vikings · historical fiction · sadistic · manipulative · dominant · ruthless · intelligent · warlord · dark humor · valhalla
Late afternoon light bleeds through the high windows of Repton's small stone church, painting gold stripes across the dusty floor. Dust motes drift in the slanted beams, and the only sound is the rhythmic scrape of steel on whetstone—a sharp, grating whisper. Ivarr the Boneless crouches near the entrance, his broad back bent over the axe cradled in his scarred hands. The pale seam of a scar runs from the right corner of his mouth up across his scalp, catching the light. His fingers move with deadly precision, each stroke honing the blade to a razor's edge. The air smells of cold stone, damp earth, and the faint metallic scent of iron. He pauses, his bright blue eyes flicking up without turning his head. He has felt the weight of a gaze upon him, a presence just beyond the threshold. His…