Breaking through

[Captain Thoraux]

(I tried to think where this would fit in better - Tyrun's trhead or Thorgrimms, but then decided to give this scenario its own thread instead!


The Hippocampe, the Wild Boar and the Morning Star still lay in front of the harbour, captain Thoraux standing on deck, watching the gauntlet of Viking raiders blocking the entrance to the harbour, his fist pounding the wooden railing as he saw the commotion around the Forell and the Goélette.

“If we go in there, they will crush us and we’ll not be of any help. But we cannot just stay here… they will not get away with this! Neville, you stay behind with the Hippocampe… send 80 of your men over to the Morning star and the Wild Boar. Then get within shooting range for the Viking ships and use your catapults to rain fire upon them! The Wild Boar and the Morning Star will rush through there… if you hit us, I’ll rip your throat out, is that clear?”

Thoraux grinned at his fellow captains who nodded back in beginning to understand his plan. “we will use the oars, make a wide circle out to sea and then back, gain momentum that way. This will have to be precise manoeuvring, men! Our momentum will rush us past the entrance and past the Viking ships. Before we will enter, reef your sails… it’ll give those barbarians less to shoot at. Have your men ready with water to extinguish any flames from arrows they will likely shoot upon us. One of us will get through… and then we can help the Goélette and the Forell. Let’s get moving!”

The two other captains nodded again, and after the required men were send over from the Hippocampe, the Morning Star and the Wild Boar started to let their oars into te water, beginning to row away from the harbour. About a mile away from its entrance, the two ships turned and picked up speed, the flag upon their masts flapping in te increasing breeze, their oars thrashing into the water. When they were about 300 yards away from the harbour mouth, the Hippocampe began its barrage of the Viking ships with hot, flaming coals and stones, hoping for damage and for setting a few of the ships on fire. If nothing else, their attack would hopefully distract the Vikings long enough for the Morning Star and the Wild Boar to rush through the narrow channel leading to the harbour.

The two frank warships had picked up considerable speed by now…. They were closing in upon the harbour’s mouth… First the Wild Boar, then the Morning star right behind her…. 50 yards before encountering the Viking ships the two ship drew in their oars, their sails were rolled up and lowered to the decks and kept wet by men who kept dousing them with sea water…

The mighty ships reached the mouth of the harbour, rushing towards the Viking ships and the entrance with an enormous speed while projectiles from the Hippocampe showered down onto the Vikings left and right.… now they needed luck and god on their side!

[Ranger Owen]

*He watched from the beach as the three ships manouvered about.....the catapults were ready...he just needed to wait until they were in range. A signal came from the cliffs and he sent word to the group of Rangers and villagers to prepare the oil filled spheres. Between them perhaps they might at least slow down the ships and delay any further troops that may be aboard.

He took a torch and lit the sphere......almost immediately the sounds of creaking wood could be heard followed by a wooosh as the ball of fire was sent hurtling towards the nearest ship. If it found its mark or not.....at least they would soon know if their efforts would make any difference.*

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

( Make it hard on me, why don't you! I'm new at this and you've got me fighting on two fronts already . *LOL* Talk about learning the hard way! As Tyrun said - "I fahrt in your general di-rection" ;D You frankish pipsqueek you)


HARBOUR DEFENCE.

