Þingvallavatn Lake, Iceland, the Year 945, Very Late Saturday Night

[fh-vikings.livejournal.com]

The shores of Þingvallavatn were rugged, dotted with the stumps of cut-down trees and dangerous rocky faults of volcanic origin. There was more forest up ahead, and past that forest, farmland, and past that farmland, a Viking village. If you went on from there, across the hills and volcanic ash of eruptions long past, past the small waterfalls and across the grassy desolate plains, and kept going, you would eventually reach Þingvellir, the home of the Alþingi, meeting place of chieftains.

It was a very lovely lake. It was a very lovely, large, empty lake.

It would not be empty for much longer.

A minute later, there was a brief flash of light - nothing all that exciting, really - the surprised braying of one stray cow, and the sudden, inexplicable appearance of a large and not-at-all-time-appropriate castle, surrounded by an even more incongruous village. Fandom Island's lights pulsed once, quietly, then settled. Beside her, the Island of IKEA unfolded itself even more modestly, though advertising a nice new collection of do-it-yourself Viking furniture.

The water around the island rose up briefly, then crashed back down. The lake had apparently decided it was better just to go with it rather than make a big fuss about the new landmass. Shortly after that, the causeway unrolled itself until it hit deforested shore. A portal flared into being at its base, linking back to Baltimore, 2011. The lake did not appear to find this reason to fuss, either. It was situated near a volcano, and it was used to random bits of rock showing up out of nowhere and acting like they belonged there.

Underneath the island, somewhere in the catacombs where the time-space machinery was housed, one smelly blond man smacked a smellier blonder man over the head with a wrench. "You hit the wrong button!" he yelled. "You always hit the red button first!"

"It did the flashy thing," the smellier man replied, rubbing his head. "Are we home yet...?"

"OLAF, FOR THE LAST TIME, DON'T HELP." The first Viking - whose name was Baleog - snarled something under his breath and whacked the machine one more time for good measure, then stomped out of the control room. "Get your shield. We will break the others out of their dungeon." If simply because at least Erik would be able to stand being around Olaf for more than two seconds.

"Does the dungeon have a red button...?"

"OLAF!"

[[ welcome to Iceland in the time of the Vikings! Feel free to react to your new surroundings once you wake up! ]]

Meadfest! [Late Sunday Morning, The Park]

[fh-vikings.livejournal.com]

If anyone had been near the park early on this chilly morning, they might have noticed a group of large, smiling women setting up some kind of feast.

No, it wasn't a celebration for graduation. These were the immensely happy Viking wives who'd finally gotten their husbands back! They still weren't sure how the men had brought the landmasses with them, since their stories were so strange and most of them had come back with head and jaw injuries, but there was a fine castle and a quaint little town on the lake now, and there would be time for finding answers after the celebration was over.

Since the people on the new land had been so kind as to help the Vikings get home, it seemed only fair to the wives to let them share in the celebration. As far as the men were concerned, the people of the island had proven to be strong and fearless in battle, and the Vikings had quite a bit of respect for that. And not just because they'd gotten their asses handed to them.

So, in a symbol of sharing, the people had brought their food and drink to the biggest field they could find in Fandom. It wasn't long after the food had been set out that the mead started flowing, and once everyone arrived, it would be a proper feast.

A Corner of the Park [Early Sunday evening]

[sorella-vecchia.livejournal.com]

Finding a corner of the park that didn't bear the remnants of the morning's celebration had actually taken more work than Triela had expected it to. Apparently she'd never dealt with Viking parties before.

But things had been managed, food had been laid out. Nothing fancy, but... not just chips and salsa. This was something Triela had planned, after all, and that demanded a certain amount of decorum. As much as you could get with paper plates, anyway.

Hilshire was there, of course, but he'd been told in no uncertain terms that he was to stand off to the side and not interfere. And then he'd gotten a glare for daring to smile in slight amusement at her tone. He'd complied, though, so he was standing off to the side looking... sad.

Not that Triela looked over to check on him or anything. Certainly not with any frequency.

Now she simply had to wait for her guests to arrive.

[Triela's having a little going-away party for herself. A chance to say thank you to her friends. If you think she would have written you an invitation, she did, and if you just want to stumble upon this out of the way corner of the park, feel free.]
[Warnings in the Incident thread for major medical collapse.]

Turtle & Canary, Sunday Morning

[swordsandsoccer.livejournal.com]

Dolf's eyes had practically grown the size of his head (not... literally) when he'd walked out of the dorms to work this morning. That hadn't really changed, and the first hour or so he'd kept sticking his head out the doors and asking Apu if they were really seeing what he thought they were seeing.

He still would've been doing that after the first hour if it wasn't for the bustle of Viking women that had descended upon the shop, grabbing pieces of meat and throwing gold at him in return. He was pretty sure most of them were trying to haggle; he could catch a few familiar words here and there, but the language was miles away from Danish, let alone Dutch.

It took him another half-hour to realise Apu had been waving the sheet with the gold-to-dollars exchange rate in his face, so he had no idea if he'd been charging them right.

By the time noon thundered towards him, he'd caught enough of the Vikings' babble to understand something was going on in town. He closed up shop early to check it out.

But until then, he was around for all your shopping needs!

[[ flying OCD free! open! ]]

The Park - Saturday Evening

[weetinyreese.livejournal.com]

Vikings weren't all like Hiccup. Who knew? Kyle did now. He had the bruises and beard burn to prove it. Things were as they were supposed to be. The evening was much more quiet than it had been and Kyle was happy to sit on the park bench and enjoy what he believed to be his last night in Fandom.

[OOC: For me, and then open if anyone's around!]

Devil's Nest - Sunday Evening

[rivaini-pirate.livejournal.com]

She had an honest job working in a tavern. Isabela was amazed with her self that she wasn't currently in a hysterical fit of the giggles over that. She knew more than a few people who would never believe it, and honestly neither did she. Not truly. It was just a disguise, a safe place until she figured out what had happened to The Siren's Call.

So she was starting her first day by completely ignoring any explanations Tiny was giving her and going through the many bottles under the counter, looking for something suitable to start her first workday with. She finally found one and settled down behind the bar, pouring the spirits in one of those disgustingly clean glasses.

The Devil's Nest was open and the dark skinned girl with the golden stud in her bottom lip, twin blades sheated on her back and a lack of pants was the bartender for that evening. Don't worry, Tiny was hovering somewhere nearby and giving her nasty looks.

[First work post wheeeee. You can expect these to be up early because my timezone wins all.]