VIKINGS

Vikings appear out of time and start murdering men & raping women around Glen Hartwell

The Tenant family were walking hand in hand along the thick carpet of gum leaves and pine needles that blanketed the forest floor, near the Yannan River, outside Glen Hartwell in the Victorian countryside. Until recently, the Yannan had been a cesspool of muck and noxious fumes. However, the Victorian Department of Building and Works had recently dredged the river [see my story, 'The Mimic'.], removing all white goods, cars, et cetera which had been dumped there, as well as widening and deepening the river to allo0w a better flow of water, in the hope of keeping the river from becoming a cesspool again.
Sniffing, Britt(any) Tenant, a tall, chesty redhead, aged twenty-one, said, "It smells quite nice now."
"Yeah, but for how long?" asked her husband, Biff Tenant, a tall, dark-haired man of twenty-two.
"Ah, don't be such a grumpy puss," said Tiff(any) Tenant, his sister-in-law, a short, chestalicious ravenette of twenty.
"You tell him, babe," said her husband, Griff Tenant, a medium-height blond man of twenty. "He's always been one of those glass-half-empty types."
"Have not, I'm just a realist."
"Well, in fairness, the Yannan had been polluted for long enough so that legends had grown up around it," said Britt.
"Like the Slime Beast, which was supposed to drag punters off their boats and pull them down to sunken Thule, back in the 1920s," teased Tiff.
"Exactly," agreed Britt, "although I guess that they would have found sunken Thule, or Lemuria, or Mu, or wherever, when they dredged the river, if any of them were down there."
"Unless they're keeping them secret, like the aliens and crashed space ships locked away in Area 51 in the Nevada desert," teased Griff.
"Very funny," said Tiff, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably.
"Well, anyway, isn't it time for lunch?" asked Biff, a big man with a big appetite.
"Yes, don't want you fading away to a shadow of a mountain," teased Britt.
"Hey, I work hard, I drink hard, I eat hard, and I bonk you hard," teased Biff.
"I'll concede the last two at any rate," teased Britt, making everyone laugh.
They laid out a thick, red-and-white-striped blanket on the ground, then opened the two large wicker baskets: one full of food, the other containing beer for the men and red wine for the ladies.
As they sat on the blanket, Britt took a small, roasted chicken from the basket, handed the chicken to her husband and said:
"Here, have a chicken to be getting on with."
"Oh, my woman knows my tastes," said Biff.
Holding the chicken up to his mouth with both hands, he took a large bite and started eating.
"Now, everyone else tuck in before he finishes that chicken, or there won't be any food for the rest of us," teased Britt.
"Don't we know it," said Tiff.
She handed a chicken leg to Griff, taking one for herself, while Britt settled for an egg salad sandwich.
"This is good eating," said Griff between mouthfuls.
He reached into the alcohol basket to grab a large bottle of Victoria Bitter, which he opened with his teeth, so that he wouldn't have to put his chicken down.
"Honey, watch out for your teeth!" warned Britt.
"I didn't want to put my chicken down in case someone grabbed it."
"After you've been gnawing on it, bro?" asked Biff.
"Pukalicious!" said Tiff, before sticking two fingers into her mouth to simulate gagging.
"Very funny," said Griff, before taking a long swig of the beer. "Now that's a big drink for a big man."
"Perhaps we'd better help ourselves to some dinks before he scoffs it all," suggested Britt.
"There are six large bottles of Vic Bitter, a red wine and a white," pointed out Britt.
"Yes, but when they came up with the saying 'a big, big thirst', they were thinking of my Biff," reminded Britt.
"Maybe she's right," said Griff, reaching for one of the bottles of Vic Bitter.
At the same time, Britt picked up the bottle of white wine and poured glasses for herself and Tiff.
"At least we can get one or two drinks before Biff downs the lot," said Griff, only half joking, knowing his brother too well.
"How dare you?" demanded Biff.
He threw the chicken skeleton and the empty Vic Bitter bottle onto the blanket, then picked up a small roast duck in one hand and another bottle of beer in the other.
"Keep eating as fast as you can, too," teased Tiff.
"I am," said Britt, picking up a cheese-and-tomato sandwich.
"I hope you've got some dessert in that basket?" asked Biff.
"Yes, two family-sized chocolate lamington cakes with cream and jam filling," said Britt. "One for you, and one for us three to share."
"Fair enough," said Biff before downing half of the beer in one long gulp.
"He'll drown in beer one of these days," teased Griff.

