The Stone Ship

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

Okay so here's my excerpt thread. Just gonna post a few little things here and there, so critique if you like:
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"Pull it out," The warrior moaned. "I will not go to Valhalla with a spearhead in gut."

The other German's face went blank. "It... It will hurt if I pull it out of you."

"Pain is of little consequence to me now. Just pull it out."

The man grabbed onto the visible square of the point on the pilum head. His hand was wet with the warrior's blood, his finger's actually curled into the wound to hold onto the spearhead better. He kept looking at the hero trying to find some anguish look of pain on his face.

The man showed no pain. Perhaps he simply didn't feel it due to his wound, or perhaps he simply had numbed himself to pain during his life. Or... perhaps... he was simply just too strong to ever show pain to another.

The head slid out with an abrupt tug. The warrior let out a short grunt, the only sign that he still felt the spear in him. He gripped his sword and held it to his chest.

"We did well today." He smiled, knowing his time was very near.

"Many men died... but yes, we did well." The other man said. He looked back over across the river, but the driving snow made it so he was unable to see the army on the other side.

"What's your name?" The warrior asked.

"My name?" The man was surprised by the sudden question. "Why do you want to know?"

"I want you all to live your lives in peace," The warrior said. "We made fools out of the Romans today. They won't dare tread across this river. They'll be too afraid. They'll be too ashamed. So... if you live in peace and die on your bed, that is why I want to know your name. That way I'll tell Odin of your bravery today and you will surely end up in the Great Hall."

The man looked down at this man, this man who was so strong and powerful, and yet his concern wasn't of himself.

"My name is Harald Jorgannes, son of Gertard."

"Harald... son of Gertard... I will remember your name." The warrior closed his eyes, his voice becoming a whisper. "I will tell..."

The warrior's head titled to the side.

Harald kept staring at the heroic German. Even in death, he was still as impressive as in life. He looked up to see the other warriors standing around the ship, their gaze on him.

"He's gone on to the Great Hall of Odin. He'll dine of Saehrimnir's meat tonight and tomorrow will fight with the other Einherjar." Harald leapt out of the ship and landed on the stony shore. He took the mooring rope of the ship and began to pull.

"Come! We will bury him in the boat and craft a stone ship around it to carry him to the next world." At that the rest of the warriors grabbed onto the other mooring ropes, cutting them free, and pulling the boat on land. The shallow hull dragged a sharp groove in the shore as it was pulled out of the water.

The snow seemed to die down, the wind lowering to only a simple breeze. The men and the ship slowly entered the vast and foreboding forest. The ancient trees seemed to sway their branches over them as they disappeared within to bury their fallen brother.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

That was pretty epic Didn't get much emotion from it though, as you would expect from a death. Still, very good

[Kaez]

"He's gone on to the Great Hall of Odin. He'll dine of Saehrimnir's meat tonight and tomorrow will fight with the other Einherjar."

This quote stood out amongst it. I think it's just the tip of the iceberg in regards to how these people handle their emotions and relate to death.

Interesting. Verrrrrrry interesting.

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

New excerpt, this from the end of Chapter 2:
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Heid relaxed a little as laughter picked up around them. When he had first been conscripted, the officers were adamantly abusive in the recruits learning of the legion. How to weild a gladius, how to hold the shield, how to throw a pilum... you either learned or you were whipped. Even though, from the taxes his father had to pay due to their Germanic heritage, he had little to eat or clothes to wear, it still seemed better than being a soldier.

But now, at least, things had brightened. This place was filled with men who, like him, had been taken from their homelands to serve a people who they had little recognition for. They could do anything but make the best of it. And the best of it didn't seem all that horrible.

"ATTENTION!!!"

Or he could have been wrong.

A row of centurions formed up in front of the vendor's stall and eating area. As they did, the soldiers all formed up in a line in front of them, even those who were out of armor.

A white horse trotted before the soldiers. On top of the mount sat a man in gilded armor, a wolf skin hanging over the right shoulder and a scarlet cape flying over his back. The man was distinctly of the Roman persuasion. His nose had the prominent bend at the bridge as well as having a size to make it the signifying mark of his face. his cheeks were gaunt and his cheekbones were sharp and strong. His brow was thick and his eyes were shaded by the large sockets. He wore no helmet, revealing his dark, wavy hair was combed back in the traditional style of a noble Roman citizen.

