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Bjorn Felhammen · **08-29-2015, 09:26 AM**

Thwack
Thwack
Thwack

Sweat flows from the crease of his brows to the slope of his nose before finally plummeting to the ground like that of a raindrop. Behind him a pyramid of birch already lay chopped down,awaiting to fulfill their purpose. Swing after mighty swing plunges his axe deeper through the pulp, each strike echoing through the forest, as the shining, midday Sun glistens of the salt drenched frame of Bjorn.

These logs aren't as good as Finnish conifers, but their gait is remarkable and would age well for my mobile Meade hall. I am sure a couple of XWF and even CCWF alike would appreciate the tender smoothness of a 600 year old honey wine recipe.

With a swing that can put a giant to shame, he plants his steel into a stump before having a seat and pouring a pint into the stein that is strapped to his side. In cheerful haste his mug is raised towards the heavens and in a booming voice praises to the gods can be heard.

ODIN BE PRAISED, FOR IN HIS HONOR I RAISE THIS HALL.
THOR BE PRAISED, FOR WITH HIS STRENGTH I LAY THE FOUNDATION.
FREYA BE PRAISED, FOR HER LOVE IS THE LIGHT OF THE SUN THAT SHINE UPON THIS BEAUTIOUS LAND.

Now who will join me in a drink?

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Drinks all around.
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