Over at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, they were also settling down to lunch. Except that Deidre Morton had a strict rule limiting their consumption of alcohol at meal times in her boarding house.
"So what treats have you got for us today, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila Bennett. At thirty-six, the orange-and-black haired Goth chick was the Chief Constable of the local police force.
"Some juicy veal cutlets with mashed potatoes, mashed pumpkin, boiled carrots, cauliflower with white sauce, and your choice of peas or beans.
"Yum, yum," said Terri Scott. The ash blonde, the same age as Sheila, was the top cop of the local area and was engaged to Colin.
"Yes, it sounds delish, Mrs. M.," said Colin Klein. A retired crime reporter, now working for the Glen Hartwell Police Force, Colin was a tall redheaded Englishman.
"It certainly does," agreed Natasha Lipzing. At seventy-one, the tall, thin old lady had spent the last thirty-six years at the Yellow House.
"As long as I can have some brandy with mine," insisted Tommy Turner, the local, reluctantly reforming alcoholic, a short, fat, blond retiree.
"Of course," said Deidre with a sigh, "but if you want it poured all over your food, as usual, you will have to do that yourself."
"If you just cooked everything with brandy or rum, he wouldn't have to," teased Leo Laxman. A tall, thin, black Jamaican, Leo was a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.
"Don't encourage him, Leo," advised Freddy Kingston, a tall, plump, bald retiree. "He's just dumb enough to take you seriously."
"Well, why not!" demanded Tommy. "Everything tastes better with brandy or rum on it."
"I wouldn't mind a nip of brandy," said Terri.
"Me too," said Leo.
"Very well, three nips of brandy coming up," said Deidre.
"Hang on, whose brandy is that?" demanded Tommy.
"Let's just say 'It is better to give than to receive,'" said Deidre as she poured the three nips of brandy.
"Not if it's my bloody brandy, it isn't!"
"Language, there are ladies present," said Natasha.
"That's the problem, Deidre keeps giving people presents of my brandy."
"He is such a philistine," said Terri, before taking a tiny sip of her brandy. "Mmmm, my compliments, Tommy."
"Yeah, he only buys the best brandy," agreed Leo, after taking a sip.
"In the expectation of me getting to drink it!"
"You can't please everyone," said Colin, before getting stuck into his veal cutlets. "Mmmm, these are delish, Mrs. M."