The man stepped down from his mount, his gold plated gladius clattering at his waist. Heid watched the man with curiosity. He seemed more fit to be treading about in a politician's stand in one of the backwater arenas, a popular pastime for Roman nobles who wished to leave the stagnancy of Rome proper and take trips into the frontier cities.

Perhaps the man was on a vacation of sorts... but why here?

The noble walked down the line, inspecting each soldier as he went. He stopped in front of Reinus, noting the meat juices still dripping down the Gaul's face. He grimaced, but proceeded down to inspect all the new troops. Once satisfied, he returned to the center and stood with his large nose in the air.

"I... am Giaus Plebios Gerniticus. You will refer to me as Commander Giaus or simply Sir. I am the commander of the limes here along the border of Northern Germania and the barbarous Outer German territories. Here, at this Lime, you stand in the forefront of this defense. Here, you guard against heathens and those who worship idle gods."

Commander Giaus put his hands behind his back. "I'd like to welcome all you soldiers who are new to this decrepit waste." He let out a chuckle, which lightened the mood of the newer recruits. "I do hope you found our food to your liking. I'm sure you'll find this place a great relief. You were all expecting something crude, cold, and detestable, weren't you? Well, while I'm in command, none of you will be out in the cold. In fact, I take pride in treating my men with fairness and kindness."

Heid couldn't help but smiling. This was even better than he thought! Not only was the fortress quite hospitable, but even the officer in charge was an upright man. This wasn't going to be the torture he expected before. This was actually... fantastic.

"Of course, this doesn't mean I won't be strict. The laws of the legion still hold. I will uphold punishment for desertion and other crimes. I do think, though, we won't have such a problem," Commander Giaus turned and walked back to his horse. "So, do make yourselves comfortable. You will be here for a while."

As he mounted, Giaus touched his hand to his chin, then pointed it up in the air. "Oh yes! I almost forgot!" he spun his horse in a circle so he could face the soldiers. "If a single caravan wagon is lost or a single german should even touch the ground behind these walls... well... I'll crucify every last one of you."

The mood among the soldiers dropped in an instant.

"After all, my honor and designation as a noble is on these limes. And since there are still so many of you back in your homelands to have brought up here, your lives are basically meaningless. I thought I'd just remind you of that."

As the Commander and his centurions trotted away, the silence remained among the troops. Most of the new soldiers had expressions of dismay on their faces, while the older troops seemed only slightly unnerved. Even though they had heard it before, it was still a chilling moment for them.

Scyp leaned over to Heid, who's eyes were big with fear.

Welcome to the Rhine... German." the Dacian said with a smirk.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

I like
Think you got one little mistake? "limes"? Shouldn't that be "lines"?
I did like the names. The mood drop was awesome. The description of the commander was very good

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

Nov 7, 2009 16:31:21 GMT -5 Jenny (Reffy) said:

I like
Think you got one little mistake? "limes"? Shouldn't that be "lines"?
I did like the names. The mood drop was awesome. The description of the commander was very good

Actually, the roman fortifications along the borders of the Empire were referred to as "limes", not lines...

... which is hilarious cause the first thing I thought of when researching and seeing this, I pictured a bunch of huge green citrus fruit lining the Rhine River.

And the Germans are on the other side going "WTF?!"

I also changed the one character's name from "Heid" to "Fried", short for Friedrich.

[Jenny (Reffy)]

lol - Fried awesome.

Also, limes? I got the same image. lulz.

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

New excerpt from Chapter 3.
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Adal was silent and unmoving for a bit, then reached up to her thin neck. She gently tugged at a thin chain that graced her neck. The chain moved out of the top of her dress until a thick pendant fell out. It was a ornately cast amulet to Thor, the image of his all powerful hammer ornately decorated in the twisting vines of the Norse art style. She drew the necklace over her head. She held it closely in her hand, taking in the fine lines and details.

She grabbed a nearby piece of sod and placed on top of the necklace. She set both inside the hole, pressing down on them so they will stay in place.

"Your brother's amulet? Why?"

"Well... someone took from this warrior. Maybe Thor will look upon him and give him things to replace those stolen. How he be an Einherjar without weapons or clothing?"

Her father sighed, scratching the back of his head. "You're too much like your grandfather. You're stuck in the old ways."

"But... if a warrior has nothing in Valhalla, then how can he fight in Ragnarok?"

"Adal," the man said, dropping his tone. "Stop thinking of these things. The days of heros is over. The Romans took all that away a long time ago. Now is the time to survive and think about the future." he helped her up from the ground. "Your brother thought that way. Look what happened to him."

