drbubba43

Ok, I'm still pretty new at this... I didn't realize last time just how long this piece really was. Or how much is too much at one time. I broke it up this time. If I need smaller chunks let me know.

This is the first rewrite. Feel free to pick it apart. Some background is in order…

This story is set in the Warhammer fantasy realm owned by Games Workshop. Since writing it I have discovered that market is not open for submissions at this time. I am considering reworking it as a straightforward fantasy story. Any suggestions / criticisms are welcome. I still can’t come up with a decent title. The temporary title is so cliché and uninteresting I think it turns people away.

The story is intended as pure escapist entertainment, and I openly admit owes much to my fascination with the pulp fiction of the 40’s and 50’s. I made no effort to suppress that influence. Think of this as one of those B movies you watched as a kid on Saturday afternoon.
Now, on with the show…

Usurper

PART I
“Come on you dogs, form a line! Form a line!” Ulfgar bellowed at the fleeing Northmen. “Stand and fight!” His words had little effect as most of his shipmates scrambled back to their longboats with whatever loot they could carry or drag. Only a few turned to stand their ground next to Ulfgar.

“I fear we are not enough,” Hercrin said flatly as he drew his broad sword and prepared to fight. “Perhaps fleeing is best at this time. We can return to exact our revenge.”

Ulfgar snorted, “I will not run from any puny Southerner. I would die first.”

Hercrin shrugged his shoulders, “You may yet get your chance.”

“By Khorn, what are you doing?” came a familiar voice from behind as a heavy hand slapped Ulfgar’s broad back. “We must get to the ships.” Ulfgar looked over his shoulder. A crooked mischievous grin stretched Morgrim’s worn face. Ulfgar replied with a scowl then turned back to face the charging cavalry. Morgrim’s grin fell away. “Man, you cannot stop fifty charging Britonian knights with ten warriors, no matter how bold you are. They will trample you into the sand without so much as a care. Come; let us be off. This is folly.” He grabbed at Ulfgar’s tunic but Ulfgar jerked it back out of his grasp.

Ulfgar snorted and spat. “Better to die fighting than to be lanced in the back.”

“We can still make the ships. They will be slowed by the loose sands.”

Ulfgar did not move.

The regiment of Britonia’s finest closed on the tiny line of Northmen with frightening speed. Behind the knights the remains of Lochnear Abby continued to burn billowing dark clouds into the brilliant blue sky while the surviving monks swarmed around the blaze bobbing their heads like chickens as they prayed to whatever deity owned their allegiance. The pathetic sight sickened Ulfgar. Whoever they worshipped was unworthy of such devotion. Their religion taught them to be sheep then deserted them in their time of need.

No, Ulfgar would not run from such pathetic weaklings.

Realizing his friend’s determination, Morgrim cursed and kicked at the sandy ground. “By the gods you are insane. You will be the death of all of us,” he said as he angrily pulled his massive battle-axe from across his back and joined the line. Ulfgar smiled with smug satisfaction but said nothing. Slowly Morgrim returned the smile and the two men exploded in laughter just as the knights crested the last dune before their line. The Northmen braced for the impact.

Steel and flesh collided in an explosion of pain, blood, and gore. Ulfgar went low, taking the legs of the lead knight’s warhorse out from under it. The warhorse behind had no place to go as it ran full force into the stumbling lead horse. Both riders were thrown over the barbarian’s heads.

Ulfgar managed to dodge the lead horse but did not anticipate the second, which hit him broadside and slammed him to the ground. All around him massive hooves stomped the ground as the horsemen continued their charge. Only the body of the horse on him saved Ulfgar from being trampled. Abruptly the stampede stopped and the barbarian lay looking at the quiet sky overhead, feeling a detached sense of peace and contentment. He wanted to stay.

“If you’re not dead, you should be. Get up!” Morgrim’s deep roar of a voice broke the illusion and Ulfgar was suddenly, painfully, aware of the tremendous weight across his chest.

