The Battle of Lundenwic and the Heathens of Hedeby. (RP/Screens/Event)

Users who are viewing this thread

Eorl Aethelwulf of Lundenwic groaned... His envoy to Kent had been shot at. The city that had fallen to Erik the Usurper, a heathen who brought his warriors from Agder to settle the fertile Christian lands. A damned affront to all men of Saxon stock, all men who knelt before the White Christ.

His men howled for justice, for revenge... but it was too late. The bloodthirsty Heathens of Kent had began to move, they had reached the bridge bordering Wessexian land and Mercian land. The game was afoot, a battle ready. Erik was no fool, he was a wiley man and cunning like a fox. Aethelwulf knew this, and knew to meet his men in the field as they baited them was no wise move. It'd be foolhardy to charge from their walls and risk the lives of the clergymen of Westminster and Lindisfarne, especially as they had horsemen riding the fields.

Erik's cavalry smashed open their north gate, and it was time for them to fall back to the Town's Keep. Hustling panicked serfs and cursing clergymen into the thick walls, as Aethelwulf relied on an old bargain struck with the finest warriors of Agder. Fenris, Helgrim, Surtur.. and those who would follow them. The battle raged, men of his killed in the streets, hacked apart by the Heathens of Hedeby. They held within the Holdfast, defending the stocks of food, the stocks of weapons, their Eorl's honour and most importantly the good Christian folk of the land.

"Cowards, face us!" Erik the Heathen roared. 

The battle continued, archers trimming the lines of Erik as the men of Mercia held a tight shieldwall in their holdfast, unwavering and slaying any who dared push against it. Erik's anger grew, and the men within the Keep grew restless. Wishing to charge, yet forbayed. Holding their ground like good men of a discipline only Christ could bring. Arrows sang and javelin flew. The battle raged, Heathens dying upon the shield wall of the men of Mercia who had taken to their defensive stone walls.

And then they came.

Roaring with the might of their Pagan Gods, Fenris and his brothers charged through the gates of Lundenwic and brought the attackers to the sword. The pact was sealed. A rush of Mercian steel and sweat clashed to make the Wessex line sandwhich and crumble. Routing the wounded Erik and his men from the lands, a decisive victory for the Christian folk of Mercia... or was it?

The Danegeld was made to be paid. Ships restored to working order by Ceorls of Mercia, coffers emptied to appease their Pagan friends. And wine drunk in plenty to celebrate a victory, as friends, not foes.

The battle was won, and Eorl Aethelwulf's men gathered about the Keep's courtyard, picked the fallen bodies clean and buried those who had fallen with the aid of Brother Gudbrand and Brother Rathorn.And then it was declared.

All hail Aethelwulf, Cyning of Mercia! Bretwald of Engaland!

And so it was declared. Peace was made with the Heathens of Agder, trade routes established and a common mutual agreement to not raid. Erik's days were numbered should he not kneel. Yet the men of Northumbria, although present amongst the Cyning of Mercia's ranks, were yet to speak on it. Trouble brews amongst the Four Kingdoms. And as a wise man once said,

"Once you pay the Dangeld, you will never be rid of the Dane."

Massive thanks to EVERYONE who participated in the battles and RP tonight, really helps to keep the server alive and to build a community when we're able to communicate and create awesome events like we have these last few days! Here's hoping it will only bring more fun about, and establish great groups and a direction for the developers and leaders when this leaves Beta!

