The five Vikings begin their down the long winding staircase. On the way down, Sigfurd sings an Ode to Osvauld, the words and rhymes coming to him as if he too were a bard of Odin. Sigfurd may have been slightly tone def when compared to the beautiful magesty of Alrik’s voice but Melkorka’s bard could not help but be impressed with the structure of the tune. The novelty of Sigfurd’s song wore off soon though as the walk that they had done earlier this same day grew long and tiresome. Berger hefted a “Shadup Sigfucker” at Sigfurd after the fourth encore. Few could blame him but none of the others had the heart to spoil Osvauld’s memory. They could all hear the flapping of wings as they stepped ever downwards. Hundin was following them. The group had held Odin’s interest beyong their encounter with the Fenris wolf.
Finally, when they reached the bottom of the staircase, they stopped to rest. The hall continues on into the darkness. The Norsemen’s very breathe seemed to echo into the black. The eery silence is suddenly broken by one of Berger’s belches.
He sits down on the stair and breathes deeply.
I swear to all that is fucked and buggered in this world that I will not be made to climb those stairs again boys.
He takes a swig from his wineskin, which he had filled several. He then passes it to Weoulf.
Berger’s eyes glaze over as he rests. He holds his hand out in front of him, moving it slowly up and down as if he were touching something.
Pretty!
