Bronk was making his way to one of the Clubs meetings. Well, at least that was his intention. Right now, he wasn't sure if he was closer or further from the stairs that led down to the next level where the meetings was being held.

Bronk was a minotaur, and a first glance a fine specimen, standing nearly nine feet tall - when he had a ceiling above his horns that let him do so - broad shouldered and well muscled. Unlike others of his ilk, however, who held an uncanny knack of direction, he was more likely to get lost in 'his' maze than any of the adventurers who might come through it.

He was staring at another brick-walled dead end, trying to work out in his addled mind which direction he should have taken last. It was beginning to get quite tiresome. He knew he should have voted for keeping the meeting in the same place as last time, at least he was beginning to get the hang of that route, but after the last bunch of adventurers had burst in during the meetings minutes being read out it was decided to move to a little more out-of-the-way room.

He gave an exasperated sigh and turned, axe slung over his shoulder. Maybe the second left from the last right hand turn was the way. He had tried making maps but they just kept getting stolen by adventuring thieves.

The long road into Skjullhofud was strewn with the first inklings of spring, the snow giving way to thick mud. The hoar frost had surrendered to morning dew in some places and greenery was becoming more prominent. The growing season would soon be here for those rich enough to farm on their own land or that of a blooded Jarl.

The way was easy, even in the wet, cool spring. In the distance, the tiny village could be seen as a collection of burning chimneys belching thick, black smoke into the gray sky. She could hear the whinnies and nickering of horses and the deep lowing of cattle.

As the sun began to set, she could already hear the patrons of the Bloodsong beginning to celebrate nightfall. Someday, with luck, they would be in Valhalla. Seated with the Allfod; fighting by day, feasting by night. Such was the wish of every Northman.

Thrudd Thorsdottir pulled her fur lined cloak closer, guarding herself more from visions of what she knew was soon to pass rather than from the brisk salt breeze that blew in from the sea. She had been down to the promontory looking for the Jarl, Magnus Jarnulf.

They had argued long and hard, but in the end the Jarl had conceded to the godha's request. "You may have the dragon ship Skidbladnir if you can find the wolves to man it." She had smiled in that irritating way of hers and nodded knowingly before leaving him to stew.

It was a good vessel, clinker-built, with an eighteen inch draft. She was sleek, fast and highly maneuverable and could hold sixty men and their gear. The Bloodsong was a notorious haven for brigands, warriors and seamen. Thrudd would have no trouble manning the crew.

She had cast raidho. A journey. And a journey she would take.

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There was magic in the air and the storm-that-was-not-a-storm raged relentlessly around them, buffeting the dragon ship hard against the towering waves. Deafening claps of thunder boomed overhead and lightning bolts illuminated the heavens.

Thrudd Thorsdottir was feeling more than a little under the weather, which didn't do much for her temper. Whoever or whatever was playing these games had best show themselves. And soon.

Making her way slowly to the side of the ship for the tenth or fifteenth time, she checked the knot on the rope tied round her waist which connected her to the tall mast. Danic had insisted. It wouldn't be fitting for the godha to fall overboard while gazing at the sea, he had said. Well if the Aesir would stop their nonsense, she wouldn't have to keep gazing at the frigging sea. "Frigg. Frigging sea. Gods, I kill myself sometimes," she chuckled to herself.

Her supply of newts were beginning to look none too healthy either. As she bid farewell to her midday meal, Thrudd wondered if she would be able to get a fresh supply in Bayaran, the city that she had seen in her scrying.

"Thrudd! Thrudd Thorsdottir!!"

The godha wiped her mouth against the back of her sleeve. Now if that isn't a blast from the past, she thought as she turned around and looked around for the source of the stentorious voice.

Placing her hands on her hips, she stamped her foot and glared at the giant of a man who had suddenly planted himself on the deck of the Skidbladnir. "Dammit!" she exploded. "Can't you ever just come by knarr like regular Vikings do?"

