Ragnall had lived a long life, a life that allowed his dreams to be filled with countless memories both happy and sad. But either way, those dreams were soon cut short by the powerful looming blast of the village's warning horn.

Its deep below immediately sent Ragnall sprawling from his rest as he soon raced to put on his equipment and gather his weapons. With absolutely none of his usual caution, routine or weariness, the villager's guardian raced from the hall and towards the main gate, ignoring the calls and confusion of the other villagers as they rushed to fulfil their own wartime duties.

The sound of the horn once again bellowed through the air as Ragnall trod through the muddy village path, narrowly avoiding dropping his sword and shield as he did so. If the horn somehow hadn’t awoken all the villagers, the sound of his clinking armour, rustling sword and banging shield would have.

It was a disruptive loud noise that soon alerted the other watchmen to his presence as they stood perched on the village's gate, bows at the ready, arrows locked.

“Raiders, twenty of them,” the voice of Rich called from the gate as his body shook slightly in anticipation of what was surely to come.

“Make sure none breach the gate. I shall handle the rest,” Ragnall ordered as he marched up to the gate, and hastily unbarred it before stepping outside to meet the intruders.

Even from this distance, Ragnall recognised them easily enough, all of those from the previous day were all present including the shorter leader. However, given the numbers disparity, the man seemed a lot more confident and self-assured this time.

Still, the sight of the twenty axe-wielding raiders did little to dissuade Ragnall, especially not when they were within such short distance of his village.

“If you have come for more hospitality. Then I suggest you turn back,” Ragnall greeted as he lowered his shield slightly and maintained a firm tight grip on the hilt of his sword.

“You were so generous, so caring last time. How could I not return and how could I be so selfish as to refuse my men the same opportunity.” The leader's words earned a short chuckle from his men.

“I have put down more men than you will ever meet. Heed my advice and leave. We are no threat, we have no wealth, all the village desires is to be left in peace,” Ragnall answered as he closed the helm of his visor and slowly drew his sword.

“Ah, that’s where you're wrong. There is more happening here than you know and your decrepit little hovels are in the way. Now it is finally time to put you to the torch, twenty men will be more than enough, I'm sure.”

Every god's damm time.

With no more jests, barbs or threats to be made from the raiders, it was finally time for Ragnall to fulfil his oath, with the efficient movements of a well-trained soldier, Ragnall braced his feet, raised his shield and drew his sword.

“I have given enough warning; this village and its boundaries are under my protection. I have buried many tougher, greater, and braver men than you in these fields and I will gladly dig more holes.”

As Ragnall expected, his warning once again went unheeded. Avoiding such pointless conflict was always preferable but sometimes Ragnall knew blood needed to be spilt and as the first two raiders approached, he wouldn't hesitate in doing what needed to be done.

The two axemen were clearly confident in their martial prowess, on top of that it was twenty vs one and even with Ragnall’s armour the raiders clearly didn’t feel the need to all rush him.

Something Ragnall gladly capitalised on as he rushed forward, caught the man's axe with his shield and thrust his sword deep into his stomach. Before the man's surprised face could even realise what had happened, Ragnall slipped back and slashed his bloodied sword in a wide arc. The other challenger failed to even raise his axe, instead, his hands immediately rushed to his neck as they pathetically attempted to hold back the now free-flowing stems of blood.

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“Old bastard,” the leader snarled as he watched his two men slowly collapse to the floor. The confidence and malevolence that had been there was now little more than a stewing anger and given the rage that festered in the faces of his fellow raiders, it was obvious they had expected this village to crumble underneath them with no challenge.

And as the twang of arrows erupted from behind Ragnall, the raiders had no time to contemplate this, they now had only one choice. Rush them now or slowly be whittled down by arrows.

I am the veteran of a thousand battles, and this is the land I protect. I cannot be defeated here, and they shall all die for daring to threaten those that I guard.