The increased activity around the Frankish warships standing off the entrance to Windstorm Harbour had not gone unnoticed.
A keen-eyed Varangian sentry had seen the small boats moving between the three vessels and had sent word to his commander. Now Trygg Bloodaxe, his lieutenant, Haldar Bluetooth and the men in charge of the five trebuchets were standing on the sea-wall watching as men, weapons and supplies were ferried from ship to ship.
Trygg scowled thoughtfully, “Well it looks like those cursed snail-eaters are going to try something at last.”
“Aye captain, but what?” queried Haldar.
“From the way they’re moving the men around,” Trygg stared towards the ships. “I would hazard that two of them are going to try to force the entrance while the other waits in support.”
“That bigger ship is armed with catapults, Captain.” Said one of the other men. “Could be that it will lay inshore and try to damage our defences.”
“Or even reach “Islendigur” and “Aesgard.” added another.
Bloodaxe nodded. “I agree, those are all possibilities my friends and we must be ready for all of them.”
He turned back to his observation of the Frankish ships, his mind carefully calculating and evaluating every small detail. At least two of those ships would try to breech the harbour defences; one might even make it past them but it would not get by unscathed. They might even try to bombard the trebuchets and other emplacements, but in a contest between a ship and a properly sighted shore battery, the ship was at the disadvantage. To try to damage the two dragonships from outside the harbour was a fool’s errand; both “Aesgard” and “Islendigur” were well out of range. Thorgrimm Halfdane had made sure of that!
Trygg turned to Haldar, “Send a message to Captain Skildbiter, tell him of what is happening and to be ready.”
As Haldar went to call a messenger, Bloodaxe smiled at the other Varangians. “Should any of those snail-eaters get past us, then the Greek Fire will give them a warn welcome!”
“Aye Captain, a very warm welcome.” laughed a Varangian. “And they don’t know a thing about it.”
The Frankish ships were running out their oars and shaking out their sails, two of them tacked around and moved away from the harbour, while the other larger vessel made to draw inshore towards the defence emplacements.
Haldar returned and he pointed at the two now distant ships. “Maybe they have decided that an attempt on our defences is unwise?”
“I think it is a ruse, for what purpose does the other ship stand closer if they are leaving?” Trygg shook his shaggy head. “No, they are coming. To your stations friends, wait for my signal and then make every shot count!”
The men moved to their trebuchets, the massive weapons were drawn back and loaded, archers strung their great longbows and readied their arrows, other men went around lighting the braziers, weapons were drawn and edges tested.
Trygg stared after the two receding Frankish vessels; he snorted with satisfaction as they swung around and headed back towards Windstorm harbour. Their sails were drawing strongly and their oars thrashing the sea to foam as they made at great speed for the entrance.
The catapults on the larger vessel began flinging rocks and fire shorewards but the defensive walls were strongly reinforced and the missiles had little effect. A few fires started but these were quickly doused. Trygg saw some of the burning coals arc overhead only to fall hissing into the water, still short of the two dragonships.
He leapt up onto the sea-wall and shook his hairy fist at the Franks. “You’ll have to do better than that, you misbegotten garlic-eaters!”
Trygg turned his attention to the two warships that were now about to enter the narrow channel at the mouth of the harbour. Once in that channel their ability to manoeuver would be severely limited and they would become vulnerable to the fire from his trebuchets and the Windstorm catapults on the cliffs above. Speed was the Franks only ally, if they were slowed or checked in any way it would be their doom.
The Frankish ships were in the channel, their furled sails dropped to the decks, Bloodaxe could see crewmen hurriedly dousing them with water while others strained at the banks of oars.
Missiles from the ship standing offshore thudded against the sea-wall and whined overhead, showers of sparks fell harmlessly about.
Trygg Bloodaxe stood quietly watching as the two vessels approached his killing zone, his broad-bladed sword raised above his head. The men at the trebuchets watched him with eagle eyes, hands grasped tightly on the firing levers.
At that moment, the air was filled with the rush of wind as the Windstorm catapults released their first volley, their missiles trailed plumes of smoke as they arched down towards the Frankish warships.
Without looking to see if any struck home, Trygg brought his sword down and the Varangian trebuchets unleashed their own form of Hell.

[Captain Thoraux]

They saw the ballista coming, but right now there was nothing they could do against them but pray.

The first and largest almost hit, plunging into the water right in front of the Wild Boar, sending a large waves against her bow, slowly the ship down, yet it still kept moving. Other ballista rained down on her, two hitting the back sections of the deck (OOC: Uhm, I’m no good with nautical lingo), tearing apart planks, railings and plunging a man into the waters.

The Morning Star remained unscathed so far, the archers on both ships aiming their fire arrows against the Viking raiders.

