The Nordic Migration

Long has been Britannia raided by Scandinavian northmen, ever since the Romans left the province, the picts, saxons, angles, danes, have constantly kept the population in fear. Sighting longboats from the coast equaled death for centuries.

And they have been spotted, once again...

A nordic army, led by Olaf the One-Eyed, set forth with their armies to attack Britannia. Except that they did not stop, but settled down in their new home, subjugating the population.

Olaf the One-Eyed has driven the scottich-pictish population north, and has occupied their territory. With the fertile lands of Hylradia to the south, his southern neighbour better takes cautions, although no threatening move has been made yet.
The island of Hibernia is yet to meet any invaders, but the Northmen are already trying to secure trade in the North Channel, and invading Northern-Ireland and the Isle of Man might be a suitable step to taking control.

As the news spread about the nordic conquest of new lands, many living in the Scandinavian peninsula are already considering joining the armies of the warlord. Britannia might be in danger, but will there be anyone to defend it, like King Arthur did, in ages past?

[OOC POST]

Player-controlled characters:

- Olaf the One-Eyed: Varasd
Character info: Nordic chieftain, who controls Southern-Scotlands

- Aedan mac Gabrain: Azaq
Character info: Local subjugated scottish leader, currently serving Olaf the One-Eyed, but intentions are unclear, if he wants his position to be solidified by serving well, or wants to rally men against the northmen.

To Olaf the One-Eyed,

I greet you as friend and have heard tale of your exploits. The arrival of your army shall be a great bolstering to our own forces in the south. I would like to offer you an alliance for the time, as a pledge that viking shall not fight viking during our conquests here. Should you agree, you may call us brother and count on us for support against the Saxons, Welsh, Picts, and Irish.

No one should stand in our way. We Danes are your kin and see no need for conflict when weaker peoples could be exploited. I eagerly await your reply.

Knut Haraldson, Earl of East Anglia
Son of Harald, King of Juttlande

"Wōden, father of mine, please forgive us for what we have done and what we shall do."

The Elder cast a herbal mixture into the bonfire.

"Tiw, lawkeeper and hero, please guide our warriors, please exempt them, for Sǣxenland is in trouble."

The Elder cast the wings of a raven into the bonfire.

"Þunor, father, martial master, god of storms, please strike at the invaders with all your fury and power."

The Elder cast a live rabbit into the bonfire. With that final sacrifice the ceremony was complete. Afterwards the ashes of the fire were drawn and examined by the elder. The gods had spoken, Beowulf Goðwinsson, Cyning of Sǣxenns and Ængles, Undercyning of Súðsǣxenní would have his victory, and in three weeks they would have an auspicious day.

---

To all great lords of Britannia
Those Being;
The Sǣxenn Undercyning,
The Ænglisc Chieftains,
The Danish Lords,
and the Venerable Knut Haraldsson

While in the past the men of Britannia have rallied to their banners upon the sight of the dragon-ships on their shore, now the Sǣxenns rejoice at the coming of the Northmen.

Long have the Christians pestered our shores, with their missionaries who have tried to chop down our sacred oaks. We have done honour to the gods and burned them as sacrifices to Wōden, who you call Odin.

Now that we have you, great warriors who follow the way of the Gods and we may rejoice! For we know that Brittania will never fall into the grasp of the speakers of Latin in Rome.

So in order to celebrate the beginning of this new great era for Brittania, the gods have seen fit to make a time auspicious within three weeks!  

We shall host a blot in the fields north of Hæglscīre. Since the time whence it is held shall be auspicious, if godly men we are we shall do no harm to you at this sacred celebration. And you shall do the same.

We invite all of your greatest chieftains and lords, for a festival of beer, food and whoring but let it be known that should you bring soldiers to this festival of peace you shall do great dishonour to yourself and to the Gods.

May the Gods grant you good fortune,

Beowulf Goðwinsson
Cyning of Sǣxenn and Ængles
Undercyning of Súðsǣxenní

The message was sent all across Brittania. And the festival preparations began.

A letter to Beowulf Godwinsson and Knut Haraldson from Olaf the One-Eyed:

"Greetings, Brothers!

My warriors rejoiced together with me, when they heard about our friendship!

Let us meet together and celebrate in my hold near Hadrian's Walls, and decide how we shall conquer our new lands, Britannia!

Long live!
"

Olaf the One-Eyed
Southern Scotlands

The viking leader left his new realm to be controlled by his cousin, Sven Rotbart, while he was gone. The men feared Sven, because of his short temper and lust for blood - Olaf was not merciful man either, but he could see reason. A little culling in the local population was needed anyways, Olaf thought, but at least this way there will be no blood on his hands.

