Kept away in the snowy peaks of Drixagh stood the shoddy wooden walls of the Silfradalr tribe, known notably for their acts of violence towards the Kopvagr Raiders. Be that in self-defence or ill judgment, an attack was made and the Kopvagr weren't going to let this go. While the sun began to set one night, its glimmering presence making its final stops through the cracks in the mountain, the Kopvagr raiders began their siege against them. Once the gates fell, the sound of screaming Skaggers lifted the twisted spirits of both the troops as they charged into war with their axes raised; prepare to take a life to save one.
Within the few moments of fighting, worn buildings of eras long past had been lit on fire as the town was quickly lit ablaze, melting the snow high at the peaks and providing light as the black velvet known as the night rolled in. Amidst the smoke and fire, surrounded by the clashing and splattering of troops of all sides marched the Haagenvig through the ashes of his former enemies village, stepping over corpses of his own and elsewhere. Black and orange like the flames and ashes of the blaze that engulfed the tribe, a colour he sported alongside his infamous guardsmen with their axes at the ready.
As the remaining guards untouched by the chaos held their ground, the fire slowly creeping over to them as the wind changed directions, the unpredictability of the rocks that sat above all. One of Haagenvig's guards advanced, his axe swinging vertically towards one of the remaining guards as he took a large cut through the man's rib; a loud crack would be heard as the response was taken in kind. Unfortunately for him, another Silfradalr guard had quickly charged and swung his axe into Haagenvig's accomplice as he ended him within seconds. He quickly retrieved his weapon, another one of Haagenvig's goons approaching to meet their death by the remaining guard.
The last Silfradalr guard stood strong, looking eye to eye with Haagenvig himself before both made their charge. The battle looming loudly in the background as mud, blood, and steel flew across the battlefield as the fires raged on. The remaining guard swung his axe at Haagenvig, who quickly dodged as the Haagenvig gutted the last guard. Haagenvig's tribe had won the first wave, but there was still more to go.
He regrouped with what remained, breaking down the door of the main house as it revealed no guards whatsoever. Just the tribe leader and his second in command, wielding what weapon they could as they stood in front of the mortified women and children, unknown to the massacre that had just occurred. Haagenvig cockily said to the tribe-leader in his native tongue "So, I assume you're chief idiot around this area?", giving a smirk as he'd scan the room, to see any potential enemies. It was clear, now was the time to make the example.
He approached them with the remainder of his raiders, weapons in hand as the survivors didn't hesitate to surrender. He grabbed the leader by the back of the neck, dragging him out as they exited to see some poorly raised pikes; brought in as the battle finished. The second in command was the first to be lined up and executed, in full view of the remainder of the tribe. The leader was to be taken to his knees in the center of the battlefield, surrounded by his fallen comrades as Haagenvig prepared the mace, stolen from the man who had dropped it only minutes before.
They looked eye to eye once more, Haagenvig giving a brief smile before he swung the mace down at the leader's head. Crunch could be heard, the blood beginning to trickle down into the snow as he looked up at his murderers face, the blood beginning to cover his eyes as it all faded black. Haagenvig looked around, swinging back up over his shoulder as he looked towards the few who had survived, horrified. He gave one final smile, finishing it off in his native "Line them up and put their heads on pikes. We leave this graveyard as a reminder that whoever f*$%s with our family, dies. Understood?!"
Within the few moments of fighting, worn buildings of eras long past had been lit on fire as the town was quickly lit ablaze, melting the snow high at the peaks and providing light as the black velvet known as the night rolled in. Amidst the smoke and fire, surrounded by the clashing and splattering of troops of all sides marched the Haagenvig through the ashes of his former enemies village, stepping over corpses of his own and elsewhere. Black and orange like the flames and ashes of the blaze that engulfed the tribe, a colour he sported alongside his infamous guardsmen with their axes at the ready.
As the remaining guards untouched by the chaos held their ground, the fire slowly creeping over to them as the wind changed directions, the unpredictability of the rocks that sat above all. One of Haagenvig's guards advanced, his axe swinging vertically towards one of the remaining guards as he took a large cut through the man's rib; a loud crack would be heard as the response was taken in kind. Unfortunately for him, another Silfradalr guard had quickly charged and swung his axe into Haagenvig's accomplice as he ended him within seconds. He quickly retrieved his weapon, another one of Haagenvig's goons approaching to meet their death by the remaining guard.
The last Silfradalr guard stood strong, looking eye to eye with Haagenvig himself before both made their charge. The battle looming loudly in the background as mud, blood, and steel flew across the battlefield as the fires raged on. The remaining guard swung his axe at Haagenvig, who quickly dodged as the Haagenvig gutted the last guard. Haagenvig's tribe had won the first wave, but there was still more to go.
He regrouped with what remained, breaking down the door of the main house as it revealed no guards whatsoever. Just the tribe leader and his second in command, wielding what weapon they could as they stood in front of the mortified women and children, unknown to the massacre that had just occurred. Haagenvig cockily said to the tribe-leader in his native tongue "So, I assume you're chief idiot around this area?", giving a smirk as he'd scan the room, to see any potential enemies. It was clear, now was the time to make the example.
He approached them with the remainder of his raiders, weapons in hand as the survivors didn't hesitate to surrender. He grabbed the leader by the back of the neck, dragging him out as they exited to see some poorly raised pikes; brought in as the battle finished. The second in command was the first to be lined up and executed, in full view of the remainder of the tribe. The leader was to be taken to his knees in the center of the battlefield, surrounded by his fallen comrades as Haagenvig prepared the mace, stolen from the man who had dropped it only minutes before.
They looked eye to eye once more, Haagenvig giving a brief smile before he swung the mace down at the leader's head. Crunch could be heard, the blood beginning to trickle down into the snow as he looked up at his murderers face, the blood beginning to cover his eyes as it all faded black. Haagenvig looked around, swinging back up over his shoulder as he looked towards the few who had survived, horrified. He gave one final smile, finishing it off in his native "Line them up and put their heads on pikes. We leave this graveyard as a reminder that whoever f*$%s with our family, dies. Understood?!"
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