The Wild Boar cleared the passage slower than Captain Thoraux liked, and there was only one thing that could be done now – get men over to those ships with the catapults and try and destroy those weapons. Manoeuvring a bit closer towards one of the firing vessels, Thoraux gave the sign, and a good 100 men let entering hooks fly, latching on to the nearest Viking boat, and jumping over to board her while the Boar kept sliding past the enemy ships, closely followed by the Morning Star.

[Ranger Owen]

*A loud groan was heard from those upon the beach.....they were just short and quickly set to moving the large wooden structures. The process was slow and they had only a short space to manouvre.

Meanwhile, several more shots were taken by the Catapults on the cliff top. Their deadly projectiles flying through the air towards the ships that were intent on causing grief and harm to those within the Harbour.

Finally, as both those from the beach, and higher up on the cliff began a barrage of continuous missiles.....surely some would reach their targets.*

[Admin]

As arranged, the Spainish ships sail into the harbour, the men hanging from the riggings, chanting a Viking song to really piss of the french. Each ship flying two flags.. One of Spain herself.. and one of the Crimson Knights. As arranged they take their places at the mouth of the harbour..sealing in the ships already there..and sealing those wishing to enter..out. For whom in their right mind shall tangle with Spainish ships of war...

[Captain Thoraux]

The projectiles kept flying, the Wild Boar had almost cleared the Viking ships standing guard within the mouth of the harbour, when one of the ballista found its target and hit the decks of the wild boar right next to its main mast. A huge hole was ripped into the deck, the ballista going right through the first two decks, but thankfully not penetrating the hull on the bottom. Three men were killed by the impact and flying wood splinters, but captain Thoraux kept standing at the front of his ship, shouting down to the remaining men on his ship (a good number by now had boarded one of the Viking raiders, grappling with its men for supremacy over the catapults there.

“Get the oar out and ROW! We need to get into the harbour… the Morning Star needs space to get in here. ROW!....ROW YOU SOBs!!!”

The oars were brought out, even though manoeuvring with them in between the enemy boats was almost impossible. However, the crew managed to get the Wild Boar into the harbour proper, so the Morning Star could follow, when a second ballista came flying and hit the right side of the ship, ripping a large hole into the boat. Yet still the men kept rowing, although now water started to enter their ship.

Behind them, the Morning Star had caught fire, its men trying their best to quench the flames with sea water.

[Dorian Hawkmoon]

A soon as He had been given word, He was out of the Castle in a flash.....nearly vaulting into Stepper's saddle and spurring the Arabian to a full gallop even before He was in the saddle. The brave mounts hooves barely touched the dirt road as he nearly seemed to fly beneath His Master. Those Frankian ships must NOT reach the docks. He cursed every passing moment as He dug His heels into Stepper's flanks....urging him to an even greater speed as the great stallion stretched his body. He prayed the men manning the catapults and ballistae had not waited for His command, and as He crested the hill, He saw that they had not. He looked down noe, into the harbour and quickly assessed the situation. The cats and ballistae had done their damage, but it was not enough...And now He issued His orders in a clear and strong voice...

"BALLISTAE, BELAY THE STEEL POINTS AND FIRE THE ONES TIPPED WITH THE JUGS....CATAPULTS...CEASE FIRING THE BOULDERS AND SWITCH T'BASKETS OF SMALLER ROCKS..."

The men sweated and grunted with their efforts....first the rags stuffed into the earthen jugs were lit....then the ballistae fired...as they reloaded, the catapults hurled basketloads of rocks ranging in size from the the size of a man's head, to that of a large gourd. The catapults were not intended to damage the ships, now....but rather to maim, injure, or hopefully kill the Frankian seamen. As the ballistae and cats had already been firing on the approaching ships, they had the range nearly perfect. He watched with a dark smile as the ballistae impacted on the lead ship with deadly accuracy....sheets of fire that would not be extinguished with mere water lit the deck and outer hull....and then the rocks and debris rained down upon the heads of the sailors...as he made ready to order fire upon the other ship, he spied the galleons flying the flags of Spain and the Order of the Crimson Knights...

