The muggy damp of a northern summer pressed down on Victrix as she lay on her furs in her father’s hall. Staring up at the thatched roof above her, she felt sweat trickling down the contours of her body. The occasional buzz of a persistent mosquito in her ear warded off sleep, as did the rustling of the other women in her extended family, all sleeping in their aisle of the hall. Their village was home to 10 families, each with their own house. All ten halls were contained within the earthen palisade of a modest hill fort.
Swatting at the mosquito, Victrix chased the release of sleep, but it would not come. She lay there baking on her furs thinking of hunts to come and work she would need to complete at dawn. Then it happened. Her first clue that something was wrong was the hounds going going mad, barking hysterically. Probably a herd of wild hogs foraging past the village she thought. The hounds occasionally lost control when they scented such prey.
But the hounds didn’t stop. After a couple of minutes, she got up to creep out into the pre-dawn grey. She looked along the dark silhouette of the palisade, searching for the outlines of the sentries against the sky. They should have shut the hounds up by now. Except, she didn’t see them. Instead, she saw hulking shadows clambering quietly over the wall. Inhuman, ape-like shapes, some as small as children, others large as adult gorillas. Three shapes were inhumanly large. The village is under attack! The sudden realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
she screamed, The next few minutes were a blur. Victrix raced back into her family’s hall, rousing her relatives and grabbing her weapons. By the time she emerged back into the village with a handful of bleary eyed cousins and uncles stumbling at her back, everything had been consumed by chaos. Fire and smoke were everywhere, halls were burning. Raiders roared battle cries - grey-green skin rippled over corded muscle, and savage tusked maws spewed hate in guttural tongues. Steel flashed in the light of fires and the rising sun, blades met with clarion rings. The enemy giants were terror itself; their massive weapons tore men apart like they were paper dolls, flinging body parts and gore in wide arcs through the sky.
Victrix’s observations were cut off as she found herself face to face with one of the orcs. The brute was hideous. Half of his face was a scar, from some horrible burn by the looks of it. The rest of face was twisted in animal rage, white and blue warpaint mixed with filthy black hair. He swung a long axe at Victrix. She dodged with a backward passing step. Her greatsword snapped into a plow guard as instinct and muscle memory took over. The shining tip of blade aligned with the orc’s throat as she stepped back forward in an underhand thrust. The orc stumbled back, but not before her blade sliced through its shoulder at the right side of its neck.
Now the two combatants were both too close to use their long weapons effectively, and they knew it. The orc raider hopped back, slashing upward with his bearded blade in a reverse grip. The underhanded blow was anticipated by Victrix who cut down and across her body from her left shoulder, blasting the axe aside in mid-swing. She stepped back as part of her parry, and found herself at distance with the orc.
The orc flowed into the opening she’d created, this time leading with a horizontal slash of his battle axe. The blade whistled through the air, propelled by the savage’s muscles, and it was all Victrix could do to suck in her gut and hope for the best. The axe cut across her abdomen just above the belly button, opening her a centimeter deep. Her stomach burned with pain, and she felt the hot red blood instantly soak her shirt. Not wanting to miss her chance, she channeled the pain of the wound into false edge uppercut. Her greatsword caught the orc at an upward angle across his sternum and lower ribs as Victrix ripped her blade to the sky. The brief resistance of muscle and bone shattered under the force of her pain and fear. The orc raider was hacked clean in two, and fell in two pieces to the dirt.
Victrix looked around again. Half the village was in flames, and the other half was smoking. The raiders were retreating, clutching villagers in their grimy hands. The giants carried great leather sacks stitched from the hides of half a dozen aurochs over their shoulders. The sacks were squirming with captives inside. Here and there her people still struggled, but it appears most who had fought were cut down. Before Victrix could do anything more, the raiders were disappearing into the smoke. All except one that is. A lumbering, filthy, two-headed giant wearing chainmail and clutching a large flail in each fist stood near the destroyed village gate. Facing it was her father, proud in his lion-hide armor dyed red and enchanted by druidic magic. He raised his greatsword to the beast and roared a wordless challenge.
The giant laughed, allowing Victrix’s father to charge him. One lightning fast blow of a flail sent her father flying into the dirt. The thirteen foot tall monster slammed its booted foot down onto her father’s chest. It leaned down, and still standing on him, grabbed one of her father’s arms. One of the heads muttered something in an unintelligible pidgin language to the other. The second head laughed, and then leaned down and bit her father’s hand off, chewed it up, and swallowed it. Her father passed out from the pain.
The giant turned and lumbered out of the village, where a wooly rhinoceros armored in gleaming mail barding waited for it. The giant mounted the beast and kicked it into a gallop, riding off into the hills with its band of slavers.
Gone.
Victrix stands in the burning village, gasping for breath. Her hands tremble as the adrenaline fades, and a flash of pain lances across her injured belly. She doesn't say a word.
Then she starts running to her father's side. There's blood everywhere, and smoke stings her eyes.
No no no no no no no no
On the verge of total panic, Victrix kneels next to her father's unconscious body and starts looking around for survivors. She tries not to look too long at the bloodied, jagged stump where her father's hand once was.
Victrix's friend Gruntha runs up to her. Gruntha is holding her bow and looks horrified. "Oh gods! I saw what happened, are you okay?!"
The woman crouches down and then shouts,
Heavy footfalls forshadow Vendrak's appearance from the smoke. The old warrior sheathes his blood blade and drops his shield as he sees his friend unconscious on the ground.