Olaf and 200 of his men have begun to travel south, to the blot of the Saxons, to celebrate together how they shall wrestle control for Britannia.

Aedan mac Gabrain

---

Aedan sat in the mead hall, devoid of most life but himself and his two brothers, Alasdair and Cailean, drinking away their problems as usual. But in this instance, their problems were not ones that could be taken away with a sip of alcohol. They did not simply sit and drink, they spoke and plotted - plotted against the Norsemen that ruled them - plotted against the heathens who occupied their home.

"I'll be honest with you, we don't stand a chance against the Northmen. Not in the slightest. In fact, if we tried to rise up now, we'd have our bollocks tied up in knots within the hour. And that, Alasdair, Cailean, is why you two must go, under the cover of darkness, and fetch help from Christendom."

Aedan said, his brash voice mixing with his thick accent. He was a tall, built man, whose stare, some said, could penetrate walls of stone. Like his Scottish brethren, he was a staunch Catholic, who stood opposed to the occupation of his lands by Olaf "the One-Eyed", or as the Scots called him, Olaf "the Heathen Bastard", albeit not to his face. His opposition, however, was purely mental in nature. He did outright challenge Olaf, nor did he threaten him, for Aedan was a man of caution - a patient man - and he was willing to wait for as long as was needed to remove the taint of the Norsemen from his highlands once and for all.

"What about the Welsh, and the Irish? Surely they could assist?"

Asked the younger Cailean, barely 20. A shorter, more naive of the three, he was also a man of caution, but not one because his patience, but because of his cowardice. Craven till the end, Cailean's lack of bravery was a point of contention for his older brothers - and his countrymen - as when faced with danger, he dared turn the other way.

"Don't be daft. They'd be as much help as a blind, crippled elder with a clubfoot. We need real warriors to fight the Norsemen, and our men can do it alone. We don't need any help, Aedan."

Said Alastair, the brashest of the bunch. All brawn and no brain, he arrogantly believed that none could beat the Scotsmen, despite having witnessed otherwise. He was a man of action, even when action was not what was needed.

"We DO need help, Alastair. Which is why you must get to the continent - to Rome - and seek audience with His Holiness. The armies of the mainland are bigger, stronger, and under the Pope command will line up to fight off heathenry."

"They can't even stop half the church from splitting off from itself, you expect me to believe they can take on a whole island of Northmen? Bah, they'll probably waste their time with the Saxons in the south instead. We drove the Romans from our isles all those years ago, we can drive the Northmen away too!"

"The Romans were being invaded, Rome was being sacked, and it's empire was crumbling by the time our ancestors rebelled against them. Don't be a fool, Alastair. This is not a battle we can fight - or win - on our own. We. Need. Help. The Pope can help, I am sure of it."

Alastair rolled his eyes.

"I will not embarrass myself - or my people - because you doubt our abilities."

"I do not doubt our abilities, I know our abilities, and winning against this many Norsemen is not one of our abilities. And your attitude and stubbornness is exactly why you won't be asking the Pope for help. Cailean will."

Alastair laughed.

"What? Cailean? Our sissy little brother? He can't even hold a sword properly, and you want him to talk to the direct vessel of God himself? He'll probably piss himself before he gets anywhere near the bloody city."

Cailean looked down in shame.

"I've heard enough, Alastair. You will escort Cailean to Rome. This is not a request, but a command. Take what you need to convince His Holiness that our cause is worth it. I will not have us fight each other when there are Northmen to fight!"

"Then let us fight them, brother!"

"No!"

Aedan stood up from his chair.

"Now is NOT the time for fighting. We can do that later, when we have the help we need, but right now there is a ship awaiting you two at the docks. Go now, before the Norsemen discover what is happening. Gather the assistance we need, and then come back as heroes leading an army of righteous men of God. Go, quickly, while the moon is still up and the darkness covers your escape."

Alastair scoffed.

"And what will YOU be doing while we're gone?"

"Flattering, soothing, ass-kissing, boot-licking. I will bend over a bloody table for the Heathen Bastard's brother if I have to, whatever it takes to stall him and give you time to return with an army. I will feign my loyalty for as long as possible. But you two must go NOW."

Alastair reluctantly got up from his seat and headed to the door.

"Fine. C'mon, sissy. Let's go get Aedan's holy army."

As his brothers left, Aedan watched them from the window as they got on the boat he arranged for them, bound for Rome.

"Godspeed, brothers. Godspeed."