Adal whipped her head to stare at her father, a look of pain spread in her wide eyes. "He died saving me."

Her father knew he had tread into a conversation he shouldn't have been in. The thought of Adal's brother was a harsh memory to everyone.

"I... I didn't mean-" He stuttered. It was a quick decision that changing the direction of the conversation was in his best interest. "Come. Your mother is worried sick. Every time you make these little excursions, you don't tell anyone and we worry where you are. Why do you even come out here?"

Adal wiped her face, but seemed to take the question a bit easier. "I like to see the graves of the warriors. Grandfather used to tell us stories about those buried here. I liked his stories."

"he told me the same stories when I was your age. They are just stories. Nothing more."

"But the proof is here! With these dead."

"And they're still dead. Not one of them will rise up one day from the grave to do battle once again. They are just dust and bones now. Your fascination is morbid."

"No! I... I want to find my own warrior."

Her father wiped his brow in aggravation. "Now I get it. You have to let these fantasies go. Only little girls think that way. What about the blacksmith's son, Gerthhold? He's a strong man with a good lineage. He'll also inherit a decent plot of land and his own forge. I've seen how he looks at you. He'll treat you well."

Adal grimaced. "Gerthhold is a braggart. And he marches around like he owns everything. I don't like him."

"It's not about liking him or not. I've already spoken with his father. He believes a marriage between you two would increase his family's standing in the village. He's already accepted my offer. All you need to do is agree to marry and that'll be that."

"Then I won't agree." Adal said with brash quickness to her voice.

"You... you'll see it my way someday," her father said, finally just giving in and letting things be. Adal was stubborn, as were many her age. Eventually, she'd see the wisdom of his ways and she'd marry Gerthold. "Let's get back to the village. There's work that needs to be done and we need you to finish your chores. Then you can come down here and sing and think about the dead all you want."

Adal sighed in a displeased manner, her father's aptitude toward her true unhappiness at spending the rest of her life as the trophy wife of some bastard blaksmith not fit to even call himself strong, a warrior, or even a German, all things that he would brag about incessantly for that matter, was remarkably low.

"Yes sir." she said, a tone more fit for a child that was just scolded for trying to take a loaf of bread that wasn't theirs and was caught in the middle of a reach.

The two began to exit the ancient graveyard, the sun finally cresting fully and dowsing the meadow in clean, bright sunlight. The birds flitted into the nearby trees, echoing their chirping songs throughout the forest.

Adal made one turn to look back at the larger mound sitting squarely in the middle of the meadow. Her gaze drew upon the small tree resting on top of the mound, the green leaves glinting the light of the sun against the morning dew.

A small flash of gold from the tree's trunk made Adal stop and stare. She squinted, trying to pick out the small speck of light again.

Adal! Come now. We've spent too much time daddling as is."

"Oh!... Yes sir!" She called back to her father who had disappeared into the woods. She turned around once again to try and find the gold light again, but it had vanished entirely.

"So strange," she muttered to herself before going back into the forest and trailed behind her father's beaten path back to the village.

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

Chapter 4 excerpt
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Night had fallen over the Roman fortification. The deep black of the European sky was unsettling to the guards on duty. Only the waxing and waning glow of torch lights offered the comfort of sight to the guards on watch. They kept their eyes wide open. The barbarians were known for attacking at night, using the cover of darkness to give them the advantage of surprise.

The night guards were the most experienced of the troops. They knew that the light of the fires made them perfect targets on top of the high palisades and solid walls. They'd seen how an arrow or a spear out of the dark could hit with precise accuracy, A spear could split armor plate with great ease, driving the shaft deep into the victim's chest. Even if the weapon didn't puncture the armor, the force alone would knock a man from a wall, sending him plummeting to the ground below.

The fear of attack wasn't the only thing that kept their eyes steadily watching. If anything should escape their attention and it was found out by the commander, then their very lives would be forfeit.

The rest of the fort was either sleeping or partaking of the night pleasures. The bar was a haven for the night lurking variety of soldier and civilian. It was a large hall, not unlike the Gaelic mead halls that could be found all over the Empire's grasp. The drink of choice was Italian wine of course. Many of the new recruits tried to drink off the fear instilled into them the morning prior, guzzling the noxious beverages until they fell back, unable to stand and walk themselves back to the barracks. The older, more wise soldiers would watch them in humor. Laughter would break out every time one of the young men would flop to the ground like a freshly caught fish.