"Help me with the Chieftain you two," he commands in his gruff voice. He picks up Victrix's father and waits for the girls to help him carry the unconscious man away from the fire.
Victrix's stomach twists into knots as she helps her father up and carries him off with Vendrak.
Her mouth keeps moving as if she wants to say something, but the words keep dying on her lips.
His hand is gone. Father's dying, spirits only know how many have been captured...
The four of them get the wounded chieftain to the Bloodman house. Hannukan comes to the house, his axes bloody. "Hey! We need to go after them. They took Leithi . [b]"I followed them out of the village, they are leaving a huge trail. We can follow them easily," he says.
Vendrak snorts. "Hate to say this, but he might be right....We can't survive without more bodies, and if it were us we'd want them to come after."
The small group looks to Victrix. With her father unconscious, she is the acting Chieftain of the tribe.
Victrix takes a few breaths to try and get herself together. "Yes. We need to get after them."
Victrix leads the remaining tribesmen in extinguishing the fires the raiders set, working herself tirelessly in spite of the wound on her belly. All the while, she tries to count the remaining survivors.
Alright… looks like the Iron-Teeth have lost some of their number. The Sharpclaws and Bright-Eyes appear to be mostly accounted for… wait. She starts looking around again. Where's Rovik? Desna's tits, where is he?! Where is he?!
A swell of panic forces its way into her stomach, and she has to take several breaths to fight it back. Can't panic now. People are depending on me. Focus on saving the village first. Focus on that first. She gets back to work, but her face and movements betray her gnawing fear.
-----------------
Once the fires have been extinguished and the survivors rallied, Victrix looks over the assembled crowd. There are too many wounded men and women here. Too many.
"Red Lions! All o' yeh, gather 'round." She starts, drumming her fingers along the hilt of her sword. "I'm not going ta lie ta yeh--this is, perhaps, the worst attack we've ever had ta weather. Several of our men, women & children have been captured, our home burned, and our chieftain--my father--tried ta stop their leader, but ended up losin' his hand."
She lets it sink in for a bit. "The bastards thought they could break us, that they could cross us without fear of us striking back. That they could take what they wish and to hell with what comes next." She starts pacing, her fear giving way to anger. "They're wrong. They're wrong about everything."
"I don't care if they're taking slaves for their own, or some master on the arse-end of the world--they won't get far. As the acting chieftain, it's my duty ta keep us safe in times of trial… and ta look out for my people." She straightens herself up and stands tall. "I'm going ta go after them and bring our people home."
Vendrak laughs, "Not alone ya ain't!" The old warrior moves to stand with Victrix. "Your pa would fry my eggs if I let you go after 'hem brutes alone."
Gruntha also steps up. "I won't leave you alone either, Trix. You know that."
Hannukan snorts, twirling his axes. He moves to join the group. "Won't leave Leithi's fate in the hands of you lot," he says.
The rest of the remaining villagers are not warriors. They huddle around what remains of their families looking scared. No more volunteer to help. The three heroes of the village look at their acting Chieftain, waiting for further instructions.
Victrix is at once surprised and relieved when Vendrak, Gruntha & Hannukan step forward to offer their aid.
She pauses for a moment before nodding and turning back to the rest of the villagers. "To all the rest o' ya... rebuild, stay vigilant, and don't lose hope. We'll bring 'em all home!"
She raises her bloodstained sword to the sky before lowering it and turning to her companions. "If yeh've got anythin' ya need ta take with yeh before we leave, go get it now. I'll be waitin' at the gates for ya."
The three of them run and grab packs of supplies, and the rest of their armor and gear. A couple minutes later they meet Trix at the gates. The swath of ruined earth stretches away from the village. The turf has been turned into the earth to form a brownish red muck which is studded with giant footprints. The trail should be relatively simple to follow, at least for now.
The group heads out, following the trail of the raiders. The giants and their servants move fast, and they had a hefty lead on Victrix and her group. Everyone is unusually quiet on the journey, all their energy is needed to keep solid footing in the wet, hilly terrain. About a mile into the trek, a light rain breaks out. Within half an hour the small party is soaked and they still have seen no sign of their prey. Then, Victrix spots something laying on the ground up ahead in the middle of the trail. It's not moving.
"Wait." Victrix raises her hand and stops when she sees something on the trail ahead.
She moves forward cautiously to see what it is.
At first, it appears to be a bundle of some kind, covered in cloth. As she nears it becomes more and more undeniable that it's the form of a child's body. The corpse lays face down in the snow...probably a young boy. Its reddish hair is damp, clinging to the head.
Victrix's heart skips a beat.
"...oh no."
She slowly turns the boy's body over.
please no please no don't let it be who I think it is
Relief floods through Victrix, followed swiftly by horror. The body is not Rovik. It is in fact a girl, the daughter of the village fletcher. Her face has been brutally smashed in and lacerated by some kind of heavy blade. Congealed blood and mud drip from the ruined mass below terrified, clear blue eyes.
As this dreadful sight is worming its way into Victrix's brain, she is jolted by the sound of harsh war cries. A squad or orcish archers rises from their hiding place at the side of the trail amongst some undergrowth. There is a metallic creak as they draw back their great warbows.
Victrix looks up at the oncoming archers and draws her sword! "Yeh'll regret killin' her too." She growls, her fury rising to the fore.