opposite. Across from Alfred were his half brother's council, Aethelred was sat at the head of the table looking as bored as the rest of them.

'My God this man can talk' muttered Cynehelm under his breath, Alfred chuckled to himself.

The high council of King Aethelred of Wessex and his vassals had been summoned to the castle to listen to reports of the North. Here in the dining hall, sat around the huge oak table were all the King's advisors and bannermen. In front of the roaring fire stood with his dog was Mannix, Aethelred's spymaster, a tall shadow of a man, born and built to skulk in the dark places of other men.

'Had to see it with my own eyes, me and Durwin here' he said rubbing the huge, grey wolfhound behind the ears. 'York is lost my Lords, battered, burned and still smoking, filled with Vikings', he turned and spat into the fire.



Aethelred sighed and ran a hand over his face, 'The North may well be lost. Mannix estimates twenty thousand Vikings in York, Aella is gone, the wardens of Northumbria say there is no army to stand in his way'

'The North is a long way away' said Eastmund, the King's Marshal

'I made a promise' shouted Aethelred, 'my brother Burghred made a promise, what manner of King abandons his people to those....... savages?'

'Those are not your people' Eastmund glared at Aethelred, 'your promise is going to get us all killed'

[Martok]

Sweet!  Can't wait to see where this goes. 

[MetalDog]

DAMN that's a lot of Vikings!!

[JasonPratt]

That is a straight-up Uruk-hai army right there. Maybe two of them.  :o

Edited to add: Uruk-hai... Jorvik... York....

[TheCommandTent]

The plot, she thickens.

[undercovergeek]

The meeting had not gone well, Aethelred had demanded of all his bannermen to raise their levies and gather in Wessex, they had all risen as one and shouted their disdain. Almost twenty thousand Vikings, five times the number that the South could raise would sweep them aside and plunder their homes and farmland, they had cried. In the end it had taken the flat of Eastmund's sword crashing against the great feasting table for them all to realise this wasnt something open to debate. The bearded giant meeting all their gazes with a glaring challenge had stared them all down - this was their King's wish and it would be carried out, the Counts had left in silence.

Stepping out into the crisp January morning, Cynehelm put his arm around Alfred,

'Do not fear little Prince, your Uncle Cynehelm will look after you' he laughed and squeezed Alfred's shoulder, 'and if Aethelred the Fat should fall from his horse, well, it will be you in charge of the Kingdom and you can decide what to do with the Vikings'

'West Mercia and the Midlands lie between us and the Vikings, Cynehelm. I worry for my sister, and King Burghred, surely they will be next after the rest of Northumbria. Aella was a fool to push that animal into the pit'

They both crunched across the frozen grass of the castle grounds, and out toward the stables

'All those games you would play with Aethelred, and all those times you would beat him. All the books your father made you read whilst fat boy back there ate his way through the estate, it must break your Father's heart to see him on the throne and not you. A 'tactical genius' the military teachers told your father about you'

'Ive told you before Cynehelm, those are dangerous words, if my brother were to hear them you would be the first to see the Vikings from your new vantage point, your head on a spike up there' he nodded toward the battlements

'Mark my words little Prince, this will be your castle soon enough' the Marshal sighed, 'anyway' he shouted more upbeat 'a little bird tells me you have a special package on its way from Italy no less!'

'Another master stroke of my brother' sighed Alfred

'She is the Princess of all Italy my friend! What's the matter with you? By all accounts she is a dusky beauty with child bearing hips! The eldest daughter of the King of Italy, and him with no sons, now if he were to fall from his horse.........'

'It's always swords and falling from horses with you!'

They both laughed and entered the stables to ready for their journey back to Dorset. Within four days Alfred and his military advisors rode back out ahead of seven hundred and forty of Dorset's finest men. There was to be a grand Royal wedding for Alfred and Princess Gisele at the castle and then they would march to death and glory

[JasonPratt]

Next up: Alfred and the dusky Princess Gazelle's royal wedding -- a march to death and glory!

8) ;D

[TacticalWargames]

I have a real hard time with the lack of high ranking Norse females eligible for marriage at the start of the game. Though if you start as a character lower down it isn't an issue..I couldn't find a decent wife for my son without taking a huge prestige hit.