"My rule is: If you meet the weakest vessel, attack. If it is a vessel equal to yours, attack. And if it is stronger than yours, also attack." - Stepan O. Makarov, Russian Admiral

The Norse Gaels

Starting Roster

Prologue

Kneeling before a plain stone altar, hands clasped together, eyes tightly closed, Leif prayed once again. Though there was no sound, his lips mouthed the words of his devotion and he knew the Lord was listening. A few feet behind him, head bowed low, his dutiful companion Brother Thomas, a man closer to God than many, mirrored his pose. The austere simplicity of the old chapel, its ancient stone solid against the morning mist, strengthened their ritual. The saint who had built this sanctuary on the old hill overlooking the sea had chosen wisely. Here, God was close by.

Outside, becoming restless, the movement of one of the horses was threatening to break the silence. It had been a long and hard journey to get here so early in the morning. Two days earlier, a stranger from the Northlands had arrived at Leif's castle, bringing word of his oathsworn, Gunnblasdt, the Godi of Iceland. A call for them to join forces to raid and plunder enemy lands, perhaps even to conquer them together. Timely, too, for it was said that the armies of other lands were also on the move, to raid and conquer. And so, with Brother Thomas as always at his side, he had come to this most holy place to pray, leaving orders for his men to make the necessary preparations for the battles to come. Soon, his blood brother would be here and together they would go to war.

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