This is my first fan fiction I wrote in a foreign language, so there might be some gramma errors in it. In case you encounter errors or unclear parts, I would be glad about feedback.
I hope you can enjoy this short story a cursed expedition into a toxic swampland and delve into the grim atmosphere of Dark Age.
In case you want some fitting backgroundmusic, I would recommend the soundtrack of the second season of Vikings:

The faceless god

Days turns to night and after short hours of rough sleep a pale sun rises again over an endless swampland. Nothing ever changes. The same dead white trees remind us silently of the everlasting decay. The same yellow greenish swamp water runs toxically through the abused land.
My sight wanders over the ashen-pale landscape. I’m tired. I want to close my eyes. I welcome the long dark... Suddenly a pallid mask emerges from the dull environment and it disappears as fast as it had come.
My senses are going mad. Was it an illusion? A sign of the depression, which affects my brain since we entered this goddamn swampland? I don’t know. Yet it seemed real... and strangly disturbing.
I tell my comrades about the strange phenomenon. They don’t belive me. This swamp is dead, they say. Nothing can survive in it’s toxic waters. Maybe they are right. It is getting dark and I need some sleep. Slowly I close my eyes and weird dreams are haunting me.
Again the pale sun is rising out of the dense swampy fog. Another day has passed and a new strange day is about to beginn. For some of us it should be the last day on Samarias’ cursed soil.
We wander further through the wastes, deeper into the swamp. Toxic clouds rise around us. I’m feeble. Last nights sleep was restless. My eyelids are close to drop... and then again the pallid mask appears, yet this time it stays.
I look into it’s hollow eyes and it looks back at me. The dark and unnatural eyes beneath the mask make me tremble.
I’m not the only one, who has noticed the apperance of the mask. My comrades scream in terror, as several other masks are rising from the dead swamp. Their fearfull screams are accompanied by loud gunshots from their weapons.
The wearers of the masks are foul beasts. They have slight similarities with the humans, they might have been long ago. I had heard tales long ago of these monsters, disguised in the skin of men. Never I had thought of encountering them.
Warcrys shatter the swamp, as the first creature is hit by one of the shots. Red streams are flowing out of the large wound, yet the monster doesn’t even seem to notice. As the warcrys fade away over the swamp, the beasts are starting their charge.
I stand totally paralized and detached from all this in the midst of the battle, while my comrades are slaughtered bloodily. Involuntarily my sight is focused on one of the creatures in the distance. This beast is unlike any other. It seems to be stronger and bigger. The moves of it's limbs are strangely smooth, while the others beasts are in a frantic fury. It’s motions are almost godlike and it’s mask is undescribably horrible and none of the other masks can compare with it.
A crushing blow from behind knocks me down and darkness overpowers my senses. A pleasant black veil hides the bloodshed and the horrific strange beasts away. For the first time in days my mind is at ease, far away from the cursed swampland.
The blackness lasts shortly. I awake again in a strange upright position, my arms stretched away from me. My efforts to move are futile, as iron nails are pinning my wrist and ankles to the dead tree behind me. The beasts have cruzified me.
Strucked with horror I see the beasts before me sitting on the ground. They laid their masks aside and had started feasting on my comrades' corpses. My screams are suffocated by a dirty piece of cloth in my mouth.
And then I see the godlike beast again. It still wears it’s pallid mask, as it moves closer to me. I want to outrun it, yet I can not move. I can not escape. Now it stands before me, watching me with unseen eyes behind the wooden pallid mask. Several small yellow worms are crawling over the rugged surface of the mask. A crude scarred hand rises, grasping after the mask. Slowly the hand pulls the mask away and the creature’s face is revealed.
A fear I never felt before radiates through my inner self. No face is behind the mask, only an empty dark void. As my sight loses itself into the void, I feel the faceless god feasting on me... not on my flesh but on my very soul...