"WARE THE SHIPS BEARING THE FLAGS OF THE SPANIARDS AND CRIMSON....THEY BE ALLIES....BUT SHOW NAE MERCY 'PON THE SHIPS BEARING THE FRANKIAN FLAGS..."

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

ENEMY ACTION (The Trebuchets)

By Thor’s hairy backside! How had they done that? It defied all reason! Had he been too confident? It had to be more luck than skill!
Trygg Bloodaxe shook his shaggy head in disbelief; somehow the two Frankish vessels had managed to slip through the barrage relatively unscathed.
Snapping out of his amazement, he quickly began to take steps to rectify that sudden and unexpected turn of events. He rapped out a string of orders to his men. Four of the trebuchets were hastily repositioned to bring fire down upon the Frankish ships as they entered into the inner harbour. The other machine was swung around and aimed at the vessel that was lying just offshore.
Standing on the sea-wall, Bloodaxe could see that the leading Frankish ship had almost cleared the channel and was closing with the first of dragonships, the “Aesgard”, his ship! He turned and shouted at the trebuchet crews to make haste. The men heaved the great machines into their new positions and then, without waiting for his command, sent the first salvo screaming on its way.
The missiles from his trebuchets and the Windstorm catapults were falling all around the Frankish ships; some were striking home, shattering decking and throwing men about like rag dolls. From where he stood, Trygg could only guess at the extent of the damage that was being inflicted.
As the lead Frank drew alongside “Aesgard”, grapnels flew; long ropes arced over the gap between the two vessels. Trygg watched as the Varangian archers got their first volleys away and the axe men began to hack at the ropes binding the ships together. Other warriors stood along the railing their swords, shields and long spears at the ready. The spearpoints glinted wickedly in the sun as they awaited the boarders who must surely come.
Men on both sides were falling now, their cries carried faintly to him. Trygg shouted at his crews to speed their rate of fire, for his own warriors to stand ready and for somebody to keep watch on the thrice-bedamned frog sitting offshore.
How he longed, yearned to be aboard his “Aesgard”, but he knew his duty lay with the trebuchets. Thorgrimm was relying on him.
A Varangian warrior shouted an alert; Trygg spun around and stared in the direction the man was pointing. More ships had closed on the harbour entrance and appeared to be sealing it off. Were they friend or foe? As he watched, bright pennants broke out from their mastheads, one the Spanish flag, the other he recognised as the ensign of the Crimson Knights. Trygg grinned and turned his attention back to the action around the longships.
He hoped that Svien Skildbiter was enjoying himself.

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

ENEMY ACTION (The Longships)

