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It's a quick little story.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "I couldn't sleep and I've been playing a lot of Assassin's Cred Valhalla so I was in the mood to do a period piece. It's a quick little story.", "writing": "\nThe bell of the crier rang as the village was gathered. It was a cloudy day in our village and most of us were weary from our day of work. As the sky turned a deeper shade of gray people were coming out of their homes to hear the proclamation of the crier. He had already delivered an address today, so this unusual event was drawing in a crowd. A circle was forming around us. On one side of the circle was my family, we were six rats all huddled together on this dark day. Opposing us was the town sherif, a singular wolf of mighty build with blade bound to his side and a cold look of death on his face. The village crier stood in the middle and was pacing.\n\nThe town crier was yelling at the top of his voice as everyone came together. ``Hear ye, hear ye. Let it be known that on the fifth day of May, in the year of our Lord thirteen hundred and forty-nine, John of York did commit the crime of fraud by misrepresenting the value of livestock sold to Lord David Roberts, in the twenty-third year of the reign of our sovereign lord, King Edward the Third. Sherif Eric has decreed that his youngest kin was to be forfeited to him on behalf of Lord David Roberts and Lord David Roberts decreed this just. Let justice be done!'' \n\nShocked murmurs filled the air of those gathered around us. I miscounted the age of a cow I sold the lord of the village when I sold it to him and my arse of a neighbor corrected me after the deal was done. On top of the loss of my dear daughter, too young to be given a name, my reputation as a farmer was now being torn apart. My wife held my youngest child and only daughter close to her chest to give her a final meal as my sons clung to her legs and mine. I was about to say something of comfort but the sherif cut me off.\n\n``Bring out the girl, lest I hold you in contempt of judgment and take more from you'' he said with the voice that boomed like the wrath of God. The sherif was the sole Norse amongst our village and while his imposing stature and brutality with a sword had safeguarded the village it inspired fear in anyone considering a misdeed, and I ran afoul of him purely by mistake.\n\nTears stained the perfect white of my wife's fur as she handed my little girl off to me. As I made the slow march to the other side of the gathering of people our priest performed a grim chant from under his hooded robe as his cross was gripped close to his chest. I could hear prayers for my daughter from the village as I walked. \n\nI was left shaking in the presence of the black death that was Sherif Eric. With fur as black as night and muscles like the walls of a keep he stood at nearly twice my height when I knelt down before him. He kept facing dead ahead, but his eyes rolled downwards to gaze at me. Pagans speak of a great wolf who would devour the moon and I wondered if he was standing before me. I steeled myself mentally to maintain my dignity in this moment. I took one last look at the face my daughter swaddled in wool whom I would never see grow to a woman. All of the moments that could've been flashed before my eyes and they began to wet. I cleared my throat, and he snorted at me which chipped a large piece of my resolve away.\n\nI looked back and saw my wife tending to our children and then looked up at Eric. I held up my baby as an offering to him and he took her. Piercing white eyes inspected the child before discarding her wool wrappings into the mud. \n\nLike the feral wolves that stalked our forests his face was blank. Not even a snarl marred his muzzle as he sniffed her. Faster than I could see his maw yawn open and took the head and shoulders of my daughter into mouth. A chill ran over me, and I could sense that my wife was averting her gaze, unlike the village gathered here today.\n\nEric held my daughter with his hands and mouth as he tilted his head upwards. With low, sickening gulps audible only to the three of us he began to swallow her down. Inch by she was pulled towards the beast's stomach. Those sounds would forever haunt me for the rest of my days. My gaze didn't avert as I watched the naked white form of my baby girl descend down the black maw of the sherif. Her torso disappeared down his throat leaving only limp legs hanging on either side of his maw. These two were later slurped down as her feet passed his lips. My fixated eyes saw the tips of her toes pass down his throat as he brought his head level. I watched as the bulge in Eric neck travel down to his chest before disappearing. My daughter's weak struggles pushed at the walls of his stomach.\n\nEric closed his eyes, burped quietly into his hand, and muttered something in his Norse tongue. ``It is done. This man's due is paid'' he said in English before turning his back to me and walking out of the circle towards his house on the edge of the village. \n\nWith everything said and done people went home and the circle disbanded. I heard my family, and the priest come towards me. The robin in robes knelt down and rested a hand on my shoulder and my wife hugged me, crying into the crook of my neck. The children just stood in shock, not knowing how to respond to seeing their parents in grief.\n\n``She will be at peace and with Jesus soon. She is baptized in His name and will be in my prayers tonight, and likely in the prayers of the rest of the village tonight. The doors of the church are always open to you, all of you'' the priest said before turning leaving us. He chanted as he walked back towards the church.\n\nI said nothing. My wife said nothing. The remaining kids said nothing. The sky wept for my little girl as I gathered her wool blanket and rose from the mud. With the weight of grief, I returned to my home.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
The bell of the crier rang as the village was gathered. It was a cloudy day in our village and most of us were weary from our day of work. As the sky turned a deeper shade of gray people were coming out of their homes to hear the proclamation of the crier. He had already delivered an address today, so this unusual event was drawing in a crowd. A circle was forming around us. On one side of the circle was my family, we were six rats all huddled together on this dark day. Opposing us was the town sherif, a singular wolf of mighty build with blade bound to his side and a cold look of death on his face. The village crier stood in the middle and was pacing.

