The Voyage of the Skidbladnir

[Messalina]

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/dragonship.jpg

Are you man or woman enough to join Thrudd on her journey to the new world?

There is no way of knowing what wonders they will stumble upon or what terrors will befall this band of adventurers as they sail off into the sunset. Expect a mixture of Norse myth and legend combined with some good-natured raping and pillaging along the way. In other words, just about anything goes, but we'd like to keep it in the 'times'.

All that's required is a sense of humor and the desire to have fun. Everything else (and a portion of the booty) will be provided to all comers.

The Vikings:

Thrudd Thorsdottir: Messalina
Brenna Haalgradhartar: Holli n Hunter
Roskva: katalynn
Yngvette Geirmundardottir: Snork Maiden
Gundar Rattbenderssen: ariosto
Wulfgar "Bearkiller" Eriksonn: PhoenixPrime01
Rurik ‘Raven Hair’ Odenfriggsom: Graybread
Snorri "Klaufi" Snorrason: captainb
Einarr Vesteinnson: Zircon

This is an OPEN thread. Please introduce yourself at OOC & Casting Call: Viking Adventure

 

[Messalina]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/F55L.jpg

The long road into Skjullhofud was strewn with the first inklings of spring, the snow giving way to thick mud. The hoar frost had surrendered to morning dew in some places and greenery was becoming more prominent. The growing season would soon be here for those rich enough to farm on their own land or that of a blooded Jarl.

The way was easy, even in the wet, cool spring. In the distance, the tiny village could be seen as a collection of burning chimneys belching thick, black smoke into the gray sky. She could hear the whinnies and nickering of horses and the deep lowing of cattle.

As the sun began to set, she could already hear the patrons of the Bloodsong beginning to celebrate nightfall. Someday, with luck, they would be in Valhalla. Seated with the Allfod; fighting by day, feasting by night. Such was the wish of every Northman.

Thrudd Thorsdottir pulled her fur lined cloak closer, guarding herself more from visions of what she knew was soon to pass rather than from the brisk salt breeze that blew in from the sea. She had been down to the promontory looking for the Jarl, Magnus Jarnulf.

They had argued long and hard, but in the end the Jarl had conceded to the godha's request. "You may have the dragon ship Skidbladnir if you can find the wolves to man it." She had smiled in that irritating way of hers and nodded knowingly before leaving him to stew.

It was a good vessel, clinker-built, with an eighteen inch draft. She was sleek, fast and highly maneuverable and could hold sixty men and their gear. The Bloodsong was a notorious haven for brigands, warriors and seamen. Thrudd would have no trouble manning the crew.

She had cast raidho. A journey. And a journey she would take.

 

[Graybread]

Rurik ‘Raven Hair’ Odenfriggsom

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/viking.gif

Mud flew in all directions as Rurik heeled the massive horse in the sides, his fur cloak flying behind, his shiny black braids flapping in the wind. He was in a hurry, he wasn’t about to miss the adventure. He had heard that Thrudd Thorsdottir had called ‘Raidho’ and his blood lusted for it. He saw the smoke rising from Skjullhofud and he leaned into the wind.

Rurik has two distinguishing features, first of course is his Raven black hair, rare for a Northman. It is said; that his mother slipped out one night to meet with an Arabian trader while visiting far to the South. His hair is so prized by the local lasses that they have developed a competition amongst themselves, to see which can collect the most locks of hair in a year’s time. Sneaking in during the night is impossible, as Rurik is a light sleeper, like all warriors. The only way to get in is to be invited, and that usually means to his bed as well. Many have gotten a lock of hair, and some have not, but they all left with a smile. There were in fact now, several dark haired babies within the village. Perhaps the cost of a lock of hair.

His second feature is the use of his massive sword. He does not stand and fight one on one with an enemy, he wades into a crowd of them, swinging at whatever moves, hacking limbs and heads from bodies. All that know him will not stand beside him and fight for fear of losing an arm or worse. They will stand at his back to protect him however.

He reined his horse as he approached the Bloodsong, jumping off before it comes to a halt. Rushing inside he pauses to look around, seeing old friends he yells, “Raidho,” as he throws his arms around them. “Mead, bring me mead,” he laughs.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

http://elfwood.lystar.liu/se/loth/v/i/vincentdar/svorik04/jpg/html


He sat at a table fisting a horn of ale and eating portions cut off a haunch of beef swapping stories true and otherwise with others nearby.

His weapons were leaning against the wall behind him, all but Biter his axe which never left his broad leather belt. The spear, bow and full quiver of arrows reflected the care a workman devotes to the tools of his trade as does Biter, his fighting knife, ground down from a long sword taken from a dead Englander to about short sword length, and even his eating knive. Not a speck of rust could be found and all were as sharp a possible.

