Clash of Titans

In the evening priestesses of Nerthus will perform a ritual to bless the finished lawsuits so that they may last, and for the coming year; to grant the council wisdom in its deliberations and choose the best Dugunthiz.
As evening progresses everybody gathers near a wooden platform erected next to the lake for the ritual and omens.
Lvcivs, Caivs Caecilia, Aurelia, Ingihárjáz and two other Evocatii gather under some trees a bit away to watch from a distance, prudently keeping away from the throng of people and potential knives in the back that would inevitably be present in a Roman crowd. Dolabra is not so cautious and join the crowd to get a good view of the ghastly ritual.

20 Pristesses, mostly old, but two young, all dressed in nothing but white skirts and flaxen cloaks closed with a clasp at the neck, belted with bronze and with their face and hair smeared grey.

4 men who has been women to other men, 4 cowards and the two captured gladiators are dragged one by one to the platform and hoisted up, crowned with wreaths and their throats cut with bronze swords; the blood spilled into a massive cauldron of silver. Oddly enough it is a gladiator and three homos, who meet death the best, the rest resist, scream, wet their pants and generally confirm that they are unworthy. Those that die well, meet much acclaim.
A young and very buxom priestess is apparently more gripped than the rest, and for a while in her trance and after she looks directly at Lvcivs and as she starts making predictions, Lvcivs sends one of his Evocatii to have a look. Meanwhile Ingihárjáz translates roughly the following, “Dark days are coming, but we shall pull through the stronger while eagles shall circle and wolves tear our enemies. There is a man of the south here who shall bring us much glory. War is coming, with much blood and much booty for our glorious warriors”, the crowd cheers wildly at this. “Crops shall be somewhat scarce and a lean winter is ahead, but starvation will be averted by the Dugunthiz’ wise decisions, and in the south decisions shall be made the next three years involving our people that will shake the world. War shall engulf the world, and glory is coming!” Much more cheering from the crowd. Meanwhile the Evocatii has returned saying something along the lines of “Waaauv, she has huuuuuge knockers!”, but noticed little else. The other Evocatii is sent and being slightly more sophisticated notices more, the Priestess is young, around 20, but powerful amongst her peers, she is quite beautiful despite being a bit heavily built, very well proportioned and also quite charismatic.

The dead are then deposited in the lake, held down by stakes and boulders. Being intent on the priestess and ritual, Lvcivs and friends notice only too late that they are surrounded by a group of hostile Germans led by Hágárádáz; perhaps Lvcivs was so used to having Dolabra cover his back that he relaxed too much.
Hágárádáz opens hostility by groping Aurelia, then aggressively and loudly accuses Lvcivs of having killed his father in Gaul, or perhaps that Romans killed his father in Gaul, it was none too clear, what was clear was that Hágárádáz was picking a fight very aggressively. Lvcivs kept his cool and inquired who the father was before asserting that he did indeed remember killing him and that he squealed like a pig and whimpered like a woman. That incensed Hágárádáz even more and he challenged Lvcivs to a fight, an offer that Lvcivs gladly accepted while stating that he hoped that Hágárádáz would not cowardly run away like his father had. At this point, as Hágárádáz exploded, others were streaming to the scene, including Dolabra, priestesses, Háriáwulf with his followers and several other magnates, chiefs and warlords, and Háriáwulf is in his legendary rage, tossing anyone in his way aside (though most are all too eager to move) before confronting Hágárádáz with eyes like cold blue fire. Lvcivs grins smugly and retreats to talk to the buxom priestess and unearth why she was looking at him that way. Unfortunately it turns out that she speaks only German, and Ingi is intent on the clash of warlords, so it takes a while before he can do much but use sign language and the few German words he does know to communicate with her. And she too, is mostly intent on the confrontation, after all, if two of the prime figures of the tribes start fighting at a Ting and religious ritual it is a bad omen, not to mention quite dangerous.

Hariawulf accuses Hágárádáz of violating guest peace, the peace of the Ting and the ritual, declaring him without honour and a Nidding. He challenges Hágárádáz there and then; it is obvious that is a fight he wants, so let him fight if he dares, this is the best chance he will ever get as Háriáwulf is not wearing armour or shield; that he shall come on if he dares take Háriáwulf on or he shall be forever Nidding and coward to every man.

