Moché’s Reviews > Sword Song > Status Update
Moché
is 65% done
Water dripped from oar-blades, spreading ripples in a sea that was shining slabs of light that slowly shifted and parted, joined and slid. Our ship was poised on that shifting light, silent. The sky to the east was molten gold pouring around a bank of sun-drenched cloud, while the rest was blue. Pale blue to the east and dark blue to the west where night fled towards the unknown lands beyond the distant ocean
— Aug 29, 2026 08:24PM
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Moché
is 80% done
A feast was served by Saxon women slaves - ale, mead, birch wine, pork, beef, duck, dried cod and haddock, eels, crabs and goose, bread, cheese, honey and butter.
Father Willibald feared the food might be poisoned.
I ate a leg of goose. ‘There,’ I said, ‘I’m still alive.’
‘Praise God,’ Willibald said, still watching me anxiously.
‘Praise Thor,’ I said, ‘this is his hill.’
— 11 hours, 4 min ago
Father Willibald feared the food might be poisoned.
I ate a leg of goose. ‘There,’ I said, ‘I’m still alive.’
‘Praise God,’ Willibald said, still watching me anxiously.
‘Praise Thor,’ I said, ‘this is his hill.’
Moché
is 30% done
‘Their god does seem to have power,’ Erik said. I slid Serpent-Breath into her scabbard and Erik saw the silver cross that decorated her pommel. ‘You must think so too?’ ‘That was a gift,’ I said, ‘from a woman. A lover. Then the Christian god took hold of her and she loves men no more.’ Erik reached out and touched the cross tentatively. ‘You don’t think it gives the blade power?’ he asked.
— Aug 28, 2026 09:39PM
Moché
is 15% done
It is strange what men talk about before battle. Anything except what faces them. I have stood in a shield wall, staring at an enemy bright with blades and dark with menace, and heard two of my men argue furiously about which tavern brewed the best ale. Fear hovers in the air like a cloud and we talk of nothing to pretend that the cloud is not there.
— Aug 27, 2026 09:34PM
Moché
is starting
Because fate cannot be cheated, it governs us, and we are all its slaves.
⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️
— Aug 26, 2026 08:40PM
⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️
‘I don’t worship death,’ I said. ‘
‘Christians do,’ Erik remarked, glancing at Pyrlig, whose mailed chest displayed his wooden cross. ‘
‘No,’ Pyrlig said.
‘Then why the image of a dead man?’ Erik asked.
‘Our Lord Jesus Christ rose from the dead,’ Pyrlig said energetically, ‘he conquered death! He died to give us life and regained his own life in his dying. Death, lord, is just a gate to more life.’
‘Then why do we fear death?’ Erik asked in a voice that suggested he expected no answer.