Viking Rampage

The raids seemed to be getting more and more frequent, depleting most of what individuals had. The men and women who participated in these raids often took what they wanted, from furs, to food, to even slaves. Of those that chose to raid, there was a man amongst them who only seemed to defend those in his clan that could not do so well, learning to be a Viking or Valkyrie. Trying to fill their own boots, so to speak. With an axe in hand, leather strap bound to his wrist, he’d watch for those in need.

He took delight in killing, seeing the life drain from his enemy’s eyes, and he did like to take things that interested him, but one thing he did not take was slaves. He was a man who would rather do the work on his own and not make someone else do it, unless needed. A man of little to no words, his expression never changed from the stern that it always seemed to be etched, seemingly disapproving of all who did anything in front of him. Anyone who would speak to the man would be lucky to get a sentence. He’d mainly answer in grunts or his choice of words would emanate from him, speaking through his eyes or just the general feel that he would give off. Nothing seemed to change the man until the most recent raid.

He had watched one of the younger vikings make quick work of one home before running into another, being reckless with their desire to fight. An even more stern look crossed his features as he heard the sound of metal slicing through flesh, a tone he was sometimes far too familiar with, followed by a sound of delight, further followed by a scream. A plea for help. Never had he heard such a voice, and neither did he know why he was so drawn to it. Hesitation whirled through his mind, even as his body made the decision for him. In two blinks of his eyes, he was ripping the fabric door from its frame, seeing the glint of the young viking’s axe as it was risen, ready to strike down a trembling mass. His boots made no sound as he quickly approached, grasping the young man’s arm before the axe could be swung, a surprised grunt leaving the young viking in front of him. The air of retaliation was quickly dissipated once the young one realized who had grabbed a hold of him. A moment was spared, his eyes darkening enough to scare the young one into leaving the home in a hurry.

He stood there for another moment longer before his stern look moved towards the trembling mass. He simply stood there, watching them before sliding his own axe against his side, holstering it. His hand reached out, showing bands of leather wrapped around his wrist and looped around his middle finger. He spoke nothing, the room shifting to one of concern. His eyes seemed to calm and beckon, giving an air of “I’ll protect you, if you come with me.”

As much as he was offering in the silence, he wasn’t quite sure what this trembling mass would do. Would they come along and be protected by him, or would they come out of their fear and try to attack him?