He wears hardened leather armor with overlapping iron rings riveted to it and the skin of the bear he killed singlehandedly is thrown back over his shoulders.

The trimmed beard and long reddish blonde hair frame a tanned and weathered face for he's been a viking for several seasons now.

Every summer some captain approaches him to lead the fighters. His skill with weapons and tactics make him a valued shipmate and his reknown ensures his share of the booty. And he's always been lucky too. All know those 'with the luck' are on the good side of the Gods, perhaps Old One-Eye himself

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Wulfgar "Bearkiller" Erriksonn:

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/WulfgarBearkillerErriksonn.jpg

Eureka!!! It worked. *LOL*

Copy Right by Vincent Dar, http://elfwood.lystar.liu

 

[ariosto]

Gundar Rattbenderssen

Gundar Rattbenderssen...cook and.....





http://www.ariosto.homestead.com/files/gundar.jpg



"Get out of here and don't come back!"
The beefy tavern keeper hurled the wretch through the heavy oaken doors without bothering to open them and wiped his hand on his apron.
"Bloody lunatic, been that way ever since Leif left him here high and dry."
"Aye!"
chorused the shaggy patrons of the Bloodsong.

Thrudd pricked up her ears.
"Leif?" she said, looking at the barkeep.
"Aye Leif hisself, Old Gunder Rattbenderssen, sailed with the best of 'em, but now he be only a slobberin drunk, aint it so boys?"

Another chorus of 'aye's' and Thrudd was out the door, plowing through the snowbank looking for the ejected mariner.
She found his boot first, a foul smelly thing, though it might have been the foot inside that provided the stench. With a wrench of her powerful arm she freed him from the icy cacoon and propped him against the tavern wall.
Blood dripped into his one good eye, the other was tightly shut. She removed a piece of the door from his forehead and shook him hard.
"You..YOU, Gundar Rattbenderssen, you sailed with Leif the Lucky?"

"Aye that I did, and Erik the Mauve, Konrad the Daft and Karl the Longwinded too."
Trudd recoiled from his breath and nearly gagged, but he'd just spoken a litaney of the greatest explorers to ever set sail from
Skjullhofud!

"What were you man, First Mate, Bosun, Sailhandler, Carpenter, Brainless Berserker...what!?"

She needed this pitiful creature, she began to imagine how he'd look all cleaned up...she abandoned the image immediately.

"I were assistant cook and....." his voice trailed off.

"Cook!, well okay I can use a cook and what else did you say?" She held her breath and bent very close....



__________________

 

[Snork Maiden]

Yngvette Geirmundardottir

http://snorkmaiden.com/yngvette.jpg

Yngvette slouched over the bar of the Bloodsong Tavern and rattled her Rams horn on the counter. "Og, drameir segsmeidsoki da", she fluttered her eyelashes provocatively at the portly landlord.

The barman shook his head and looked at her pitifully, "What you mean to say is you would like a refill right!", he replied taking the bone vessel from her hand and walking over to a cask.

"Dramut ig seigver dat ig so DA!", she retorted

The barman stiffled a snigger and coughed.

Lifting her highly polished shield from the side of the stool, she peered into it, her reflection clear but distorted by the curvature of the metal clenching her teeth and parting her lips at one side of her mouth she picked at a peice of venison caught between her upper canine and premolar. Having dislodged the offending morsel she ran her tongue over her teeth and wriggled her jaw slightly, replacing her shield by her side as the barman returned with her drink.

He held out his hand

She peered at him curiously and then at his palm which stretched out before her.

"Da?", she said quizzically

"Don't give me that 'Da' crap" the landlord replied his patience now starting to slip as other customers called his attention, his finger tips curled and uncurled beckoning her for payment.

Yngvette pouted "Oh you're like no fun are you", she said, reaching into her tunic and pulling out a couple of copper pieces. She slapping them into the landlord's hand and took the drink from him. She shook her head, looked down and spoke to her dog, which was more wolf than dog due to some accidental hybridization that had apparently occured between his mother and something else during a hunting session. "Is the grouchy Landlord no fun Schnarly" she asked the dog. The dog growled his acknowledgement.

At that moment a woman entered the bar purposefully, wearing a cloak.

 

[captainb]

Snorri "Klaufi" Snorrason

http://www.bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/klaufi.jpg
The merchant reached forward eagerly and placed another stone piece on the carved board. “Another mill! Hah, that leaves you with just two pieces, then! I win!” He chuckled and raised a mug to his lips, looking around at the observers in pride. A puzzled look drew over his features as their bodies drew back as one. He turned back toward his opponent just in time to see a fist the size of a small ham approach his head. They had thoughtfully given him a chair next to the wall, which kept his body from sailing across the room and possibly spilling someone’s drink. As it was, the room briefly shook with his impact against the old oak wall, and laughter rang out as he slid senseless to the floor.

