"Perhaps you've met your match."

Torhyl pulls her coat tighter around her chest, the furs filling her body with warmth.  She watches the stars, each giving off its own iridescent glow illuminating the black canvas of sky.  Brisk wind nips at her pale skin leaving a trail of goosebumps in its icy wake.

   Torhyl releases a heavy breath as she lies under the night sky.  Insomnia plagues her nights and weakens her body during the day.  Her eyes feel heavy and her body tired yet her mind is still restless.

    Torhyl's ears prick at a sound in the forest nearby, the sound of rustling leaves catching her attention and alerting her to a foreign presence.  Her hand instinctively reaches for her trusty dagger stored in her boots.  The noise slowly gets louder as it approaches.

  Torhyl takes a defensive stance as the figure breaks into view.  Her body is completely tense ready for a battle but soon relaxes when she sees the person emerging from the shadows.  Torhyl pulls herself out of her defensive state and sighs in relief.

  "Brunhild." Torhyl sighs in relief.  "I thought you were someone else."

  "I'm sorry to interrupt your time of tranquillity but the men are getting drunk with our hosts."  Brunhild comments, disgust written on her face.

  "I see," Torhyl replies blatantly.  "And what part of that is unusual?"

  "They are throwing knives about the meeting place."

  Torhyl snorts at the mental image.  "I have yet to find the part of this that is meant to surprise me."

  "They have begun to place wagers, your ladyship..." Brunhild lowers her voice.

  "Well then, let us waste no time." Toryhl turns back to camp and strides through the streets.

  Torhyl bursts through the doors of the large drinking hall, her emphatic entrance causing all attentions to be drawn to her.  She sees familiar faces of both her men and those of her hosts.  Torhyl walks into the middle of the crowd and stares down at the pile of wagers held in gold and treasure. 

  "What is the buy in?" Torhyl inquires.

  "One gold coin and a good arm." Ivar jests, taking a dubious sip of ale.

  Torhyl reaches into her coat pocket and tosses a gold piece into the pile before reaching into her boot and withdrawing her dagger.  Sigurd hands her a mug of ale with an amused grin.  She raises an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to challenge her.

  "Skol, skol, skol..." Sigurd begins to chant.  The crowd soon enough joins in and she laughs at their taunts.

  Torhyl places the mug to her lips and begins to swallow.  Once she chugs the entire mug she slams it on the table and sends her knife into the painted target.  The dagger lodges itself right into the bullseye, the sound of metal sinking into wood echoing through the hall.  The crowd is in an uproar, their encouraging screams filling the air with deafening noise, each man shouting bets into the night.

  Torhyl sends Sigurd a smug smile before stepping aside and bowing slightly.  "Be my guest."

  Sigurd is handed a mug of ale to which he chugs with a wince.  He stumbles slightly before aiming at the target.  He draws back his arm and throws his knife, the blade hitting the area outside the target with a disappointing 'thunk'.  The crowd let's out a unanimous groan, the men clearly distraught at the disappointing throw.

  Torhyl snickers slightly, but composes herself.  She grabs his shoulder firmly and takes his hand, raising it high above his head.

  "Give him a hand, will you?" She chants with a smile. 

  The crowd cheers for Sigurd and Torhyl smiles at their effort.  Sigurd stumbles away into the crowd and Torhyl retrieves her dagger.  She tosses it into the air and catches it once again.

  "What?" Torhyl looks at the unmoving crowd.  "No takers?"

  "I'll do it." Ubbe stands up and manoeuvres through the crowd towards her. 

   The crowd cheers him on and Torhyl gives him a humoured smirk.  They are both handed another mug of mead and they both throw the hard liquor with ease.

  "Please," Ubbe bows slightly.  "Ladies first."

  Torhyl raises an eyebrow at him.  "That's why I'm waiting for you to throw."

  The entire crowd 'oohs' at her playful insult.  Ubbe sends her an unamused glance before throwing the knife at the target.  The knife hits the target just outside the bullseye causing Torhyl's eyebrows to shoot up.

  "Well, young prince, I am impressed." Torhyl lines up her shot and throws it while staring right into Ubbe's eyes.  The dagger once again hits the bullseye with a knowledgeable crack.

  The crowd goes wild, people standing to their feet and patting Torhyl on the back.  Ubbe gives her a polite smile before sitting down and taking another swig of ale.

  Nobody dares to stand to challenge Torhyl.  She looks around with a challenging glance.  "Any takers?"

  Once again there is no one to stand but she soon enough hears a voice.

  "I guess I'll just have to be the man then." Ivar remarks snidely, taking a final sip from his mug and turning to face the target.

  Torhyl cocks her head.  "Be my guest."

  Ivar chugs the mug given to him and shakes his head free of the influence of the thick liquor.  He lines up his shot and takes it, landing a bulleye much to everyone's surprise.  The crowd is in an uproar of cheers.

  Ivar shoots Torhyl a cheeky grin.  "Perhaps you've met your match."

  Torhyl takes the mug of mead and throws it back, her eyes still locked on Ivar's.  "Perhaps..."

  Torhyl's head feels the buzz of alcohol pumping through her system but does not feel out of control.  She takes her dagger once more and aims.  The dagger lands directly beside Ivar's.

  "Or perhaps, not." Torhyl completes her sentence.

  Ivar quirks a brow before throwing another dagger at the target, this time the blade is embedded deep into the timber directly below Torhyl's shot.  The Bullseye is completely covered with blades, making it impossible to occupy another knife in the space.

  Ivar sends her a prideful glance.  "Or perhaps...You underestimated me."

  "I doubt that." Torhyl retorts as she takes another dagger and lines up her shot.

  "There's no possible way you can fit another blade onto that bullseye."  Ubbe shouts from the crowd.

  Torhyl focuses on her target, her eyes training on the exact spot she wants the dagger to land.  She takes a deep breath and releases it as she lets the dagger soar.

The crowd is completely silent as they watch the dagger fly.  The sound of the dagger imbedding itself into the handle of Ivar's dagger is heard across the silent room.  Torhyl turns back to Ivar and sends him a victorious grin.

  "Checkmate." She states, sending him a sly grin.  The crowd rises to their feet, their cheers filling the night air with a victorious ambience.

  The room is flooded with bodies, each one rising to congratulate Torhyl and to pay wagers.  Ivar leans closer to Torhyl.

  "Do you play anything other than daggers?" Ivar inquires.

  Torhyl smiles at him.  "Depends..." She places her hands either side of his hips and leans in close to his ear.  "What'd you have in mind?"