Page 14 - SagaOfBarak2

With this being so, well it was only when one of these cattle had an accident, a
broken leg perhaps or something else nasty when these hairy creatures would
feel the giants blade.
Aye only a natural misfortune would see the demise of any of these great shaggy
brutes.
The Jutes along with the Geats were all wild rugged fellows, Norsemen of sorts,
this in both appearance as well as in character, this even though Ragnor would
strongly argue that case.
Nevertheless despite Ragnor’s noisy blustery protestations these were
undeniably hardy sea going wanderers.
Men who for years when things were hard and stuck for coin would risk life
and limb to collect and secure these much prized also great sized highland cattle.
Oh and as for these western isles, well then there indeed lay a sparse and harsh
treeless storm plagued desolate sort of place.
Yes as here were cold bleak windy Isles, stormy inhospitable isles which lay
midway between Pictoms grim grey rocky shores of the west and the ever
troubled Ireland.
These windswept scattered Isles set amidst a hostile sea were forever and always
devoid of people.
This, as not even the hardy northern Picts who needed no shelter or fire from
the chill elements chose to make their home in this cold blasted place.
No not even the slope headed, heavy jawed, true blooded Picts who dwelt much
further north than their diluted race of southern kinsman would bide there.
For it must be noted that the southern picts were nowhere near as wild or as
hardy as their fierce northern cousins, those whose primitive and barbaric blood
still ran true to form.
Still though, whether more southerly or not, here were nevertheless a race of
subhuman beings, disgusting things who took by patience and often by sheer
chance, careless women they captured south of the wall to breed with.
Foolish women, women who had unwisely ventured beyond one of the great
oak gates set into the wall of Hadrian, gates which lead off toward the cold
uninviting north.
Perhaps in their folly these women had sneaked off into the bleak misty beyond
to pick berries or mushrooms, or mayhap even snare a rabbit for the pot.
Oh and anyway, no matter as to these foolish mistakes or whatever their reason
for leaving their warm and safe abode.
Far away and upon those black isles it was only the red deer along with these
great shaggy cattle for company, which thrived on these tiny spots of land set in
the browny grey Irish Sea.

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