“Well done, Klaufi, well done,” cried Ormr the miller, clapping his hand on a burly shoulder. “Another mead for our friend!” He turned to his other side. “That’s two skins of fleece you owe me, Bjarni. He beat him in under seven minutes and went down with one blow!” Grumbles and laughter sounded around the table as similar bets were resolved. Oblivious to it all, Klaufi Snorrason calmly bit the heel off a loaf of bread and picked up his new flagon of mead. Klaufi was a regular at the Bloodsong Tavern during the off-season. A veteran warrior for the past nine seasons, he had sailed with courageous captains, traipsed across icefields with fearless leaders, and joyously raided lowland villages at his leader’s bidding. He was ferociously loyal, amazingly tall, incredibly strong, unswerving in battle, and sported the most wondrously large feet in all of Skjullhofud and the surrounding lands. He also possessed possibly the smallest head, with two close-set eyes and a red nose all that were visible under a shaggy mane of dirty blonde hair and equally shaggy beard and mustache. Furs and mismatched armor covered the bulk of his body, and a heavily nicked double-bladed axe was lashed to his side.

He set the mug down with a belch and quickly stood, turning toward the door. Bjarni groaned, but Ormr said, “Ah, there’s no one else around who doesn’t know him anyway. You’ll get yer chance again soon, there’s always another sucker wandering into town.”

As Rurik bounded through the door and greeted his friends, Klaufi wound his way through the small crowded room with surprising skill. He stopped next to the bar and looked down, smiled and said, “Pretty!” The young woman leaning against the bar looked up and blinked. He leaned forward and extended his beefy hand past her to pat the head of a wolf-like dog, which growled uncertainly. “Pretty!” he said again, then straightened and walked out the door.

Reaching under his furs already in anticipation of finding an unlucky bush, Klaufi suddenly stopped and stared. “Gundar!” he shouted, and began to purposefully stride toward the two figures against the tavern wall. “You hurt Gundar? Gundar friend!”

 

[Zircon]

Einarr Vesteinnson

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/Einarr2.jpg



“Oh, great Ægir, please grant me the strength…” Einarr whispered softly to himself. This was the fourth God that Einarr had prayed to since Óðinn, Thor and Loki had not answered his earlier prayers. If this went on any longer, he might run out of Gods to pray to.

“Umphh!…” the breath whooshed from him as he fell heavily to the ground.

“Ah… Do you want to continue, Einarr?” Hróðarr asked, with a sneer on the corner of his mouth.

Einarr did get up again, but not before rearranging his underclothes, a Viking equivalent of a modern wedgie. The Glima had gone on far longer than he had anticipated. And gone on far less better than he imagined possible. Hróðarr was a small man although bulky, and so imagined, an easy picking. Einarr did not anticipate the low center of gravity that Hróðarr had, as well as the tremendous strength that he possessed.

“Your namesake is beginning to wane. Perhaps you should be named Óttsveinn…” The sneer was becoming contempt, as the two verily circled each other again. Then, the two crashed into each other ferociously, grabbing at what ever was available. The over-confidence of Hróðarr was his undoing, as he did not perceive the pressure of Einarr’s elbow on his face. The pain momentarily disoriented him, which allowed Einarr to throw Hróðarr head-first into the grainy beach. Hróðarr’s eyes glazed over, and Einarr was victorious, much to the amazement and chagrin of Geiri.

“Well, Geiri, my winnings, if you please…”

“That was unfair…”

“As much as it was unfair when you asked me to fall several times before disposing Hróðarr? I think not, Master Geiri. Perhaps those over there might be interested to learn of your manipulations of the odds?” Einarr pointed at that group of people who was close to tears when their champion, Hróðarr, lost.

“Ah… That won’t be necessary. Here, enjoy…” Einarr grasped the bag of Ægir’s Fire firmly, and walked away quickly and unnoticed. It would not be wise to stick around and gloat. Skjullhofud was large, at least much bigger than Gilsbank, Einarr’s home village. Anything with more than one road through the village was bigger than Gilsbank. Although spring had arrived, Einarr felt that it was not yet time to go home. The shipwrights had probably started work, and there would be much to be done. Much carpentry work that Einarr hated as much as loved. The Bowpost and Sternpost would be finished soon, and it was a joy to see the shape of the drekar come alive. Just like the beautiful Skidbladnir on the beach.