From body language, Caivs Caecilvs and Dolabra suspect that the brave and boisterous Hágárádáz secretly tries to avoid direct confrontation by calling on his men, “See men, he comes like a king, commanding everyone. Dare you not stand up to him?” His most powerful subchief; Bergáwuláz calmly replies that Hágárádáz has breached the laws of honour and that no one will interfere on his behalf in a one-on-one fight. Hágárádáz then asserts that it should be done properly and with Hariawulf not protected by his magic shirt; that he will fight Háriáwulf tomorrow in a Holmgang. Observing the right rituals and the old way; naked and with Framea till they break, then with swords. In his anger and impatience with such superstition about his prowess; Hariawulf rips his shirt off to give him the chance now (and flex in the firelight). But his hirdmen hold him back him from committing Nid and Hrothulf steps in calmly to calm him and proclaim the time and place of the Holmgang; as the athletic contests are over tomorrow, before the final feast.

On the way back to their own camp, Lvcivs muscles in on Háriáwulf to get a proper translator and talk to the priestess and inquire whether they are allowed to participate in the contests tomorrow. They are, and he will gladly translate.

What she says is that she saw in her vision a great man of Lvcivs’ people, a warleader and great thinker; looking at a burning city, though she uses the expression “many houses and walls of stone” that he had ordered burned and looted. While another man from another people, and of great learning stood by his side. The warlord wept for what he had ordered and said to the learned man that he feared the day this would happen to his home.

She thinks this man is connected to Lvcivs somehow and that Lvcivs will be as great or more if he lives. But that his fate right now is tied to an even greater man, a warlord and learned man ruling all his people. She saw another vision, one of a future where this great man gave his love and trust to friends and kin who secretly plotted to kill him while others struggled to save him. That come the time when the sun thaws the snow in three winters time, these people would try to kill him and not stop till he or they were dead. Driven by envy and ambition or delusional they will never give up; his fate will with certainty come to rest in Lvcivs’ hands at some time soon or late.
She also saw Lvcivs with red painted face and in red and purple clothes drive on a wagon through many large stone houses in front of your army.

From then on, she stays with Háriáwulf while another priestess will join Hrothulf as they have foreseen those two as central figures in a war that is to come. Her name is Hárjáboko and she is the daughter of a Teuton magnate. She is somewhat heavily built, but charismatic, pretty and busty enough to warrant attention. Enough so that Lvcivs asks Háriáwulf to ask her whether she would be interested in learning Roman (and Greek) ways in bed, it is rare that these priestesses let anyone enjoy their favours, but surprisingly she agrees and while a thunderstorm rages her and Lvcivs have much fun.

Next day dawns clear and uncomfortably warm (according to the Germans, the Romans find it quite pleasant) and the cunning Caivs Caecilivs notices Hrothulf dispatch Okáz, the Thuliz and Guthmunth Mikla escorting Wiliswinthájo on a secret mission, with Merjákeruz the Skald dispatched on another.
In the athletic contests, Lvcivs, on Háriáwulf’s horse, only gets mid ranking; perhaps the night’s rigours had sapped his energy. While Dolabra achieves the same in wrestling (preferring to fight with a Gladius Hispanensis in hand), but Maion Maienos outshoots everyone as the distance is raised in the archery contest.

Meanwhile, as the contests ends, everybody assembles to watch two of the most famous warriors meet on an island and only one depart; two men who has done little but train with weapons and for war since they could walk. As honoured guests of Hrothulf, the Romans get prime places at a dry piece of beach with a good view, Caivs Caecilivs has to be woken by Lvcivs though, and torn from the embrace of his hot(blooded) young wife, though the young and pretty lass Dolabra found is no less keen than him to see the fight. Truthfully kianki is almost as eager herself, but as her Roman husband seems less so, she tries to please him as best as she can.

The two fighters are blessed by priests and rowed to the small island where they ditch their cloaks to fight naked.
They start with one-handed spears (Framea) and small shield, which they also use as weapons, but with swords as backup.
The fight is very even at start, but with Háriáwulf having the upper hand. They fight very mobile-ly; move around a lot and jumps/dodges rather than parry.

Both men are extremely skilled and the fight is both impressive and only to really be enjoyed by the trained eye. Hágárádáz fights much like a bull and both show and great force, while Háriáwulf fights more gracefully and precisely but of at least equal strength. He preserves his energy and every attack or parry he makes is exactly right and flows gracefully into the next. No showmanship there, but the connoisseur will enjoy it the more.
Blood soon flows from both combatants as many attacks almost score serious hits, but never really penetrate for the skill of the contestants. It is noticeable that Hágárádáz takes a lot take a lot of punishment without slowing down- probably drugged and high on adrenaline; which also means that some of his overly aggressive attacks do make more injury than those of a normal man. Both seem to shrug off the injuries though.

