cgraven
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2001
- Posts
- 63,893
A world turn upside down
The convent of St. Winifred lay in the lonely wilds of Cornwall. The Cornish clung tenaciously to their Celtic roots and chaff under the rule of the Angle Saxons, interlopers from across the sea. The proud and very stubborn Cornish saw themselves as the True Britons. They had little to do with the convent of St. Winifred as it was an Angle Saxon convent. That was not to say they were impious or overtly hostile to the cloistered nuns but then neither were they open and friendly to them either. Both communities existed in their own but very separate worlds.
Little did the cloistered nuns of St. Winifred’s nor the Cornish themselves were aware that their lives were about to change in ways that they could not even conceive of. They as well as the rest of Briton had head of the sacking of Linderfield Abby by raiders from across the North Sea. Had heard about how the chapel and its holy relics, chalices and suboriums had been defiled and taken by those pagan raiders. But Linderfield Abby was a world away from them.
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The dragon prow of the Viking raider silently slipped through the morning fog, the soft sound of a chapel bell calling the faithful to morning prayers came deifying across the water. A smile bowed the lips of Lars Far Sight. These Christians and their dead Carpenter god were ripe for the pickings the Linderfield raid had proven that yet wizened old monks had little appeal for Lars. He had heard rumors of virgins dedicated in chastity to this dead god of their and that did appeal to Lars Far Sight.
They were far up a costal creek when the prow of the dragon ship softly grounded. With shield, sword and ax the raiders splashed ashore. The soft chiming of the chapel bell guiding them to the prize they sought. They lay in the tall wheat on a hill looking over the convent of St. Winifred, waited until all had entered then like an icy wind from the north they swept down on the convent, They burst through the doors the priest put to the sword. It was then as the nuns and the locale peasants where screaming and running for their lives. Some of the Vikings were gathering the altar’s sliver candle sticks, the gold chalice and paten. Others were rounding up the fleeing nuns driving them back into the defiled chapel. Soon the culling would begin as Lars Far Sight separated the young and innocent from the old, the plain from the beautiful.
The convent of St. Winifred lay in the lonely wilds of Cornwall. The Cornish clung tenaciously to their Celtic roots and chaff under the rule of the Angle Saxons, interlopers from across the sea. The proud and very stubborn Cornish saw themselves as the True Britons. They had little to do with the convent of St. Winifred as it was an Angle Saxon convent. That was not to say they were impious or overtly hostile to the cloistered nuns but then neither were they open and friendly to them either. Both communities existed in their own but very separate worlds.
Little did the cloistered nuns of St. Winifred’s nor the Cornish themselves were aware that their lives were about to change in ways that they could not even conceive of. They as well as the rest of Briton had head of the sacking of Linderfield Abby by raiders from across the North Sea. Had heard about how the chapel and its holy relics, chalices and suboriums had been defiled and taken by those pagan raiders. But Linderfield Abby was a world away from them.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The dragon prow of the Viking raider silently slipped through the morning fog, the soft sound of a chapel bell calling the faithful to morning prayers came deifying across the water. A smile bowed the lips of Lars Far Sight. These Christians and their dead Carpenter god were ripe for the pickings the Linderfield raid had proven that yet wizened old monks had little appeal for Lars. He had heard rumors of virgins dedicated in chastity to this dead god of their and that did appeal to Lars Far Sight.
They were far up a costal creek when the prow of the dragon ship softly grounded. With shield, sword and ax the raiders splashed ashore. The soft chiming of the chapel bell guiding them to the prize they sought. They lay in the tall wheat on a hill looking over the convent of St. Winifred, waited until all had entered then like an icy wind from the north they swept down on the convent, They burst through the doors the priest put to the sword. It was then as the nuns and the locale peasants where screaming and running for their lives. Some of the Vikings were gathering the altar’s sliver candle sticks, the gold chalice and paten. Others were rounding up the fleeing nuns driving them back into the defiled chapel. Soon the culling would begin as Lars Far Sight separated the young and innocent from the old, the plain from the beautiful.