“…auþi betra þykkir þat í ókunnun staþ, (and no worse provision can he carry with him,)
slíkt es válaþs vera öl… (than too deep a draught of ale…)”

That was a mighty fine adage to live by, and so Einarr picked up his pace to reach Bloodsong. Besides, Skaði can still ski in the low mountains, so finding warmth was on top of his mind as well. Aches and bruises tend to be worse during cold weather, and underneath his clothes, Einarr was colorful with patches of black and blue. He wondered briefly how much more does he need to do to be an Einheriar.

“Öl please, good barkeep. And I’ve money…” Einarr jingled his money pouch in the barkeeper’s face, and the barkeep’s sneering disdain melted away. Einarr kept to himself pretty much, his ribs starting to hurt now that he was sitting down. There was something that drew him here, other than the warmth and ale. Maybe a toast to Ægir, the God of Ale would bring out the reason.

 

[Holli n Hunter]

Brenna Haalgradhartar

http://www.Bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/Darkness.jpg


Brenna Haalgradhartar
The only daughter of a raiding cheiftan. She weilds the axe and sword comfortably. Her long Blondish Red lockes that cover her from head to buttocks is braided and pulled into the second braiding. Her Colbolt eyes take in everything that she sees. She stands an intimadating 6' 4" and her feminine features are blessed by Freya herself. She moves freely around the fjord and watches the commonation that the group of adventurers are ready to partake.

Seeking out the captain of the ship and offering my sword and services. "Even Odin watches the Valkires gather the worthy to Valhalla." I remark to one that was watching but avoiding the commitment of the ship. "What afraid the beasts of the water will eat you alive lad? Oh to be so lucky and get a few strikes in first!"

Stepping into the tavern, she merely looks about and grins. A lusty bunch she thinks and walks to the innkeeper and demands Mead. "Unless of course you are looking for an early grave ole man."

 

[Messalina]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

"Cook! Well okay I can use a cook and what else did you say?" Thrudd listened expectantly for his answer.

"Captain," Gundar whispered, wincing at the thought of incurring the Godha's wrath. He'd heard tales of her sung by the skalds. They said she could do a mean trick with newts. Desperately trying to remain in her good graces, he blurted "Speaking of newts, Thrudd. Have you ever tried Newt Cordon Bleu? It's to die for."

Thrudd blinked, yanking Gundar to his feet. "I don't remember mentioning anything about newts. Cordon Bleu, you say? Interesting. We'll sit down and swap recipes once we set sail. In the meantime... You're hired. Chief, cook and... Be ready to sail at cock's crow."

Checking her nails for signs of chips or cracks, the altitudinous Norsewoman patted her hair and went back inside the tavern to see who else she could coerce into joining her. She had already decided to keep their destination vague. No use them getting their breeks in an uproar before it was time. Promise of great treasures to be had was all they needed to know for now.

 

[Graybread]

Rurik ‘Raven Hair’ Odenfriggsom

Rurik had had enough of songs and tales, he was ready to sail, he was ready for adventure. He downed his mead and leaned over to set the empty horn on the table. Turning quickly, before standing, he found his nose in the cleavage of a lusty bust. Not wanting to break the magic of the moment, he simply raised his eyes to look in the face of an altitudinous redhead. “Seidhkana,” he inhaled, stepping back quickly, “a thousand pardons Godha, I did not know it was you.”

“It’s alright,” she said, smiling faintly, checking her nails. “Can you swing that thing?” She asked, meaning his sword.

“Yes mistress,” Rurik beamed proudly, “and I can swing my sword as well. I have come to join your crew.”

Thrudd raised her eyes to Rurik’s. “You have very unusual hair for a Northman, were you once a black newt?”

“Huh,” Rurik replied.

“The Skidbladnir is at the wharf, you may load whenever you are ready,” Thrudd told him.

“Thank you Seidhkana,” Rurik said, bowing his head in respect, and another glace at her bust.

Leaving the Bloodsong, Rurik felt proud to be accepted as a member of Thrudd Thorsdottir’s crew. Inhaling deeply, his lungs taking in his share of air and half of somebody else’s. As he strolled over to his horse, he noticed an old man, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. “Ya’ll right there, ole timer?” Rurik asked. (Rurik’s village was in the Southern part of the country.)

“Yeah, yeah,” the old man replied, “just couldn’t seem to get enough air there for a minute.”

Rurik nodded his head, as if he cared what the old man was saying. Untying his horse, he led him down to the wharf, looking for the Skidbladnir. As he reached the shoreline, he saw only one wharf and one ship. He looked to his left and then to his right. “This the Skidbladnir?” he yelled to a man on deck.

The man raised his head, looked to his left and then to his right. Shaking his head, he went back to work.

“Must be,” Rurik said to the horse, leading him up the gangplank.

 

[Zircon]

Einarr Vesteinnson



“…You have very unusual hair for a Northman, were you once a black newt?…” That was a question for the ages. Einarr had seen a golden newt, a green newt, and rainbow colored newt, but never a black newt. But then again, if he had not seen one, it does not mean that Black newts do not exist. Maybe black newts are like chocolate milk which comes from brown cows.

