Dear Diary

Guess who's back! Back again! Thorng is back! Don't tell anybody... the Romans might try and get revenge. My allies might also bring back that damned nickname! I have worked my ass off to get rid of that, yet my nipples have yet to return... If only I had a sign...

Skull of a Roman soldier who died during the Gallic Wars, 1st century BC.

https://www.facebook.com/museum.of.artifacts/

All the ice of Scandinavia won't heal that burn

Norse Gods: Æser og Åsynjer Part 1

Part 2

Dear Diary

A day has passed since the incident in the Lake and I'm beginning to realise just how bad this is. I get back from the hunt for food? I get asked "Thorng! Did you find your nipples out in the wild??" Of course I didn't Cargilli, you jackass. Oh how I wish for a sign! Anything to display the path of forgiveness that the gods wish for me to take! I feel powerless without my nipples most strong... Do I need to sacrifice 100 roman legionnaires at the foot of the Shrine?? Must I catch 100 salmon using only my thighs in the same river I lost my nipples?? God's! What do you ask of me!? I will make the stories of old look like nursery rhymes if the bravery I must demonstrate ends up being that much! All this shouting via writing is making me hungry... yet I daren't face the jeers and laughter of my brethren outside. Bastards.

It stuck

Thorng the Nippleless

“Dear Diary I woke up today, sorer than usual, flower petals around my bed. Weird tradition When I got out of the house, everyone cheered, called me a hero, praised my invincible nipples, I didn’t knew why. They did. They told me of the whole thing. Damn berries. But, because I showed superior fighting skills and bravery while shirtless, freezing and hungry, they decided to burn my shirts as a sacrifice to gods, as well as permanently tattoo my chest where the paint was. You might ask yourself, dear diary, how I slept through someone rummaging through my things and tattooing my chest. I’m, a, heavy, sleeper! I was angry. I just wanted to eat something. Everyone was glad to feed me, which was nice, after that I decided to see if the paint could come off if I go for a swim. I was reminded of what the druids always said, wait an hour after eating Silly tradition. I dipped my head in, started swimming. but before I reached the middle of the lake, the sky got gray, wind started blowing and lightning started hitting the ground below it. Three heads peered through the clouds and stared at me. -Oh Gods!! -Exactly, what do you think you’re doing?- They spoke in unison -Swimming oh, you all powerful ones. -You didn’t wait Thorng -I’m sorry -No, you are not and you won’t be. We can see you calling this tradition stupid when describing this whole situation in your diary -He will say silly- Said the Left head, looking at the others -Oh great, now he knows we don’t always speak in unison.-Said the Middle -Also that we’re sometimes wrong.- Said the Right -Okay, okay, we can work through that- Said the Middle -How?- asked Left and Right, almost in unison - Like that, almost, let’s just act like nothing happened okay? -Okay- Agreed Left and Right in perfect unison -We were going to punish you far more severely, but now, if you’re going to promise you won’t say anything about that, other that Gods punished you for swimming too soon after eating, we’ll be more lenient. Okay? -Okay, I promise, on my Honor, on my Father’s Honor, on my Mother’s Honor... -Yeah, sure...- -and my Cousins Honor, and on my... -If you don’t stop promising, we’ll take away your nipples!! -... and my hunting buddy Arengeir’s Ho... -THAT DOES IT!! -What?! -Yup -NO!! And so, I was cursed, punished by Gods, what was considered the source of my invincibility was taken away from me. When I returned to the village and explained the whole situation, everyone called me THORNG THE NIPPLELESS! I hope it doesn’t stick I’ll do anything to get them back.”

My nipple stings.. what happened in that fight?

Thorng, the morning after.

“Dear Diary These berries taste weird... ... they taste like rage and bloodshed... ...they taste like... ...GLORY!!” When the Roman Scum were walking through the forest, they saw only one man. One shirtless, malnourished man with his sword unsheathed. He was breathing deeply, hair covering his face and the light of the full moon reflecting in the paint covering his chest. He charged them full of zeal, more like a beast than a man. Hacking blindly at them, foam coming out of his mouth. They thought that surrounding him would yield result different from what happened afterwards, but it only allowed him to attack in any direction. One of the Romans too terrified to keep standing idly any longer tried stabbing the man in his painted chest... The man would only create a legend The spear tip was deflected after hitting the Celts nipple. In response he grabbed the spear, pulled it out of the Romans hands and started charging at a man still not believing his own senses. He broke their formation He broke their spirit His shout didn’t resemble an animal, but there was no doubt.  Man couldn’t make such a noise. The ground shook, leaves fell from the trees and when the last leaf had fallen to the ground, the Romans having thrown aside their weapons were gone, blindly making their way through the dark forest, away from the creature even the scholars wouldn’t describe. After that day, none of us ever wore a shirt to battle. “Dear Diary Fuck”

“Dear Diary I’m really cold.

The elders decided that it would be an ambush, so we’re sitting in the bushes, waiting. Other men aren’t so cold because they were drinking just before the battle but didn’t let me into the hall. Apparently they were still angry about the lack of goat meat due to the last nights mushroom experience. So now I’m sitting in the bushes with my nipples freezing off, waiting for the Roman Scum to pass through. There are some berries in the bushes though, I may be cold, but at lest I won’t be hungry”

“Dear Diary

Why do we never wear shirts? This war paint won’t heat my nipples up any quicker. I’m quite sensitive...

Maybe the Roman’s do have one or two good ideas after all”

What do you call a roman after oral sex? Gladiator

Thorng, trying to please the elders with humor of their arch nemesis. Success was varied.

“Dear Thorngs Diary

I went fishing today. I grabbed everything, the rod, the line, the hook, the bait and the helmet of a Roman Scum to carry the fishes back to the village. I sat down on a rock by the lake, made the knot on the hook, impaled the bait on the hook and threw the hook into the vast dephts on the lake waiting for a fish to foolishly try and take it.

Then I remembered about the technique Ailill taught me.

I stood up from the rock, inhaled deeply and made the closest thing to what Ailill called the salmon mating call. 

The ground and water shook with the sound of my call, but the fish didn’t come.

I guess they don’t mate in October. Ailill said they did. Stupid skinny Ailill...”

“Dear Diary, today I wore a goat and killed a shrubbery.

Today was my first time talking with the older members of my settlement. They were an interesting (if not grumpy) bunch who told stories of their days as ‘Wolf Men’ who fought like the skins they wore and could never be stopped!

I asked them the secret and they gave me a magical mixture in a small wooden bowl. I drank it and suddenly my world spun and I felt myself becoming stronger!!

I went outside and managed to slay a wolf with my own two hands, I was invincible! I made a cloak from its skin and heard the sound of an opposing force through the trees... I charged with nothing but tooth and nail!

When I awoke the next morning, I was wearing the skin of one of Bardurn’s goats from his farm, and then proceeded to bite and punch his prized shrubbery until dead.

Never again will I try Mushrooms mixed in water from a bunch of drunk old men.”

Note to self, hit other warriors with the sword, NOT the padding. The padding is supposed to protect my hand, not their face.”