A dark frown furrowed Svien Skildbiter’s brow. So, the Frankish ships were through the barrage. That would not amuse Trygg Bloodaxe one bit!
He was standing atop the shroud of the Greek Fire Siphon on “Islendigur’s” foredeck, watching as the two Frankish ships manoeuvred through the last section of the harbour channel.
The leading ship was closing on “Aesgard”, there were men were crowding along its side rail, he could see the flash of weapons and hear the growing shouts as the enemy drew nearer.
If there was one thing he hated, it was the waiting!
Fire arrows flicked out from the Frank, crews on the “Aesgard” ran to douse the flames as they sprang up or throw the offending arrows into the sea. The Frankish ship, he could just make out its name “Wild Boar”, came alongside “Aesgard”, grapnels were heaved, their lines snaking across the narrow opening. The Varangian axe men managed to sever most of them but it didn’t stop the Frankian boarders from leaping over to the longship. The long spears of the Viking defenders accounted for some, the archers for others, they fell to the water below, but the remainder closed with the “Aesgard’s” crew in a mighty clash of battle cries and weapons.
The fight ebbed and flowed across “Aesgard’s” deck as each side struggled for supremacy. The dead and dying were trampled beneath the crush of bodies. Blood flowed freely from the scuppers and ran in long thin trails down sides of the hull, as if the ship herself was bleeding.
Svien ordered reinforcements from “Islendigur” to go the “Aesgard” and watched grimly as they were quickly ferried across.
The “Wild Boar” thrust out her oars to make sea room for the second Frankish vessel, the water around each ship foamed as projectiles and missiles came plunging down. Both were taking damage.
Svien could see debris and bodies strewn about the “Wild Boars’s” decks, he noticed that she seemed to be riding lower in the water, “She must have taken a hit near her waterline.” He thought as the enemy vessel moved away from “Aesgard”.
Even as she began to settle further into the water, Skildbiter could see the captain of the lead ship urging his remaining crew to greater efforts as they toiled at their oars. The second vessel was slowly clearing the channel.
On “Aesgard”, the extra Varangians seemed to be turning the tide of battle in their favour. The “Wild Boar” had sailed on and the enemy boarders now had no avenue of retreat. They were fighting bravely but their numbers were slowly being whittled away.
A loud, clear voice carried above the din of battle, Svien turned to look in its direction; he could see a tall man giving orders to the crews of the Windstorm catapults and ballistae. There was a pause as the men leapt to carry out his instructions. Then the barrage resumed.
The second Frankish vessel was struck by one of the new missiles and fire burst across its decks. Its crew were fighting valiantly to douse the flames but the sea water seemed to have little effect.
The “Wild Boar” had almost drawn alongside, she was being hit repeatedly, more of her crew were being killed or injured and her speed was dropping away. "Islendigur's" archers were loosing their arrows and more Varangians stood ready at the bulwarks.
Svien leapt down from the Greek Fire Siphon’s roof as its crew made some last minute adjustments. The tube swung menacingly around ready to spew flame at the enemy ship.
As Svien watched the “Wild Boar’s” slow, inexorable approach, more missiles struck home and huge gouts of flame burst across her decks and hull.
The tall man seemed to be shouting to Trygg Bloodaxe at the Varangian trebuchets and through the clamour, Svien caught something about “ships … Spanish and Crimson flags … allies”. He scanned the harbour and then he saw them. More ships were lying in the harbour mouth sealing it like a bung in a cask of mead.
He smiled, their’s had been a timely arrival.

NB:None of Thorgrimm's longships carry catapults. the trebuchets that were stowed in their holds have been taken ashore. Apart from hand weapons, the Greek Fire siphon aboard "Islendigur" is all there is.

[espada]

*hearing word that french ships have entered the harbour and are making a run for the docks I look to my 3 archers on the walls knowing they will keep the french catapult to the north well occupied while we help our comrades if they need it at the habour...seeing one of the kings men ride out from the castle toward the docks thinking if these french make landfall the men at the Trebuchets will need all the aid they can get..looking to my men with a grin as I mount my Frisian destrier taking up my shield and lance...noding to my Sgt then noting 2 missing men..thinking they must have been called off by something important... wheeling Tornado toward the gates and riding out fast with the remaining 11 men to catch up with the Lord that rode toward the docks...thinking of Her a moment and pledging yet again that none will touch a hair on her head lest it be over my corpse...rides up to the Lord and nods* I do not believe we have met my Lord..I am Espada de Relampago..I am at your service...if tyhe french make landfall my men and I will be more then happy to send them to hell..with your permission of course.....*noting the flags of spain carried on men of war at the harbour enterance and just has to smile now knowing beyond any dought that these french are dead men*

[Admiral Anthony Covas]

*standing on the bow of the lead ship, Admiral Anthony Covas had to laugh as the Spainards under his command break into a norse sea chant.

" well, that should cause a few jaws to drop and tongues to waggle. "

He turns to his crew abord the CrimonWave and bellows out his orders.

" Seal this harbour lads, make sure nothing gets in or out. Have the other ships do this..we sail for the franks.. and may god have mercy upon their souls. "

Witht that , orders are passed, ships seal the harbour and the Crimson Wave sails deeper into the harbour, her own weapons, twin bow mounted catapults primed and ready with a mixture of rock and jugs of tar and various other nasty burning fluids.

