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UnOrthOdOx
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Hello....
Jun 2002
time: 22:28
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The Valhalla Herald
May 16, 1700 BC
The Dawn of a new Age!
Asgard Founded
By UnOrthOdOx
It was clear from the moment the meeting began that this would be no normal meeting of the tribes. Many of the leaders soon fell into a heated discussion. There had been widely whispered rumors. Tales of barbarians wandering the wilderness, tales of great nations springing up in the lands surrounding our beautiful valley. It was a disturbing time in the lands of Scandinavia.
Through the chaos one voice finally rang out over the crowd. As all eyes turned to find from where the voice came from, a silence soon hushed over the multitude that had gathered. There a man stood tall upon a tree stump to gaze over the crowd. “My fellow Vikings!!!” he shouted, “it is become apparent that the ways of our ancestors are no longer going to be adequate! We MUST band together, pool our resources, and work collectively as a unit. With our combined might, there is nothing that can stop us from claiming this land as our own.”
This was met with a unanimous response of approval and it was done, some debate sprang up over where exactly would be best to settle. Each of the tribes began to argue over which of their homes would be best suited as the capitol of our new and mighty nation, and it was decided upon that we would need a group of leaders to guide us, that we may sift through the chaos and form a concrete plan to move forward. A call rang out for leadership, for a strong, courageous, and intelligent man to rise above and guide us through these dark days. That man was MrWhereItsAt. To the wide approval of the gathered masses, MrWhereItsAt was soon appointed as our leader, the one who would organize the multitude of tribes into a single collective that would move and grow as one from this point on. Panag offered up some resistance and challenged MrWhereItsAt’s claim to the role of leader, but was unable to garner enough support in order to sway the population at large.
MrWhereItsAt soon decided that he would need council in order for him to run an entire nation, as was now forming, and he decreed there should be positions to help him and he set about to find an assistant. WhiteBandit and GhengisFarb both offered their services to MrWhereItsAt, and both were brought before the people. It did not take long, however, and GhengisFarb was forced to withdraw from the election. Many questioned the circumstances of the move, and some claimed it came from a direct threat from MrWhereItsAt himself. Though no evidence was found, several of the investigators are still missing.
A Supreme Military Commander was needed to guide our glorious armies to victory over anyone who would dare to challenge our authority as the supreme leaders of the land. UberKrux and mrmitchell were chosen from among the populace, widely known for their prowess in battle, they were put before the people. UberKrux soon gained enough support to be named as the first SMC, but there were wide rumors that this was only because of a secret campaign promise that he would offer free mead to those under his command, and those who would offer their support for him.
MrWhereItsAt chose to seek out a Foreign Affairs Minister in order to help him deal with the other nations we would be coming into contact with should the rumors prove to be true. It was widely known that he had little patience for such menial tasks, and it was seen as proof of his wisdom that he would delegate such as need. Kloreep and GeneralTacticus soon launched into a debate on how it would best benefit the nation to deal with these alleged nations, but in the end it was GeneralTacticus that won over the hearts of the people and was appointed to serve as FAM.
Next MrWhereItsAt decreed that there was need for a Minister to oversee the production and welfare of the people and the cities. A Domestic Minister. GodKing, E_T and UnOrthOdOx all stepped up to meet this request, and they were soon too busy praising each others ability to enter into much of a debate. It seemed that each one would almost rather have the others as minister, each promising to help out the other should they be elected. UnOrthOdOx was eventually chosen by the people who had gathered, though most were more interested in making sure he would be able to record down the daily events, an oddity that he had become known for.
With assistants in place, MrWhereItsAt wasted no time in ordering a plan to be laid out. As ordered, it was done, and the decision was made to settle along the river, our home, our nation, our united tribes would harness the power of the land to build a legacy that would stand the test of time. Asgard!
