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Herryk glanced down at the creeping hand of the ghoul who was seated to his left. She looked just like Freya, this one, and as her hand crept higher and higher up his leg, Herryk eyes grew wider and wider, glazing over. How was she even groping him, looking so innocent while shoving food on to her plate?!

Herryk grabbed her wrist, placing her hand on the table.

Suddenly there was another hand, this time coming from his right, slipping up his leg. Herryk cleared his throat and did the same thing he'd done to the other sister. He wasn't sure where the next hand was coming from.

How were there so many HANDS?!

Clearing his throat again, he tried desperately to get Freya's attention.

Yes, Hel was doing a good job of looking out! As different plates and dishes got passed around, the reaper did grab a small kettle of some stew, and placed it down near Mot, pointing at it. “That is my mothers beef stew; you should try it, alright?” Stew would be good for him to handle, right? The ghoul blinked as everything on the table bounced after her father slammed his stein down, and then Hel scowled loudly at the look he was giving Mot. “My friend is a long range fighter; his weapon is a gun! Mot also has excellent evasion skills!” As proof by all those Hunter nets he had dodged during the field trip.

At Mot’s inquisitive look, Hel leaned a bit closer to him. Luckily over the ruckus the others were making, no one would hear them. “She baits others all the time. It’s truly best to just…politely ignore her or act like it didn’t happen.”

Valdis looked up from her helping of potatoes. “Oh? We don’ often hear about reapers with those kinds of weapons around ‘ere!”

Sif took a sip of apple cider from her goblet. Her smile widened as she stared at Freya. “Ah, but dear sister…why should I attend the Academy? I’ve actually done something with my life.”

Herryk had just taken a bite of stew (to be polite, of course) when Fulla leaned up against him, batted her eyes that were so much like Freya's and then whispered quite frankly about what her hopes were for the evening. He choked on a chunk of meat, reaching forward to grab a flagon of whatever it was to wash it down with. Cider? Herryk wasn't sure, but he was able to hide behind the mug until Odin bellowed.

Eyes watering, it was all Herryk could do to just nod before coughing loudly behind his hand. It wasn't until Sif spoke with sugared venom to Freya. Such thinly-veiled insults. Herryk was growing weary of the older sister's constant digs.

Herryk slammed his stein down much like Odin had, his blue eyes shooting daggers at Sif.

"Sister Sif, Herryk would like to let Sif know that Freya has done many admirable things since her stay at the Academy. Freya actually rescued a classmate!" His voice was loud but he couldn't help himself. "And Hel, too. And even Mot!" Okay, that might've been fudging the truth a little -- Herryk wasn't sure if either of them had actually saved a classmate, but whatever. It didn't really matter.

A little embarrassed by his outburst, Herryk slumped back in his chair a little and drank a huge swallow of cider, all the while watching for Freya's reaction. He'd probably embarrassed her, too. At least Fulla wasn't groping him... for the moment, at least.

Valdis was grinning now after she took a hearty bite out of a turkey leg, looking down the table at Mot. “Five out of six nets, eh?” She echoed, her tone sounding mighty impressed. “Tha’ seems like an excellent training exercise they ‘ave yeh doin’ at school!”

Hel laughed (possibly a bit nervously) as she nodded her head in agreement. “Ah yes…they have many excellent training sessions at the Academy.” It was easier this way, probably. Valdis was none the wiser right now.

At Mot’s question, the older Valkyrie replied. “A corseque! Meh and meh daughters all wield pole-arms weapons of different varieties. It is a Brynhildr family trait.” She gave a firm nod of her head. “Long ago, the Brynhildrs use to ‘ave familiars. They were ravens, o’ course. Those are sacred and cherished animals to valkyries.” She beamed warmly down the table at the cowboil. Admittedly, she was use to her husband slamming steins on the table, but it was Herryk slamming his on the table that caused her to pause as she look at him.

