Viking Warriors Novels & Stories

The way Dedrick seemed so soft now, his hand rubbing small circles in her back and his eyes full of concern. "A long, long time ago, when heathens and Vikings began to raid, then to migrate to new lands, they would build what was called and Apex. This was a place of great spiritual importance, and there the keepers of tales and legends built homes and halls alongside gifted individuals, most called Volvas, some called Seers, though there were many names." He couldn't get over the way her eyes seemed to sparkle as she spoke, everyone listening in and even shifting forward some.

Some even think that I had been given the wrong name, that it is a disgrace I am named after the goddess Freya. They were planning a raid in another country. Years ago, some Vikings started raiding unfamiliar countries, and now they were going to do it again in a country they heard travelers call America. And as they would be gone a long time, I was to go with them, not to fight but to celebrate their victory by holding the wedding there. I wanted to fight and raid with them, but Leif wouldn’t let me. He said he didn’t want a wife with battle scars.

“That what it was called, when I was running around with the Vikings.” Azrael brought the dagger and laid it in Ava’s lap. “Vikings were the best at making weapons. I learned a lot about smithing from them, while I was under the watchful eye of one of the well-known weapons makers. He helped me making this dagger.” He shook his head. “After my first raid with them, he placed the runes on the blade.” “What about the handle?”

My home burned behind us, but my spirit refused to break. Three figures stood out among the crew, their presence commanding the very air around them. Jarl Ragnar Bloodaxe, the leader, was a giant of a man with braided blond hair, a beard woven with silver rings, and eyes the color of storm-tossed seas. His muscular frame, covered in furs and leather, bore the scars of countless battles. Beside him stood his brother, Thorsten the Stormcaller, leaner but no less imposing, with wild red hair and tattoos of ravens covering his arms—marks of his connection to the gods. And then there was young Bjorn Ironfist, the jarl’s closest shield-brother, with sharp features, dark hair, and a body honed like

Alpha responded. Just as the mind link disconnected a large bolt of lightning shot through the sky. Fuck that is ominous, I thought to myself. “Sound the battle horns now, I see them approaching in the distance. Let’s move,” I shouted to my warriors. The deep and spine-tingling sound of several of the witches’ Viking war horns sounded and we all took off running towards the enemy’s army. Those of our pack transitioned into their ferocious wolves, each of them large, of different fur colors, and claws of death.

There are at least ten werewolves in attendance, and my eyes widen as I take them in. At first glance, I can tell that over half of them are warriors, but I've never seen pack warriors like this before. Not even Zervos pack warriors measure up. They stand strong, each equipped in black soft armor with sheathed weapons strapped to either their backs or sides. As we approach, the warriors collectively incline their heads in a respectful bow towards us - though I know the gesture is meant for Dominicus - before looking forward again, their gazes fixed on some point in the distance.

"That was fun..." "Yeah...Do you care for some wine?" I asked and he nodded wordlessly.There was this weird silence between us as we sipped our wine, our eyes glued on the television screen.We were watching the last episode of Game of Thrones . "I prefer Vikings to Game of Thrones..." He commented. "Me too..." "So who is your favourite actor in Vikings?" "Ragnar Lothbrok and you?" "Ivar the boneless...." "Don't tell me you pity him because he is a cripple?"

I had heard that the Rus kingdoms had allied with Vikings, but listening to someone with first-hand knowledge of it piqued my interest. "They've been known to be extremely formidable in combat," I informed him. We didn't often have many run-ins with them in their human state since we were so far from the coast but as Strigoi...Vikings were among the most powerful. Their robust stature rivaled many Dhampirs and their abilities in battle carried over into their transformed state, only amplified by the cruelty and bloodlust Strigoi exuded. "It would be beneficial if we could demonstrate these maneuvers to the troops in anticipation of an attack. If we used their own moves against them, it would

This clearing, surrounded by towering trees, opened up like a hidden sanctuary within the dense embrace of the forest. The gnarled branches of these trees suddenly arched overhead, filtering the dying light of the day into soft, light, dappled patterns on the ground. The air was thick with scents of sweating bodies as that silence that once enveloped the clearing lasted only for a few thousandths of a second before a deafening roar erupted, tearing through the atmosphere as the sun settled its ambient glow on the assembled warriors, a deep undercurrent of ferocity palpable. The warriors were a sight to behold: bearded men, their hair and beards streaked red, standing shoulder to shoulder, lo

“Is it still breathing?” “What is it?” “Don’t touch it!” Perplexed at what she was hearing, Jade lifted her head. With a sudden burst of energy, she stood up quickly. “Oh, thank goodness! I’m not dead!” she exclaimed to the group of men riding on camels that encircled her. “What are you?” a man with a gruff voice said. Like most of the group, he was dressed in a tunic and had a turban wrapped around his head. A piece of cloth covered his mouth like a mask.