- UnOrthOdOx
The Battle of Iznik
A First-Hand View
By Historik Battleaxe
IZNIK, Tuesday. Historik Battleaxe, a famous berserker from Trondheim and respected member of the walrus hunting community, was present this morning at five o’clock as waves of Viking assault troops swarmed onto the battlefield that surrounded the small Ottoman border town of Iznik, which was ceded along with forty tonnes of gold to Scandinavia this afternoon at the peace conference that was held between Sultan Osman and the deity Odin.
Mr. Battleaxe wrote:
Well, you see, I was actually out hunting some walruses the other day with my trusty war axe Grungnager Trollsmiter. My son, Historik Jr., ran up carrying a very large letter (or rather, piece of leather with some words scribbled on it in crayon) that was from the local lagman.
The Lagman had given me command of a company of warriors, which was in a unit led by my brother-in-law Thag Jacobssen. Thag is a great lad, really. He’s very enthusiastic about what he does. Sharpens his battleaxe daily, provides donuts and mead for the regiment, very good-natured. But he’s also insane. He eats flugsvamp for breakfast, and he thinks he’s a werewolf inhabited by Odin. Luckily, that makes him an excellent berserk.
Anyway, I was given this command and told to march immediately on the Ottoman city of Iznik, which was held by a bunch of spearmen who were all evil madmen. As it is, we were sent to follow a group of troops that was composed of two bands of archers, a spear regiment, and our berserk brigade. We marched up country for several weeks to meet the Ottoman invaders. We’d witnessed the slaughters of Ottoman attackers at Trondheim, and we were prepared to make the Ottomans pay for every inch of Viking soil that they polluted. When we crossed into Iznik, we knew that we would either win or go to Valhalla.
It was just outside Iznik that we saw the town below us. It wasn’t anything really, but was it was the lair of the baddies. If we were to have found Fenris or the Asgard Serpent or Loki down there, I wouldn’t have been surprised, for the evil stench of the Ottomans rose like a vapor from that vile place.
We arrived late in action, after the battle had begun. I could hear the ominous noise of spears being slammed down hard against the shields, and the chanting that arose from our spearmen on the hills. Looking down into the misty plain, I could just make out the fight. The Ottomans were coming on again, resplendent in their baggy clothing. Our spearman hammered down upon their shields, shouting in rhythmic tones “Ut, Ut, Ut…”The day seemed to be going well at this point. Swirling clouds of mist formed around the base of the hill. It was hard to see anything that wasn’t but feet away. Soon, it became clear that we weren’t winning the battle.
Every now and then a bloodied archer would limp back from out of the mist and to the rear. We couldn’t tell what had happened yet, but we knew it wasn’t good. The janissaries were still advancing; we could hear the noises of their phalanx approaching from the town. The second band of archers had apparently been caught in the fog. When the Ottomans broke through, none could escape.
Suddenly, the General rode to us. Clutching many bloody wounds with his hand, he shouted at our commander, who was polishing his battleaxe and working himself up into berserk frenzies. “Up men, and to your posts! Remember today that you are from good old Trondheim! Kill those rotters good! Hahahaha!” He then rode away back to the front, brandishing his axe, and grunting enthusiastically.
At this point, I hurled my battleaxe into the air, and ran forward, before stopping at the crest of the hill to offer the blackguards a good moon. The men all stopped for the same reason. The Ottomans were suddenly very amused, which made me angry. Chanting the Saga of Skrigryll Hairyguy, I roared a thunderous roar that resonated through the valley.
As we advanced, I realized that we were stepping over the field on which the archers had been slaughtered. Blood lay in pools in the trampled down grass. Many of the dead men were ours, their throats cut wide open, their faces frozen in ghastly grimaces. I kissed my small charm of Thor’s hammer, and prepared for Valhalla.
The Ottomans charged forward. I couldn’t see Thag any longer, but I could hear the cutting and the swishing of his axe in the distance. I swung Grungnager into the nearest Turk, smacking his teeth, removing a bit of his head. Then, I whipped it out, and brought it into his companion’s chest.
