The Skabelse

The Bannered Lion

The Roriks chattered, every now and then bantering back and forth about who was the better swordsman or who had claimed the most lives in battle, which then triggered Hvitserk to retell the story of how he had saved Igor from getting impaled on a spear which was stuck in the ground who had tripped on an enemys helmet. "You would have stuck yourself like a pig if I didn't push you out of the way!" Hvitserk said, laughing heartily. The men joined in, remembering the sight of Igor almost falling onto the double-headed spear that was stick into the muddy ground.

Soon, Bjorn had just about forgotten about his woes and relaxed when he felt someone bump into him from behind, immediately spilling some of their drink onto his shoulder.

When he turned around, a massive Bluegardesman was looking down at him with a dangerous look in his eyes. "Sorry. I tend to be a bit clumsy after a few glasses of spirits," he said in a low voice, almost as if he was testing the Rorik prince.

With his torso still facing the large brute, Bjorn turned his head to his kinsmen with a raised eyebrow. They looked tense, ready to jump up at a moments notice. He knew that if he wished to have the brutes fight by their side when the time came, that he needed to keep things civil.

Slowly, Bjorn faced the man again and put on his most friendly smile, "Don't worry about it, we all can get that way after a few mugs. Tis just ale anyways, right? Besides, its not like you did it on purpose."

Pleased with the young mans reply, he laughed and roughly patted his shoulder as men do before joining his friends again. Bjorn watched him take his seat and whisper something to another man who appeared to be their leader.

Pursing his lips, he turned back around to find his men still looking tense.

"Well done Bjorn. I do not know if I would be able to stay level-headed as you," Igor said, scratching his beard before taking a swig of his mead.

Another hour passed before the Roriks, aside from Bjorn, were sloppy drunk. He chuckled at their inebriated state and was glad he would not have to face the hangover as they would.

When Hvitserk and Jaspir started singing an old bards melody, he took that as his que to pay their outstanding chits. "I'll be right back," he chuckled, shaking his head. He was ready to get his friends back to their quarters so he could join Rowan at dinner.

Bjorn stood up and walked over to the long wooden counter where the barmaids were. He leaned forward, resting his weight on the counter and patiently waited. When the redheaded woman noticed the handsome Rorik she patted down her hair and pinched her cheeks before she sauntered over to him. "Don't tell me you finally want a drink?"

Bjorn laughed lightly and shook his head no, "I actually would like to pay off my friends debts."

The redhead frowned and nodded her head, "I'll be right back to tell you the total," then went in the back to tally up their drinks.

Bjorn looked around the tavern, noticing how more packed it had gotten. No longer was it just the Bluegardes or the small amount of townsfolk, for the women of Starke and a few Gladeswomen had now entered the pub as well.

To his left, Rollo and another Bluegarde named Mik had stood next to him, lost in their conversation.

Bjorn tried his best to disregard what they were saying, but soon something had caught his attention and he could not help but to eavesdrop.

"I have never seen a more beautiful group of women," Mik stated, undressing the women at the table to the left with his eyes. He had one elbow on the wooden counter and was leaned backwards.

"Aye, their fair hair is quite different. I wonder if it is the same color on their twats," Rollo said before both of the men began laughing hysterically. Bjorn rolled his eyes at the mens banter. It slightly annoyed him that they were talking so free and vulgarly about the Gladeswoman, for if one of them caught wind of their conversation they would not hesitate to drive a blade into their hearts.

"I cannot believe you did nothing to the slag with a scar on her face. She must have some balls to go off on you like she did," Mik said after they finished laughing, causing Bjorn to freeze. Is he speaking of Rowan?

"You could say that I am intrigued by the little thing. How else am I supposed screw her brains out if I killed her where she stood? I bet she would be a good lay too. Even her mother looked fit."

More laughter ensued as Bjorn stood there in silence with his fists clenched. He has to be talking about Rowan. Who else has a scar on their face and a temper? He quickly dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out five silver coins, slamming them onto the counter. It would be more than enough for his friends drinks.

In three large steps he walked over to the two massive men, trying his hardest to not snap their necks where they stood. "You are not by any chance speaking about my woman, are you?"

Picture of Rollo up top! And yes, I so made him out to be like Khal Drogo ;) Also, sorry if I offended anyone with my language! It is hard to paint these beastly men without using a bit every now and then