Author's note: The following takes place during the Northern Crusades.
Massive columns of smoke obfuscated the sky, further darkening an already gloomy afternoon. The fires roared relentlessly, engulfing those who were unable to escape in flames. Those who managed to escape the fire's embrace faced an equally gruesome fate—death by the sword of a Christian. For it is written, "God so loathed the world, he sent his one and only Son, for whosoever believeth not in him shall perish and forfeit their life."
A family was sentenced to death that day, a grief-stricken father of two and a mother whose sadness in light of the events to come was greater than the sorrows of the moon. Nothing could have prepared her for the events that would take place in the following hours.
It began with the man who had called himself the father of two children for all those years. The executioner looked upon him with contempt, as he was nothing more than a wicked pagan who refused to worship Christ as the world’s Lord and Savior. He knew his Holy Book commanded him to "purge the evil from among them," and that he was doing God a great service. He readied the blade and shouted "In Jesus' Name!" as it fell, severing the heathen’s head and spilling innocent blood as he did so.
The head, oh how it rolled! The face it bore was one of utmost bereavement, one of agony and loss. The man whom it had belonged to did not deserve this. But why should he be spared? For it is written, "He is the minister of God, an avenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil." Next, the children were brought to the chopping block. What greater show than for a mother to witness the death of her own two children before her very eyes?
The first to go was the fair maiden, beautiful as bright Lucifer before his fall. But first she must have her virginity taken away, for it would be a pity to execute such a gorgeous girl without having first felt the voluptuous embrace of her flesh. Thrust after thrust, pound after pound, her screams echoed unto the heavens. But alas, the gods heard not her plea, for those who gave them power lie dead in the face of the Christian expansion. As the old hymnal goes, "How indiscreet the sound that damned a wretch like she."
The girl lay sprawled across the chopping block, sweating and bleeding heavily. Her bare breasts were exposed to the Christian pigs. Surely, she could not let them cast their eyes upon what belonged to Frīg? The girl brought herself to her feet and covered herself with her arms. She then spat in the face of her rapist. Without a moment's thought, the Christian scum withdrew his sword and plunged it deep into her chest cavity, twisting it most viciously before spitting back in retort. He then tore it from her breast and beheaded her on the spot with a mighty cleave, causing the lifeless body to fall to its knees as blood spurted from the stump of its neck. The brother of the girl who was once full of life bellowed despairingly, cursing the name of he who declared himself their Savior, he who eats all the yield of the festive table.
"Blasphemy!" they screamed. "Blasphemy of the Holy Spirit!"
That it was, and as anyone who has read the Good Book knows, the punishment for such a heinous crime was death by stoning. One by one, the Christians picked up stones and hurled them towards his head, shattering the bones of his face and splitting his forehead. He collapsed to the ground and begged for mercy, but they would not exempt him from the punishment he so greatly deserved. For it is written, "And he that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, he shall surely be put to death, and all the congregation shall certainly stone him." The grievous nature of the events that had taken place plunged the widow into an intense state of burning hatred and despair.
"Why?" she cried. "Why have you done this to us? What could we have done to deserve this?"
The troop leader turned and replied, "To me belongs vengeance and recompense; in time your foot has slipped. The day of your disaster is at hand, and your doom has rushed upon you." With that, the Christians left the woman to wallow in her anguish, her only comfort being the carcasses of the deceased.