Dropping them, I looked behind me, and saw my men running forward into the Turks. A Turkish officer suddenly bounded forward on horseback. He said something rather embarrassing in poor Viking. He raised his mace, and I prepared to say “Howdy” to Odin.
But I didn’t. Instead, I chopped the horse’s leg off with a swing of my trusty battleaxe. As the Turk tumbled off, I put the axe into his side. Now on the soggy grass, he looked up at me with hatred, and I looked down and said something nasty, for which I then apologized with my axe. His head popped off in a jiffy, blood shot up like a fountain from where the neck had been. In danger of getting my shirt ruined, I hurried on.
I was amazed at the lack of stamina that the Ottomans had, and after felling about twenty men, I realized that we’d killed everyone except for the last little defensive line in the town. In retrospect, I suppose it was a miraculous victory. Hurling ourselves on the spearmen with only stone axes seems a bit, well, odd, but it worked, for which Odin should probably be praised. I could feel Thor beside me all the way.
A few hours later, the troops in Iznik surrendered the town, and the war was over. The miracle victory of Iznik will always remain as the greatest day in history for Viking men. It was here that our military was born, and it was here that we proved our worth. It was here, truly, that the Vikings were made.
- History Guy
Last edited by UnOrthOdOx on 17-05-2003 at 03:55
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UnOrthOdOx
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Hello....
Jun 2002
time: 22:28
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History of the Vikings
As seen from the times of GK
Part 1
Part 2 to follow in the next installment of…
The Viking Herald
I was just sitting out in the fields, watching my sheep. Lambing time was approaching, and that always meant late nights dealing with them. Easther, the goddess of spring, demands her lamb dinner, and I intend on providing her clerics with a good selection this year. Perhaps that will help if I decide to try and join the government again. UnOrthOdOx sure womped my arse in the election. Got twenty votes to my eleven. I only edged out E_T by one vote.
The runner was a cute girl. Not as cute as some of my sheep mind you, but cute none the less. Strawberry pink hair down to her waist. Long legs. Freckles on her nose. She had a couple of large white jugs. Knowing Unortho, it was excellent mead he was sending me. (What, you thought I meant her… you perverts, she is only 16 years old). She will undoubtedly break more than one heart in her day. And with how she is carrying herself, I would not be surprised if it was with that dagger on her belt.
As we sat watching the sheep, I read the letter from Unortho. Yes, it is some good mead. He knows my weakness, all right. The girl and I drank quite a bit of that mead out there, making many a good sheep joke. Why does an Ottoman like sheep more than women…. Because they have less hair, of course. What does a sheep and MWIA… well, you get the picture.
Unortho had a problem. He had to leave town. It appears that an Uncle of his was in the way of some Ottoman Visors who were out looking at ways to pickle goat cheese. Why anybody would want to pickle goat cheese was beyond me, and apparently beyond his Uncle also, for it appears the Ottoman Visors hit him over the head with a rock for asking such a question. He was not expected to survive a forth night, and Unortho must of course attend to family before his duties in the government. He was asking me to take over as a substitute for him in the Ministry of Domestic Issues until he could return. He expected only to be gone for a short while.
Great. Just before lambing time. Well, Unortho had of course planned for everything. The cute runner girl also knew how to watch sheep, and was more than willing to watch the flock for a percentage of the lambing. How could I refuse Unortho. We had learned to chip flint into arrow heads together. He showed me how to properly throw a sheep. I had showed him how to make a canoe. We had grown up as best friends. How could I say no to such a request? Of course I would go to Asgard and look after his interests there while he was away.
Asgard was in turmoil. Tax season. Everybody was moving their furniture from one house to another so as to try and avoid the tax men. Those tax collectors loved to just count the number of chairs, couches and beds, and then assigning a number of people to the household and therefore the tax amount to be paid. Whoever thought of doing things that way should be hung! They must have been a Loki follower, for sure. We have just way to many people crowded into such a small place. Over 30 thousand is what is being estimated.