Hey, I was on the server right before this battle! My internet crashed then...
Still, I made some adventures on my own. Quite connected, so I decided to post:
A story of the monk and the thief

It was a peaceful night in Kent, in the land of Wessex. Vikings finally conquered the city, and they were all asleep after celebrating their victory.  Streets were empty, but one man.
A shadow, who walked between the building.
He was wearing a dark tunic and a black hood with shawl completely covering his face. He was a thief, and he traveled from far away.
Most lords kept their treasures in keep- as close as possible- so that's where thief was heading. When he got there, he didn't even see a single guard. „It's too easy”, he thought. It took him several minutes to find a treasure chest, a few more to pick a lock. Efford definitely paid off- inside he found 2 thousand pieces of gold. As he finnished packing it all to his bag, he heard voices downstairs- „So there ARE guards here”, he thought. He went upstairs- before entering city, he noticed that there is a tower on the highest level of the keep, that could help him escape. He wasn't mistaken- when he got to the tower, he jumped outside onto the roof. And luckily, this roof took him right ouside the city wall.
That was a good hunt. Now, he needed a place to hide for some time.
Goat herding was not an easy task, and definitely not a pleasant one. Yound monk named Vakri tried to do his best, despite the fact that a herd kept runing him over. He felt like giving up, but order was clear- one of the brothers spoted wild herd in the forest, and this herd was to be gathered. Of course, Vakri got that job.
After a few iritating hours he managed to reach a seashore with goats. Just a few moments, and they will be in Lindinsfarne.
-MEE!!- shouted a goat, jumping on a monk. He tried to remain in balance, but eventually he slipped and fell.
„I swear to god” he thought „When we will be killing those, I will be the first to voulonteer”.
Lundenwick was one of the biggest and best fortified Saxon cities. It was surrounded by a tough wall, and inhabitants made sure that all three gates were closed and guarded. Also, keep was made of stone, with only one way out and windows too small to pass. And it was surrounded by a palisade.
„It's almost impossible to steal anything from there”, thought a thief. Almost. Afer his trip to Nortumbria- where he found just a few coins in York, what was very disappointing- he needed a better target. Unfortunetly, rumour of his deeds in Kent spread really fast so most likely he will have a lot more problems wherever he goes this time.
And this town was a very hard one. There was , however, one weak spot- a place where outer wall was easier to reach, and it was right beside keep. If he used it, he would avoid guards and the palisade.
He came closer. It wasn't that high here... but still, too high to jump. He needed a ladder, or at least a table. But how the hell could he bring it here unnoticed?
Vakri was sitting in monastery, cleaning his robe and tending his bruises, when he heard a sound of hooves. He went outside and saw a man in rich armour with a donkey.
-Hail- said the stranger- I'm Eorl Aethelwolf, ruler of Lundenwick and Cyning of Mercia
-I'm Vakri, my lord- answered Vakri
-Could you haul some food and wine to Lundenwick?-asked Aethelwolf- Our supplies are low after attacks of vikings. And now, that Wessex fallen to the hands of heathens, we will need supplies soon.
-I can bring you some meat.
-Thank you for your help, father. You can use this donkey. For a transport.
-Of course- replied monk- im always willing to help defenders of our faith.
Your time has come, goats.