Newts were good eating, if you can find a big one. Most of those that were in his village are small ones, barely like the size of edible frogs. But newts make good pets as well, with the amount of insects during the summer. Now cockroaches are good eating as well, deep fried with a mug of frothy ale will make a long evening shorter.

“Godha, I’m Einarr. I can build a drekar. Your ship, the Skidbladnir, is a fine one. I’m of mind to join your crew as well.” Shipbuilders and seamen always make the distinction between boats and ships.

She eyed him up and down as well, sizing him up, as if the long slim bulge on his crotch that went to his legs was not enough. “Can you steer?” “With one hand, my Lady.” Einarr showed her his hard muscled forearms.

“Good, you can be my steersman. Skidbladnir is on the wharf.” The godha sashayed away, and made Einarr wonder if there were any hidden newts under her bodice.

The Skidbladnir was a true drekar, not a knarr. Einarr took off his shoes as soon as he got on board. He made a perfunctory nod to Rurik, before disappearing down to check the keel and keelson for leaks. There were a few places which could be patched better, and Einarr eyed Rurik’s horse and the horse-hair more closely for materials. Rurik’s horse would not mind, not too terribly anyway, and probably would not miss it either. Rurik on the other hand might, so little bits at a time would have to suffice.

The “Tit” was still sound, as the original shipwright had taken great pains to find the right match. As sound as any woman’s tits as a matter of fact. Soft and strong and yet sturdy and flexible. The rudder oar was finely made as well, so Einarr was pleased to find such an easy work. The mast was incredibly straight, and made him wonder where did the shipwright found such a tree, as the mast was inevitably made from whole trees. The sailcloth was still good, which made him wonder if this ship had sailed much before. The round stones, used for ballast, was really smooth as well, much smoother that the ones found in Einarr’s village.

All in all, Einarr was pleased to be part of a fine ship. It’s crew would no doubt do it justice as well. The morning tide would be the best time to set sail. And it would be the Godha’s honor to put the dragon-head prow back on, once they reach the open seas.

Let the adventure begin! Thought Einarr, the reason he joined, for adventure and booty.

 

[ariosto]

"Nope...wrong man."
Gundar tried to hide behind an icicle but Klaufi smashed it aside and lifted his old friend and shipmate high in the air and commenced to crush him to death with heartfelt greetings.

"Gundar you old dog...how are you!?"

"F..f..f..fine Klaufi."
His words, gasped out into the frigid night air.
"Now put me down ye cursed beast."

The warrior did no such thing, he sniffed Gundar's breath and instead of wretching, laughed like crazy.

"Thought you'd given up the stuff old friend. After you nigh got us all killed when we was rapin' an pillagin' to beat the band at that Convent in Wales...remember?"

Oh indeed he did and a tear rolled from his one good eye at the memory. Inspite of the painful images that flooded his ale soaked brain he did manage a kick in Klaufi's groin, hard enough to set them both on the ground.

Klaufi doubled over, grinned at him in the light spilling from the tavern door and extended an invitation to go a rovin' with Fyngher BloodAxe and himself aboard the Merciless Buttfukker at first light.

"Nay I can't do that. I've already signed aboard the Skidbladnir...but good luck in your rapin' an all."

Gundar got up to stagger back inside but Klaufi's heavy paw held him in place.
"Surely not as the cook again."
Klaufi rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Either that or Captain."
Rattbenderssen stood up, his slight 5 foot frame swaying dangerously in the subarctic wind.

The warrior guffawed...
"Captain!...Tell me your NOT going to try that again!"

 

[Snork Maiden]

Yngvette returned from the creche area Schnarly toitting happily beside her. Do you think we have time for another before turning in Schnarl? she said looking down and smiling at her dog.

ruff, the reply came.

Good that what I thought too, Yngvette continued as she walked up to the thinning bar. She clapped her hands and waved her horn once more at the landlord, looking around the room.

Da traagen drifnir oogvesgenyik haarn da drukk chik chik, she called up to the Landlord who was doing his best to ignore her.

Relenting he approached, Ok look, I'll serve you if you stop making those ridiculous words up, deal?

Ok it's a deal, Yngvette replied handing her horn over eagerly.

Seenge heesenig va da greiniheg LOL, she whispered down to Schnarly.

I heard that!, the landlord called back down the bar in her direction

Heard what?, Yngvette replied innocently, smiling and fluttering her eyes.

The landlord scowled at her but returned with the horn refilled with ale.

Thankyou , da geesnig.... oops sorry slip of the tongue, she replied snatching the horn quickly from the man before he could withdraw it. Sorry. She smiled pleasntly at him. Oh, by the way, where's Gunder?