Sven Rotbart
Olaf's Hold, South Scottlands

Women screaming in the middle of the night became a common sound, especially after Olaf left his hold. His cousin was declared to be in charge before he left, and he sure acted like it. But instead of the politics of Olaf, who focused on building a new homeland for themselves, in Britannia, Sven thought this was just a prolonged raiding. He had a task now, other than pure violence, though. After he was done with the woman, he called one of his warriors.

"Hey! Call that scottsman, whatshisname... Ädan? Tell him I have work for him."

Varasd wrote:Sven Rotbart
Olaf's Hold, South Scottlands

Women screaming in the middle of the night became a common sound, especially after Olaf left his hold. His cousin was declared to be in charge before he left, and he sure acted like it. But instead of the politics of Olaf, who focused on building a new homeland for themselves, in Britannia, Sven thought this was just a prolonged raiding. He had a task now, other than pure violence, though. After he was done with the woman, he called one of his warriors.

"Hey! Call that scottsman, whatshisname... Ädan? Tell him I have work for him."

Aedan mac Gabrain

---

After several moments of journeying to Olaf's Hold, Aedan entered the building, his sword sheathed and his beard lightly trimmed. He stood at attention, awaiting Sven "the Defiler" (as the Scots knew him) Rotbart to address him. He cleared his throat and spoke first.

"You sent for me, m'lord?"

Sven Rotbart

"Yes, Ädan. I am in charge now, and I heard many of the locals are plotting against my cousin.

My men can not get any information that would lead us to the traitors, but you. You are one of them! We know that there are many who try to get rid of us, and all you need to do is tell us names, and show us to their homes.

You don't need to kill any of your kinsmen, we will do that. No bloods on your hands, you see.

Now, where to do first?" - Sven asked, with a malicious, wide grin on his face.

Varasd wrote:Sven Rotbart

"Yes, Ädan. I am in charge now, and I heard many of the locals are plotting against my cousin.

My men can not get any information that would lead us to the traitors, but you. You are one of them! We know that there are many who try to get rid of us, and all you need to do is tell us names, and show us to their homes.

You don't need to kill any of your kinsmen, we will do that. No bloods on your hands, you see.

Now, where to do first?" - Sven asked, with a malicious, wide grin on his face.

Aedan cleared his throat.

"You must be mistaken, m'lord. I am a loyal servant of Olaf 'the One-Eyed', and thus, yourself. I have a fair bit of honor in my bones, in fact. It hurts, truly, that you would think I a traitor. But I do know of the ones you speak - the true traitors - and I will lead you to them. I know their names, where they live, and where they work. They trust me, because I am their lord, as you and your brother are mine. We Scots are different from you Northmen, no offense. We do not fight our rulers, we serve them, and so I will serve you."

Aedan was put in a difficult moral position, but he found no difficulty in saying what needed to be said. He had to buy time. It didn't matter how many of his fellow Scots needed to die, the end would justify the means. He did not break a sweat, nor flinch, nor crack a smile. For everything he said - save for where his loyalties lie - was the absolute truth. He would do what he was told, knowing for sure that the armies of the Catholic Church would descend upon them within days to remove the pagan taint.

...or so he hoped.

OOC: Sorry, I didn't mean for "you are one of them" as traitor, but as "scottsman".

Sven Rotbart

"Good man! Good! " Sven laughed, after listening to Aedan. "Ädan, we would need more scotts like you! Maybe you will even get a warband on your own one day, who knows?! Ha-ha!"

Sven and his companions, along with Aedan, walked out of the house, into the half-pillaged village. On the main square, about a hundred women and childen were in one group, and about thirty males in another. Behind them, in a pile, the ones who were already killed.

"A revolt happened here. Some of these halfwits thought that it's a good idea to kill a northman! Now, tell us who is it we can't trust." Sven pointed to the male captives. They've looked at Aedan, some with disgust, some with confusion in their eyes. A few of them let out a sigh of relief, hoping firmly that a fellow scottsman would not betray his kin.

"Just bring them forward. Then you can pick one of the females for yourself, any that you wish."

Varasd wrote:OOC: Sorry, I didn't mean for "you are one of them" as traitor, but as "scottsman".

Sven Rotbart

"Good man! Good! " Sven laughed, after listening to Aedan. "Ädan, we would need more scotts like you! Maybe you will even get a warband on your own one day, who knows?! Ha-ha!"

Sven and his companions, along with Aedan, walked out of the house, into the half-pillaged village. On the main square, about a hundred women and childen were in one group, and about thirty males in another. Behind them, in a pile, the ones who were already killed.

