Einar Eldrson's Story

Having already made his offerings at the temple farther up the mountain, Einar was once again playing guest at the great hall that stood at the base. He was awaiting his new traveling companion. She had desired to prepare for her journey up the mount and wished to make her offering personally and in solitude, and Einar was never one to intrude upon another's personal relationship with the gods.
So, as Vilhjalma wandered up the winter trail and paid her respects to the Allfather, Einar was enjoying the pleasures that the local Jarl had the courtesy to provide to all pilgrims.

He was sat on a bench near the hearth in the center of the room, a lovely warrior maiden perched on his lap. The pair had crossed blades at a small competition earlier in the day and had retreated from the dark chill together. She kept up with him in mead horns and was as liberal in tracing her hands along his neck and tattoos as he was in caressing her back and thigh. The pair laughed in general merriment, caught up in the delights of song, drink, and tales, and boasts of battle as everyone else when a sudden silence drifted over the assembled group and a young man stood upon the table he was seated at and began to speak.

It was clear that the boy was not particularly well thought of, though Einar had no clue who he was. When his toast had concluded to the Chief, gods, and summer, Einar joined him in the toast, for he viewed it as bad luck not to join in on a toast to a host, and the gods especially.
He shook his head at the boy's challenge however, and as the hall erupted in laughter at the arrogant youth, the maiden stood and went to go refill their horns.
As she walked off, Einar's eye turned back towards the humiliated young man who, to Einar's complete surprise, was now hurtling across the table towards him as his fellow savagely headbutted another man. Einar was offended at both underhanded attacks, even as he was thrown backwards by the youth's weight and then punched.

He felt the sting of the blow in his cheek, but the boy was obviously not yet baptized in the fires of battle and the recklessness of the attack hadn't given him leverage for a proper swing.
Einar however, was a veteran of combat and well known for his strength, and devastating skill in battle, he and roared his fury at the little upstart that had launched himself across the table.

"Only Helheim awaits you boy, a coward will find no place in Odin's hall!", he bellowed in his rough, thunderous voice as he righted himself.

Standing with the agile ease of a seasoned warrior, Einar reached down and grabbed the little bastard and full bodily picking him up, he took two steps and threw him out of the nearest door into the cold darkness beyond.
As the boy flew, the handle of a walking stick was broken over Einar's shoulders. The man loosed a battle cry, as he turned and savagely backhanded his assailant before stepping forward and pulling a woman who had been pushed into the central fire from it's pyromantic embrace.

The brawl was quickly escalating as the intoxicated warriors vented their rage upon one another and Einar was no fool and knew that things needed to been ended quickly.

The shock of the cold snow chilled Gunnar to his bones as he landed with a thump. The sounds of roars and splintering furniture echoed out into the night as he stood and brushed himself off. He shivered, the clouds parting to reveal the stars above. Scowling he threw himself back into the hall, looking for the warrior who had manhandled him. "Coward am I? I'll show that fucker." Hemming was nearby, bellowing loudly as he picked up a bench and launched it into a crowd of vikings, momentarily flattening them. Scanning the hall Gunnar was picked up again and slammed against a wall, the blow driving the air from his lungs. Recovering fast he saw a fist coming at him and twisted his head to the side, letting it go past him and crack into the wall. Gripping the arm he wrenched it two ways and felt a satisfying crack. Kicking his opponent out of the way he gave up on finding the warrior again and dove back into the melee.

Ducking under grappling warriors, Gunnar came across a shieldmaiden, shrieking as she was dumped in a barrel of mead by two burly Gotlanders. They roared with laughter, but before they could realise their mistake the shieldmaiden had lept up and latched her thighs around one of their necks. Twisting hard she flipped the man over and onto the barrel, which splintered and sent mead flying everywhere. Another roar of laughter split the air at that, and the shieldmaiden turned to face the man's angry friend, who swung a heavy fist at her. Dodging the blow she delivered a swift knee to the man's groin. His eyes went wide and he crumpled to the floor alongside his friend. Without pausing for breath the shieldmaiden grabbed the nearest warrior and kissed him forcefully, dropping him when she was done and shouting her battlecry at the top of her lungs.

Gunnar found himself back to back with Hemming, the older man sporting a bloody nose and a few loosened teeth. Around them were more than a few warriors from a rival village. "Still alive Gunnar you little shit?" Hemming spit a wad of blood to the floor. "I thought you'd buggered off and left me in this mess you started."

"Not on your life Hemming." Gunnar was thrilled with the exhileration. The men here were as keen for a friendly fight as any back home it seemed. "You always boast you can take care of yourself. I was just seeing if it was true." Hemming grunted in response.

