For this game, I returned to Iceland and the saga of Finnbogi and Kolbein. In the first battle, both rising heroes promised the local gothi they could rid the land of a monstrous, brutal bear. In this both failed, but Finnbogi's cousin, Grettir, did severe one claw. Due to this, they suffered less while Kolbein was lampooned at the scorn pole and, with broken pride, he decided to flee Iceland. Egil, his brave younger cousin roused his step-brother, Hrolf, to oppise Finnbogi. Hrolf was a promising choice after killing a grown man while only 12 in a wrestling match.
With questions of honour unanswered, both warbands marched out. They met at the Ford of Loki's Tears - named so due to the sacred spring nearby. The victor would establish a vital step toward being acknowledged as the hero of the valley and the blessings of the spring's seer.
Egil decided to mass his forces to assault the left ford while Finnbogi split his troops evenly. Between them the stream flowed deep and quick, its icy temperature enough to chill a man to the bone.
Finnbogi pressed up, sending his cousin, Grettir, to the right.
Egil ordered Hrolf toward this ford with a small force of some of his best armed warriors. They were accompanied by two berserkers.
Atop the sacred pool shrine, the mad seer cackled and sprouted prophecies of red ruin and feasting for the crow, the wolf and the ravenous worm.
On the left, Egil rushed the ford with most of his men. Somewhat taken aback, Finnbogi halted at the edge, prepared to outlast this force allowing Grettir to overwhelm the smaller force.
Egil shouted for his forces to attack. He sent some lightly armoured men to wade through the swift stream and outflank his enemy. Finnbogi ordered his troops to lock shields.
Hrolf made it to the other ford just as Grettir's men were crossing. Two men swam the river despite the cold, showing their eagerness to engage with their foe. One, a berserk, shouted threats at his opposing foes.
Battle was joined with a loud clatter of weapons on shields. One of Grettir's troops was washed away. The berserkers clashed with blood thirsty screams and a whirl of steel. Both Grettir and Hrolf stayed behind their troops to bolster the line.
Two of Egil's men were washed away in the current. His men, enthused and confident in their numbers, battered the opposing shield wall. Spears lashed out and axes hewed at their foemen.
The stout mail of Hrolf's troops held strong against the repeated blows of their more numerous enemy.
Egil managed to push his opponents back and they splashed across the ford. The additional troops harried the edges of Finnbogi's men.
The plan of Finnbogi was working. Grettir forced the smaller force of Hrolf to retreat from the ford. Hrolf's men battled fiercely, losing fewer men and their berserk had triumphed in his fight against two similar enemies. His violent input would become a key factor soon.
Finnbogi was continually pushed back. Both lines thinned but Egil's men could afford the higher butcher's bill. Here and there, two warriors battled one with predictable results - the tide was turning.
Grettir and Hrolf now battled desperately. Any advantage of numbers was lost. Blood washed downstream staining the waters red. Again, the seer howled and cackled. The berserk's blade and axe bit deep - his visage besmirched in gore.
Many had fallen at the left ford. Finnbogi's troops were forced well back and Egil's men whooped and cheered confident of an impending victory. Both leaders had stained their swords in the blood of the enemy. Steam from still warm corpses mingled the vapour rising from the surface of the icy river, slowly heated by the sun.
Finnbogi's remaining men fell back desperately fending back blows with thoughts only of escape rather than trying to wound their foes. Finnbogi realised he could 'live to fight another day' and ordered a general retreat. Egil's raven banner fluttered in victory but the ground was strewn with many wounded, and some mortally stricken men. Egil had the bragging rights this day.
Grettir also decided to fall back. One brave warrior held the ford, sorely pressed by the rampaging berserk, while Grettir escaped. He would meet later with Finnbogi and raise more troops.
The tactics of Finnbogi seemed to be working, especially at the right ford. They pushed across the ford but could not fell the smaller amount of quality troops that Hrolf marshaled against them. Fate suddenly turned against Grettir and, in a few turns, his men fell like leaves. The berserker was a pure force of nature, felling 4-5 of his enemy. The high defence of Hrolf's picked men, and this praiseworthy berserk effort, turned the battle against Grettir and Finnbogi. On the left, both sides lost troops fairly evenly. Simply put, Egil had more men here to win the day. But the heroes on both sides were not wounded. On this day, they seemed content to be 'drawn among heartless hinds' and not risk more deadly battle with their rivals.
Thus far, neither Finnbogi or Egil could not claim the undisputed title of hero of the valley. Although this was a more decisive encounter, many had fallen on both sides. The rift between the groups now widen considerably with oaths of revenge being sworn in the aftermath. Many more would fall to sore harm and even dark death before this feud would be settled.
And there still remained the question of a certain violent bear ...
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