Barracks Hall

Following Isgerd from the hall of the Tain directly to the barracks she had spoken on a drink and he loved mead more than a man in the desert wanted water. Something about the honeyed liquid was smooth along his throat and caught his attention like none other. A true viking he was capable with his hands, strong with his words when required, capable with woman, and had the sort of stout immunity to alcohol built up after years of drinking it. Therefore when asked if he required much else he would give a solid no. A lesser man might wish for bread or meat to fill his gut before imbibing but he required no such precautions.

Settling onto the bench he leaned back slightly hands upon his knees as he watched her in return as she looked to him. "Winging it is an admirable way to get hurt," he seemed in good humor about her suggestion, "Not that I expect any less from one who roams the lands often on feet and wing."

He'd heard rumors of her capabilities as a druid but they were just that, rumors. Every druid was assumed capable of dark magic and many chose birds as their secondary form. "Ay, I'll do that lass."

When she returned and handed him his cup he needed something to tell her that she might find interesting. Not that he had much to him, "I've been outside our lands for some time now. I've missed the good sense of our people and our ales," he coddled his cup gently taking a large swig, "But I did learn that the world is a much bigger place than I could have imagined. I had a run in with a young man that trained these creatures called monkeys. Curious little creatures that had almost human like faces. I've got a sketch of them if you'd like to see."

He had a small journal in his pocket with a thin leather binding wrapped in thong. He began to unwrap it setting the pint beside his thigh.

"No not true way finding," he had to relinquish that to her for there were many journeys that involved finding your way. One of self discovery as a boy had led him to decide the type of man that he wanted to be. Honest and brave like his father and relying on kindness to others from his mother. Compassion had put him in many uncertain positions and though he did not regret his past he could have done better at times. No musing was given to this now, however, as he had a lady to attend to that had brought him a mug that he took with one hand his fingers splayed over the edge of it wrapping it up like it was but made for a child. Taking a long drag he had some answers to provide her, "I have."

"Not notes," he laughed at her excitement at his journal. He could read and write well enough, once again taught by his mother, which was an unusual trait for most vikings. He sat down the mug by his side giving her a slight chuckle once again at her axe comment, "Would be a shame to split your pretty head with an axe as it were."

He slipped open the book showing her a rather good likeness of a Capuchin. A slim creature with a pale face and a long tale it was seemingly being entertained by a fruit that he would refer to as a mango should she have asked. "There was a traveling man who had the creature. Said he got it from across the sea in a land so warm he had not a piece of clothing dry upon him by the end of the day."

Passing it to her to observe he listened to her speak of her own travels, "It sounds beautiful and perhaps worth the cold."

Rut had a desire to see all of the world in its splendor and his journal but was one way of remembering things and a small hobby of his. Should she flip through the pages she would find drawings of birds, and horses, and even a collie dog that was laying before a hearth fire. Very rarely did he draw people and it was not in the same book.

Rut wasn't private about his drawings but neither did he flaunt around with them showing the entire community. He'd practiced since he was a boy his mother enjoying his ease with charcoal and his father would even widdle him smaller pieces to make more pointed strokes. Eventually Rut had taken up the habit himself and could turn a piece of wood as well. His hands were large and his fingers made for carrying an axe but he had pursuits that were of a nature most might find odd. Including Isgerd who seemed to regard him differently now. That was partially the reason he had not been so open before.

Taking the book back from her after her awing over it he would close it and reward the bindings, "Thank you wayfinder."

He may have used her name but calling her by her title was a motion of respect on his part. He believed in her work just as she believed she might make off with his belongings should he turn into a corpse along their journey. They would need one another before this trip was through.

Laughing heartily when she mentioned the Griffins he would slap his thigh, "It would be like a boy attempting a mans work," he did not seem perverse to the idea, far from it, he wanted the chance, "But I would do my best."

Taking a long swig of the ale he returned the book within his pocket before asking her, "I do not often draw others but I would like to do some some day, if you would let me?"

"I would be happy but to capture you for a memory once it is gone," he accepted her terms upon agreeing to allow him to draw her. Rarely did he ever ask to do so but he felt something about her was animal like and it inspired him to capture the wildness in her eyes. He laid his ax beside him upon the long seat the curve of the blade carefully settled away from his knee while the length of the haft rested along the side of his thigh. His left hand occasionally graced the cool metal of the head as if a reassurance it was still there and a reminder that just because carried a gentler side he was a warrior. He would as soon chop down his enemy before allow him to speak. Asking questions was generally not his strong suit unless it was to confirm that he was allowed to handle a woman. Consent was common among the vikings when it came to their own woman and he practiced it among outsiders too. He'd known many a shield maiden who could cut a man before he realized it had been done and he wasn't one to take chances with his belongings so to speak.

