It is the year 968, by the christian calendar. After weeks spent on the open see we finally reached the coasts of Cantabria. Gunrød, our leader managed to hoard more that 100 ships, packed with warriors, armed to teeth, all intoxicated with obscene lust both for the riches and the women this distant land could offer. But these delights don't come for free, which is however irrelevant for these men. They are happy to pay with blood and steel, whatever the price may be.
Our march to Galicia was like a walk in a park, luckily the new king, Ramiro III is only five years old
, so we plundered and pillaged freely every settlement in our way for more than a year, until we finally arrived under the great iron gates of Santiago de Compostela. The city's wealth and gleam attracted us like honey lures the wasps which finally unfolded in a glorious engagement, in the battle of Fornelos, where we defeated the Leonese armies, entered the city and ransacked it for good. Even the local holy man, Sisnando Menéndez fell for one of our arrows, but who even cares about a bishop anyway?
Our victory was complete and our sashes packed with gold and silver! I even managed to survive with only a few scars so far, at least I will have good stories to tell at home, when we return. There is only one thing bothering me, the fellows are making fun of my knife, they say it is girlish and even the great halls of Valhalla is filled with Odin's laughter because of it. But I know this is not true, in fact I believe that the knife is actually blessed by the gods, bringing luck to me, even perhaps keeping me alive. Who knows?!
Another year passed and I am getting slowly sick of this place. There are no monasteries left to loot, no cities to waylay. The moors are too well prepared for us, so that is a dead end as well.
970. A count, named Gonzalo Sánchez have amassed and redirected a decent force from the border with the muslims towards us to drive us away.
We finally met near Ferrol, just when we were preparing to leave this place behind us. The count's army fell upon us like a biblical locust swarm. They outnumbered us 3 to 1, it was no question what the outcome will be, but still, we fought like it was Ragnarök already. I swear I saw Tyr for a moment at my side reaching towards me, deflecting an enemy spear destined to impale me with his sword, but in the next instant he was gone. My amazement was shattered with a sudden blow on my head. The iron boss's hellish impact was blunted by my helmet, but still knocked me to the ground, dislocating my right shoulder.
In my daze I saw a leonese soldier kneel over me extending his dagger to slit my throat. Grabbed the daggers blade with my left hand, feeling how the battle-worn, serrated edge torn my flesh apart. With a painful exertion I twisted my other arm beneath me to reach the girlish knife behind my back, grabbed it's hilt, pulled it out of its sheath and with the desperation of a cornered animal I shoved its tip towards his rib cage. The blade found a weak spot, a rusted link in his chainmail, forced it open and embedded between his ribs. Than I passed out.
In my feverish dreams and nightmares I saw my dear wife over and over again, surprise me with this little gold and crimson marvel, which must be truly enchanted with luck.
A few days latter, I woke on a ship, sailing home. My comrades pulled me out of the pile of corpses and carried back to the vessel, before the iberians could find and execute me with he other more unfortunate, including Gunrød Sækonungr, the Sea-king!
The total length is 24.5 cm, the blade is 12 cm long, 4 cm wide and 5 mm thick with a rounded spine, forged of 1.2516 and L6.
The handle is copper and padouk.
It is 190 euro, paypal is ok
Our march to Galicia was like a walk in a park, luckily the new king, Ramiro III is only five years old
, so we plundered and pillaged freely every settlement in our way for more than a year, until we finally arrived under the great iron gates of Santiago de Compostela. The city's wealth and gleam attracted us like honey lures the wasps which finally unfolded in a glorious engagement, in the battle of Fornelos, where we defeated the Leonese armies, entered the city and ransacked it for good. Even the local holy man, Sisnando Menéndez fell for one of our arrows, but who even cares about a bishop anyway? Our victory was complete and our sashes packed with gold and silver! I even managed to survive with only a few scars so far, at least I will have good stories to tell at home, when we return. There is only one thing bothering me, the fellows are making fun of my knife, they say it is girlish and even the great halls of Valhalla is filled with Odin's laughter because of it. But I know this is not true, in fact I believe that the knife is actually blessed by the gods, bringing luck to me, even perhaps keeping me alive. Who knows?!
Another year passed and I am getting slowly sick of this place. There are no monasteries left to loot, no cities to waylay. The moors are too well prepared for us, so that is a dead end as well.
970. A count, named Gonzalo Sánchez have amassed and redirected a decent force from the border with the muslims towards us to drive us away.
We finally met near Ferrol, just when we were preparing to leave this place behind us. The count's army fell upon us like a biblical locust swarm. They outnumbered us 3 to 1, it was no question what the outcome will be, but still, we fought like it was Ragnarök already. I swear I saw Tyr for a moment at my side reaching towards me, deflecting an enemy spear destined to impale me with his sword, but in the next instant he was gone. My amazement was shattered with a sudden blow on my head. The iron boss's hellish impact was blunted by my helmet, but still knocked me to the ground, dislocating my right shoulder.
In my daze I saw a leonese soldier kneel over me extending his dagger to slit my throat. Grabbed the daggers blade with my left hand, feeling how the battle-worn, serrated edge torn my flesh apart. With a painful exertion I twisted my other arm beneath me to reach the girlish knife behind my back, grabbed it's hilt, pulled it out of its sheath and with the desperation of a cornered animal I shoved its tip towards his rib cage. The blade found a weak spot, a rusted link in his chainmail, forced it open and embedded between his ribs. Than I passed out.
In my feverish dreams and nightmares I saw my dear wife over and over again, surprise me with this little gold and crimson marvel, which must be truly enchanted with luck.
A few days latter, I woke on a ship, sailing home. My comrades pulled me out of the pile of corpses and carried back to the vessel, before the iberians could find and execute me with he other more unfortunate, including Gunrød Sækonungr, the Sea-king!
The total length is 24.5 cm, the blade is 12 cm long, 4 cm wide and 5 mm thick with a rounded spine, forged of 1.2516 and L6.
The handle is copper and padouk.
It is 190 euro, paypal is ok