On the banks of the Yannan River, Biff Tenant was eating his second roast duck, in between downing great slugs of Victoria Bitter. Having not quite finished his first bottle, Griff grabbed the second-last bottle to drink next, allowing Biff to drink four large bottles, to his two.
"If you hope to drink that next," teased Britt, "you'd better put it between your legs, then cross them as tightly as you can to hold it, or my Biff will be fighting you for it as soon as he finishes his fourth bottle."
"What are you inferencing, woman?" asked a decidedly tipsy-sounding Biff.
"Only that you're a big, big man, with a big, big thirst," teased Britt.
"I don't know why he doesn't just take a box of a dozen bottles into the loo with him," teased Tiff. "Then he could hold a bottle in one hand, and his dick in the other."
"Yeah," agreed Griff, "so everything he drank would go in one head and out the other."
"Crudely, but aptly put," said Britt.
"Waz zat?" asked Biff, definitely a little under the weather.
Looking at her sister-in-law, Tiff said, "It's a good thing we've only been sipping our wine, because I think we're the designated drivers."
"We'd better be," said Britt.
"Unless he successfully fights me for the fifth bottle of Vic," said Griff. "In which case, I'll be sober enough to drive."
As Biff finished the third Vic Bitter and reached for the fourth, Britt said, "Don't worry, if he downs that before you get to your second bottle, we'll offer him the red wine. There's still a full bottle of Riesling."
"Will he drink wine?" asked Tiff.
"Not when he's sober," admitted Britt, "but when he's this blotto, he'd drink methylated spirits if that was the only alcohol available."
All, except Biff, laughed. Biff was too bleary-eyed, unfocusing drunk to realise that she had been talking about him.
"Frankly," teased Griff, "when he's this drunk, he'd drink piss if you added alcohol to it."
"Would so," slurred Biff.
Before they could say anything more, there was a small explosion and thick green smoke poured toward them from the Yannan River.
"Oh God," said Griff between coughing, "sounds like someone is fishing."
"They're braver men than me, Gunga Din," said Britt, also between coughing. "I wouldn't eat anything swimming in the Yannan, even after it was cleaned up."
"That's for sure," agreed Tiff.
When the green smoke finally blew away, still coughing a little, the Tenants were astonished to see a long (twenty-three metres) wooden boat, with a single square sail, sitting upon the river, just in front of them.
"Where the Hell did that come from?" asked Griff.
"And did those idiots cause the green explosion?" asked Tiff.
She pointed to where at least three dozen men sat in the longboat, all dressed in animal furs, with metal hats with long horns on the sides.
"Who the Hell are they?" asked Britt.
"Looks like they're those idiots from the LePage and Elroy Battle Re-Enactment Society," offered Tiff.
"Fuck off, you can't play you're childish war games here!" shouted Griff. "And did Terri Scott give you permission to set off explosions in the area?"
Growling like a bear, the Viking leader, Eiriksson (son of Erik), led a charge from the longboat to the four Tenants. Eiriksson held aloft a long metal-tipped spear, while his second-in-command, Olaf the Mighty, carried a battleaxe.
"I said, we don't want to play ...!" shouted Griff, stopping as Eiriksson stabbed him in the heart with his spear.
"What'sa happened?" muttered Biff, as the women started screaming.
Biff tried to get to his feet, but had to settle for his hands. He started to crawl toward his dead brother, stopping to fall face down onto the blanket, when Olaf hacked off a large section of his skull and brain with his battleaxe.
"Death to the Britons!" cried Olaf, before whacking Biff a second, then a third time with his axe.
"Are you insane?" asked Tiff between tears, before turning to throw up upon the blanket.
"Two comely-looking lasses," said Eiriksson lustily.
"Yes," agreed Olaf, "Briton women are famous for their comeliness."
"We're not Britons, we're Aussies!" cried Britt.
Leaping to her feet, she tried to kick Eiriksson in the testicles, but got his knee instead.
Managing to stay on his feet and pretending not to be in any pain, Eiriksson said, "And spirited at that."
He slapped her across the face, just enough to stun her, then threw the chesty redhead across his left shoulder.
"I think we will take these comely wenches as our playthings," said Eiriksson, trying his best not to limp as he carried Britt back to the long boat.
Following his leader's example, Olaf picked up Tiff and threw her across his left shoulder. Then, seeing the unopened beer and red wine bottles, he picked them up in his right hand, trying not to drop his battleaxe, and followed his leader back to the longboat.
Seeing his crew ogling Britt and Tiff, Eiriksson said, "These Briton women belong to Olaf and me. We will capture other Briton women for you."
"We're Aussies, Dickhead, not British," said Britt, risking getting slapped again.
"These Briton women speak a strange language," said Olaf.
He and Eiriksson climbed into the longboat at the rear, so that they could take pleasure from the two women, without the rest of the Vikings watching.
"We're Aussies, Dickhead, not British," repeated Britt.
"Strange indeed," agreed Eiriksson.
Despite the two women fighting them, the two Viking leaders soon had them naked and started to fondle their breasts, before forcing their thighs apart to penetrate them and start riding the two women.





Viking ghosts sail down the Yannan River to start killing people. Their ghost ship can also fly, or sail across land, leaving a strange thin line through the pine needles and gum leaves coating the forest floor.

warships, the latter resembling narrow "war canoes" with less load capacity, but higher speed. As a rule, shipping lanes in Scandinavia followed coastal waters; hence, a majority of vessels were of a lighter design, while a few types, such as the knarr, could navigate the open ocean.
Clinker-built:
The hull was constructed with overlapping planks, providing strength and flexibility.
Shallow draft:
This allowed them to navigate shallow coastal waters and even rivers, enabling surprise attacks and landings on beaches.
Double-ended:
The symmetrical bow and stern allowed for easy manoeuvring and quick changes of direction without needing to turn the ship.
Single mast and square sail:
This provided propulsion, and oars were also used, especially in calmer waters or when navigating against the wind.
Length:
Viking longships varied in size, but were typically 45 to 75 feet (14 to 23 meters) long.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia