I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. It felt like I was waking up from a dream. Talking to a god apparently took a lot out you.

The flood of mead-hall sounds and smells flooded my senses. I glanced across the raucous mead-hall to where Ysgramor stood, tipping back a tankard as the heroes gathered around him laughed and chatted. He wiped his the back of his fist across his mouth and laughed with the rest.

You'd think that a fellow who just had a chat with his favored deity would not be intimidated by a mere epic hero, but you'd be wrong. Ysgramor the Harbinger loomed nearly as large in lore as Talos himself. It took me several minutes and another goblet of brandy to work up the guts to cross the hall and get his attention. I had to shoulder my way through a crowd of heroes and heroines from every race and time to get within speaking distance.

"Erm… my Lord Ysgramo….."

The ancient Nord set down his tankard with a thunk and tuned his bright eyes on me. He was tall, but not so tall that he loomed over me as Talos had. He was surprisingly broad shouldered – the build of an axeman, I realized. His golden beard was wet with spilt mead.

"Ah, our newest comrade! T'was a mighty deed that brought you hence, and a mournful dirge that sang you across the Whalebone Bridge. But now is the time for celebration! Come, Little Legionnaire, eat! Drink! Make yourself known unto us!" He waved to his companions with both hands. He belched, and the clustered heroes laughed.

"And… 'tis just 'Ysgramor', lad. In Sovngarde all are heroes, measured by the renown of our deeds, not by titles or offices. Not even the Five Hundred Companions call me 'Lord' anymore, right Eyldi?" The hero winked at a great mountain of a woman, clad all in furs, one eye glaring redly from a mass of tousled auburn hair.

"'Course not, Ysh…" she slurred. Seen far too much of ye, bare-arsed drunk and c'llapsed in a corner like th' rest of us."

The assembly roared with laughter, thunking mugs and flagons as they downed prodigious quantities of mead and ale. Eyldi the Bear grinned a lopsided grin as she slumped down on a bench, draining a cup the size of a bucket.

"Right then," I called out, raising my voice to be heard above thunderous guffaws. "It looks like I need to be off on a quest. Someone told me you were the one to talk to."

Several heads turned. Things got suddenly quiet.

"A quest? Already?" A voice rang out. "You haven't even been here one night!"

"Haven't even had a chance to properly celebrate…"

"You gotten drunk yet, Imperial?" "Or laid?" another voice added. There was a ripple of laughter.

"Enough, all of you," Ysgramor rumbled. The laughter died away. "Tis plain to see the lad is serious."

"Another serious Imperial," someone muttered. "Who'd have thought it?"

There was another round of snickers, but Ysgramor's eyes were locked on mine. "Tis no small thing," he murmured. Again the laughter died away. "You've been laid under a geas, haven't you lad? You've got that heroquesting light in your eye."

I flushed. "I'm not sure about the 'geas' part, but apparently there's something important I have to do, and I need counsel. Your counsel specifically, Lor... er… Ysgramor."

I glanced around at the assembled heroes. I had no idea who most of them were, but I was unable to meet any of their eyes. "Ummm… sorry if I'm disrupting the festivities. Feel free to get drunk and laid for me." There was another rumble of laughter as I turned back to the First Harbinger.

Ysgramor's bright gaze never wavered. "Aye lad. I definitely think we need to talk." He caught up his double-bitted axe in one fist and pointed toward the doors of Sovngarde. "Let's take a walk."