I set up a meeting with MWIA. By Odin’s Wald, we need to get rid of this stinking mass. Look at them. All they do is sit around eating and smelling up the place. Most of these surfs don’t even own a decent chamber pot. Just dropping wherever they are at and doing their business. You cannot even drink from the river any more after a good rain. We decided to ship a large number of people off. They will be moved north to found a settlement by the waterfall where the Kattegat and Skagerrak rivers meet. It will take a while to build all the canoes and wagons, but it will be worth it to get rid of all these extra people. Who knows, perhaps they will do something useful like become a training camp for the warriors.
Just as MWIA and I were finishing out the details; number of prostitutes needed, number of mead barrels per person, so on and so forth, in comes GeneralTacticus. I never envied GT his job. He has to go out and deal with all those heathens. Trading 50 jugs of our fine mead for 300 lumps of bronze, what a pain. No thank you. Not for me. He seams to get a kick out of it though. “GK, what are you doing here?” he booms out. Being 7’6” tall, and at almost 400 pounds of muscle, almost anything GT does is booming. It is no wonder that he makes such an excellent trader. Nobody would be silly enough to cheat a half ettin. MWIA and I explain the plan, and GT gives his whole hearted approval. “Bout time we got rid of that riff raff. Hey, I just got word of something that may be of some assistance in this relocation. The Ottomans want to get rid of some of their people also. They are willing to sell them to us as slaves, tools included. Any interest?”
This changes everything now, doesn’t it. It cost us most of out treasury, but I think in the long run it will be a major benefit to our road building program. It does throw off the master plan. Donegeal worked hard and long on these plans. Now we will be able to do the work in half the amount of time we had estimated. Most excellent.
It took almost a month, but the slaves arrived as promised from the slimy Ottoman traders. How they made the trek in such a short time, arriving in such good condition, I hope I will never know. Using slave labor is one thing. You know you can treat them as human beings, and at some point in the future you know that they may be granted their freedom. Yet slave trading leaves a distasteful flavor in my mouth. Kinda like some old bad mead. In honor of the slaves arriving in such good health, we took three of the Ottoman traders and hung them in Odin’s name. Everybody knows that Odin is god of the Gallows, and in this particular case, even Thor favored us by having the sacrifice hit by lightning as they hung there. It was truly a sight to behold.
Almost the instant Thor showed us his favor, UBerKruX, Battle Master of the Valkerie High Guard came running up to the temple. He was covered in blood, mud and sweat. Apparently, he must have bathed recently. He was winded, which must have been a first. Even GT with his half ettin ancestry couldn’t beet UberKruX in a one on one contest. Of course, everybody knew that Uber’s grandfather was a dwarf. And those short sturdy folk never seam to get tired.
“Attention. I need everybody’s attention NOW” shouted Uber. He didn’t need to shout. His mere presents commands the attention of most mortals around him. “The Slimy, Scum Sucking, Ottoman, Slave Trading, Soap Repelling….” At this point the foam coming from his mouth made all the words he was saying muffled, so that we mortals actually had a hard time hearing him. Must have been a first. He was truly furious. “… sending eight battalions of their wimpy armed solders against us. US. Can you believe it? They actually have the gall to think they can defeat us. Pillage our women and rape our land. They are five days away. Our brave explorers Thor’s Servants spotted them as they stopped to molest a cow….” At this point the crowd burst out into an uproar.
“We are doomed!” “What shall we do?” “Mommy, my poor mommy!” All this and more were shouted by the crowd. Young Aro was sitting in a corner crying. Kloreep and Octavian X were plotting with some strangers; probably they didn’t realize that our treasury was now empty and that there was nothing left to steal. Only History Guy seemed to be keeping his head. He was sitting there, quietly sipping his mead, watching the Ottoman Traders swinging on the Gallows as the crows were landing to help themselves to their eyes.
Both MWIA and I went over to him. “What an opportunity we have. Those carts you were building for the migration, we can convert them easily enough. All those Bronze tools, we can re-forge them into spears and armor. They will have to cross the river. That will be the time.” And thus a plan was born.