"A revolt happened here. Some of these halfwits thought that it's a good idea to kill a northman! Now, tell us who is it we can't trust." Sven pointed to the male captives. They've looked at Aedan, some with disgust, some with confusion in their eyes. A few of them let out a sigh of relief, hoping firmly that a fellow scottsman would not betray his kin.

"Just bring them forward. Then you can pick one of the females for yourself, any that you wish."

Aedan knew these men, every single one of them, and he hoped they knew him too. He hoped they knew that he did do this with an easy heart, and that pained him to betray his own people like this. He saw no other choice, and chose to put faith in his brothers and their secret mission to Rome. He pointed out the brashest and most headstrong of the group.

"There. These men will be the most trouble. They will fight till the death to achieve victory, and will cause problems for your future rule. The others have learned not to challenge you, m'lord. They wouldn't dare bother you again."

It was hard for him to say these words, and he only hoped God could forgive him.

Sven Rotbart
Somewhere in Southern Scottlands

Sven nodded at his soldiers, who dragged the scottsmen out from the crowd. They were yelling and cursing, but not at the northmen, but at Aedan.

"TRAITOR! BURN IN HELL YOU TRAITOR!" - they shouted.

"The rest will be good for rowing the ships, or in the mines." - said Sven, clearly satisfied.
"Now pick your woman, Ädan, the rest will be given to our warriors. Some of them might even breed good norsemen! "

Sven laughed, and all the northmen were already eyeing the scottish women. No word was spoken about the fate of the children, but they would probably end up as slaves somewhere. Everyone waited for Ädan to take the price for his deed.

"And hurry up! We've got another problem you can help us solve!"

----------
Olaf the One-Eyed
In Saexenland

The ships of Olaf arrived sooner than they'd expected to reach the land of the Saxons. They sailed up the Thames, and harbored at a town bearing the standard of the Saxon lord. Once on ground, Olaf spoke to the closest guard:

"I am Olaf, Warlord of North-Britannia. We came to celebrate with your Lord, Beowulf Godwinson! Lead us to the blot!"

Varasd wrote:Sven Rotbart
Somewhere in Southern Scottlands

Sven nodded at his soldiers, who dragged the scottsmen out from the crowd. They were yelling and cursing, but not at the northmen, but at Aedan.

"TRAITOR! BURN IN HELL YOU TRAITOR!" - they shouted.

"The rest will be good for rowing the ships, or in the mines." - said Sven, clearly satisfied.
"Now pick your woman, Ädan, the rest will be given to our warriors. Some of them might even breed good norsemen! "

Sven laughed, and all the northmen were already eyeing the scottish women. No word was spoken about the fate of the children, but they would probably end up  as slaves somewhere. Everyone waited for Ädan to take the price for his deed.

"And hurry up! We've got another problem you can help us solve!"

----------
Olaf the One-Eyed
In Saexenland

The ships of Olaf arrived sooner than they'd expected to reach the land of the Saxons. They sailed up the Thames, and harbored at a town bearing the standard of the Saxon lord. Once on ground, Olaf spoke to the closest guard:

"I am Olaf, Warlord of North-Britannia. We came to celebrate with your Lord, Beowulf Godwinson! Lead us to the blot!"

"Forgive me, m'lord, but I am a married man - and I dare not wish to take a grieving widow by mistake, nor peel a married woman away from her husband - if that is alright with you, my liege."

The Ealdorman of the Scīre of Ƿy-ond-Þǣmus-Þonescīreġetwinn ‎ (The Town of The-Twin-Towns-Wy-and-Thames), Sicberht Cīþl was summoned by one of his guard. A Northman, calling himself Olaf the One-Eyed had arrived in the harbour, apparently he sought not to pillage, but to make his way to the Great Blot in Hæglscīre. Sicberht had been told of Olaf, and he had also been invited to the blot as a guest of honour. He made his way down to the longship to address Olaf.

"Greetings, great warlord, I am glad to see Wōden has blessed your travels and brought you to us safely. I am Sicberht Cīþl, Ealdorman of Ƿy-ond-Þǣmus-Þonescīreġetwinn and Sheriff of this Scīre. My Cyning, Beowulf Goðwinsson, has told me of you and has instructed me to escort you to the site of the Great Blot. It is far from here, so do you wish to go by foot or by river?"

Olaf the One-Eyed
Saexenland

"By foot? Let us sail up the river, Sicberht. Your Lord is waiting, so let us hurry, and celebrate. "

The host of Olaf has continued their travel up the river, all the men rejoicing to see their kindred in the southern edges of Britannia. The gods truly wanted these lands to be theirs, it seemed.