Vakri and Aethelwolf reached Lundenwic loaded with meat for the city.
-We take it to the keep- said Eorl, as they were walking across the city centre. It was crowded with warkers, pulling their carts loaded with goods. Wood, iron, food, cloth- all was needed in time of war, and there was too little of everything. Even warriors took part in preparations.
Aethelwolf went to the keep with Vakri- both to help and to keep an eye on him. Theft in Kent was most fortunate, but whoever did it might also attack Lundenwick. He wanted to watch everyone who enters keep- even this monk.
They unloaded the meat and left the keep.
-You can take donkey as a payment- said Aethelwolf- you helped us a lot
-God bless you- replied Vakri and left
Just a little bit higher... just a tiny bit... damn it.
A thief groaned with anger. He found a way to reach the wall- it appears everyne in this land has a cart with them all the time. That would mean no one would notice him taking one to the wall... and then he just had to stand on it and climb.
That was a plan. But as a wise man once said: No plan stands confrontation with reality.
He needed something higher. Maybe a box? Or maybe, he should...
-HEY YOU!- he heard. Looks like his endevours were not unnoticed- Go away!
„I have no other plans, friend”, he thought runing away. He heard a noice behind him- it was a guard, searching cart for anything valuable. „That means keep i not guarded anymore”. He headed to the gates... and they were open.
That should have warned him. It didn't. He entered the town and headed to the keep.
„Fox in a trap” thought Aethelwolf, looking at the shadow running through the gates.
-Gold is safe-said Sigmund, head of the guard, aproaching his cyning- I took it from keep and hid it.
-Good. Now follow me. It's ime to catch an outlaw.
„Looks like this is really not a good place for stealing” thought thief while rushing down the keep. The treasury was empty, so his little trip was for nothing. Lets hope that at least he won't get cought.
He was right in front of the keep entrance when he stopped. Two people blocked his way, and he recognised one of them as Eorl Aethelwolf.
-Halt!- he said, and for a moment all three were stanting still. Then Eorl headed forward, to seize a him.
Leaving a spot between him and the other guy.
Thief rushed right to this spot. Aethelwolf failed to catch him, but the other one grabbed his hood and revealed his face
-Vakri!- screamed Aethelwolf, when he saw that a thief was all the time this monk.
Using a moment of shock, Vakri smiled, said „God bless You” and run away.
-Stop right there or you will be forever killed on sight here!- shouted eorl
„No way” thought thief, laughing. He run through still opened gate and fled into a forest. Last thing was Aethelwolf's scream:
Vakri entered his hideout in the monastery of Lindinsfarne. There was no way Mecian army would hunt him here- they would have to pass Nortumbria, and nortumbrians wouldn't be pleased with such visit.
His voyage wasn't totally in vain- while dressed as a monk, he spoted a beautifull lyre in Lundenwick. It was actually so beautifull, that he decided to buy it instead of stealing- someone who crafted such work of art sure deserved these money. He hid it cerfully, took of his tunic and put on his monk robe.
Then he went to the monastery chapel... and it was quite a nasty surprise.
Well, he wasn't mistaken- Aethelwolf wouldn't come here fully armed. Instead, he was standing right in front of him, in peasant clothes, with a hatchet. Damn, he was furious. And he was right between him and the entrance.
He dodged first strike and run behind attacker, but second one hit him hard in the arm. Luckily, he was still able to run- and still faster than eorl. He made it to the mainland and hid in a ruined village nearby. Aethelwolf followed him, but apparently didn't consider village as a place to hide and passed it. Vakri was safe for a moment, but he neaded to treat his wound.
He couldn't go to Lundewick or York- bleeding man is a suspicious one, and these towns were too small to hide. He needed, big city.
He needed Kent.
It was a peaceful night in Kent. So peaceful, that Olaf- who was ordered to guard streets- was almost asleep.
But seriously what was to watch? A house, a barrel, a house, a cart, a house, a hooded guy mending his wounds...
A hooded guy mending his wounds?
He drew his sword. A hooded figure stood up- still putting cloth on his wound- and run between the buildings.
Olaf followed him to the outside of the city, and lost track of him. Well, let's hope Eric doesn't hear about it...

I hope you are not very mad, Aethelwolf  :wink: I also hope that this not exackly conventional RP won't bring ban on me (pls?)
Fenrisulfr Egillsson

This man, this wolf.

he who howls in battle,
yet is quiet on a moon,
that cries in his sleep,
that clawed out the womb,
you know of whom I speak,
a noble beast that guards the weak.
A possessed of Óðinn, a man im sure,
but alongside in battle, fear his roar,
one that is followed, by a sound not so shy,
a warning, a signal, and so the men cry...

"Loudly it sounds!
the horns message is clear!
the Gods have been warned!
Fenris is near!"

A sight to oppose, in the midst of battle,
you wish it the end, being reduced to cattle,
yet the men still weep,
for their beloved Fenrisulf,
the last you'll hear,
"oh this man... this wolf!"
Top Bottom