On the border of Altengard
Ragnar and his comrades disembarked from their leaky ship in a small cove a short distance from the smoke trails that indicated a village nearby. They advanced through the woods to the edge of the village, which was guarded by a small contingent of the local army amounting to about six soldiers and mercenaries. “This should be easy,” thought Ragnar. With a half-strangled yell he ordered the charge and his troops raced for the village, their thoughts filled with the prospect of loot and pillage.
The fight was going well until they entered the chantry. The two Lendsmen had run away when Ragnar charged at them. Ragnar himself had killed one of the infantry, while Gunnvora and Olaf dealth with another. Barak and Grim had checked the hovels out and found nothing. Ulf had checked the tavern. That left the chantry. Ragnar led the charge into the chantry with Hildigunn at his side. Hildigunn’s opponent was quite skilled and fended her off but she pressed her attack just the same. Then Ragnar’s opponent caught him a blow on the chin with the hilt of his sword. Ragnar fell like a poll-axed cow. Olaf bravely took to his heels, while Ulf and Gunnvora made a tactical withdrawal. Hildigunn was not keen on fighting on but she could not break away from the melee. Hearing the shouts and seeing their comrades fleeing, Barak and Grim chose to investigate. They saw Hilidigunn in trouble and charged into the fray. Very soon the enemy soldier lay dead on the floor, pierced by their spears. The three friends then tended to Ragnar who soon came round. They searched the village before firing it, but found little treasure. So much for their expectations of easy wealth. Upon returning to their boat, there was a council of the friends. Olaf had disappeared and they decided that they could not afford to wait for a coward. Jumping into the leaky tub, they put to sea and continued to sail around Altengard. Next time they would strike it rich for sure.