Norseman Saga, Vol. 8.5

“Eh, it’s a fair point,” you say, coming to your friends defense. “And it takes a fair bit of skill to throw an axe under pressure with any accuracy.”

“Too heavy,” Erik replies, waving away your argument casually. “Daggers fly faster, and you can carry a lot more for the same weight.”

“And with any luck, they won’t bounce right off a particularly thick shirt,” Saxi responds as he throws his head back in a deep, throaty laugh.

“Guess you just need to learn to throw them better,” Erik snaps back, a sly grin resting on his lips. Saxi’s bout of laughter gets cut short, leaving the empty mead hall quieter than you ever remember it being.

“Argue quieter,” Leif moans from the next table over, trying to hide his head deeper into the crook of his elbow, where even the dim candle light in the tavern can’t bother him.

“No,” young Atli says looking over with a little bit of distaste in his eyes. “You got beat like a bitch, and now you get to deal with it like a grown man. Take your lumps, Leif.”

The slumped man murmurs something that you imagine was some sort of threat of violence, but he raises no more concerns about the topic at hand, or the volume at which it is discussed.

You let the conversation continue for a while as you examine the mead hall in a state you rarely see it - empty. It’s a lot bigger in here when the tables aren’t packed, and the sitting area is probably twenty yards wide, and a time and a half as long. The tables and chairs are study, non-decorative thing made from some dark hardwood, though time and a village of drunken vikings have taken their toll, and it’s nearly impossible to tell which. Antlers and old weapons line the walls, as well as a few paintings of different scenes. A couple, you notice, are done by Astrid’s careful hand. The better ones, it seems like. Astrid should really look into selling more, she could probably make quite a coffer out of them if she chose.

You’re brought out of your inner thinkings by a lull in the conversation, the sudden silence taking you by surprise. Now would be a good time to slip out if you chose, or bring up a new idea to talk about.

>Go somewhere (Where?)
>Find someone (Who?)
>Do something (What?)
>Bring something up (Write-in)

>>1085887

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIT, what's up Handler.

Is our shield supposed to be finished today? Or have I lost track of our timeline

>>1085945
Uuuuh. This is your second day back. Said it would be three days. So tomorrow.

It is now Tomorrow. I have spoken.

nuthin, questin, wbu?

>>1085974

Oh yeah, if we're just still at the bar let's go get some sleep and hit the blacksmith when we wake up

Not much, sorry for the split in questing there, was taking my lunch from work

>>1086180
It's pretty early in the morning still

>>1086214

Fair enough

>Bring something up (Write-in)

Bring up the gods, sound them out on how they feel about them or if they have any experience with them

>>1085887
>Do something (What?)
Tally up and make sure all of the equipment we will be using on our next raid is both properly accounted for and in good condition

I guess there are better things to do but meh might as well do something.

>>1086214

Thanks for the attempt Handler, maybe more people will catch on tomorrow

>>1087138
was here but didn't look like it was goin nowhere

>>1087165

Damn, well next time, he'll normally write if he can get three players but I understand if you came in and nothing had happened for a couple of hours

>>1087165
Same

>>1086313

Let's do this,
and we can ask anders if they already resolved their issues

>>1085887
>>Bring something up (Write-in)
a) Raiding.
b) The gods like Anon said.
c) Continue to make friends with them, they seem cool (when they're not cock-blocked).

As long as we are not enough players, Handler could update the pastebin (our levelups and our companions' skills)

>>1085887
Go to raid the weak and rich!
Find someone to rob and pretty wenches to kidnap!
Pillage and loot!
Bring profitable raiding up to all our friends!

Hey guys, sorry about the lack of activity in this thread. I worked all week and was hoping for a more robust start to it. Luckily, I have Tomorrow and Sunday off minus a family wedding, so you can expect some updates tomorrow late morning/early afternoon, then a more dedicated run for most of Sunday

Sorry for letting you down this week, bit I hope to make it up over the next couple of days

Who's around? If we get three, I'll throw up the next update

>>1098936
one

>>1098936
here I am

>>1098936

Damn, sorry I am late

I am here, comrade. It is a slow day though.

>>1106842

Very much so, I just don't want to see this fizzle

>>1098936
I might be late, but I am here.

File: Svala.jpg (376KB, 739x861px) Image search: [Google]

376KB, 739x861px

You stand, making your various excuses, and wave on your way out the door. You’re unsure why, but you have sudden urge to find Svala. Normally, you’d start your hunt at the mead hall, and break up whatever fight she started. However, you just left the hall, and you’re confident there were no fist fights in there… yet.

You decide that Goti’s is your next best bet. You keep an eye out there for her on your way over, and avoid the blacksmith’s questioning look as you poke your head in, look once around, and leave, not finding the blonde shieldmaiden within it’s walls.

You decide to check the impromptu training ground just outside the edges of the city before you give up, walking out of town into the forest surrounding it. Passing through the needled trees, you can hear her grunting before you come out into the clearing. As you exit the forest into the ring that holds training dummies and wooden weapons, and several patches of dirt used for instruction and unarmed combat. Using a large daneaxe on a dummy, you see Svala… actually, more of her than you ever intended on seeing. She’s wearing a very short skirt, which, while you’re sure does wonders for her movements, does very little for her modesty. The only other thing she is wearing is a thin band around her chest, binding her breasts. Sweat drips from her head and braided hair down her well-muscled arms and midriff, and you can’t help but watch the rivulets travel down her body.

“Can I fucking help you, Haskell,” she says gruffly, and you realize you’ve been staring. Hoping it hasn’t been long, you desperately search your brain to find an answer.

>Can you fucking help her?

>>1114348
>Can you fucking help her?
"It seems you need a sparring partner."