Monday, January 17, 2011


Drums ring out from the treeline signaling those on the ice of the coming attack. A caravan of sleds pulled by yapping dogs fell with a hush as the first volley of arrow dotted the sky. The men gave cover to the children and women folk, draping themselves across and taking the brunt of the arrows.

In a moment amongst the carnage one would look down at the blood mingling and mixed with water, finding cracks and fingers in the ice made beautiful in gore. But that moment was obliterated with the first of the charge.

Whoops and screams rang out with the spear men rushing across the lake. Jannik waited motionless measuring their distance. Looking for the point of commitment in their approach. Finally he swung his hammer down hard on the ice. Then Again and again. Rage and terror erupted around him. Then the cracking of the ice.

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