"I would be glad to learn more of it considering I know very little." He was not unintelligent just merely cautious outside of the hall of his home. Safety here was still not fully assured but it was more likely.

It was at times like these that Rudiger had often told himself he should give up drinking alcohol, strange concoctions shoved under his nose, and generally anything but tea or water. And even then some teas, seeing as some less than benevolent characters often tried to lace their drinks with something harder. He was sure he was just overthinking his intentions, but that seemed all too hard not to do these days.

He awoke in a strange bed in a strange land, his head pounding, his one eye bloodshot, and his throat parched and his mouth feeling like it was full of sawdust. Such were the after effects of a night of celebration, especially for a man past the days of youthful vigor. He had spent the next hour just trying to come back to life by heaving up his insides and washing, but he was barely conscious as he walked out the small quarters that had been graciously assigned to him.

He made a quick stop at the stables on his way to the Hall, leading the main goal of his coming here by the reins. Well of course that was the official reasoning, the giving of a diplomatic gift to create ties between a minor Duchy and a great nation, but he was also in Taingaard for one last hurrah. And it seemed he had accomplished that. He wrapped his thick red mantle tighter around him, one gift from the Imperial treasuries that he sure they would not miss, and approached the common area outside the hall.

As if this morning couldn't get worst than pounding headaches and feelings of age reminding him that he couldn't drink like he did the previous night. He certainly could appreciate the need for security surrounding the head of state when his head was clear and reasoning sound. But in his current state that clearly wasn't the case, and it didn't help that the guard was being unduly hostile. one

A growl in his throat, Rudiger straightened himself to full 6'3", "I am Sir Rudiger Mindaugas, Grand Duke of Voruta, a guest of the Tain and a diplomat from the Isran Empire. This stallion," he gestured back to the well muscled and tall destrier, much taller than the bulky Taingaardian stock, "is a gift from the people of Voruta to the Tain."

He felt slightly dirty to use all his titles, seeing as it felt like him being arrogant. But this guard had started it.

Rudiger felt his face growing even hotter as the guard called his reputation... and the fact he had bathed that morning to try and take the worst edge off the hangover... into question. In the name of the Heavenly Horsemen he even brushed his teeth so no many mutts would need to be afraid of his breath taking their coat with them. Which would be something they had right to be worried of, seeing how cold it got in these northern climes.

Though that quickly dissipated as the guard revealed he was just ribbing Rudiger... if it was gentle or not was up to each person involved. He shook his head softly as a wry chuckle formed at the back of his throat, "Well now you can see how fine of a beast he is, eh? He'll father a whole line of studs that will guarantee a force of Northern warriors that can crash through any shield wall!" his voiced gained some enthusiasm of showmanship as he walked past the guard, being sure to give him a wide berth... and reaching into a small pouch at his side to add another mint leaf to the wad already in his mouth. Apparently three wasn't going to cut it this day.

Rudiger nodded, having barely paused to acknowledge the guard's apology, "No offense taken, but I would be careful with who you prod at in the future. Never know when someone would take it upon their honor to prove you wrong." Some men took those matters far too seriously, especially from the Duchy where one's name carried a great deal of weight and such ribbing would've ended in a duel. Luckily his time on the road had worn off the worst of those rough edges, though it was rather clear some of it remained.

Having been ushered through, Rudiger led the dun around side of the barracks, towards the aforementioned garden. He paused momentarily as he forgot the name of the horse and had to dig through his diplomatic pouch to produce the stud's papers. "Skewball," he muttered to himself and the horse. The steed perked up for a moment at the mention of his name. Apparently the dreary climb didn't agree with him too much, but Rudiger was certain he would acclimate in time as he continued onwards.

Rudiger cocked a curious eyebrow over his eyepatch at the Tain's greeting. Was everyone in this frozen land inhospitable? Then why in the hells did he invite foreign dignitaries to participate in a hunting trip if they were just going to be the butt of every joke? Or perhaps that was the point, to make fun of the soft southerners. Which Rudiger couldn't deny, having spent far too much time for his liking in the Isran court... all of a couple of months.

Rudiger bowed somewhat awkwardly, still feeling some throbbing at his temples, "I am Rudiger Mindaugas... Duke Rudiger Mindaugas of the Grand Duchy Voruta," he added hastily, forgetting his title for a moment, "your most Honorable Tain."

He straightened slowly, as he gestured at the horse with the reins in his hand as he pulled out the breed papers from his pouch, "And this is a diplomatic gift to your fair country, from the Duchy's finest stables. He is Karališkasis Jauni Elnias, son of Karališkasis Elnias, one of the old Duke's... my father's," Heavenly Horsemen that was something he was still having trouble with understanding, "favorite war horses. According to the papers he is built much like his father and will do well on any hunt or battlefield."