Tales of the Slain: 3-The Kvashorn

As the Kvashorn passed from one person to the next it never grew any emptier despite how deep each took a draught of the sweet red mead. 

Bjorn stood as it was passed to him and before he took a long deep drink he called out loudly "Skadi, i drink this in your name! You have ever watched over me and allowed me to hunt as you do!"

Bjorn smacked his lips once he had drunk his fill and passed the Kvashorn to the woman who sat across from him, he had a year ago, when she arrived heard that she was called Kenna the Wise and he always enjoyed hearing her tales even if they were not of the hunt of or the kill.

Kenna lifted the Kvashorn above her head and looked to the rafters of the meadhall in which they all sat.
"Kvasir, you who are wise i take this draught in your name, let the wisdom of your blood fill me.." and she tipped her head back as she tilted the drinking horn allowing a long stream of the sweet red mead to fill her mouth before swallowing, grinning and passing the Kvashorn back across the table to the man who sat next to Bjorn.

Agni took the ever full horn from the woman who seemed younger than she had a few moments ago, now little more than a woman in the fullness of her life rather than the elderly woman he knew her to have been when she arrived.
"Odin, though you never answer my prayers i take this drink for you." Agni took a mouth full, and spat it out on to the ground, letting none of it be swallowed despite how perfect the flavour was, and roughly passed the drinking horn across the table to the next person.

All night the Kvashorn was passed around the meadhall, never growing any emptier.

Each man, woman, giant, troll, vanir, aesir and draugr calling out to someone they favoured or worshipped.

As the night wore on they began to tell long tales of how the gods had helped them in some manner.

The nights in Kvasheim are long and the tales of the gods and giants are many.

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