Then Hágárádáz’ spear breaks, and he succeeds in drawing his sword with little scathe and Háriáwulf starts to draw his, but Hágárádáz moves in to take advantage of the temporary disadvantage of his opponent. This pressure is averted with a headbut that closes Hágárádáz’ right eye from swelling.
However, after some more graceful fighting Háriáwulf begins to slow down noticeably and seems dizzy and unfocused; much less precise than before.

At this time Bergáwulfáz comes over, dragging a slave; Hágárádáz’ foster mother, rumoured to be skilled at magic. She cackles on about how The Wolf dies now for she has given her son weapons to fell it. No more fame for him and your plans shall all be ruined. She spits at the Romans and express hatred for them as well. Bergáwuláz relates how he believes she has applied poison to her son’s speartip, poison that she has gained from a Roman according to several slaves and serfs.
A quick inquiry into the rules of Holmgang establishes to the Romans that poison is illegal, but that there is nothing they can do now. That the priestesses will take charge of the witch and that no matter the result of the fight Hágárádáz will be outlawed as Nidding and Bergáwulfáz impromptu elected to new chief of the Varinii. No amount of interrogation can make the crone reveal much, and she does not know what poison it is anyway, but as you have brought a skilled healer with a few doses of the extremely rare and expensive Mithridatum, you reckon you can counter the poison if you can get the antidote to Háriáwulf; Dolabra even considers coating an arrow in it and having Maion shoot him, but the Germans are not too keen on that idea.

Meanwhile the poison is visibly affecting Háriáwulf who can barely defend his life and has taken a vicious cut along the ribs, having a hard time controlling his limbs. As they look, a particularly violent blow from the now gloating Hágárádáz sends him reeling back, his shield flying from his hand, to kneel on the shore of the small island. And though Dolabra reckons he is overdoing it, the poison is definitely affecting him. Laughing, but bleeding and half-blinded Hágárádáz moves in for the kill, but suddenly Hariawulf stabs from the blinded side; a stab to the crotch that slices some important bits. Unfortunately the uncoordinated limbs of Háriáwulf cannot support a killing blow despite some feeble tries. So as Hágárádáz’ parries drop, Hariawulf moves in and rips out his throat with his teeth in a spray of blood. He then staggers towards the shore trying to say something epic, obviously unable to focus much now; then falls to the ground in a heap while his followers, friends and a few Romans rush to help him.

Last of all the election/confirmation of the new Dugunthiz is held. Hrothulf is re-elected with no opposition as Bergáwuláz is pro-Hrothulf. The council deliberates through the evening and at midnight the legal matters of the tribes is done. Tomorrow will be a time for athletic games and contests of skill.


Next day and evening a conciliatory feast is held in the spirit of friendship, respect and unity. And as all opponents of Hrothulf are now conveniently out of the way it is in fact felt by all. Lvcivs Cornelivs is introduced as “A mighty and powerful warlord of Rome, great scion of the greatest noble family in Rome, who has come to establish friendship between his people and ours. Great warrior and hero, he has lead victorious Roman warbands and is honoured by the Roman Ting, who look to for guidance”, and gives a long speech to much applause (when he stops). He also hands out gifts left and right (I lost track of who got what), and received in return two sacks of amber, a finely gold-inlaid Framea and a 2 l drinking horn inlaid with and full of gold jewelry (from Hrothulf). He swiftly improvises and asks the Thuliz’ “acolyte” to sacrifice the spear in the holiest of lakes to the god of war. The surprised acolyte stated that such a sacrifice must be performed by the Thuliz himself, but Lvcivs never heard as he was busy toasting war, plunder, honour, bravery, friendship and much else; quaffing horn after horn of mead with the cheering Germans.


Day Three:
Is indeed a day of games and contests, and of food and drink; music, singing and merriment, and it is open for all, so Caivs Cominvs can participate should he so wish.
The winners of the various contests are honoured with Torques, Framea, Swords, Armrings, Horses, etc. as well as honoured seats at the reconciliation banquet where many gifts are exchanged and much mead is quaffed. Finally the Romans get to see Hrothulf and the high-strung warriors unwind and drink themselves into oblivion as they now feel secure from all attacks. Háriáwulf is of course unable to join as he is still bedridden, and even his determination and overpowering presence must yield to women now as he can hardly stand.
Hrothulf gifts all and asks all Dugunthiz to join him at Arhros two weeks from now with their Erloz and Karloz, as well letting him keep some of those they brought here, so he can the better pick who to send to Rome with his honoured guest and friend; Lvcivs Cornelivs Scipio when the latter goes home. They all willingly accept that, some of them obviously envious that their duties cannot let them join.