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=Eric= A large group of men were sitting inside a cabin. Women brought them large mugs of mead and carried away the emptied vessels. At the head of the table was a large beast of a man wearing rune covered armor, and he sat on an equally impressive wood and stone throne. A man to the chieftain's right was speaking. "We should accept the job, Eric. They're offering us more gold and jewels for a single battle than we could make in an entire year working for either Nero or Boudica." "Has the glint of gold made you mad, Harald?" Another man at the table quickly interjected. "Eric, you know we can't work with those ... things." "Come off it, Ingvar. As unpleasant as they may be, you can't deny that they're giving us the world on a silver platter." "Yes, and I can see from the tarnish on that platter that this deal is poisonous." "Poisonous? Ha, have you had too much to drink?" Ingvar looked at his friend incredulously. "I should ask the same of you." "How is this deal poisoned? We're on for a single battle against a Roman fort in Georgia. We know just how poorly equipped that fort is because we've been inside to accept Caesar's coin. We won't even have to work with that many of the dirty bastards, since their main force is going to be preparing to besiege Tbilisi. We'll just be there long enough to get the Romans riled up and away from Attila's real target." "What you're leaving out is the risk to our minds and souls. You have seen those things. They aren't right in the head, and I don't want to catch whatever it is they have." "That's enough." Eric finally spoke up. His voice was soft, but it carried a sense of authority that instilled silence across the entire building. "The Huns may be peculiar, but they are still human... if only barely. We shall accept this job, and we shall carry it out with pride. Caution is admirable, but we are the Sons of Odin, and we will not shy away in fear like children afraid of the night. Prepare your things, we'll begin marching as soon as the snow has ceased."
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