“If you are through old man, you could help get this accursed animal off me,” Ulfgar said between gasps for air as he tried to squirm out from beneath the dead warhorse. With Morgrim’s help, he was free and quickly regained his feet. Surveying the scene it was obvious Ulfgar’s bold defense was as useless as Morgrim predicted. The knights had overrun them without even slowing down. Besides Morgrim there was no evidence that anyone else stood with him, so either the others were rundown or broke and fled at the last moment.

“Unless you plan to charge those horsemen by yourself, and this time I promise you are on your own, I suggest we make for the ship and get away from this blasted land before it is too late.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Ulfgar’s voice was tinged with disappointment.

The two giant barbarians ran towards the ships, which were already surrounded. Their comrades, blinded by their greed, fell like slaughtered cattle while they struggled to save their loot instead of their skins. The knights hacked and chopped furiously, slowed only by their horse’s poor footing and their unwillingness to dismount and face the outnumbered barbarians on foot. Fortunately, thought Ulfgar, the knights were new to the area and untrained in warding off such raids, which were common all along the Britonian and Imperial coastline.

Following Morgrim, Ulfgar grabbed the boarding rope and heaved himself upwards, but before he could clear the bulwark he turned to see a knight with a great plume on his golden helm clumsily bearing down on him. He dropped and rolled just in time to avoid being trampled by the horse then bounded to his feet before turning to face the knight who was already preparing to charge again. Several arrows speared the sands at the horse’s feet as archers took hasty, ill aimed shots at anything Britonian. Ulfgar’s barbarian blood boiled and he charged first, his tribe’s war cry erupting from his lungs as his thickly muscled legs propelled him headlong towards his foe. The ferocity of his attack unnerved the usually unshakeable warhorse. It threw its rider unceremoniously into the surf and fled.

The knight was quick. Before Ulfgar could press his advantage the knight was on his feet, ready to receive an attack. His instincts were acute and, Ulfgar suspected, magically enhanced. These knights were known for their love of such magical trinkets.

The barbarian used his size and momentum to plow full body into the knight, who effectively spun away to lessen the impact. The Britonian never lowered his guard and the two warriors circled each other like wild cats contesting control of the pride.

The knight attacked next. A wild frenzied attack that was really a feint for a controlled calculated lunge into Ulfgar’s midsection. The knight’s blade tore a jagged bloody gash across the barbarian’s abdomen. Ulfgar was completely thrown off guard by the feint and only his exceptional reflexes saved him from being disemboweled.

As Ulfgar recoiled backward, almost stumbling in the sand, the knight attacked again. This time with a precise over-shoulder swing to the barbarian’s neck. Ulfgar was just able to avoid decapitation by instinctively raising his blade to parry the attack, and again he was pushed back by the knight’s determined advance.

Before Ulfgar could counter the knight was already on him again, this time with another over-shoulder swing to the barbarian’s midsection, which Ulfgar narrowly managed to avoid with a quick dodge backward. The knight immediately swung again in the opposite direction back across Ulfgar’s knees, but the barbarian anticipated the move and leapt nimbly over the blade, landing slightly behind and to the knight’s right.

The Britonian was completely taken by surprise and for the briefest moment left his guard open. Ulfgar spun, and using his elbow he hammered the knight hard just below the base of his helm. The knight maintained his footing, but staggered in a dazed zigzag.

Ulfgar was cat-like in his movements as he exploited his initiative with several exaggerated swings at the warrior’s colorful chest. The knight was an experienced fighter and instinctively defended himself until he regained his senses, then shaking the last of the fog from his head, he lunged at Ulfgar with an audible effort and the barbarian narrowly parried the blade away with his own.

The knight confidently followed the attack with another wild swing, intending to finish it with a precise lunge to Ulfgar’s midsection, but the barbarian recognized the move and before the knight could execute it completely Ulfgar stepped inside the swing and caught the knight’s elbow with the edge of his sword causing the polished Britonian blade to careen wildly away from its intended target.

With a fluid, almost undetectable move Ulfgar brought the hilt of his sword up hard against the knight’s helm knocking the Britonian momentarily senseless. He continued the graceful upward motion with his sword until it was over his head at full arm’s length.

Grasping the heavy sword with both hands and using the full power of his huge arms and chest, the Northman brought his sword blade back down squarely into the center of the knight’s gilt and polished steel helm with an incredible force. There was a sickening sound as the armor caved in, crushing the warrior’s skull and spurting blood and ooze from the eye and breathing holes.

