The Abbot was irritable, for Hours the ships refused to breach the land because of this the Master of ships took the brunt of the Abbots venomous tongue.

Suddenly the WAVES pushed the ships forward. At last the Abbot thought. The sailors Disembarked in a quicker than usual fashion, they all sensed something was up or at least "something was wrong with the Air." Something unnatural kept the ships from landing and they knew it was somehow a matter of the Gods.

The Abbot set foot on land (he sensed It was hallowed) the master of ships was at his side. The Lawgivers walked down the beach, Roksva at the forefront.

They stopped at "three paces" and looked at each other! "I see you son of mine own father," Roksva said. The Abbot looked at the master of ships with credulity, the master of ships nodded and smiled at Roksva. "I see you your Em-in-ence she said it without comfort. The Abbot nodded and bowed to the waist, his hand held over his heart, whilst keeping an eye on the Charlatan. "May you prosper beyond your years, the words seemed sincere but the thought was not though.

Beasts of burden were provided for the conclave of minions. The Abbot noted Roksva and the Lawgivers walked. They looked at HIM AS if testing HIM to see if he would follow suit or walk with the Lawgivers. A junior Lawgiver kept apace aside of the Abbot engaging in conversation of little merit so his passage to the "Village" was short. For all that is was of little merit the Lawgivers listened intently. At the Lawgivers Hol thirteen of the conclave were accepted. Inside the drudges prepared a feast. True to form the Abbot thought, Even an enemy will BE treated with hospitality before the battle!

AS the meal was consumed the Abbot heard Roksva talking about the peoples would go short this winter! She clearly was set against the feast and her husband was taking the brunt of her scorn. The Abbot directed his speech to Roksva, "for that I apologize, think not to preface us, well will blend with your peoples." Thy meaning has a sense of permanence," Roksva said. "We will BE here for the duration that's all." She knew he chose his words carefully!

The Mead followed and tongues started to "Wag" the belief on both sides started to try to convert each other. Roksva, The Abbot and Thorolf watched the matter at hand, it was obvious it would take a long time (52 years actually, at the end of the millennia's All-thing was the choice made).

One of the minions' tongues wagged a little too much, implying Thor was a dullard and a comedic Character at best. This was Roksva's chance. "Guest that you ARE, too injure our beliefs is uncalled for, an example must BE made." The Lawgivers moved away from the Table; they knew what was coming and based on their facial reaction it wouldn't BE nice, the Abbot thought. She continued her speech, "You all have the rights to independent beliefs, (She walked over to HIM in a nonchalant way) AS we ARE too." "You have defamed our beliefs and a punishment MUST BE awarded of my choosing. The Abbot interjected, "My dear lady, he will BE punished immediately" (he indicated to his peoples to get HIM out of here AS quickly AS possible). "I think not " Roksva said, "I will mete the punishment" her movements were smooth and deliberate, she waive her hand in front of his face and chanted, this caused the minion to take a sharp intake of breath.

Within second the minion's face turned red and his eyes started to bulge, he screamed waiving his hands in the air and then crouched into a fetal position, still screaming and crying for mercy. Roksva turned to the Abbot and said, "Have at thee, the minion is yours for your desires and awards, or punishment I care not."

"The insult has been repaired." The still screaming minion was dragged outside, this caused an end to the meeting, and formalities were met and all dispersed.

The Abbot and the minions departed to prepare their possessions. When the Abbot arrived at his Cot his possessions were all ready unpacked so he turned around to find Brother Michael. For three Hours did Michael scream and fight an unseen enemy, his dimenture continued when will Michael BE Lucid the Abbot thought?

Eventually, The abbot heard of this mans fears. The man feared fire, he saw a giant whose eyes sprang forth sparks of lightning and he was consumed by fire, slowly. What disturbed the Abbot was the description of the giant; there was no doubt that Michael saw Hlorridi, the Thunder God himself. Henceforth the man was useless, for he was a prattling man all senses lost, he will BE cared for the rest of his life, fortunately that life will BE short. Somehow Roksva had found his fear and broke his will is this is the work of a charlatan, he thought not, he thought of her measure.

The Abbots Quarters was a simple affair and later that evening he was given a simple meal of fish and oatmeal. Shortly after consuming his meal there was a knock on the door. "Come," Roksva made her entrance and looked HIM in the Eye. "Please BE under advisement, consult thy peoples to ward their thoughts, make not thy disparaging remarks because it troubles my conscience to destroy a man, If necessary though I wilt do what must BE done." He nodded that was all, and made a gesture for her to take a seat, she did.

"AS of the morrow shalt thou BE escorted by tine own self to the grove, our difference will BE settled there!"

The Abbot asked "why your disdain, Witch-Wife?"

"You're reasoning that's all."

"The ruse of using the Oirish, 'twas but an excuse, You art a Zealot, thou whilst only gain comfort when you convert all of 'US' Heathens."

"Leave it BE, we harm no-one, we ARE the "Last of the Last," leave it BE."

"You have called Me a Zealot, I call myself a man of conviction, and why the grove," the Abbot said.

"'Tis a sacred place only the pure of heart can go there! At the appointed time thou whilst call Your "Son of God," I will call the Thunderer."

"Your God whilst surely perish for my God is a God in his prime."

"Red Beard whilst squash you God AS a Man would squash an earthen Worm."

"Thine own self has no doubt that my God shall prevail."

"Such conviction do you have, ARE you sure? ARE you afraid of change?"

"Call it what thou whilst, your God, his name is in connection with atrocities, destroying our Temples, our Sacred places, What "Just" god Whilst do that?"

"You talk of atrocities, what of the "peoples of Hlorridi destroying, raping and pillaging the monastery at Lyn-des-Farne, I could say the same of you!"