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Mordred ap Loth
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Sample Post from the History Genre this Month:
Mordred ap Loth posts in Unto Britannia, the Untold Stories
The garrison patrolling the green headland of Ynys Mon were alien to this island in the West. Richly draped in linen and mail, with leather armour and gilded helms and accoutrements of war, their standards were emblazoned with the Raven of the Old North. They were men of the Gododdin, the northernmost British kingdom, on the frontier of Pictish lands.
For more than a hundred years, Ynys Mon had been held as a refuge by Irish raiders who plundered Gwynedd. It was Cunedda Wledig, king of the Gododdin far to the northeast, that first rode with his mounted army southwest to Gwynedd and crossed the causeway to Ynys Mon. Three generations ended the Irish terror and established Mon as a territorial adjunct to the Hen Ogledd.
One of the garrison withdrew an arrow and nocked it, prompted by what he saw: a man rising from the sea. The stranger waded heavily through the waves and climbed the beach toward the headland. Tattoos adorned his sinewy arms, broad chest, and chiseled face, and he was completely naked but for a shoulder-belt of seaweed on which a pair of bone-knives were securely lashed. His dark hair, once sleek and black like a seal's pelt, fell forward in matted ropes over his solemn face as he trudged purposefully through the surf.
"Stand, and name yourself!" cried one of the coastal watch, the string drawn so taut that the yew of the bow groaned as it bent.
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