The Britonian was rigid for a moment, arms dangling limply at his side. Finally the body realized it was dead and the once noble knight collapsed in a pile of bright lace and gore.

Ulfgar didn’t wait to see his opponent’s final demise and was already half way back up the boarding rope, a tangle of arms reaching over the side to pull him aboard. The longship was already sliding back into the ocean as Ulfgar boarded her. Of the eight ships participating in the raid only three were returning to the ocean. Of the five still on the shore four were already burning and a fierce battle circled the last. Abruptly it also burst into flames.

A small woman, perhaps only a girl, walked into the surf followed by several Knights’ Attendant. She stood still for a long moment only bowing her head occasionally while the Knights knelt around her in the crashing waves. Slowly she started to spin, her arms gently rising and falling as she gained momentum. Soon she was a blur of dizzying motion, although she never wavered from the spot.

By this time the three ships were beyond arrow shot and Ulfgar relaxed a bit. He took a deep breath of the freshening breeze that began to fill their sails and leaned lazily on the bulwarks, still watching the whirling dervish of a girl on the beach. These Southerners were a strange breed, he thought quietly to himself. Especially these so called Britonians.

Overhead the rigging groaned as the winds pushed the single broad sail.

Ulfgar continued to watch the strange ritual on the beach until his attention was drawn aloft by a slight pop in the rigging. A quick glance, Morgrim was already at the base of the mast inspecting it. Above them the rigging continued to groan, becoming louder and more demanding as the winds amplified.

On the horizon to the east dark clouds churned and gathered into unholy shapes before reaching towards them with wispy ethereal hands. The sea turned a dark grey, churning and boiling unnaturally as it tossed the ships about like a child’s toy.

Ulfgar pounded the gunwale in frustration at having to shorten sail or be torn to pieces. Morgrim appeared at his side pointing back at the coast. “The bitch is a witch!” he screamed over the raging winds. “She conjures this evil storm!”

Ulfgar yelled for archers in what he knew would be a useless effort, but his savage nature would not allow him to stand and do nothing. Unsurprisingly the wind carried the arrows away before they traveled more than a few feet from the ship.

All three longships were out of control, spinning haphazardly in the tumultuous sea. Aboard KrigsKnarr, Ulfgar’s ship, every wave brought new pandemonium to the usually orderly deck as the ship’s oarsmen fought to keep her from capsizing. Ulfgar clutched the massive mast of the ship with both arms to keep from being carried away. Sporadically one of the other two ships would briefly come into view then disappear as the waves tossed them violently around.

The skies darkened beyond night and the winds roared their fury at the Northmen. Lightening speared across the sky and stabbed at the waves, boiling water and shooting steam wherever it struck.

Never had Ulfgar witnessed such a storm and he wondered at such power in the body of such a small girl. What gods must these Knights worship to be able to call such violence from the heavens? Then Ulfgar remembered the passive monks, crawling around like insects. With a bit more respect he decided that if he survived perhaps he would have to learn more of their gods. Perhaps he himself would call such fury on his foes someday.

Waves broke the bow in huge walls carrying away anything not attached to the vessel. Most of the crewmen still aboard were lashed to something and the ship’s huge square sail was lost to the sea. The sky roared like a giant beast hungry for blood. The ship’s timbers groaned in tortured agony.

Ulfgar saw fear in his warrior’s faces for the first time as they cowered, shivering in the cold rain, helplessly awaiting their doom. His people faced the horrors of the Chaos plains stone faced and eager for a fight. They’d all dealt with death many times over and each was prepared to face his fate without question. But this storm was a new enemy unlike any other they’d ever encountered. This enemy they could not fight.

There was a painful cry from forward and Ulfgar’s eyes bulged as he looked to see a tower of water rising in the path of the ship. Already taller than anything he’d ever seen it continued to stretch into the black heavens until its top was out of sight. For a brief moment there was total silence, as if the gods and all the spirits of the earth paused to take a deep breath before unleashing their full rage. Ulfgar clutched the mast of the ship with both massive arms. He closed his eyes tightly and braced himself.