Gunder had to leave very quickly on urgent business, you could say he had to fly, with my assistance ofcourse. I can demonstrate for you if you like?, the landlord replied smirking.

hmmmmmmm, er na it's ok it can wait I'll catch him tomorrow, Yngvette replied. I suppose you want more copper bits for this ?, Yngvette enquired, wiggling the beer laden horn in her hand.

That's your last for tonight right, and then you're leaving?, the landlord asked

Yeah tha's about right, Yngvette replied

Then the drinks are on the house, the landlord said. Anything to get rid of this pest.

ehh sorry I didn't quite catch that, the was was some noise over there, Yngvette explained

Then the drinks are on the house, the landlord repeated with emphasis.

Yngvette shook her head and craned her head forward as if she had again not heard his words, Sorry. what?

The landlord was losing his patience now and raisiing his voice replied again THE BLOODY DRINKS ARE ON THE HOUSE!

"oh , I see, , Yngvette smiled mischieviously as the crowded tavern turned to look at the landlord, dodging out of the way quickly to avoid the stampede she sipped at the beer and patted her dog on the head.

I guess it's time we headed home Schnarly , she said to the large wolf hound and headed out the tavern and back up the muddy street to her hut.

 

[captainb]

Klaufi Snorrason

“Skidbladnir?” said Klaufi with a surprised grin. “Dragon ship with red and yellow sail? Ooo, that a pretty ship. Merciless Buttfukker smell like trail-kill wolverine.”

Gundar looked again at the warm light spilling from the tavern windows and shivered in the wind. “Well, maybe not captain this time,” he said, edging away. “But the crew knows what to expect from my cooking, even though that new… well, she didn’t say what she was, but I expect she’ll be calling herself captain…”

“She?” Klaufi looked at the tavern. “That girl that beat you up? She get away before Klaufi can save you. I hit her for you, okay?” he said sincerely, turning toward the door.

“No!” Gundar said quickly, placing his hands on Klaufi’s huge chest. “No, she was just verifying the authenticity of my résumé.” The big man’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement over his close-set eyes. “Uh, she was asking how good a cook I was.”

Klaufi’s face brightened. “Oh! Gundar great cook! Last voyage together, you find thirty-seven ways to make lemming. Fah to Fyngher BloodAxe. Me sail with you!”

“Oh, good.” said Gundar, seeing an open path to the tavern door. “Well, you better talk with her first.” He pulled the door open and paused. “And don’t hit her! The last thing we need is for you to get angry in here. Last time that happened, we had nowhere to drink until the back wall was rebuilt. Okay?”

Klaufi rolled his eyes and grinned again. “Okay.” His friend hurried inside, stopping to talk with a young woman at the door, and Klaufi turned back to his business next to a severely stunted and stained spruce tree just around the corner of the building.

The ice crystals on his furs melted instantly as he stepped back into the tavern. Scanning the boisterous crowd, he soon spotted a tall woman, armed with axe and sword, leaning comfortably against the bar. He strode up to her and struck his chest with his fist. “Me Klaufi Snorrason,” he proclaimed loudly. “Sailed with Refr Hallason, Björn Bjesterday, and Gunnholda… Gunndott… um… Gunnhilder Geirsdóttir against monks of Lindisfarne, and took gold and heads from kingdom of Dark Goblins.” He held the huge, double-bladed axe above his head, his eyes beginning to blaze as his nose turned a brighter red. “I row hard, split skulls of enemy, and bring gold and weapons back for great Skjullhofud and my friends!” he shouted at the room. "Take me on Skidbladnir and I fight ’till death and beyond to Valhalla!” He brought the axe down into the middle of the bar, smashing through the wood and burying itself in the heavy floorboards.

Brenna looked at him in bemusement and took a sip from her mug. “My, you have a big axe,” she said. “But I think you want to talk to her.” She nodded toward another woman across the room who stood surrounded by wanna-be recruits, all staring at him.

Klaufi panted heavily, staring back at them, then looked at the woman before him, then back across the room, then at the woman before him, then back across the room.

“Oh.” He yanked the axe out of the splintered bar and looked at the barkeep, who gazed levelly back at him, one foot tapping angrily. Klaufi shrugged. “Sorry.” He hefted the axe over his shoulder and pushed across the room, stopping in front of Thrudd. He struck his chest with his fist. “Me Klaufi Snorrason,” he proclaimed loudly. “Sailed with Refr Hallason, Björn…”

She held up her hand and interrupted him. “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.”

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Wulfgarr Ericksonn:

"I'm Wulfgarr Ericksonn, all know me. All who go aviking at least," he says as he looks over the Captain of such a favorably named craft, a name to bring the luck of the Gods to add to his own good luck.

