Imagine that you're at a mead hall. That's a bit volkish right? Pretty volkish pretty cool, right? Anyway, picture a mead hall in medieval times. It is high roofed and warm lit, wooden with tall beams stretched up to bend across into a domed enclosure. A long lobby stretches almost beyond what your eyes can see. There are expanses of wooden mess-tables set on each side of you and one in front of you. Sitting on the tables are huge swaths of extravagant food. Chicken, venison, partridge, wild boar, stews, fresh breads and fine indulgences stretch beyond the eyeline and seemingly go on forever. Sitting at each table, packed shoulder to shoulder, is everyone in your village. Every man, woman, child and elder has found a seat at the feast and is already enjoying the food and company by the time you enter the hall and take in it's homely vastness. You walk around, looking for a seat, for quite some time. It's almost a challenge to locate a place to sit and the hall is very much packed full. But lucky you! You eventually find a seat next to a good friend and begin to enjoy the feast with everyone else. At the back end of the hall, farthest from the entrance, there is a platform raised only a few inches from the ground that everyone else sits at. On it is a single horizontal table, not dissimilar from the one you eat at, but much smaller in size. At it sits your chief. He is a stocky and somewhat plump man with a red face and a log beard. His chin proudly and permanently angles up as a symbol of pride as he regards his creation; the fruits of his labor, all of his work and devotion and achievements physically laid before all of his people as sustenance and grandeur for them to consume. As he scans the hall, his eyes meet your own. You stare at each other for a silent moment before he raises his horn, full of mead, and nods to you. It is a small gesture, but imparts significant meaning nonetheless. It's as if to say in solidarity: "Enjoy".
Collective Gout
Collective Gout
Collective Gout
Imagine that you're at a mead hall. That's a bit volkish right? Pretty volkish pretty cool, right? Anyway, picture a mead hall in medieval times. It is high roofed and warm lit, wooden with tall beams stretched up to bend across into a domed enclosure. A long lobby stretches almost beyond what your eyes can see. There are expanses of wooden mess-tables set on each side of you and one in front of you. Sitting on the tables are huge swaths of extravagant food. Chicken, venison, partridge, wild boar, stews, fresh breads and fine indulgences stretch beyond the eyeline and seemingly go on forever. Sitting at each table, packed shoulder to shoulder, is everyone in your village. Every man, woman, child and elder has found a seat at the feast and is already enjoying the food and company by the time you enter the hall and take in it's homely vastness. You walk around, looking for a seat, for quite some time. It's almost a challenge to locate a place to sit and the hall is very much packed full. But lucky you! You eventually find a seat next to a good friend and begin to enjoy the feast with everyone else. At the back end of the hall, farthest from the entrance, there is a platform raised only a few inches from the ground that everyone else sits at. On it is a single horizontal table, not dissimilar from the one you eat at, but much smaller in size. At it sits your chief. He is a stocky and somewhat plump man with a red face and a log beard. His chin proudly and permanently angles up as a symbol of pride as he regards his creation; the fruits of his labor, all of his work and devotion and achievements physically laid before all of his people as sustenance and grandeur for them to consume. As he scans the hall, his eyes meet your own. You stare at each other for a silent moment before he raises his horn, full of mead, and nods to you. It is a small gesture, but imparts significant meaning nonetheless. It's as if to say in solidarity: "Enjoy".