Women in vivd shades of scarlet and violet stood at street corners. Their bodies were contorted in the most exotic positions they could hold, their lusty eyes tempting any man who treaded wearily by. The promise of a night of pleasure was never spoken, but it was there on their breath and full lips.

Not everyone was so eager to stay out at night. Fried lay back in his cot within the barracks. He hadn't slept very well, though he figured that none of the other recruits had either.

After all, finding out your commander had the mind of a complete madman was enough to set even the most staunch soldier into a fretting mind. Then again, perhaps it was some kind of clever ploy. Maybe that Roman was adamant about his promise of treating them well, but in order to keep everyone in line he needed to instill a little fear. Besides, even when confronted by the enemy, the very notion of dying by the hands of their own general would drive them to fight harder.

There wasn't any grey area when fighting that way. Only victory or defeat. If this commander had a reputation to uphold, then of course he had to push his troops to fight at all cost. Especially with troops that weren't fighting for their own country.

"Damn bastard." Fried muttered to himself.

Of course it was a great tactic, but it didn't change the fact it was fundamentally inhuman.

Fried turned over in his cot, looking at the armor sitting on the rack next to his bed. The grey lorrica plate was settled contently in it's nestled resting place. Several blotches and dings were etched in the metal. It was obviously handed down armor, probably taken from another soldier's corpse on the battlefield, repaired and cleaned, then shipped back into service.

His gladius and shield were probably the same as his armor, just reused and given to him because it was cheaper to scavenge from the dead instead of making new armor and weapons.

He wondered if the same person had used all his equipment when they were alive or if it was mix from different solders who had given their lives for the Empire.

Of course, his thoughts were terminally stopped as the sudden visage of Scyp's face filled his vision.

Fried almost toppled out of his cot from surprise. The sudden shock of his friend's smirking face popping into view was a bit too much to handle, especially with so much weighing on his mind.

"What are-" Fried tried to exclaim, but was silenced by a hand over his mouth.

Scyp held a finger to his lips, hushing Fried from waking up any of the other recruits. The Dacian pointed at Fried's shield and sword. He then motioned toward the doorway to the barracks.

Fried stared at the man for a second, trying to comprehend what he was doing exactly, but finally gave in and nodded. The soldier silently got out of his cot and put on his tunic and pants. He picked up his shield gently, making sure not to bump it against his armor or anything that would make noise. He then
slid his gladius into the belt at his waist.

He followed Scyp out the barracks door to find Reinus and two other older soldiers waiting for him.

"Why are you bringing one of the new recruits along Scyp?" asked one of the men Fried hadn't seen before. He was a short man with a ragged beard and grey hair parted in the middle.

"My question exactly," Reinus agreed, his large arms folded across his broad chest. "Why would you think he'd want to go in on this?"

"What are you all doing out here?" Fried asked suspiciously, still trying to figure out why these men were out with their weapons and shields, but no armor.

"What? I can't bring some fresh meat with us?" Scyp laughed quietly.

[Bloodeye the Bai Ze]

Finally, I got to introduce my draugr character. Huzzah for crazy Viking zombies!!!
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The four men stared at the red moon in terror. They had never seen something so horrifying in all their lives.

Slowly though, the red tone disappeared, rendering everything back to the blue hue of night.

A low, guttural growl, like the bellowing of some kind of demon. Fried was the first to bring his gaze away from the moon and back onto the ship.

He nearly died right there from what he saw.

Standing at the bow of the ship, it's foot rested so heavily onto the masthead's base, stood a figure that shouldn't have been standing at all.

The hide of a red stag, rotting and tattered, swayed in the breeze. Rusted metal and wapred leather incased the one shoulder. Stained chain mail clinked against a broad chest, the cloth under-armor ripped away mostly, revealing the midnight skin beneath. The arms were blackened as the night sky was blackened. The rotting leggings were covered with decaying wolfhide. The black skin covered
it's entire body, crawling up the neck and onto the face.

The face was chiseled like a skeleton's. The black skin was flecked with bits of grey toward the back of the head. A scar ran down the middle of the face, the open flesh a rancid color of ash. A mohawk of chalk white formed at the top of it's head, the strand fluttering in the wind.

It;s eyes gripped Fried like a claw to the heart. Only orbs of scarlet looked back at him. They were eyes that didn't see you.

