Thorvald was playing a game involving a small cork bottle plug and a cow horn drinking glass, sitting inside the public mead hall on the floor before an open fire when Hrafn-Floki suddenly stepped inside the mead hall, accompanied by a dozen or so ulfhednar and half a dozen berserkers, causing everyone in the mead hall to pause for a moment in order to look at Floki the raven master, his appearance unmistakable and wild looking as ever with his thin crow's peak hair style, black eyeliner and curling fingers, a man of more modest size among the Iskjerne Vikings who stood in the arch doorway to either side of him.
Floki had scurvy and was shaking badly as he approached the campfire with his gang of champions and sat down. Floki was wrapped in a thick fur blanket and only his red slightly frost bitten face and frozen beard were exposed, but everyone could tell it was Floki by his walk and attitude as he started giggling nonsensically and wavering his way through the silence. The entire crowd was filled with silence, having all heard of the exploits and deeds of the reputable shipbuilder, adventurer, runemaster, and ghost pirate slaying naval leader who had once served the deceased King Sigurd Hring, and was now a very vain wiseman and holy leader. Floki had parched bleeding lips and dry red eyes, and skin cold and pale, but he smiled and chuckled once he got comfortable, wiggling his fingers in front of the flames.
Just then another familar old face would walk into the mead hall, standing in the doorway with a handful of well uniformed Frankish-styled armed guards with uniquely curved shields and green and blue uniforms with nanosteel armour and weapons, holding Ellarian crossbows, looking rather out of place for the setting. These highly disciplined archers were not Iskjerne Vikings, they were Ellarian Soldiers, and they were being led by a very tall dark haired Nordic man in a red silk robe with a bright blue dog fur cape and a finely trimmed beard. It was Robert I of Ellaria, the crown duke. But in former years, this noble familiar looking Frenchman had another name.
"That's Rollo the Walker," someone whispered quietly from the crowd that was standing back around the walls, putting distance between themselves and the foreign Ellarian soldiers.
"... It's Prince Hrollaug, son of Sigurd Hring." another voice whispered. The already silent crowd began to gasp at the amazing arrival of two well known Iskjerne Vikings who had been gone for several years, but who had once played prominent leadership roles during Sigurd's dynasty.
Just then, another distinguished figure entered the mead hall and upon seeing the Ellarian soldiers and the reaction of the Iskjerne Vikings, the young man slowly walked around the crowd away from everybody and made his way towards the back of the mead hall. His fine bright red blazing hair and stubbly chin were easy to pick out in the crowd as Thorvald Bloodyfist glanced over to him and smiled. It was Erik the Red, his grown son, having just returned from his quest to escort Livia and Ragnar to the cave system to the north. Livia would pay Erik the Red a good bit of silver for his troubles, but little did Livia or Erik realize at the moment just how much wealthier the Empyrean Norse exile had become. Erik soon approached his father and sat down next to him.
"She said he'll live." Erik whispered quietly to his father Thorvald before looking up at Hrafn-Floki in front of him, and Robert I of Ellaria, also called the Duke Rollo, standing at the entrance.
Floki had scurvy and was shaking badly as he approached the campfire with his gang of champions and sat down. Floki was wrapped in a thick fur blanket and only his red slightly frost bitten face and frozen beard were exposed, but everyone could tell it was Floki by his walk and attitude as he started giggling nonsensically and wavering his way through the silence. The entire crowd was filled with silence, having all heard of the exploits and deeds of the reputable shipbuilder, adventurer, runemaster, and ghost pirate slaying naval leader who had once served the deceased King Sigurd Hring, and was now a very vain wiseman and holy leader. Floki had parched bleeding lips and dry red eyes, and skin cold and pale, but he smiled and chuckled once he got comfortable, wiggling his fingers in front of the flames.
Just then another familar old face would walk into the mead hall, standing in the doorway with a handful of well uniformed Frankish-styled armed guards with uniquely curved shields and green and blue uniforms with nanosteel armour and weapons, holding Ellarian crossbows, looking rather out of place for the setting. These highly disciplined archers were not Iskjerne Vikings, they were Ellarian Soldiers, and they were being led by a very tall dark haired Nordic man in a red silk robe with a bright blue dog fur cape and a finely trimmed beard. It was Robert I of Ellaria, the crown duke. But in former years, this noble familiar looking Frenchman had another name.
"That's Rollo the Walker," someone whispered quietly from the crowd that was standing back around the walls, putting distance between themselves and the foreign Ellarian soldiers.
"... It's Prince Hrollaug, son of Sigurd Hring." another voice whispered. The already silent crowd began to gasp at the amazing arrival of two well known Iskjerne Vikings who had been gone for several years, but who had once played prominent leadership roles during Sigurd's dynasty.
Just then, another distinguished figure entered the mead hall and upon seeing the Ellarian soldiers and the reaction of the Iskjerne Vikings, the young man slowly walked around the crowd away from everybody and made his way towards the back of the mead hall. His fine bright red blazing hair and stubbly chin were easy to pick out in the crowd as Thorvald Bloodyfist glanced over to him and smiled. It was Erik the Red, his grown son, having just returned from his quest to escort Livia and Ragnar to the cave system to the north. Livia would pay Erik the Red a good bit of silver for his troubles, but little did Livia or Erik realize at the moment just how much wealthier the Empyrean Norse exile had become. Erik soon approached his father and sat down next to him.
"She said he'll live." Erik whispered quietly to his father Thorvald before looking up at Hrafn-Floki in front of him, and Robert I of Ellaria, also called the Duke Rollo, standing at the entrance.