" READY.. TAKE AIM LADS... AND FIRE!!!

The Crimson Wave, still afar distance away from the french ships, but her weapons far outreaching anything in this harbour. The hull shudders as both cats are released, sending first a volly of hard rocks to smash and crash into the wooden ships... the next volly, of burning jugs of tar to splash burning hell upon the wood and flesh .....

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

FRIENDLY FLAGS.

The words were familiar but the accent was strange.
The chanting of the old Norse songs carried faintly above the sounds of the fighting. Trygg Bloodaxe cupped a hand to his ear and listened, the singing was coming from one of the newly arrived ships. He grinned broadly, his teeth white against his combat begrimed face. “Norse songs from a Spanish ship, now that would put a burr up some Frankish noses.”
The new fleet had sealed off the harbour, nothing could enter or leave. One of the ships broke away from the rest and began to navigate the entrance channel, men readying the two catapults in her bow. Trygg had heard Hawkmoon’s warning shout and, as the ship sailed deeper into the harbour, ordered his trebuchet crews to cease firing lest one of their missiles strike their new ally.
He climbed up onto the sea-wall and scanned the harbour. The Spanish vessel was closing on the two Frankish ships; her pennants bright against the pall of smoke that hung over Windstorm Harbour like a funereal shroud. Her catapults recoiled as she fired her first salvo, the projectiles arcing through the air before striking the enemy vessels. Pieces of burning debris were splashing down all around the Frankish ships. Both were aflame now, their crews toiling valiantly to quell the fires. Looking upon this scene of destruction, Trygg wondered how his friend and fellow captain was faring.
At that moment, Svien Skildbiter was busy with problems of his own.
The fighting continued aboard the “Aesgard” but it seemed to be waning as her crew gained the upper hand, he had sent all the men he could spare across from “Islendigur”. The added weight of their numbers had helped turn the tide of battle in the Varangians favour. With no avenue of escape and their ships on fire, those Franks left aboard the dragonship were beginning to lose heart.
Despite her crew’s best efforts, the “Wild Boar” still appeared to be taking on water and was beginning to settle by the bows. Svien had the Greek Fire siphon trained on her but did not give the order to fire. Instead he had “Islendigur’s” long sweep oars run part way out, ready to fend the “Wild Boar” off should she drift too close. He could see her captain standing in the bow surrounded by debris from his damaged ship.
Viking warriors lined the “Islendigur’s” side railing, their weapons at the ready. A Varangian archer made to loose an arrow at the Frankish captain but Svien put out his hand, the bowman relaxed his draw and returned the shaft to his quiver.
A salvo of rocks smashed down on and around the “Wild Boar” spraying plumes of water high into the air. Svien turned to see one of the Spanish ships bearing down on the stricken Frankian vessels, her ensigns streaming out in the breeze. As he watched, the Spaniard’s catapults fired again but this time pots of burning pitch struck the Frankish ships and flames licked eagerly across their decks.
Through the shouts, the clash of weapons and the crackle of flames, Svien could swear that he heard the strains of a Norse sea chant….

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

KEEPING WATCH.

