A report from the Orlmarthings who were there.
wxe
Waterday, Fertility Week, Earth Season 1617
It was the darkest night of Earth season. Everyone was merrily preparing for the Ernalda’s High Holy Day, the Great Goddess Day, when we heard the distant and odd screeching of pigs.
Wait. Was that a scream?
Someone shushed for quiet.
Tat.
Tat. Tat.
Tar. Tat. Tat.
Rat-tat-tat.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT-TAT-RAT-A-TAT-TAT.
The thundering, dreaded sound of a thousand, thousand woodpeckers pounding trees all throughout the Nymie Vale began to echo through the night. The woodpeckers were warning us of danger.
A distant horn blew. Another one. Then another.
The fyrdmen grabbed their spears and horns, then flung themselves into the night. The women gathered the children, armed themselves with spears, and took shelter in the longhouses.
The tula was under attack.
The attackers loomed up out of the darkness, barreling down the slopes of the ridges above us, screeching and oinking. Great tusked boars as large as horses, armored and ridden by hideous and deformed things: half-troll, half-men, armed with wicked barbed long spears, axes, and nets. Tuskers. They attacked from everywhere, at high speed on their monstrous battle-boars. They charged our fyrdmen, spearing and trampling many of them.
Our thanes took to their horses. Lightning began to flash and arc across the vale. Winds rose up at our backs to carry and support us. A great clap of thunder and lightning exploded between a group of charging Tuskers, blowing the riders to pieces and setting their boars on fire.
The Tuskers flung torches and bad spirts at our steads. Fires erupted from our cottages and barns. Our good spirits and ancestors leapt from the hearths to curse and drive off the intruders. The air buzzed and sparked with their dim and shadowy battles. The shrill screams of animals being speared and burned alive began to mix with the sound of pigs and bronze. We fought them, hand-to-hand, spear-to-spear, among the cottages and barns of the stead. Piku released the Monster from its chain and it horrified both tusker and man alike as it pummeled the attackers. It did not kill with its fists, but anything man or animal it struck had their bones turned to jelly, leaving its victims to squirm in helpless agony until we speared them.
From down below, a steady thunder of hoofbeats approached. The dark night erupted with bright light as a dozen spears come alive with fire and lightning. Clan horsemen, lead by gold-gleaming Elmal and Flame-haired Redalda, formed a line and chargeed, shattering the tusker’s line and driving them into the bloody, muddy ground.
The winds were terrible by then. Lighting repeatedly slashed the ground. Thunder shook your bones and knocked teeth from old mens’ mouths. The sky was thick with woodpeckers, screeching and calling out to us: Over here! Over here!. A flock of them descended on a group of tuskers, enveloping them until they vanished from sight, turned into maggots.
And then, it was over. The tuskers scattered into the night as quickly as they came. We turned to dousing out the fires, tending the wounded, and putting the fallen tuskers and their wounded boars to the spear. Woodpeckers swooped down to gleefully eat the large maggots that were once tuskers and boars. We counted our dead, slaughtered our wounded animals, and comforted the crying children.
We gave as good as we got at the Battle of Equinox Eve.