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Widsith's Meado-heall

Welcome all! The sea air is cold, so come warm yourself by the hearthfire of the scops! Fill your horn with mead and share a poem or tell your story. Be warned: This is not a high-class establishment. The motto of Widsith's Hall is Singing, drinking, fighting and whoring! Song and beer and blood will be pouring!

"Thus Widsith spoke, revealing a treasury of words,
he to the greatest degree of the tribes over the Earth,
and its peoples have traveled through; often he in the hall
received, valuable treasures."

Widsith,
Anglo-Saxon poem

The Articles of Widsith's Meado-heall:

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