Greenstead, Ikslund
Hengist paused his horse Toothbreaker on the ridge overlooking the port. Behind him, he heard Agneyastra and Kristol Anagsdottir bring their horses to a halt. All three led pack horses bearing clothing and weapons; Hengist’s was his own animal, Toothbreaker.
How fortunate that I left the horses with my sister, he reminded himself, and not in the stables in Port Stronghold as I usually do. If their plow-horse had not died in the spring… A fortunate turn of events in the end, anyway.
“There it is,” Hengist breathed.
“Not much of a town when set against Port Stronghold,” Agneyastra observed.
“No,” Hengist ground out. “No, it is not.”
The twins moved their horses up alongside Hengist’s. “Forgive me,” Agneyastra said. She bowed her head as Hengist turned to look at her from his one good eye. “I know you were there, at Port Stronghold, when the witch Mabinne destroyed it.”
“Don’t apologize. What happened to Port Stronghold is what drives me.”
“As you say, of course.”
“I cannot see the docks very well,” Hengist said. “Are there five ships docked?”
“There are two at the docks and three that look to be at anchor in the harbor. There are some smaller boats moving into the harbor that look like fishing boats and the like, but the five ships are sizable. Not the ordinary long boats.”
Hengist nodded. “Good. Let’s move on. I’d like to find us a place in an inn or something before nightfall. The King said there was some Gustaf Gustafson in charge down there now. I’ll find him in the morning.”
“It has been a long day,” Kristol agreed.
Hengist tapped Toothbreaker with his heels. The big horse, long attuned to his master’s prompts, got moving.
The road wound down a long slope to the small town, really only a village, that wrapped around the small natural harbor of Greenstead. There was no chain across the harbor mouth, no ballista covering the opening. Hengist was perturbed to see Greenstead was completely undefended, save for the ships and, presumably, the troops the King had promised; and Hengist intended to move those forces out of Greenstead as soon as possible.
Port Stronghold was supposed to be re-building, but it would be a task of years to restore Ikslund’s major port/fortress to its former glory.
Evening saw them safely in the village. There was but one inn, with no kitchen and only four sleeping rooms. Hengist laid down gold for two rooms and use of the small stable. “Where does one find something to eat here?” he asked the innkeeper.
“One street over,” the old man said. “There is an eatery. Mostly fish, sometimes they have reindeer, elk or even mammoth if one is very lucky.”
“Living off the country,” Hengist mused.
The innkeeper just nodded. “All the soldiers, they are buying up much of whatever produce comes into the town.”
“I think those soldiers will be moving on shortly. Can you tell me where they are camped?”
“South of the harbor,” the innkeeper replied. “Some in an abandoned warehouse, the rest under canvas. You’ll see them if you go to the harbor and take the path to the left.”
“You have my thanks.” Hengist laid an extra gold coin on the counter. “For your trouble.” The old man grinned and made the coin disappear.
Hengist went outside, where the twins were waiting. “We have two rooms,” he told them. “We will see to the horses. Then we eat and sleep.”
They did so; the only option available at the eatery was a rather tasteless fish stew and a few chunks of coarse bread. “It’s not just the soldiers,” the woman who ran the eatery told them. “It’s Mabinne the Merciless and her forces. They are strangling trade, all up and down the coast.”
Hengist nodded and kept his own council.
In the morning, Hengist and the twins saddled horses and rode out to the encampment south of the harbor. “I am General Hengist Hammer-Fist,” he told the sentry that stopped the three of them on the road. He held up the King’s commission, rolled and sealed with wax bearing the royal seal. “Kindly direct me to Gustaf Gustafson.”
Intimidated by the hulking figure wrapped in bison-skin, one eye covered with a black patch, one hand replaced with an iron hammerhead, the young soldier just nodded. “Go down the lane between the tents,” he said, “…and you will see a large tent on the right. You can find General Gustafson there.”
Gustaf Gustafson turned out to be a small, spare man, quick-moving and sharp-eyed. He was going over maps of the coast to the south when Hengist entered the tent.
“General Hengist Hammer-Fist,” he introduced himself. “Here is my commission to take command of the forces here at Greenstead.”