The town crier was yelling at the top of his voice as everyone came together. ``Hear ye, hear ye. Let it be known that on the fifth day of May, in the year of our Lord thirteen hundred and forty-nine, John of York did commit the crime of fraud by misrepresenting the value of livestock sold to Lord David Roberts, in the twenty-third year of the reign of our sovereign lord, King Edward the Third. Sherif Eric has decreed that his youngest kin was to be forfeited to him on behalf of Lord David Roberts and Lord David Roberts decreed this just. Let justice be done!''

Shocked murmurs filled the air of those gathered around us. I miscounted the age of a cow I sold the lord of the village when I sold it to him and my arse of a neighbor corrected me after the deal was done. On top of the loss of my dear daughter, too young to be given a name, my reputation as a farmer was now being torn apart. My wife held my youngest child and only daughter close to her chest to give her a final meal as my sons clung to her legs and mine. I was about to say something of comfort but the sherif cut me off.

``Bring out the girl, lest I hold you in contempt of judgment and take more from you'' he said with the voice that boomed like the wrath of God. The sherif was the sole Norse amongst our village and while his imposing stature and brutality with a sword had safeguarded the village it inspired fear in anyone considering a misdeed, and I ran afoul of him purely by mistake.

Tears stained the perfect white of my wife's fur as she handed my little girl off to me. As I made the slow march to the other side of the gathering of people our priest performed a grim chant from under his hooded robe as his cross was gripped close to his chest. I could hear prayers for my daughter from the village as I walked.

I was left shaking in the presence of the black death that was Sherif Eric. With fur as black as night and muscles like the walls of a keep he stood at nearly twice my height when I knelt down before him. He kept facing dead ahead, but his eyes rolled downwards to gaze at me. Pagans speak of a great wolf who would devour the moon and I wondered if he was standing before me. I steeled myself mentally to maintain my dignity in this moment. I took one last look at the face my daughter swaddled in wool whom I would never see grow to a woman. All of the moments that could've been flashed before my eyes and they began to wet. I cleared my throat, and he snorted at me which chipped a large piece of my resolve away.

I looked back and saw my wife tending to our children and then looked up at Eric. I held up my baby as an offering to him and he took her. Piercing white eyes inspected the child before discarding her wool wrappings into the mud.

Like the feral wolves that stalked our forests his face was blank. Not even a snarl marred his muzzle as he sniffed her. Faster than I could see his maw yawn open and took the head and shoulders of my daughter into mouth. A chill ran over me, and I could sense that my wife was averting her gaze, unlike the village gathered here today.

Eric held my daughter with his hands and mouth as he tilted his head upwards. With low, sickening gulps audible only to the three of us he began to swallow her down. Inch by she was pulled towards the beast's stomach. Those sounds would forever haunt me for the rest of my days. My gaze didn't avert as I watched the naked white form of my baby girl descend down the black maw of the sherif. Her torso disappeared down his throat leaving only limp legs hanging on either side of his maw. These two were later slurped down as her feet passed his lips. My fixated eyes saw the tips of her toes pass down his throat as he brought his head level. I watched as the bulge in Eric neck travel down to his chest before disappearing. My daughter's weak struggles pushed at the walls of his stomach.

Eric closed his eyes, burped quietly into his hand, and muttered something in his Norse tongue. ``It is done. This man's due is paid'' he said in English before turning his back to me and walking out of the circle towards his house on the edge of the village.

With everything said and done people went home and the circle disbanded. I heard my family, and the priest come towards me. The robin in robes knelt down and rested a hand on my shoulder and my wife hugged me, crying into the crook of my neck. The children just stood in shock, not knowing how to respond to seeing their parents in grief.

``She will be at peace and with Jesus soon. She is baptized in His name and will be in my prayers tonight, and likely in the prayers of the rest of the village tonight. The doors of the church are always open to you, all of you'' the priest said before turning leaving us. He chanted as he walked back towards the church.

I said nothing. My wife said nothing. The remaining kids said nothing. The sky wept for my little girl as I gathered her wool blanket and rose from the mud. With the weight of grief, I returned to my home.

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