Viking Age

Following a trail of smoke in the sky, you walk past the excess vegetation of pine trees and some leaves. And soon, you will be able to spot the tall spire of some old church, but as it turns out it might not be so old after all.
You find your way to what looks like an authentic late-medieval Irish village in a forest clearing with about 30 houses made from brick and clay, scattered along the valley with a beaten path leading from one house to another. The gray brick church is the centre of the town, where the buildings are the most densely placed out. The buildings seems to empty as they are shops of sorts, like smitties and slaughter houses.

Despite this, most of the houses seems to be made to be as far apart from each other as possible, with a field reserved for crops and another for lifestock.

Only there is no lifestock. No people either. You walk around the village shouting "Hello," and "Anyone there?", without a reaction, which comes as a kind of relief considering you might not be mentlly prepared to confront a civilization from the past. You see the hearth between a couple of settlements, from which the smoke you notice came. At least you know there were people here recently, probably quite a few of them, but for some reason they decided just to abandon there homes in the middle of their day, taking their children, dogs, cats, sheep and cows with them.

Your moment of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of humans yelling in the distance. Looking out there at the brink of the village, you have a clear view of a bank of water, possibly the ocean.You notice a couple of moving lights, and then the three long ships shaped like dragons from which they seem to be coming. You quickly realize those torches are people, but are they the villagers? Or the reason they left?

As they start to come closer it dawns to you just how loud their yells really are. You can see the clear outlines of people and how fast they really are approaching. They are carrying broad swords and axes, carrying large shields. Their clothes are gray, woven from wool, or brown made from fur. They are wearing short-skirted dresses ornated with single pieces of plate armour, and boots reaching all the way to their knees. Some of them are wrapped in blue or white mantle, and wooden helmets ornated with horns.

You also realize they are mostly women, and what specimen of women then. Some are stout, some are petite compared to other women, but they all have large chests and long curvy legs. Before you know it they are running right past you, throwing their torches onto the buildings. You can't spot anyone who isn't at least half a head taller than you. They are moving in a rapid, organized pattern; taking everything that isn't nailed down and destroying everything in their paths with fire and brute strength.

Suddenly you feel yourself lifted up. "Hey! Gals! They forgot a man here! A really hot one!" You are bear-hugged by a blonde giantess with broad shoulders and long-braided hair, about half a meter taller than you.
"Hey! Blenda caught herself a hot 'un!" "What? Don't be jesting me now!" "It's true! She's carrying him towards the landing now!" "Lovely work, Blenda"
You try to squirm yourself free from this woman's grasp, but it is utterly futile. You pound your fists against her collar, kicks and thrash around, but there is something utterly ridiculous about her strength. "Let me go you... barbarian!" you yell at her trying to push your hands against her chest to lever yourself free, again with no result save for her giving your ass a squeeze. "There's fiest in you, that's fer' sure!" she laughs lugging you towards the beach.

Near the longships you are thrown to the sand, the woman called blend straddling your back. Another woman, and another after her comes, carrying strong ropes, laughing as they are tying your limbs together and finally gagging you with a piece of mantle. Yet another woman puts your feet in a large burlap sack, completely covering you in the rough cloth like a piece of their loot. You feel several hands carrying you, placing you face first on cold wood.

Soon you hear loud cries of triumph in multifold as you feel the ground moving, bouncing up and down gently. You feel pressure on your stomach, apparently someone decided to stack something on you.

Of course, their loot would not normally be moving, so you figure that one of them has decided to make you her personal cushion...