Knut Haraldson arrived at the harbor shortly after Olaf the One-Eye and his fellow Norse brethren had departed with their Saxon guides. The villagers who had awoken peacefully only a few hours prior to the arrival of the Danes, were now running and hollering in fear for their lives. Without any announcement that further northmen would be arriving on their shores, the small coastal community prepared for a raid.

From the bow of the leading long-ship, Prince Knut smiled widely through his long dark beard. He had chosen specifically to leave his attendance to the Blot unannounced partially in regards to his skepticism in working with the Saxons, and mostly because of his dislike for Goðwinsson. Pagan or no Pagan, the Saxons were still just one other people for the Danes to conquer. Even their Gods were wrong, Knut thought as his ships slowly eased into port.

In a flash, several dozens of the viking warriors plopped into the shallow water and moved onto the beach adjacent to the village. Their they were met with a small, but armed host of the villagers. Their pathetic resistance had only the effect of making the Danes laugh.

"Put down your pathetic weapons, you farmers," Knut chided the villagers. "My name is Knut Haraldson, Earl of East Anglia and son to Harald of the Danes. Do not be afraid for the time being, we seek only the quickest route to Hæglscīre."

Sven Robtbart
South Scottlands

"Fine by me, at least my men can have more! One hour and we're moving to the next village, Äden. "
Sven grabbed a woman by the hair, and dragged her into the closest house. The warriors did the same except the lowest ranked soldiers, who began leading the men and children away, towards the closest harbor in the area. Soon they would be all slaves, and only God knows in which realm death shall come for them.

Varasd wrote:Sven Robtbart
South Scottlands

"Fine by me, at least my men can have more! One hour and we're moving to the next village, Äden. "
Sven grabbed a woman by the hair, and dragged her into the closest house. The warriors did the same except the lowest ranked soldiers, who began leading the men and children away, towards the closest harbor in the area. Soon they would be all slaves, and only God knows in which realm death shall come for them.

Aedan stood there in silence, not looking at anyone but the ground - not the slaves, not the women being dragged off, not the Norsemen, not his countrymen who only looked at him with disdain - nothing but the ground. The screams, the cries, the atmosphere, it was all too much for him to take in. He sighed, clenching his fists, but otherwise his face remained blank. He turned his face to the sky, and in mind he prayed.

"God forgive me."

He muttered to himself.

Sven Rotbart

Soon after the slaves were sold, Sven Rotbart had another errand to run. He called Aedan of course, not leaving but a couple of hours for the Scotsman to rest.

"Ädan!" He spoke, once the man was in speaking distance to him. "Come with me, we have another task for you. A new group is arriving, about 60 families. The Scottish villages smell like dung, blood, and smoke, and our main stronghold is already full. My third-cousin is leading this group, so I want them to have good land, where they can settle. Show us some fertile lands, close, or near a river, where they'll have a good place." He spoke quickly, surprisingly, sober. He spat out on the ground, and yelled at a man beside him.

"Don't just stand there! Fetch him a horse!"

Varasd wrote:Sven Rotbart

Soon after the slaves were sold, Sven Rotbart had another errand to run. He called Aedan of course, not leaving but a couple of hours for the Scotsman to rest.

"Ädan!" He spoke, once the man was in speaking distance to him. "Come with me, we have another task for you. A new group is arriving, about 60 families. The Scottish villages smell like dung, blood, and smoke, and our main stronghold is already full. My third-cousin is leading this group, so I want them to have good land, where they can settle. Show us some fertile lands, close, or near a river, where they'll have a good place." He spoke quickly, surprisingly, sober. He spat out on the ground, and yelled at a man beside him.

"Don't just stand there! Fetch him a horse!"

Aedan mac Gabrain

Aedan said not a word, only nodding in understanding. As he climbed upon his horse, he could only think how he could best sabotage these Norse colonists. As he strode out upon his horse to survey the land, he looked for the perfect spot for these foreign families. He searched and searched until finally he found a spot he deemed worthy of these invaders.

The land seemed as if it was easily defensible, safe, and good for settling. It was none of these things, but only few knew of it's true nature. The rock formations deceived even the smartest of tacticians, for they proved to be detrimental when defending the territory, despite the fact they suggested otherwise. When it rained, the river would flood the whole area, and leave it muddy and unsuitable for even houses of stone. But worst of all, this area was common hunting ground for wolves - the nastiest wolves north of Hadrian's Wall to be precise - and their pack would not take kindly to men setting up in land they regarded as their own.

Aedan knew all of this, and with a smile he felt relief.

"Perfect."