“We had a messenger two days ago; said you’d be coming.” Gustafson broke the seal on the scroll, opened it and read the King’s commission. “Well. The King has appointed you himself. Much good may it do you; so far Mabinne the Merciless has evaded us at every turn.”
“I hope to change that. What do you plan to do now?”
“That, General, is up to you.”
“Would you be amenable to staying on as second-in-command?”
Gustafson nodded. “I would. If I might ask – what were you before all this?”
“A summer raider, as most of us were. A farmer. I hunted mammoths in the winter.”
“So, your experience is mixed – on water and land, both?”
“It is.”
Gustafson regarded his new commander. “I was a sailor,” he said. “Served in the King’s navy, such as it was. I might suggest, in addition to being your second in all things with this army, that you put me in charge of the ships and their crews? That way you make best use of both of our experience.”
“Done!” Hengist extended his damaged right hand. Gustafson took it and proved to have a good, strong handshake; it hurt, but the only expression that reached Hengist’s eye was determination.
Gustafson indicated the map table. “Have you a plan?”
“Tell me what you have done to date.”
Gustafson traced a finger down the coast, from the ice-locked land to the north to near the border with Beretan. “We have done some patrolling of the coast. Mabinne and her army are clearly using ships to move about and, so far, have only hit coastal communities or towns and villages within a league of the sea. They don’t seem to move much overland. But six or seven moons ago, she received reinforcements of several hundred Jutlander mercenaries, and that has greatly enhanced her ability to strike inland.”
“Have you been able to engage her directly?”
“Twice. We suffered heavy losses both times, and both times we just barely intercepted her forces as they fled to seaward; they are an army of magic-users, and that makes them very dangerous indeed.”
“Have you any magic-users among you?”
“We do not.”
Hengist grinned evilly. “I have two. Only the two, but they are powerful.” He described the twins.
Gustafson let out a low whistle. “Ice and fire. That could make a difference, if deployed properly.”
“I intend to keep their presence a secret until the right moment, lest they be overwhelmed by Mabinne’s magic-users.”
“Sensible,” Gustafson agreed.
“Now. Do you know where they go between raids?”
“We do not. The two times we engaged them they were headed west, into the unknown expanse of the sea. There must be land somewhere in that direction, but no one seems to know of its location.”
“We will have to find it, in time. But first, we must strip away that Jutlander infantry. That will allow us to focus more directly on Mabinne’s magic-users.”
“We have had no luck pinning them down,” Gustafson pointed out.
“None of the King’s forces have. But I may have the solution for that.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Hengist said. “We make them come to us.” He went on for a few moments.
“That could work,” Gustafson said with a grin. “That could work very well indeed. General Hammer-Fist, I think you and I are going to work very well together.”
Three days later the five ships, loaded with men, weapons and armor, set sail to the south.
Mabinne’s gonna fuck him up. Again.
I don’t know, she has magic, but she’s not a military tactician.
I agree with Sean. Hammer can’t touch that.
*golf clap*
It’s his time?
I get that feeling too.
She can be baited into mistakes, lose her mercenaries, and become trapped – if it’s done right.
Animal, speaking of writing and whatnot, send me mail. moriah at moriahjovan dot com
Done.
I recall that when Mabinne was first captured, Hengist had a sword that deflected or negated Mabinne’s attempt to use magic against him. I’m wondering if there are other such swords among the troops, and if if they might come into play.
I was ready to call a lid at 9 am this morning but couldn’t. Biden can.
While he isn’t paying attention, peace is breaking out in the Middle East.
Regarding point 2, Biden has a solution for that, no doubt.
Yep, just wait, I’m sure the CIA is coming up with something.
Erdogan is already complaining about meddling in the upcoming Turkish elections.
Wow they have election deniers in Turkey too?
Well, they aren’t chicken.
There’s probably a narrowed gaze coming your way. You might want to duck.
OT: Anyone read this book?
https://www.amazon.com/Mine-Were-Trouble-Nationalist-Account/dp/1777493889
I knew almost nothing about the Spanish Civil War, so it has been eye opening to say the least. One thing I read in the wee hours of the morning, was that the bombing of Guernica was nothing like the propaganda suggested. Even to the point that the town may have been torched by the commies on their way out. Pablo Picasso hardest hit.
