[color=9e0b0f][center][h3]Village of Mumue[/h3][/center][/color]
Nicolas stood on the makeshift watchtower. His father was too sick to even stand, so the defense of the village rested on the young boy’s shoulders. Barely old enough to marry, Nicolas now lived in constant fear. Raiders from the North were sighted. The village, Mumue, was relatively wealthy. The Village Council refused to believe the Northerners would ever be a problem. So instead of building a palisade, they blew the money on bigger houses. Houses that now stood empty or smeared with blood. Only half of the village survived the previous attack. Nicolas, by fate’s twisted humor, managed to be one of those who lived on. Probably only to be slaughtered the next morning.

With the sun rising in the distance, he began to see black figures on the shadow. The raiders had returned to finish their job. All the courage the young boy had mustered over the course of half a night slipped him through the fingers like sand. “Oh heavens…” he whimpered, as he dropped on his knees. Realizing fully well that he was very much a dead man walking. Defeated he sobbed and cried. While murmuring: “Oh gods.. Oh heavens. I-I know you have abandoned us. Just, if you are still somehow listening. Please… Please I’m begging you. Help me.”

“How much do you desire that wish?” asked a voice from behind Nicolas. Who immediately turned around. Towering over the kneeling boy stood Asivar. Still in his human form. Dressed in fur with a bow on his back. For a moment Nicolas was silent, expecting the person, whom he thought was a raider, to strike him down. But nothing happened. So the young boy spoke. “I… Who…”

“I am Asivar. True God of Battle. You desire your survival, do you not?” Nicolas nodded, and added: “And the survival of my family. My mom, my dad, my sister. They cannot fall in the hands of those filthy raiders! I.. I can’t imagine what they’d do to my sister.” Asivar walked up next to him, looking over at the horizon at the horde approaching. He pondered over the wish of the young boy, and then looked down at him. “How much… are you willing to give for that wish? Would you pray for me? Would you become a Follower?” Nicolas could only nod. Though he barely understood what Asivar meant. The god turned his gaze back at the approaching horde. They were smaller than the hordes he ones saw. Not even 100 men were in the approaching dust cloud. Oh how things have changed. Where was the time the Northerners raised entire tribes to come down south? Hordes of men, women, children and beasts came pouring down. A tidal wave breaking fortresses and mighty cities. Setting fire to all they couldn’t carry.

“I will grant you your wish. But to do so, you must forgive me for this.” Asivar stretched out his arm at the young boy. First a painful sting could be felt, but then another, and another. After a while Nicolas screamed out in pain as his entire back lit up with fire. The pain was so bad that he fell unconscious. Much to the disdain of Asivar. “You will learn how to respect the pain, in the future. I hope. For it will be the fire that forges greatness.”

When Nicolas got up again, Asivar was gone. Instead he was getting yelled at from below the watch tower: “Get your sorry ass down here, you fool! The raiders are nearly here! Bloody hell! You could have slept through the god damn battle.” Careful he crawled down the ladder, only to get an axe pushed in his hands. “Get ready. And for the love of the gods, kill something this time.” The veteran snapped to Nicolas, who was still very unsure on what to do. He held the axe tight in his hand, and awaited near the corner of a house.

In the distance he heard the rumble of horses approaching. The cracking of torches was suddenly very clear to him. The slight vibrations of the earth spoke to him. Telling him exactly how far the enemy was. But most importantly, he started smelling the dried blood on their furs. Which started to play with his head. Like he was getting high.

“NOW!” Yelled the veteran, and everyone jumped off the low roofs or from behind the corners to cut down the enemy. A horse rider just passed Nicolas and in a fit of madness he jumped at the rider. Pulling him off the horse. With one savage strike of his axe Nicolas ripped open the chest of the surprised raider. But Nicolas needed more. He needed the blood. He craved the coppery smell. So he slashed and cut again and again. Until the dead raider was in a puddle of blood. Nicolas grabbed his weapon, a sword. No doubt stolen during previous raids. But Nicolas couldn’t care less. Instead he rushed towards the infantry skirmish at the entrance of the village.

Like a wild animal he jumped in between his comrades into the fray. Slashing wildly around him. With savage strikes he cut off entire limbs. Blunting his weapons. But there were always new ones to pick up. In the heat of battle, the blood was like a drug to Nicolas. The little farmer’s boy was now chopping away at any fur-clad raider he noticed. Whom began to avoid the mad idiot they couldn’t kill. Every strike seemed to be just too little. They could cut his shirt, but never his skin.

In the meantime Nicolas was screaming like a beast. Blood covered his body and scarlet mud caked his boots. Suddenly a rider got near, trying to stab him. The horse moved too slow and that was the horseman’s demise. Having just blunted his weapons on bone again, Nicolas could do nothing but to grab the horse’s neck and pull it down on the ground. Breaking the leg of the rider and well as that of the horse. In a maddening thirst for blood Nicolas jumped the rider, took off his helmet and bashed his enemy’s skull in with it.

The battle was over, with a surprising lack of casualties on the side of the village. On the other side though, the raiders were bloody and beaten. Broken and afraid. They ran from the battlefield, while the mad beast that was Nicolas chased him. Eventually his berserker rage cooled down. With the dusk he returned to the village. Covered in dried but also wet blood. His shirt was nothing but rags barely covering him anymore. When he walked into the village, they first cheered, and then gasped. Much to the confusion of Nicolas, who could not even grasp what he just went through.