"I've led warriors for the past three seasons and was a warrior for more before that.
"All know I have the luck and of my fighting prowess besides.
"I'm also called Bearkiller for slaying this bear who used to wear this hide," he says as he pulls his cloak round where it can be clearly seen as it hangs down to his ankles, "single handedly as witnessed by some here."

Looking around many of the men are nodding at all he's said and some grinning at the memory of the bear.

"Do you wish me to do for you what I did for Eric the Red two seasons ago and lead the fighters and lend my skill and luck to your voyage?"

 

[Holli n Hunter]

Brenna Haalgradhartar

I watched the bunch visit the Woman called Thrudd. I would wait a few more minutes after my drink at least.

When one in furs walked over to me with an axe to make my heart melt and then some. He annouced his desire to sail on this adventure. I had half a mind to give him something else but stayed my mind that not all are clan minded. When he finished I informed him that the Woman called Thrudd was over across the room. Had I not left he would be the kind that my Father would gladly marry me off too. Strong, weilding big axe, berserker type. Now I see why some wenches from the clan act so around them.

I finished my drink and set the tankard on the counter and walked over to Thrudd.

" Brenna Haalgradhartar, I came from across Haalgrad fjord for adventure. I have no grand list of sailings with great men of tales that all Vikings be proud of. I offer my hand to sail and row if need be. I bring my sword and axe to prove my loyalties. So what say you, Lady Thrudd. Care to bring another wench along?" Giving one of my favored smirks and a half-hearted prayer that Odin and Freya bless me with luck.

Casting a look back at Rurik and smiling. Now there is another interesting male.

 

[katalynn]

Roskva:

Been sitting in the back of the tavern watching the action of the others. My blood red hair slightly curly, reaching down to my knees. Emerald green eyes on alert. Slightly smaller than most vikings standing at 6 ft even, long, finely tones legs. Looking like she can't fight with her beauty. Having all the right curves in my leather pants and long boots, white polar bear fur cloak, leather top trimmed with white fox fur.

Down at my feet lies a white panther, whiter than the snow, eyes bluer than the seas. Hrim-faxi is what I call him. He's been with me since he was a cub, there was nothing I could do for his mom so I raised him and he goes everywhere with me, never leaving my side.

Roskva is an awsome craftsman, making the strongest weaps out of exitoc metals and woods. Has a rune ivory etched long sword at my side, two dagger in my boots and in fox fur bracers on my forearms. Long bow at my back made of nightmare wood, along with my arrows. All weapons of which I made myself with a few little runes etched in them of ancient spells.

Just as I finish my mead listening for someone with possible action. Hearing the name Thrudd, then seeing others gather around her. I wait for it to calm down some before aproaching her with my serves.

 

[Messalina]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

Thinking to halt a second and quite possibly a fifth telling of Klaufi the Berserker's uncommon attributes, the Godha held up her hand. "Yes, yes, I heard you the first time."

She didn't realize her mistake until it was too late, but by then another had approached her -- the one called Bearkiller. "We would be greatly honored, Wulfgarr Ericksonn," she said. "We sail at cock's crow."

Nodding her head, she tried to surreptitiously retrieve her hand from Klaufi's mouth. She didn't want to seem rude, but he was nibbling her fingers as if they were a prelude to an even tastier meal. It was worse than trying to wrestle a bone from a dog and Thrudd had had enough.

Forming a small O with her index finger and thumb, she stared Klaufi Snorrason down and thwapped him right on the tip of his bright red nose. The Godha smiled as he yelped and she took the brief respite to reclaim her finger from the Berserker's mouth.

" ...Care to bring another wench along?" Swearing under her breath at the sight of two broken nails, Thrudd realized that she had barely heard a word spoken by the woman now standing in front of her. She squinted at her and arched an eyebrow.

"Aren't you One-Eyed Hildegard's daughter?" The woman nodded. "She could sling a mean mace... Til the day the end broke off and... Well, you now know how she came to be called 'One-Eyed' Hildegard. We sail at cock's crow."

Wondering if there were any others interested in joining the band of sea wolves she'd already garnered, Thrudd looked around the tavern. They still needed a smith to repair and forge new weapons and none had been forthcoming. Her eyes passed and then came back to an interesting woman at the bar.

The Godha strode over to her, hoping this would be the last of the interviews til she could do a quick manicure. "Nice pussy," she said, eyeing the woman's pet. "How'd you like to go on a cruise? Lots of men and you might even get some booty. We sail at cock's crow."

 

[katalynn]

I look towards Thrudd as she aproaches, after hearing her invitation I look towards the panther, his ears perk up and look thrill of action in his eyes.