The man swung his hammer defiantly, setting off a chain reaction of ear-splitting explosions around them. His booming laughter added to the cacophony surrounding them did nothing to ease Thrudd's now splitting headache.

"Spare me the pyrotechnic display, will you? What do you want?" She demanded in a petulant voice.

"Awww... kitten. Aren't you even gonna ask me how I am?"

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Danic watched the exchange between Thrudd and the vociferous Viking with mild curiosity. Thunderbolts were exploding all around the ship now and Thrudd was swearing up a blue streak. The oarsmen were sitting on the rowing benches, mouths agape as the stroke oar stood and announced they weren't going to row one more bloody inch.

"Is this a union strike?" Danic shouted at the unusually defiant oarsman. He was more than a little annoyed now and wasn't quite sure what they'd do in the middle of the ocean without a crew to row.

"Nope. It's religion. The men say the ship has been defiled by her presence. They say she's a b... witch. They say... Only the sacrifice of a virgin will set them rowing again." Oh, yeah. They figured they had it covered this way. She was either one or the other, and judging by her b... witchiness, she was most likely both.

"Thrudd's a b...witch?" Now that didn't really surprise him, but the second thing. The crew's demand began to sink in slowly. That. That was plain impossible. Danic raised an eyebrow and bellowed. "A VIRGIN! A virgin???" he repeated, lowering his voice so that Thrudd wouldn't hear. "Where in the name of Odin am I supposed to find a blasted virgin on this ship?"

In a single fluid movement that made them look like the June Taylor Dancers, the entire crew turned and pointed at... Thrudd who turned to face Danic at that exact same moment.

"SACRIFICE A VIRGIN?? I am NOT a virgin! Tell them I am NOT a virgin!"

Her guest began to roar with laughter. "A VIRGIN? Why Thrudd's no VIRGIN! Danic, don't you remember the time with the string, the gladiator's helmet and the... erm... umm... cheese?"

Thrudd turned a particularly fiery shade of red and turned to the giant blabbermouth. "A simple affirmation would have sufficed. You didn't need to give the details!"

A horrified gasp ran through the crew as the implication of what they had heard began to sink in. Thrudd wasn't a virgin?

"The cheese?? Aww, Thrudd. Please say it isn't so. NOT the cheese!" Danic cried out in horror. He didn't care if she was a b... witch, but the cheese?? He sat down hard on a barrel and covered his face with his hands.

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"I was BORED! Friggin' BORED!! Just wait til I get my hands on you!!" Thrudd screamed toward the heavens as the giant disappeared from the deck, an echo of his booming laughter echoing around them.

Hearing Blon's comment, the flustered Thrudd had a hushed conversation with Danic that was accentuated by a lot of arm flailing and head shaking. After a few minutes, Danic approached the stroke oar.

"Tell me, does your religion include any women?"

The oar looked apoplectic, sputtering his shocked response. "WOMEN!! Certainly not! Women are sinful creatures. Only the purest may worship!"

"So you've never... erm... uhm... That is... you've never... erm... you know... with a girl?" Danic asked, glaring at Thrudd for making him do her dirty work.

"Odin protect me!" gasped the stroke. "Certainly not!! I'm as pure as the driven snow!"

Danic began to grin, now seeing Thrudd's intent. "So, you mean to say you are a... "

"I'm a VIRGIN!!" the man shouted proudly in a most superior tone. Until he noticed everyone staring at him, that is.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a virgin, Thrudd!" Blon called over his shoulder.

"I say that's virgin on the ridiculous, Thrudd. Won't they be expecting a girl??" Danic mumbled, thinking that this plan wasn't such a good one after all. It wasn't good to anger the gods. Even if Thrudd did have an "in".

"Don't worry about a thing, Danic. We'll dose him with some herb, stick him in a dress and they'll never know the difference."

Well the guys weren't quite sure that her plan was going to work, but sure enough... twenty minutes later they were back on course and there was land in sight.

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Very Nice postings

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we-vibe