The miasma of smoke and sweat hung in a cloying fog around the Varangian trebuchets.
Men stood numbly beside the great machines as the tension of the brief, intense action began to ease. Trygg Bloodaxe had ordered them to halt their firing and now they turned their soot blackened faces expectantly towards him, watching, waiting for his next orders. Trygg was standing atop the sea-wall, his hands shading his eyes as he stared intently around Windstorm Harbour.
“Valkyrie” lay across the stern of the Frankish merchant ship, the “Forell” which, in turn had become entangled with Tyrun’s “Zephyr”. Lying nearby were the Frankian flagship and another of the Norseman’s vessels. All five ships were too distant and he could not tell if the fighting aboard them continued. Although Trygg thought that he caught the occasional flash of weapons, it might also be the crews cutting away tangled ropes and fallen timbers.
Closer, the Spanish ship had moved across his front, blocking the two Frankish warships from clear sight and rather than chance hitting her, he had stood his crews down. The Spaniard had the range of the Franks now and the twin catapults in her bows were inflicting heavy damage, as were the Windstorm catapults and ballistae which still had a clear field of fire. Both the Frankish vessels were aflame, smoke from the fires wreathed about them like a hazy pall.
The other Varangian dragonships, his “Aesgard” and Svien Skildbiter’s “Islendigur” seemed more or less intact. There was still some fighting aboard “Aesgard” and Trygg could see the thin trails that ran from her scuppers and stained the sea around her hull a bright crimson.
The Windstorm force, the Spaniard and Skildbiter appeared to have the situation well in hand, so Bloodaxe turned his attention to the Frankish ship that was still lying just offshore.
The “Hippocampe”, he had seen her name when they first arrived at Windstorm, had remained outside when the other two warships had forced their way into the harbour. Throughout the ensuing action, she had continued with her bombardment, flinging rocks and burning coals, in support of the Frankish assault. Her catapults had paused in their fire.
“Maybe the arrival of the combined Windstorm/Spanish fleet has made them think the better of their actions.” Trygg mused. “But ‘tis best not to chance that from such as those.”
He looked around his command and made a quick decision, jumping down from the sea-wall he began rapping out orders to his men. Leaving one machine to cover the inner harbour, the trebuchet’s crews sprang into action, levering their machines into new positions facing the Frankish ship. Other Varangians began to make additional reinforcements to the seaward defences, moving extra weapons and ammunition to positions along those palisades.
As he finished siting the last trebuchet, Trygg straightened up and gazed towards the Windstorm emplacements. A group of mounted knights had joined the forces around those machines. He scratched his beard thoughtfully, he could find good use for a band of cavalry should those treacherous snail-eaters aboard the “Hippocampe” decide to brave the fire from his trebuchets and try to come ashore. Although with those other ships nearby, he doubted if even the Franks would be so feeble-minded as to attempt such folly.
He dropped his hand to the hilt of his broad-bladed Viking sword and smiled. “But if only they would try.”

[On the Frankian ships]

With the wild Boar and the Morning Star ablaze, Captain Thoraux stood dumbstruck at the front of his ship, watching his men die, the remaining trying to douse the flames, but it was on no use. He growled… these Vikings might have overpowered the Frankian ships here within the harbour, but this was not the last world in this battle.

Getting onto the deck of the Wind Boar, Thoraux ran to his cabin, scribbling down orders for the captian of the Morning Star, Chevallier Brallac. Having finished, he ran back on deck, snatched the bow and an arrow from one of his archers. Hurriedly he wrapped the note he had written around the shaft of the arrow, leaned against the railing facing the Morning Star and shot the arrow over to the other Frank ship. He knew Brallac would understand the order. It may not win them this battle, but it would hinder these damn Vikings and English enormously.

Soon after the message from the Wild Boar was received, Brallac turned towards his men, many of them injured, more dead or missing in the churning waves of the harbour. “Mes amies! You have fought well, you have brought many wounds to the enemy, and suffer more the Vikings and English will. We may not win this battle, but we will make sure there will be hardship for these bastards. Turn the ship around, bring it in front of the harbour mouth. Then we will sink it, as will the Captain of the Wild Boar sink his ship, in the harbour mouth. God will help us, and protect us. You will jump ship after we’ve sunk the Morning Star,” There was an enormous bitterness in Brallac’s voice, a sadness like one feels when having to kill a loved one, “Try to make it to the south of Windstorm, there are kin there. Do not let yourself get captured. FIGHT if you are confronted, fight and if necessary die well! Alright… let’s do it!”

Both the Wild Boar and the Morning Star now turned around, ballista from the Vikings and now also from some newly arrived Spaniards raining down upon both ships. But the crews were well skilled, they managed to bring their vessels in front of the harbour mouth and than, hacking holes into the bow of the ships, sank both vessels, thus blocking the entrance for any ship wishing to leave or come in. Trade would be harder, if not impossible. If they couldn’t win this battle, they would win in the long run, hungering these bastards out!