And on the topic of Saga's

A certain friend of mine started writing short stories starring her Alter-Ego, and Myself... after some time, I decided to add one to the tale, and here it is.

It was bound to happen.
Leave a large enough trail of bodies and word would get around
now they couldn't even go into the little villages without fear of capture
thus, the Bear's suggestion
Madness was Roda's prompt response...
'Hey, it makes sense to me' the former guardsman replied with a laugh
Naked bar his braies and his belt, and a harness across his chest with his axe and a sword lashed to it. with a bag of coins and a poniard at his belt, He strode towards the beach.
behind him followed the Redjay, wearing slightly more, with her Bow and Quiver wrapped in oilskins acquired specifically for the task, and a dagger and more coins at her belt Together they waded out as far as they could, and then begin to swim, with the slow steady strokes of the practiced
The cog was anchored far out into the bay, and when they reached it, they could barely manage to hang onto the anchor line whilst they caught their breath. But, catch their breath they did, and then, with the Bear in the lead, they shimmied up the rope.
A few minutes later found them standing on the stern, facing down the crew and its captain. 'What is the meaning of this?' Bellowed the short, stout master of the ship. 'I'll have no stowaways on my ship.' 'We're not stowing away' Came the Redjay's swift response. 'We want passage. Out of Norman lands. We can pay.' At that the Ships Master's eyes lit up, and then dimmed again as the start of the previous statement registered. 'OUT of Norman Lands?' 'Aye' answered the one they called the Bear. 'They be less than happy with us... Something to do with a certain bow-happy woman. And truth be told, an Axe-gleeful me.' The Redjay continued his sentence, them having been travelling along together long enough that they thought much alike. 'But we'll not put you in harms way. we'll pay our passage and work our way.'
The Captain thought this over. 'And if I choose to put you off here and now?' he asked, his voice thin and reedy. Before he had even finished his sentence, the Bear, a former Guardsman, had his axe in hand, and the Redjay had pulled his sword from his back. They stood there, backs to the ships rail, edged steel held at the ready. 'You and what army?' they asked in sync. As the captain of the ship gestured expansively at his crew, a rough-looking bunch, the outlaw and her ex-guardsman ignored him, to glance at each other, standing at each others shield-arm (Something that only worked on the grounds that the Redjay bore her blade in her left). And to land light blows on their respective off-arms. It was perhaps this lack of concern that did it. The ships crew began to look somewhat apprehensive, and the Captain reconsidered his position.
'Fine. We sail north. To Scottish lands. Trading with the coastal clans. If we're lucky we won't meet the Danes. If we do, it'll be your job to drive them off.' And just like that, the deal was done. The Bear handed over most of his coins, and he and the Redjay went to work. Neither of them knew overly much about how to sail a cog, but under the eyes of the captain and the teaching of the crew, they learned. They never forgot how they had come to be there though, and slept lightly, with steel at their sides, even if they had to bed down on the open deck alongsides the crew. 'Twas around a weeks worth of sailing later, putting in at every village along the way, before the storm blew up and drove the ship far out to sea. And it was there that whilst sitting her watch atop the single mast, the Lady Redjay saw a single sail.
Her cry of Sail-Ho sent a shiver down the spine of most of the crew. That far out to sea, and off the main trade routes, any ship was almost certainly a Viking raider. This was borne out as the sail drew close enough that those closer to the sea could make it out, and that the Lady at height could make out the colours, striped in Red and White, with a raven sewn onto the pennant. A carved Dragon's head graced the prow, and blue and yellow round shields with steel rims and bosses graced the sides of the ship. The men at the oars were huge, bigger than any on the cog bar the Guard and the Redjay. Their hair and beards were long and pleated in braids, their mailled coats worn but serviceable, and their steel sharp. Arrayed against them were the crew of the cog, outnumbered, more lightly-armed, and all unarmored. As the dragonboat made its approach, the Redjay began to feather the men at its oars with her red-feathered arrows. Bodkin points to pierce their armour, the fletching spiralled to get the shafts spinning in flight. Even as she loosed as fast as she could aim, her companion sat quietly at the base of the mast, calmly waiting for his foes to close. With a borrowed whetstone he put an edge on each of his blades, and his calm spread to those around him.
The ships closed, for even as the cog had turned and begun to flee, the Norsemen were swifter. As they closed, their archers began to return the Redjay's favour, the shorter bows of the Vikingr being no match in range for the Redjay's longbow. As the first shafts went past her head, she bellowed on her companion and dropped him her bow, before shimmying down the mast. As she reached the bottom, He handed her his sword and pointed at her bow, now cased and safely nestled amongst the cargo. They stood there, at the base of the mast, and waited till the ships drew alongside. Then they moved to the side nearest the Viking Longship. As the first of the raiders began to leap the ever shortening gap with ropes, crossing amidships where the two craft drew closest, they were met with the sword of the outlaw, and the steel axe of he who had once been a guardian of that law. It had been a long road that lead to the two fighting, again, side by side, but none of that mattered now, as the first of the Vikingr fell into the sea, their leaps cut off in mid-air. As the open space between the ships vanished, the two warriors could not stop every foe from crossing, and within minutes they were hard enough pressed that they could pay no attention to anything bar the swirling melee they were embroiled in. The battle-hardened norsemen rolled over the cogs crew of thugs and cutthroats like a tide of blood and steel. The ships were roped together, and the heaving decks soon became slick with blood and other, less mentionable detritus that had once been men. Despite the numbers against them, and the treacherous footing, the pair that stood amidships more than held their own. Although their foes had taken the shields off the side of the longboat and they had none, they had ways around this. The guardsmans axe struck at whatever was open, his left hand wrenching shields out of the way. Meanwhilst the Lady Redjay, holding her blade in her left had an easy time, parrying blows wide, and then twisting the blade in her wrist, sliding it into a kidney, or a liver, or a spleen, and then pulling it out as the now-corpse fell. The fight was short and deadly intense, and before long there was almost a dozen corpses piled around the pair. They were not unscathed themselves however. Long ragged gashes covered the guardsmans torso, and a blade had sunk deep into the fleshy part of the Redjay's leg. Blood covered the pair head to toe, beginning already to crust. As the Norseman readied for another rush, their leader stepped forward. 'Cease!' he bellowed, his hands gripping the haft of a large two-handed axe. The pair took advantage of the lull they were granted to shift around, and place their backs to the sea. 'Why?' they asked in concert, to which the response was swift. 'You fight well. And between you, you have felled a dozen men. Enough that I either need to find new warriors, or call off my Viking.' Shifting blades in their hands, adjusting their balance, the two warriors looked at their foe warily. 'Go on' uttered the Redjay, and the Bearsark followed it up with 'We're listening'. The burly Norse commander looked back at them, and grinned. 'Well, there be two of you there I'd be willing to hire. A share in the plunder, a space on the deck, and all the food and drink you'll need.' The response to this was simple. 'Drink?' 'Ale?' 'Mead?' came the swift responses. 'Aye' was the viking captains answer. 'Ale, Mead, whatever you wish to drink. You in? or shall I have my men gift you to Njord?' Blood-drenched, bleeding from many wounds, all of them admittedly superficial, the two against the rail lowered their blades. 'Done.' 'Excellent!' roared the norseman. 'The Names Sven. Glad to have you aboard. Strip some armour off the dead, gather your kit, and help us loot this tub, afore we scuttle her.' And like that, the deal was done. The One called Jared, known to various people as the Guard, The Bear and the Bearsark, and Roda, Commonly called the Redjay, were about to go Aviking!