Blasphemy [Finan the Agile]

CHAPTER xxvii. 'Man Is the Truest Form of His Anti-Christ'

ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

CHAPTER xxvii. 'Man Is the Truest Form of His Anti-Christ'

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             Grimbsy was a dainty little town on the cusp of Northumbria with a grand supply of rotting haddock, and jaded fishermen in need of somewhere to train their sealegs. Despite its quaintness and high-supply of inn sleeping chambers, the people of Grimbsy also appeared to dislike visitors immensely. Once Uhtred and his exhausted group of rugged travelers entered the small burgh on horseback, they were watched as if they were fat stags to a starving hunter. Freydis delayed behind the group as the sole woman of the party, but was encouraged to come up front by Finan, "If they don' know yu'r with us, they might try somethin'" he reasoned, "better them know yu'r with Uhtred of Bebbanburg than le' them figure out when they've got their cocks out swingin'."

Freydis gripped the hilt of her sword with it still sheathed to her side, "They won' have time to swing, Finan. I would, however, prefer them to confuse me as a man than even realize I have tits–have you any clue how disturbing it is to see a man saggier than an ox's arsehole fanticizing about you from a mere childs-distance away?"

Finan quirked a brow, pondering for a moment, "No, I'm usually the one fanticizing–excludin' the whole 'soggier than an ox's arsehole' part."

Freydis' jaw slackened, "Vile, truly."

Finan smirked, "It's nature, darling."

Freydis went to retort, but was cut short when Uhtred stopped from beside them and jumped off his stallion. Finan and Freydis followed in suit, as well as everyone else. A boy around eight or nine ran up from a barnyard down yonder, taking the reins of Uhtred's horse as a much larger boy more-so around fourteen took the reins of the rest. They appeared to be orphans, but nonetheless comfortable in their statuses as hostlers. Uhtred flipped them two silver pieces before gesturing to his detail to follow him into the alehouse with the largest assortment of town-dwellers yet. Once the door opened, Freydis was hit with a harsh wave of nausea as the smell of clams and oysters entered her nose. Before leaving Linnasburgh, Freydis hadn't a clue either creature even existed; after being introduced to the Danes, however, they became the centerpoint of what she despised most. Except for brutish men, of course. But she shouldn't have expected less cuisine from a sea-neighboring village such as this.

As they stepped inside, several men the width of a ship's hull turned to watch them with harsh, intimidating glares. Finan spoke her thoughts as he jested, scratching the back of his head apprehensively in face of the possible opposition. "Grimbsy seems like a lovely place," He stated.

Sihtric sniffled, cringing, "I hear the oysters are delicious here."

"You hear nothing truthful, Sihtric," Freydis rolled her eyes, "eating oysters is like slurping snot from a corpse's frozen nostril."