"I doubt these bastards from Falthivr will let you escape without a broken limb or two. Your father won't be happy."

"Sod my father." Gunnar grinned and tackled the nearest man. Receiving a few kicks to the ribs whilst he was on the floor, Gunnar slithered between another's legs, slamming a fist into the man's groin as he did. Unluckily the man collapsed on top of Gunnar. Hemming, gripping one man by the throat and another held under his arm scowled and kicked the man on top of Gunnar over.

"Get up you slimy git." Hemming's words were cut short as the point of a dagger emerged from his side. Eyes wide in surprise he dropped the two men he was holding and turned as the dagger was withdrawn. Gunnar struggled to his feet as the man attacked again.

Moments after Einar pulled the woman from the fire, he was pulled into the fray once more as another man rushed forth and slammed him into a support beam. Einar shook his head clear and brought his elbow down, driving it into the man's shoulder blade and causing him to buckle before simply throwing him aside. Laughter intermingled with cries and roars of pain, all overlaid by hearty battle songs that all blended together to create a strange sort of merriment to an otherwise dangerous and violent, if sportingly natured tussle.

That good natured atmosphere quickly died away for Einar as his mismatched eyes settled on a blade withdrawing from the Little Upstart's companion.
Einar was at a moment of disbelief, rarely would one draw a blade during a drunken brawl under another Jarl's roof. The audacity and disrespect were astounding. To his credit however, Einar quickly recovered and crossed the gap before the man could strike again. He grabbed the other man's wrist in his vice-like grip and was satisfied to feel the bones cracking beneath and causing him to drop the knife. With a twist, he raised the man's arm over his head and delivered a crushing stomp to his right knee, dropping him before slamming his fist into his jaw.

By this time he was hoping the Jarl would put an end to this so the loathsome underhanded man's crime could be punished properly.

Einar looked to the young man and his friend, saying, "Get him some aid boy, before he bleeds out!"

Gunnar was on his feet and seething. This old bastard obviously had no idea of who he was. He took a step forwards but was stopped by an outstretched hand from Hemming. "Easy Gunnar. That's enough." Hemming was wincing as he moved, but the wound didn't look serious. Grimacing, he turned around to the warrior who had dealt with the knife-wielding viking. "You'll have to excuse Gunnar. Ever since his father sent him off to win his shield he's thrown himself headlong into every fight possible." Hemming smiled. "The trouble is, both the bastards have egos the size of Yggdrasil. Any insult is personal." Tearing off a strip from the bottom of his tunic, Hemming handed it to Gunnar, who stepped forwards and began tying it around the wound.

"Hold still you git." Gunnar seethed through his teeth as he pulled the make-shift bandage tight. He checked to see if it was holding back the bleeding, then turned to his own scrapes and bruises. One of his fingers was bent an odd way. He flinched as he touched it. Not broken thank Odin. Taking a deep breath Gunnar gripped the finger and popped it back into its socket, waving his hand after. Then he looked to the warrior, the one who had earlier thrown him out and then defeated Hemming's attacker. The man wasn't much to look at but had obviously seen some combat.

Under Hemming's watchful gaze, Gunnar decided that he could put honour aside for the sake of good humour, and pulled a couple of drinking horns off a nearby table. He thrust one towards the warrior and smiled. "Name's Gunnar. My father is the Jarl of Trondelag over in Norvegr. Hemming and I came to pay our respects here before heading off to visit the Danes. What brings you here?"

The Tavern was a large, yet rather modest building. And in this winter night it looked even more appealing, with warm light coming out through small gaps between the wood. Erak opened the Tavern door, and with a gust of chilling wind he entered. Followed by his four Huscarls he looked around as he strode further in, in search of either an empty table or one where he could take a seat.

Drawn to a couple of men that looked like warriors, Erak judged the men closely with his gaze as he walked up to them, dismissing his Huscarls. They looked like they've had a rough day, signs of a fight was still evident on them. Although Everything had apparently calmed down, seeing as they were drinking and talking. "Did you lose an arguement with a bear or something?" Erak commented with a crooked smile as he walked in amongst them.

With mysterious new spirit companion Kotah in tow (see post made under Dark Ages Europe) Vilhjalma made the journey down from the sacred temple back to the great hall she'd started out from. She wasn't sure where she and Einar would be traveling next. Off to sell their services no doubt but to whom? She felt a bit restless of late, itching for a new battle to test herself in.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached the entrance of the great hall, glancing back for the presence of Kotah as she shook snow from her cloak. After a deep breath and a weary sigh she entered.