Hel had paused too, and was staring at the undead with a bit of a did he just do that awed look. The hush that had suddenly spread across the kitchen was stifling. She was almost wary to sneak a glance at Sif, but thank goodness for their father, breaking up the awkward silence.

Sif, on the other hand, did not look surprised when Herryk had an outburst at her. No, her cool blue gaze just swiveled over to him, and a finely sculpted brow rose as he dared to speak out against her. Oh, this was cute. Her lips pulled up at the corners as she tilted her head back in Freya’s direction. She was about to lay another one down on the second oldest until her father’s arm was around her, effectively stalling the oldest sister for now. “If that helps to ease your conscience, father, then I suppose so.” Her tone suggested otherwise though. She doubted it.

Hel wasn’t aware something was up, until her mind registered that her father was on the move, and she wondered what he was up to, until Mot disappeared from right beside her. “Ack!” The reaper cried, reaching out to try and grab him, but only catching empty air as she flopped onto the seat where the cowboil had once been. “A..ah hey, wait--!” Hel started to protest, until her mother effectively cut her off.

“Oi, Hel. Yehr father just wants some boil-words with ‘em, eh? Besides, we needs to have our ghoul talk. We needs to go over the final arrangements before tomorrow.”

Hel looked incredibly dismayed as she watched Odin cart off Mot and Herryk, but she did give Herryk a look. The look said:

Watch Mot for me. If there is one hair messed with on his head, I will shave all your poofs. Shave them all.

Herryk caught the look that Hel sent him.

He caught it real good. His eyes widened, mouth dropped open, and if possible all color would have rushed from his face. Herryk was not pleased. Why couldn't Mot look after himself? Why did Herryk have to watch after the reaper boil?

Herryk allowed himself to be toted along by Odin, casting a glance at Mot. The draugr gave a shrug and a look that insinuated 'just roll with it, bro' -- after all, there wasn't much that they could do. If Odin wanted to have some 'boil time' well, Odin was going to get it.

Part of Herryk was terrified. Part of Herryk was in awe. Herryk didn't know which emotion to feel first.

Mot glanced at Herryk as he shrugged, shrugging back. Well, at least he had company?

Soon he was dropped by a chair, to which he sat down as instructed. The man's presence made Mot feel dwarfed. Severely dwarfed. So unusual. Mot was used to being taller than others. This family made him feel like Tom Thumb.

He stared up at Odin, questioning to himself what exactly was to e discussed? "Ah, of course." He piped up, leaning back slightly. "Of what?"

Odin was stuffing a great deal of tobacco into a large animal horn, which he then lit and used like a pipe. As he did so, he eyed each boil very, very carefully. Only after he'd taken his second puff, did he finally speak.

"Good manners on yeh, draugr." Oh yes, Odin had recognized exactly what Herryk was the moment he'd stepped in the door. Undead. Normally he'd hold a grudge, but what a specimen of undead he was, after all. "Sorry about that, by the way." He always felt it was important to apologize to an undead who hadn't been reaped correctly, even if it had nothing to do with him personally. "But yeh looks like yeh came out real nice anyway. So not too bad, hah?"

His accent, if one thought about it, was almost identical to Freya. It was not accidental - her and her twin had spent the most time on this man's knee. They were the two that never felt the need to explore the world, as long as they could stay by his side. "And yeh, a reaper too?" His eyes slid to Mot. His thick, bushy brows tilted upward, and he looked almost sad for Mot. "Don't they feeds yeh up there in the schools? My little babies, they're used to eating big, healthy meals. If they're not getting enough food.. well, somebody better lets me know, so Mama can makes some and send it. Maybe we sends some with yeh too, hah?" He shook his head and pursed his lips.

"How're yeh gonna protects my little Hel with no meats on yeh? Now, Herryk here, I thinks Freya is safe with him. And I'm sure he can handles her, especially when pumpkin times come along. But yeh.." He leaned in and prodded Mot with a thick finger. "Do yeh even has enough Fear in yeh to gets me some grandkids?"

Oh dear.