Right now it is almost impossible to find a good, academic or populist, history that is accurate. I just read this one:
https://www.amazon.com/Spanish-Civil-War-Short-Introduction/dp/0192803778/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1681756667&sr=8-7
and even something from 15-20 years ago you need to wade through a lot of BS.
But, one thing that comes clear is that the Republicans (liberal) did everything they could to turn the middle classes against them; they attempted to destroy the very fabric of Spanish life by waging war against the church, which was central to much of the life and culture of the country.
Wasn’t that commies vs fascists? What a choice.
It seems from his films that Guillermo del Toro hates the fascists from that period, but has a soft spot for the commies. I can’t fault him for the former, but I’d like to kick him in the balls for the latter.
He’s an artist. Everybody knows the commies love artists and vice versa.
Yeah, commies burning churches, raping nuns and crucifying priests revokes their good guys cards.
The Nationalist side was interesting. There were many factions that ended up being consolidated by Franco. Germany wanted to end the war a lot quicker than Franco did. The author is a British volunteer. His perspective is much more nuanced than I have read before.
I wonder if Mabinne even know he is there yet..
Oh Mabinne, why can’t you be true?
Oh Mabinne, why can’t you be true?
You done going back doing the things you used to do.
*narrows gaze*
I deserved it. I had to get it out of my head. And into yours.
Mabinne, honey, is that you?
Oh, Mabinne, honey, where are you?
Seem like every time I catch up with you
You’re up to something new
https://www.pennlive.com/politics/2023/04/fetterman-to-return-to-the-senate-monday-after-6-week-hospitalization.html
Fetterlump is back!
He’s unfettered?
But not unchained.
Ain’t nothin’ stays the same
Live.
lulz
He and the Turtle can skip into the Senate chambers together.
Great, now he can finally do the critically important work of just voting the way all the other Dems vote.
That gives me an idea. There would be no (acceptable) way to enforce this, but it would be interesting if Reps/Senators had to vote on bills blind. All they got was the text, no information about who proposed it or anything like that.
He promised to “make Washington listen” in his campaign ads so he’s not going to sit in some back bench and be depressed over lack of importance.
He’s ready for primetime?
tan, rested, and ready
Ross Perot’s Vice Presidential candidate Stockdale
“Who am I and what am I doing here?”
Then things started going downhill
Thanks Animal, let the magic begin. My money’s on Hengist and the twins. Ass kickers. Maybe not right away but ultimately.
More gore and fux?
Pete Buttigieg: Traffic Fatalities Happen Because Of “A Lot Of Reasons Related To Discrimination”
Obviously roads are racist with their white and yellow lines covering the beautiful Blackness of the pavement.
It’s racism all the way down.
Check out Sharpton’s face, like he’s thinking “Look at this little cracker faggot, stealing my schtick and making it all the way to the White House. Whiteys steal everything black men build.”
It’s their one trick pony. Racism explains all the ills in the US.
I hope to god that Team Stupid is stockpiling these quotes for when he runs in 2024.
They’re not, because they’re stupid. Otherwise they would also have a stockpile of clips of all Biden’s fumbles, falters, bumbles, trips, awkward motions, etc. to run together while playing Yakety Sax as the soundtrack.
Would it matter? They keep saying this garbage because it works for them. It keeps the poor blacks on the D plantation, and reinforces the feelings of superiority in rich whites.
No, it’s racist that fresh asphalt is so dark. Black people blend in and get run over whereas white folk stand out and don’t get hit as much, yup yup.
Not to mention that more Americans prefer their car color be white than black.
I like silver. Doesn’t show the dirt or imperfections in the paint as much.
True.
I was feeling guilty about letting Lily put on close to ten pounds over last year (and still am) but holy shit my brother has been feeding her mom and brother too many stroopwafels.
https://www.glibertarians.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Biscuit-and-Daisy-near-Grmany.jpg
Adorable.
Time for some roadwork, though!
I do not know who recommended this guy, but an interesting commentary on the Ukrainian war.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcN5K0KhOSA