They saw your soul... like a hawk sees a rabbit.

The creature lunged off the ship, landing with a crash to the ground below. A long weapon wrapped in decaying hide rustled on it's back. It rose up, eyeing the four men with an intensity unseen by mortals before. They couldn't move, not even to escape. They were lost in those red eyes. They could only tremble. Only tremble.

The creature lifted the weapon from it's back. The hide faded into a thick smoke, revealing the edge of a long sword. The blade was etched in an old way that was lost to time.

Reinus finally found himself to be able to move, looking away from the monster as it progressed toward them.

It opened it's mouth, sharp dagger fangs dripping to sink into soft skin.

The Gaul grabbed up his nearby shield and bellowed a battle cry. Before any of the men could stop him, he charged the monster. No one could say why he did. Maybe it was simply a reaction to his own fear, something that was digging into him and not letting go.

Reinus rushed up and stabbed his sword into the monster's belly.

Nothing. No blood. No crumpling body. Nothing.

The sword was torn away and swung at the creature's face. In a flash, a speed that couldn't be matched by a man, the fangs flashed and sank into the sword blade. Reinus was shocked, trying in vain to rip the sword away from the undead's maw. It wouldn't move.

The sound of breaking metal filled the air as the creature literally bit a chunk out of the gladius. The chewed metal was spit out instantly, sinking into the soft ground when it hit. Reinus' training set into motion and he brought the scutum shield around to smash the monster's head to pieces.

The flick of a free hand and the undead had turned the shield into a flying shower of wooden plank shards. A another flick in the opposite direction and Reinus was sent flying away, bouncing several times on the ground before slamming into one of the mounds.

"Over here!"

Fried couldn't believe he had actually yelled that.

The monster turned it's attention to him now. It's heavy steps sank into the grass as it walked up to the scared German. It held it's weapon aloft, ready to bring it down upon Fried without a singe hesitation in it's malice. Fried's instincts kicked in and he tried to run away. It was a fortunate action on his part, as the sword blade came down and sliced a vertical gash down his face. It could have been the whole of his head that was sliced.

Fried tumbled backward, holding his face as the blood gushed forth. His hands and feet flailed against the ground to push himself away from the thing that was baring down on him. He managed to get to his feet and turned to run, but felt the long push of the massive blade slicing with a thrust into his side. he fell to the ground again, this time unable to rise again. He could feel the fluid of his body flowing out of the wound.

The ear piercing scream of the bearded soldier as he ran at the creature split the air. His charge was reckless and he paid for it. The sword blade was thrust into his gut and he was lift off the ground. His sword and shield clattered to the ground as his scream was now that of pain and agony. The blade was tilted ever so slightly and he began to slide down it toward the undead. A black hand reached out and grasped him by the face, muffling yet another scream as the blade was wrenched forth.

Blood and gore stained the metal blade as the monster held his victim up. It's lips twisted into a sneer of pointed teeth, which promptly opened up and closed around the man's throat. He reached up as he gasped for air, one last attempt to remove the vice of teeth from his neck.

There was a sick crunch, a large gush of blood, and a head sent flying through the air as the creature bit through his neck without a second thought. It descended upon the fresh corpse, it's fingers grabbing any loose limb and tearing away meat with the saw-like teeth. It swallowed flesh, crunched through bone and lapped up the spilling blood out of the dead body.

Scyp, though in total shock, managed to find the consciousness to run over to Reinus, who was moving somewhat from where he had been knocked aside. He grabbed up his friend and helped him to his feet, staggering under the weight.

He looked over at Fried. He wasn't moving anymore.

Scyp feared the worst. The only thing he could do know was save Reinus and himself. It was better than trying to save everyone and ending up dead.

The Dacian lifted the Gaul up and ran with him on his back. The only destination was the boat and then the fort and hope that this creature couldn't swim or fly.

It never crossed his mind that the blonde soldier had already disappeared.

Fried lay on the ground, his hand outstretched to his friends. He didn't want to be abandoned. he didn't want ot die like the other man had. He didn't want to be this monster's meal.

The creature wiped the filth from it's slathering fangs. It looked up and it's face twisted into that of anger and rage. It marched past Fried, not even giving him a second thought. It's intent was set clearly on the forest ahead. On the object taken from it's grave.

As it disappeared in the darkness of the night woods, Fried could no longer hold his eyes open. The last thing he saw was the thing walk away and a random thought crossed his mind.

The aquila was gone.