[center][color=3cb371][h1][color=008000]U[/color]lfhild [color=008000]U[/color]lven[/h1][/color][/center]
[center][hr][b]Interacting with:[/b] Self [@Salsa Verde]
[b]Opportunity:[/b] Eskand-aligned Players - Potential travellers that have shared the same boat for the siege. And those of Parrench looking to battle NPC’s[hr]
[b]Event:[/b] Siege of Relouse [b]Location:[/b] Cape of Redame [hr][/center]
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[color=gray]It was true that the previous nights feast and talk with Hrothgar put her anxious spirits to rest, she had no semblance of a reason to be so adamant about the battle seeing as she was neither seerer nor gifted by the vision of the raven. Kol’s presence may have been what reassured her soul the most however. Sharing the hall had made it feel like ages had passed since she had last seen him and for that matter Hildr and Vali as well. A slight tinge of quaint memories flooded her head, mostly at the notion of how they all had met, specifically that lout of a ranger Vali. Between his towering stature and confident personality she knew that had she stuck with him from the boats to the start of the battle she would have nothing to fear, save for the loss of Parrench bodies to Vali and Kol in their numbers game. 

When the waves broke and the initial ships were not obscured or cloaked by the army of shamans and magic men of the like, Eskandr’s would gaze upon the Cape. The slight modicum of fear beat roughly against her chest in unison with the cacophonous beat of the war drams heavy on her heels. There was a trill of excitement, bloodlust, and anxiety stuck in her throat that made her want to cough and herald out a frog that seemingly sat in the back of her mouth. The landscape and sheer force on either side was what launched her from warrior to champion as her raids were small and dismal in comparison from the lands in which she hailed. Her breath heavy, puffing out clouds of hot air, finally broke into a laugh she could no longer hold back. It was reassuring to feel as though Hrothgar was smiling under his heavy helmet as well. 

All sound was sucked from the surrounding space as if a vacuum has appeared. Only broken by the crashing of stones and boulders launched from catapults, laced with the sting of arrows fastened onto ballista. The waters thrashed from the shockwaves, capsizing some boats and rocking other vigorously. Hrothgar’s boat and those ships that sailed beside him moved only slightly but had enough of a push to throw Ulfhild from her position before relocating herself with some stability. The roar of the sea, projectiles, and men wailing as boats became to crumble all began to muddle together. Despite their best efforts, between magic and the grave waiting below the waves, the army of Eskand was unwavering, unflinching, an daunting in number that a ship was easily replaced by another. 

Through the detritus of it all, they began their counter attack. Arrows, flames, all the elements began wizzing and singing past her ears. It was pure carnage both on sea and even more so on land. Her knuckles began to grow white as she had one hand gripped hard on her bow and the other twitching with an inch to snatch an arrow of her quiver and plant it in the defenders of the shore. She had wondered how her brothers were fairing. 

Just then the two brothers howled in elation when the mast halted and the inertia of the shore stopped their ships. Behind the aid of a Thunder Warlock the few preliminary ships tasked with being the first waves made ground fall. Axes jumped into both hands appearing as if the brothers were one and had embodied four arms with four axes in hand. While the others were no warriors and more akin to farmers and the geriatric these two were spry with life and the glory of being the first force wouldn’t slip past them, for they wanted to set a tempo that could leave the following waves into an ease of capture. Arvid knelt down, Haldor approaching from behind before using his brother as a stump to catapult himself into a wave of Parrench soldiers. Arvid was quick to follow plunging his axes deep into the armor of Parrench making it crunch under the weight of his strikes. 

The two carved a path through the defenders who met them, constantly tossing and catching their axes by different positions to deal a flurry of strikes. Both Ulven’s made it back to one another where they pushed their back together ensuring neither had a blind spot exposed. Some men were hesitant to attack, others waited for braver soldiers to initiate an attack, and others led the charge. Yet it didn’t matter for each of these men all died the same and without their god smiling kindly upon them. Their axes need not be retrieved immediately fore they disarmed the men in front of them and plunged their own iron and steel into their bodies. While the two brothers did have shields painted in the color of their banner they need not for its use, there would be no shield wall only the fury of their metal. Just as the bear Ulfhild had slain these two snarled in battle and tore flesh from the soldiers faces through prying teeth alone. The blood smeared along with their paint giving the natives their validation that these men were indeed heathens. 

These men were simply fodder, reject knights that failed to climb up the nobility in terms of status or skill. While there was pride for killing them there was no glory in killing lowly foot soldiers as there was in stripping a prominent knight of his life. They looked high and low through the clamor and clanging of swords in search of someone(s) worthy of their hunt. Hopefully someone would take notice of them and face them in their own territory. 

Back to Ulfhild she waited for Hrothgar’s orders while the mist held fast around them, the element of surprise was surely in their favor, the only thing that could have made this siege any better was the roar from father’s hammer in the sky with rain falling aggressively behind it. Kol had already landed and began his own mark and raze of Parrench forces leaving her to wait in the boat in his leave. [color=3cb371][i]Wait, you must wait[/i][/color], she told herself knowing that she would be saved for the third and final group hidden in wait of their own task. All she could do was look on in horror to those who were not granted a swift nor easy death. A mix of the two factions had men riddled on the shore with ample injuries. Some struggled to release themselves from the clasp of shock when they realized they no longer had limbs. Others had been gutted and pointlessly begun stuffing their innards back inside of them hoping to survive. 

There was wailing, gurgles, final breaths and the clang of might and magic. The stench of blood and burnt hair and flesh was almost overpowering to a sensitive nose like hers. Necks were slit others fully decapitate. Heads and bodies were crushed under rocks, some unfortunate enough to have simply a part trapped underneath eager to free themselves. Some were floating on the wood of a ballista snaring them into the sky while others were riddled with normal arrows with an uncanny resemblance to a pin cushion or archery target. This continued in what felt like a folk tale length of all the ways a man could die in battle. Ulfhild had resided to not having the opportunity to perish in battle at least not this one. She hoped Systir, Bróðir, and Faðir may watch over the safety of her brothers. 
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