creative writing 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑦 𝑆𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑆𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠

[cruel]

Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ Tᴏ

𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑦 𝑆𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑆𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠

 

 

 A Note From The Author 

Greetings, 

Here you will find various samples, starters, short stories, smutty scenes, and perhaps even a sadistic sonnet or shitty song or two. I tend to write raunchy, random shit, so here will be the place I plan to show it off. 

These materials will contain content not suitable for all audiences that include but are not limited to detailed depictions of rape, lolicon, violence, drug use, torture, heavy bondage, and gore. I will do my best to use trigger warnings and tags either at the story's beginning or within the table of contents. Images in this section may not be safe for work, though I will try to hide them in a spoiler tag to minimize lag, mobile data, etc. 

Though I do love getting reactions, to help keep my thread nice and tidy, I request that all comments, suggestions, and questions – if any – please be redirected to my inbox and not here. 

Thank you for reading.

C.

 

Edited October 30, 2022 by cruel

[cruel]

/ . . . . . . . . . . : [ 01. s.t.a.r.t.e.r

 

 Out among the crystal sea, a mighty murk fumed over the atoll surrounding the island kingdom. 

    "Hah-roh-hü!" The cadence of cruel chants clattered forth from the coal-crested clouds. And with it came the sounds of war, beating the drums of a battalion barging through the break of black mist. Among this harrowing sound, their horns blew loud, amplified by the rocky acoustics of the sea stone. It started faint, growing loud enough to rumble throughout the entire empire.

    The castle was deemed impenetrable by its geological location, with navy vessels unable to puncture through the rough rapids of the lagoon's archipelago without collision. Many of the surrounding empires had experienced problems with pillaging nords who had set sail from the north to plunder and pillage, but captains or chieftains wouldn't dare disturb their wrathful waters. That was until now, as thousands of eyes cast out from the cliff's coast to watch the warlord earn his name Bjarke the Bold.

    At the bridge of a Viking war vessel, Jarl Bjarke stood like the figurehead of a bear. He was broad, complimenting the black fur that covered him from the ice-cold waves splashing the sides of the wooden ship. His men all stayed squatted, rowing blindly and battling the blusterous tides. A fleet patrolled either side, sailing in a spear-shaped formation.

    "Line up! Move, move, move!" A general shouted, the royal guard mounting the stone wall along the jagged cliffside. His legion of men readied, gathering in position. All of them drew back their longbow, each archer with a scout ready to ignite the tips of their weapons. "Steady your bows!"

    "Prepare the shields!" The cruel chieftain commanded, roaring the words both left of the portboard and right starboard. The long wooden oars of the vessel came out of the crest in unison, folding into the ship as the raiders readied the shields hung along the sides. Out of the two fleets, each vessel had a war officer known as Sjõkapten, all repeating the command of their Jarl as they unfurled their sails.

    "Fire!" Called the Kingdom's commander.

    Arrows clotted the dawning bruised skies, darkening the daring beneath the soot of their shadows. Their wooden rain would be their only defense as the kingdom watched the intruders lift their shields to form a barrier as bolts crashed around them like lightning. The losses were minimal, keeping shelter from the strong storm. Out of the fleet, only one man stood defiantly against the onslaught of arrows, those piercing blue hues glowing closer.

    "Again!" The general guided. "Fire!"

    Through the lens of a scope, those who dared would see Bjarke hadn't even flinched from the whistle of one projectile traveling past his shoulder to stump into a mound of upright shields.

The man leading them was menacing, his body as broad as a bear yet more defined than a Greek statue. A long scar was carved on his left eye and trailed the corner of his weatherbeaten lips. Though he was brunette, it was fair colored hair the Vikings found favorable, using strong lye soap to bleach the black down to its roots and shaping it into a braid that ran the top and back of his crown. Large fingers combed the sea salt staining his bristled black mustache, shaping a sinister grin as his cruel countenance stared into the glint of a telescope.

    Their warships grew closer, encroaching the coast as another volley of arrows met them among the seaboard. Out of the twenty ships, only two managed to crash against the rocky archipelago. Another four would leave their fates to Odin as the inferno of the arrows started to sink their ships. Men were in flames, jumping over to distinguish the fire. The oil burned across the crest, causing the shoreline to glow a radiant red. One by one, the ships docked against the sandy coast.

    "Closer to the cliffs!" Jarl Bjarke boomed. He leaped from the front of the ship, tree stumps rooting hard into the wet sand. One hand came behind him, locking the figurehead to guide the vessel closer to the cliffs to prevent the arrows from marooning them among foreign lands.

    They had successfully breached the bay. All in the kingdom could do little more than accept that just below them, merciless men were preparing camp. It wasn't like the Vikings were known to do anything more than wage war and pillage. They would rape and tediously torture anything left standing in their wake. Women, children, none would be spared in their sadism. Men would be mangled, their livestock mutilated. What wouldn't burn to the ground would become reclaimed by mother nature, nothing more than the ruins of another Earth's eroded empire. 

Time, now, was all the citizens had to prepare themselves as Bjarke began to rally the rest of his men for mayhem. May Zeus have mercy on their pagan souls... 

ᛖᚾᛞ