With no hesitation, Ragnall rushed to meet the charging swarm. His shield rushed forward to protect his chest as he charged straight into the stomach of the largest raider, his hulking belly took the brunt of the shield's frontal spike and as Ragnall pulled it out of the man's stomach, his sword swung from his side, easily catching the raised hand of his next foe.

As the man instinctively rushed to pull his hand back, Ragnall’s blade found his chest. Before the dying man's weapons had even fallen to the ground, Ragnall had moved on, he deflected an incoming axe into the chest of a foe, parried a strike from a roaring raider and slit the throat of a foolish man who had decided to raise his weapon to high above his head.

Even as his weapons flew between his opponents, cutting them down as if they were children who had never even held up a weapon before, Ragnall’s shield was never idle, it kept his entire left side safe as it blocked any axe that dared to strike through it.

“Old cunt. In Odin's name just kill him.”

As the leader screamed orders at his men, Ragnall remained fixed in place, he was a whirlwind of cuts, blows and death. Every raider that moved within his circle was cut down and any that dared to flank his was struck with arrows from the watchers. With enemies only ever able to face his front, Ragnall was unbeatable and even now as twelve sliced bodies lay cold at his feet Ragnall didn't stop, he continued to hack and slice apart any that dared to approach.

This was his village and any that dared threaten it would receive no mercy.

“Gods dammit. Rafi, Gendin, Arre. Surround him,” the leader ordered as his bloodied men all took a position facing Ragnall, with laboured breathing they held their flimsy wooden shields high in the air, making sure no arrows would fell them as they held their position.

“Keep him away from me.” The leader ordered as the two shield bearers and one great axe wielder held their ground and did their best to buy time for their leader to hastily draw out a collection of small throwing axes from one of the dead men's cloaks.

With no choice, Ragnall charged forward, he could not allow the leader to dictate the battle, if he started throwing axes, Ragnall would be unable to turn, leaving his flanks vulnerable and his legs open to attack.

Showing no concern about charging into the braced men, Ragnall rushed forward and barrelled straight into the opposing shields. They held strong and after a few seconds of back and forth, Ragnall gave up on his attempt to overpower them and instead lowered his blade under their guard and pierced it deep into the closest stomach. With the first shield-bearer down Ragnall easily downed the other with a blow to the head before narrowly dodging a strike from the great axe wielder. There was enough raw power in the strike to send the axe carolling deep into the mud and its owner was unable to prevent Ragnall from severing his head from his neck.

With the path open Ragnall deflected the first throwing axe before thrusting his blood-soaked weapons through the leader's fur armour and deep into his unshielded chest.

But the man’s vindictiveness was not quite so easily slain, as Ragnall’s bloodied form pulled away, the dying man's arms rushed out, and grasped hard onto Ragnall’s wrists in a desperate attempt to topple him.

One sharp headbutt, the man crumpled back to the floor but soon enough the sound of an angered dying man’s charge alerted the guardian to the true peril. Before Ragnall could even begin to dodge, the axe struck him in the shoulder. Even his armour could do little to halt such a strike as it cut deep through his flesh and left a gaping hole just below his neck.

Ragnall’s blood had already begun to flow freely as the blow battered him into the ground and brought him sprawling to his knees. But before the attacker could capitalise, the sight of two arrowheads emerging through the gape of his neck soon sealed his fate.

I did warn them that I protect this land. Now and forever as my oath dictates.

With an annoyed strained cough, Ragnall reached out his gauntleted palms and gripped hard on the slippery bloodied axe. With a pained wince, he shimmied it out from its stuck position before tossing it aside.

That will be sore in the morning.

And as the axe was finally ripped out from his flesh, his blood finally began to flow back into his wound and his flesh slowly began to knit itself back together.

After a few soothing rubs over his neck, Ragnall turned to face the dying cough of the once so confident leader.

“You fought well. It was a worthy death and one I have delivered to countless warriors. If we had fought anywhere else, you would have had the honour of claiming my life. For that, I shall make this quick.” With his short eulogy over Ragnall slipped his sword into the man's throat and watched as the last vestiges of life slowly drained from him.