The wave crashed into the ship with the force of a charging mammoth. KriegsKnarr’s timbers creaked and groaned, some snapping and tearing away under the impact. Ulfgar listened to the screams of his men until his head was slammed into the solid timber of the ship’s broken mast, then suddenly; there was nothing but blissful silence.

Mercury

I found this very entertaining in a light sort of way. Nicely described action sequences, although these seemed a little 'technical', without much emotion or feeling from the charaters in combat, so I was left not really caring who won or lost. I understand though, theres not that much space to build up lot of empathy in an action-based short story. Well done overall.

drbubba43

Hey, thanks for the crit...

First, since I don't write for "experienced" writers per se, your feedback is as valuable as anyones. My goal is to entertain and I would like to reach people who don't write as well.

I understand your point about the fight scenes.

This is the first piece of a rather long short story that is the introduction to a (hopefully!) series of short stories. The purpose of the story is to introduce some of the principal characters in the series. At this stage I'm walking a very fine and unfamiliar line of how to pace the character development.

Also I want to firmly establish that the focus of the series is the action. Like I said, they are more akin to a B movie than a fine work of art. Hopefully they are fun.

So, with this in mind, do the fight scenes work on any level or are they really detracting from the story?

Ray

Also there are several more parts to this story alone and Ulfgar continues to develop as it goes. Don't know if that makes a difference. Just thought I'd mention it.

cyberspecter

Hi Ray,

I didn't read this all the way through, but I will. I'm still a bit woosy from my cold and tired.

I did see the changes you made to length, format and the things I pointed out on the first few paragraphs. Much better this time!

I'll do a full critique later.

Got to take a break soon.


Paul

A.K.A. Cyberspecter

__________________
Cyberspecter
(Evil incarnate, devourer of souls....and pizza)
--------------------------------------------------------
Bad Spellers of the World, Untie! -Tee shirt slogan.

drbubba43

Thanks cyberspecter.

Your last comments were really valuable. I think the whole thing is much more readable now. Gonna post in in parts this time.

Looking forward to your next crit!

BTW, I've been pretty ill over the last month. I can really relate. Hope your on the "getting better" side of what got you down...

Ray

cyberspecter

Ray,

I agree with Mercury to the extent that the fight scenes are technical. I would make some of the moves Ulfgar and the knight do descriptive and pare down others to very short sentences to give action and immediacy to the fight. Read some of R. A. Salvatore's fight descriptions with Drizzt for a good reference to go by. Although he sometimes glosses a little too much for my taste, he basically does a good job with fighting.

The story is told from Ulfgar's viewpoint. To Ulfgar, raiding is natural and maybe fun, exciting ect...
For the fight it seemed that you pulled back and got very objective. That's ok, except I wanted to "hear" and "see" the fight through Ulfgar. I wanted him to admire a well executed move while, at the same time, getting a little angry and growly...heh.
Speaking of POV, I did find one instance where you moved it from Ulfgar:



This reads as if from Morgrim's POV. Don't know if you meant to or not.

Still like this though and will keep up with the story as you progress and post more!

__________________
Cyberspecter
(Evil incarnate, devourer of souls....and pizza)
--------------------------------------------------------
Bad Spellers of the World, Untie! -Tee shirt slogan.

drbubba43

As for the POV, I really tried to keep it pretty simple. Most of the story was to be Third person/omnicient POV with the view of some principal characters (maybe 1 or 2 per scene to lend flavor.)

I think after reading your post and the other that I need to plan the POV better. Now that I'm looking at it I think I jump too much when it isn't really necessary.

You were correct when you saw the shift to Morgrim. There is also a shift from Ulfgar to the third pary POV during most of the fight scenes. Mainly because they ran in my head like a movie.

Perhaps I should narrow the POV to just Ulfgar and try single character POV's through out. That would solve both problems.

Hmmmm.... Gonna have to do some thinking.

Also I found a market to submit the stories to so I'll be dumping most of the GW specific stuff and making it straight fantasy next go round.

Thanks hugely for comments guys...

Ray

__________________
If at first you don't succeed, whine, pout, and stomp your feet. Hey, It works for my kids...