I just simply smile looking back up at Thrudd,

"cock's crow it is!" Deep irish accent "men are fun toys also, so of course i'll join." Smirking alittle.

pets her panther on the head letting him know that we are leaving, then standing up finishing my mead, walking out to go get things ready.

 

[ariosto]

"That foul 'beastie' pissed on me boot!",
'Captain' Gundar stood in Thrudd's imposing shadow, staring at the widening stain of panther pee around his damp foot.
"Tis bad luck to take a wild beast aboard...askin' for trouble it is."

"OH shut up Gundie...just think of allthe rats it'll kill."
Thrudd grinned and turned back to the rough hewn crowd of half frozen pirates and derelicts that would crew the ship.

"ALL RIGHT...LISTEN UP...Here's how it's gonna be..."

Gundar barely heard her, even when she mentioned rather offhandedly that "oh yes by the way Gundar Rattsbenderssen who sailed with Leif the Lucky, blah, blah, blah ...will be the skipper."...for his sobering mind was full of kegs of pickled swine,
live bullocks goats and chickens, dried parsnips, tubs of loganberry jam and of course barrels and barrels of mead and ale.
It would take quite a few stores to feed this crew for a journey to...
Hel! Where were they going!?

 

[katalynn]

I just smile at the captain "it may be bad luck to bring a wild one on board yes, Yet they allowed you on? hmm also just be lucky he isn't a BLACK cat...as for him pissing on your boot, well you must have excited him." Sticking my tongue out as I walk off to get settled in, and help out if needed.

Smileing back the Thrudd "well me and the capt, are off to a grand start." laughing alittle. "also Hrim-faxi is no more a wild beast than I am." saying this with a smirk on my lips as I walk off.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Wulfgar "Bearkiller" Ericksonn:

I stay and drank awhile longer then went to claim my spot on the ship before the prime seats were al taken.

On arrival at the long ship I claimed the seat closest to the steersman so I'd have leg room, and also room to fight when it came time.

I rolled up in my cloak and slept, only waking enough to be sure that there was no danger as each of the others gradually boarded and claimed their places.

 

[captainb]

Klaufi Snorrason

She thwapped my nose! thought Klaufi, gaping at Thrudd in astonishment. No one had ever done that before and he didn’t quite know what to do about it. He rubbed his nose and frowned as she turned to Brenna. If a man had done that, his response would have been simple and quick, captain or not. As it was, though, he just stood there rubbing his nose, torn between the conflicting instincts to either punch her or bend her over the remains of the bar and go into a rutting frenzy. Conflicting instincts made his head hurt, and it was no help when the redheaded woman with the pretty cat smirked and said, “Men are fun toys also, so of course I’ll join.”

Men… toys? Cats and dogs on boats? An image of a sandbox below decks nudged upward in his mind and he shuddered.

He noted that Thrudd was speaking to the assembled crew. As a rule, Klaufi’s attention span was short unless he was very, very focused on something important, such as eating or rowing or cutting large pieces out of opponents. If it was truly important, someone would correct him when the time came, anyway. His eyes wandered over the group, stopping at Brenna. It was easy to see why he had mistaken her for a leader. She was a big, strong woman. Her arms and legs were thickly muscled and her biceps rippled as she shifted her weight, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword. She noticed him looking and raised an eyebrow. He nodded back at her and gripped the thick double-length handle of his axe where it jutted upward from his hip, its round pommel bulging above his fist. Ah, she knows I have a good axe! he thought, seeing her eyes widen. She would make good sparring partner for Klaufi.

He leaned toward her. “You good and strong. We try each other out sometime, hokay? Klaufi try to take you down, and you try to beat me off, and I do same to you. Hokay?” He smiled and nodded, patting his axe handle again. “But now, Klaufi take bath. Always take bath before trip. It good luck,” he said proudly, not remembering that first year when the entire crew had forcibly scrubbed him down with boar-fat soap before allowing him into the cramped ship’s quarters.

He picked up someone’s mug and drained it, then waded through the crowd toward the door. Leaving the tavern, he trudged down to the shore. The Skidbladnir was tied up there, and he paused to look at it in the full moonlight. The curved sweep of its dragon-prow was majestic against the softly rolling harbor, and the waves lapped quietly against the shore. Muted talk rolled across the water from the few who were already boarding the boat.

“Pretty,” he said with satisfaction, suddenly pleased that he would be sailing again. He stepped to the edge of the water and unbuckled the pieces of armor, then shrugged off his furs and pulled off his boots. Steam rolled from his body, naked except for the great axe still strapped to his waist. He stretched, enjoying the frigid chill against his muscles, and stepped into the icy waters of the harbor. When he was up to his knees, he thrust his arms out from his sides, took a deep breath, and toppled face-first into the black salty water.