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[Where there is alcohol involved, there are Vikings. Ivar figures this is just the type of festival he should go to. Despite being a prince back home, he's never cared much about wearing fancy clothes, so he's in his usual Viking attire, dark clothes that are clearly archaic with the pieces of chain mail on the outfit. He's gotten himself a nice corner table and has already polished off two mugs of ale when Thor comes in. It isn't long before the entire tavern is smashing their mugs to the floor and Ivar is hard-pressed not to start cackling with laughter. He raises his own third mug up.]

Skoal! [He says happily, the Norse word a combination of something like good fortune and bottom's up when drinking among companions. He drains the tankard dry and throws it to the floor with a satisfying Crash!]

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