It's a matter of perspective.

It's not cold enough here.

Why am I fighting for this barren rock island that never freezes? Everyone knows that without the freeze the life of spring is stunted, held back by the leftover entanglements of last summer. Vitality needs a path!

The trees hardly grow here, the ones that do are no bigger than a proper man's thigh.

For the love of Sif, goddess of our earth, she only lets them burn the peat and moss that comes from the ground for warmth.

Who wants the sweltering, inhospitable rock? Leave it to the tattooed and blue-faced barbarians who run naked into battle and attack with weapon, fang and claw - indiscriminate and unfearing of their fate.

I will take the Fjord over the Moore anytime.

Beard. Braid.

I'm not sure what is going on with the hand down there but Hey! look at the braided beard!

Hammer time

Drawing done during a class on project management

I've always favored the Hammer as a weapon.

No edge to hone constantly, multiple fighting surfaces, front back, sides, pommel. a deadly weapon that can be effective in non-lethal engagements. Blunt force still works through plate male while edges and arrows can slide off. and when all this fighting is done you can drag your weary ass back to your defended land and use this weapon of war to build that damn house you keep talking about.

Ready for Valhalla a long time ago

Tired. Old. Stiff.

That how Raknor felt this day.

To be fair, it was a long day that started very early while looking for a very specific blacksmith.

However, Viking life is not about fair, it was about doing the right thing for you honor, clan, and family. Right now, the right thing to do in Raknor's judgment was to chop down one more conniving, lecherous, weasel of a man, the man before him, bracing for a fight... El Sadid

Earlier this morning this would have hardly been a fight, even at his age, Raknor would have cut El Sadid down in two moves. Clearly El Sadid was villain, not a warrior, and certainly not a fool. He had surrounded himself with men to protect him. The eight men Raknor cut down this morning in his quest for El Sadid began were those men. They failed to live through protecting their employer. They probably fancied themselves warriors, and if El Sadid thought they were it was understandable. They wore bright shinny and heavy breastplates, thick and woolly furs and their swords were the kind made with the sophistication that tended to fearsome appearances and razor sharp edges. However, appearance and a well-honed edge purchased from fine craftsmen are not where warriors come from. These men where merely well appointed thugs. They might have even been more surprised than El Sadid was when they realized the old and angry man brought them their last day.

One of them did leave their mark though. It didn't help save his life and Raknor did not check to see if it would eventually take his... he has one more matter to tend to and no more time to waste.


(Sharpie over pencil... that must have been a very long meeting...)