Oddbjørn

Oddbjørn has had a long day. He's spent it training with the older warriors- some of them warriors he has know for nearly six decades, some for four-, then watching over the young warriors as they start their own training. It's left him with a layer of sweat on his body and while it doesn't usually bother him, the days have been colder and a warm bath sounds enjoyable. So Oddbjørn strips himself from his tunic in his bedroom, revealing his large, muscular body to the chilled air. Scars litter him, some fainter than others; marks from arrows, and swords, and one large scar below his ribs from a particularly close encounter with a boar. They rest beneath a layer of thick, grey hair covering his chest, arms, and legs. Grabbing a pair of undergarments, Oddbjørn heads to the large private bath.

The bath is not quite what is expected of a warrior king like Oddbjørn, though he himself has never cared about such trivial things as how others view him. It contains a large open-air bath carved into the ground, close enough to a natural hot spring that the water is always steaming. He enters the large wooden room and turns to the bath to sink into the water, and pauses.

There, in his private bath, is a young woman. He blinks, mind thrown for a moment and unable to process the simple fact. It's unheard of, nearly, for anyone to be in his baths. Especially uninvited. And Oddbjørn has not invited anyone to join him in the baths for over a decade- especially not a woman. No, the only people who have ever shared his bath or his bed have been other men. "Why are you here?" He asks, voice gruff as he frowns. He doesn't bother to cover himself. After all, this is his privacy being invaded, not the woman's. "This is no place for a woman."