UberKruX had obviously overheard. He started working on the preparations. I mobilized all of the street sweepers, dung collectors, and other Domestic Ministry Personnel, forming them into the mighty weapon we needed. UberKruX had his trusted advisor, Aggie work with the troops night after night (well, we couldn’t let the dung build up during the day now, could we?) Finally, the day arrived. It was magnificent.
The Ottomans were even more pathetic than any of us could have hoped for. Even Thag, that drunken cousin of History Guy that is always hanging out at the Mead Bars wasn’t intimidated. I swear I saw him standing on top of Panag’s Whore House and Pancake Emporium urinating on top of them as they tried to swim across the river. Nuclear Winter was mooning them, and singing those little ditties we all grew up with. You know, “Patty Cake, Patty Cake”, “Little Tea Pot”, “10 Little Puppies in a Pie” all the good ole favorites. It was truly a glorious time. Alas, it couldn’t last. Eventually, enough Ottomans had died that the others were starting to run away.
UberKruX was furious. He wanted more blood. He reveled in it. He was preparing to march after them alone if need be. MWIA understood his temperament, and want over and talked with him. I wish I could have heard what was said. All I know is that they both had that grin on their faces for the next week.
We still had too many people. I decided that it would be best to move them as we had planned. While the Ottomans were out there begging their Janissaries to come back and attack, I had the craftsmen working on the wagons and other supplies. Soon, all that riff raff was shipped out to the north, where they founded the village of Trondheim.
With all that extra space I needed a plan for what to do. Undoubtedly UnOrthOdOx would have known exactly what to do. I, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue. So I went to the bar. I drank a lot of mead, and when MWIA wasn’t looking, I used government funds to buy rounds for the house. It was great. Everybody wanted to be my friend.
Eventually, after dealing with the amazing hangover I had developed, I remembered what it was that most people felt we should us the empty apace for. Construction started immediately on a new training ground for our troops. Needing to locate the place properly, I recalled the time Ghengis Farb had made fun of me as a wee little one. Well, his longhouse was perfectly suited for our purpose, so I choose to confiscate it. All the materials he had stored within from his travels made excellent targets.
Just as the final touches on the barracks were complete, UberKruX barged into Unortho’s office, with MWIA and WhiteBandit behind him. “Where are my troops?!?” Troops? I never received a request for troops. Let’s get going, what kind of troops would you like? UberKruX went off. He described something he called a Tark or Nunk or something. He rambled on and on. MWIA and WB were looking as confused as I felt. Of course, none of us wanted to say anything. UberKruX in a foul mood is often a death warrant for anybody near him. We just let him ramble on and on. Eventually, he said “So, sounds good right?” I just answered “How about we just train some of the hunters with their bows and arrows to follow your orders? Much simpler and faster.”
UberKruX liked the faster part. I sent a runner up to the refugee camp and had them send out their hunters as well. Soon they were marching on the evil Ottomans.
- GodKing
Letters to the Editor:
What's this email crud? I thought it was supposed to be delivered by Valkeries.............
- GhengisFarb
Dear GF
I believe there has been a slight misunderstanding. If you will recall, it was the BerserkIr that promised valkeries, I refer you to the naming contest. However, that does not mean that we are going to discredit the...opportunities...that a valkereye can bring to our business. Fact is, though, that all had to be forfeited to the military at the time of this issue due to the celebration of Thag in Warriors Luck. We thank you and value your input, please continue to help us improve our paper!
-UnOrthOdOx
Last edited by UnOrthOdOx on 18-05-2003 at 00:09
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Nuclear Winter
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Oww..... can someone please lend me some gold to buy this r*ckten niispäpêr? I think I´ve lost ´em all inside the tavern.... just don´t remember... awww wait... I´ll just go and buly some Turks...
10 fat turkeys sleeping in tha sun... 10 fat turkeys sleeping in tha sun... tehn along came an archer... looking for sum fun
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17-05-2003 03:40
, this is good 
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