Marauders Crossing the Sea

On the northwestern coast of Ionia, forty to fifty Viking Raiders from the eastern ice ocean of Freljord set foot on this land.

Back in Freljord, they were already professional bandits.

Every summer, when the temperature in Freljord wasn't yet unbearably low, they would sail their long ships, adorned with terrifying totems, along the northwestern coast of Freljord, searching for suitable villages and tribes.

Once they found a suitable target, they would lie in wait for the blizzard to appear—in a blizzard, no one could escape.

They would descend upon the chosen village along with the blizzard.

House by house, they would plunder all the food and property inside. Sometimes, they would also rape the women of the household.

Then, they would kill everyone.

Only by doing so could they ensure no leaks, preventing other villages from getting the news.

They wouldn't raid just one village at a time.

When winter arrived in Freljord, where blizzards rarely stopped, they would end their year of plundering.

In the last village they plundered that year, they would spend the entire winter comfortably using the original owners' houses and firewood.

But this year was somewhat unusual.

The three largest powers in Freljord: Avarosa, Winter's Claw, and Frostguard, had all begun to expand and were intensifying their protection of their own tribes.

This resulted in meager harvests for them throughout the year, only managing to plunder a few scattered small tribes.

Just then, they heard about Noxus's invasion of Ionia, and about Ionia being a place that was not only warm and prosperous but also peaceful.

Compared to Ionia, Freljord's harsh environment had forged a martial spirit in everyone, let alone this group who could rob villages with fierce folk.

So, upon hearing this news, the leader of these Viking Raiders was like an ice wolf that had caught the scent of blood.

Without a second thought, he decided to cross the ocean and get a taste of the rich oil from this great piece of fat, Ionia.

"Boss, we've finally arrived. The brothers are going crazy on the ship. Eating, drinking, shitting, sleeping, all in this tiny place, and no women," one of the lackeys said.

The leader was a bald middle-aged man, his bald head covered in blue totem tattoos.

Hearing his subordinate's complaint, he said impatiently, "What can we do about it? This year, Avarosa, Winter's Claw, and Frostguard have annexed all the other tribes. If we don't run this far, what other way is there to live?"

"That's true. Both Avarosa and Winter's Claw have produced a powerful Warmother①, not to mention Frostguard. I heard that large numbers of Trolls were seen near Frostguard Citadel②!" another pirate chimed in.

The leader rubbed his bald head. Trolls? Just thinking about those giant humanoid creatures, over five meters tall, with ugly heads and sturdy limbs, made him shudder.

Coming to Ionia was indeed a wise choice.

Big things were happening in Freljord, and it would be difficult for pirates like them to have good days ahead.

He surveyed his surroundings, secretly rejoicing at his wise decision.

This warm continent would surely be easier to plunder than Freljord. It was a worthy endeavor for their long voyage across the ocean; had they arrived a few days later, the entire ship's crew would have resorted to cannibalism.

The bald leader commanded all the pirates to drag their ships ashore and conceal them within the forest.

Afterward, without needing the leader's orders, every pirate instinctively donned their leather armor, gripping a small round shield in one hand and an axe or sword in the other.

Simultaneously, a sinister grin spread across their lips.

The bald leader chuckled, "I heard the people here are fond of peace."

"Peace, ahahaha!"

The rest of the pirates erupted in laughter.

"I just hope the women here have soft skin, unlike those weathered by the blizzards of Freljord," a pirate chimed in with lewd remarks, their laughter growing more unrestrained.

"Then enough talk. We brothers have been cooped up on the ship for too long. Let's get this done. Shut your damn mouths and don't startle the lambs."

With a wave of the bald leader's hand, the group fell silent.

They formed a neat line and marched into the forest in an orderly fashion, heading inland.

They were professional raiders, their actions as strict as military orders—almost comparable to a regular army.

"Boss, this one will do."

The pirates lay hidden in the jungle on the mountain, gazing down at a village below and asking their leader.

Leader: "That's the one. Send a few men to scout."

Several pirates resembling scouts quietly left the forest.

They investigated the perimeter of the village and returned shortly.

"Boss, the village has only two exits, one to the south and one to the north. The villagers look weak, like little lambs."

The bald leader frowned, contemplating. "We'll strike after dark. Keep an eye on these two exits. Brothers, be quick and efficient. Leave no one alive. We won't bother with the women this time; kill everyone directly. There are no blizzards here. If word gets out, it'll be troublesome later."

Upon hearing this, the pirates began to rest in shifts, awaiting the cover of night...

Around three or four in the morning, when the villagers were fast asleep, the Viking Raiders crept in.

A one-sided slaughter commenced under the cloak of night.

① Warmother: Freljord is a matriarchal society. The leaders of various tribes are women, referred to as the Warmothers of their tribes.

② Frostguard Citadel: One of the three major powers in Freljord, the stronghold of the Frostguard tribe.