The Reavers of the Red Song

Larus

The rest of the reavers settled low, hiding behind crates of grain and barrels of salted fish that had been stacked in the narrow pathways between the houses. Much of these goods could provide extra food for the tribe when the harshest months of winter came, and it wasn't entirely likely that a small fishing town would be overflowing with other wealth.

Though, perhaps the folk would make good slaves.

Ulf squinted his dark eyes as he looked up at the guards on the watchtower rampart for a moment, muttering softly to himself as he pondered the difficulties of the shot.

"Aye, Larus." Ulf said in a raspy whisper. "Should'na be tha' difficult." The dark-leather clad Norscan raised his horn bow and pointed the black-fletched arrow at the first of the musketeers. He didn't draw the bow yet, waiting on a signal.

From here, Larus could see the relatively straight path to the thick wooden door that would lead into the watchtower at ground level. It was solid and sturdy looking, and while it was open at the moment, it was obvious from the large wooden beams that were stored next to it that it could be barred with relative ease and would take more than the reavers had with them to batter it down if it came to it.

There was some torchlight flickering from within, and shadows cast upon the surface of the open door indicated at least two more soldiers within.

The rage-fuelled roar of the mob was quickly turning to screams after Larus heard someone shouting that they were under attack. The horns that heralded his fellows attack were still echoing across the town and the guards up on the ramparts were beginning to frantically gesture and shout warnings to rally the defenders of Grenhoff.


Otto and Hygd

The other longships had run aground flanking the Red Song and reavers and warriors were spilling from them. The largest, with a thick keel and the skull of some massive beast from below the waves upon the prow, slid in last. Perched upon the bow was the tall form of Bohdi Ymirsdottir. Easily one of the most tall women in the tribe, Bodhi cut an imposing presence as she raised her halberd into the air and led the rising howl of bloodlust that was swiftly spreading through the Norscans.

She bore a gleaming breastplate with mail sleeves upon which the eight-pointed star of Chaos was roughly engraved over the faded heraldry of one of the Imperial Reiksgard knights. Her legs were clad in supple hide and furs and the sun, despite casting such long shadows, lit her fiery hair.

"For Winterscorn!"





Grenhoff

Nicoli Oleg and Morgul

Death had come on dark wings for the Sergeant of the Nordland Halberdiers, and the man's rant about Sigmar came to an abrupt end as a flurry of black feathers swiftly became the savage form of the Bray-Shaman. Bringing his thick, gnarled braystaff down on the sergeants right arm, the man screamed in rage - fumbling the flintlock pistol he had been drawing from his hip. As it fell, the sergeant staggered and his hob-nailed boot knocked the weapon clattering towards Nicoli.

The two halberdiers who flanked the Kislevite gaped at the sudden arrival of the bray-shaman in their midst, their hands slipping from Nicoli's arms and nervously gripping at the wooden hafts of their halberds.

The sergeant, grimacing in pain, reached for the narrow blade at his other hip in fear.


Egil and Groktur

Seeing the Caprigor hurtling towards him, the young halberdier who had shouted the warning brought his halberd up before him across his chest in an attempt to ward off any incoming attacks. Others were pushing through the crowd, trying to form into a line with their halberds levelled at the oncoming Norscans.

Here and there, others were climbing atop crates and carts while raising their rifles to their shoulders in order to get a clear shot over the crowd. With a sudden, resounding staccato burst a number of the handgunners fired into the incoming Norscans. Several stumbled and staggered as the bullets found purchase, but on came the reavers.

Groktur saw the whites in the young halberdiers eyes as he approached. He heard the shrill whistling as a hail of bullets flew overhead and into those reavers behind him. It looked as if the main body of the reavers would hit the forming line of halberdiers all around the caprigor warrior. They were about to be in the heart of the melee.

Nearby, Egil and his companions led the charge of Norscans. The Red Song reavers would be the first of Bodhi's fleet to taste blood here in Grenhoff. Directly ahead, Egil saw a handful of halberdiers rushing to held their young companion that Groktur had been racing towards. With Sigrun at his heels, they charged into the small group of soldiers who were about to be caught beyond the defense of their lines.

All around them, the other Winterscorn reavers ploughed into the halberdiers, who despite their poor overall performance in garrisoning Grenhoff, were able to form up with at least some professional expediency. The Norscan charge hit the line of braced pikes, and the ashen grey sands were suddenly blooded as a half-score of the reavers immediately went down under the halberds.

But they pressed on, past the hafted weapons and in for the kill. Axes split coifed skulls and blades tore leather and spilt guts with equal ease.

The Dark Gods would feast well tonight.