The salty spray stung Vali Hrafn's face as the longship cut through the churning waves. He gripped the gunwale, his knuckles white, not from fear, but from the sheer exhilaration of the raid. The Irish coast loomed closer, a tapestry of green hills and rocky cliffs under a dawn sky.

Vali, though a shipbuilder's son, had never been on a raid before. He'd spent his youth amidst the scent of pine shavings and tar, learning the intricate dance of axe and adze, shaping the very vessels that now carried him towards this unknown shore. He knew every rib and plank of this longship, Havsfruen (Sea-maiden), as intimately as he knew his own calloused hands.

Yet, the lure of the unknown, the whispers of gold and glory that clung to the seasoned raiders around him, had proven too strong to resist. He yearned to test himself beyond the familiar rhythm of the shipyard, to carve his own saga, not with tools, but with the sword at his hip.

As the Havsfruen grated against the shingle, Vali's heart hammered in his chest. The seasoned warriors surged forward, a wave of steel and fury, their war cries echoing across the tranquil village. He followed, his grip tightening on his father's axe, a weapon more familiar than any sword.

The scene that unfolded was a maelstrom of chaos and violence. Screams pierced the air, mingling with the crackle of flames and the clash of steel. Homes burned, villagers fled, and Vali found himself swept into the bloody tide. He moved with a surprising ferocity, his shipwright's strength serving him well as he parried a spear thrust and brought his axe down on an enemy shield.

But amidst the frenzy, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. Was this the glory he had craved? The sight of a terrified woman clutching a child, the smell of burning thatch, the raw brutality of it all... it stirred something unsettling within him.

Vali Hrafn wasn't the most imposing figure amongst the raiders. Of average height with a deceptively strong frame honed by years of hauling timber and swinging an adze, he possessed a youthful face that still held a hint of boyish innocence. His thick, dark brown hair, worn a bit longer than typical, hinted at a rebellious streak, often falling into his intense green eyes that seemed to hold a depth beyond his years. Around his wrist, a simple leather band held a raven feather, a gift from his father and a reminder of home. While others boasted of their strength and battle scars, Vali carried himself with a quiet confidence, his gaze constantly scanning his surroundings, taking in every detail. He might not look like the fiercest warrior, but beneath his unassuming exterior lay a core of unwavering resolve and a surprising agility that would serve him well in the battles to come.

Hello! I'm reposting this in the daylight hour to see how many more people want to do this! I am a long time lurker, first time poster on a throwaway account, inspired by a few of the other Viking themed prompts I decided to write my own. Hopefully this ends up being long term and we can discuss which direction to go or you can jump right in! Are you one of the Irish settlers being raided? Or are you a Shield-Maiden on the longship with me? Looking forward to talking to you all!