[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190812/865a4713682ef6dc59e572d0298e4a66.png[/img][/center] Even by the standard of the students' travels, the trip over from the secluded isle of Vollr was one little short of heroic. They'd pulled away from the black volcanic sands of its coasts some three days previous. A small boat up to Svalbard, a bigger boat back down to Tromsø, a flight to London, and another to the US, chartered themselves of course, because it was hard to not attract attention, especially when your cargo included a sizeable greatsword and the skins of numerous animals. Once they'd made it to the right country, it had still been several hours by road, and by the time the car pulled up outside Marchand Academy, Kora Mari Nørrevinter of Vollr was running on a few hours sleep, five cans of pepsi and pure adrenaline. It was the first time in her life that the young heir had lived anywhere but the frigid island, and to say that she was excited was quite the understatement. The short trips to the mainland, and few days shadowing the Council meetings didn't really hold a candle to the prospect of living away on a permanent basis, and getting the chance to indulge in the sort of things that were in short supply at her home. Everything the Nørrevinters acquired was brought in themselves, the result of a five-hundred year embargo from the Sterlings, the Councillors of Water and the chief traders in the mage world, a dispute stemming from either a few Sterling ships being raided and burned, or a young daughter of a Nørrevinter chieftain being seduced by Sterling son...depending on which family you asked. Anything from the mainland was a luxury, but the gods had always provided for them. The fires of the earth had made their island bountiful, even in its place at the roof of the world, and they could cultivate and hunt what they needed. But it was hard won and nothing like what you could find elsewhere. The grow up on Vollr was to grow up strong and hardy, but Aunt Hilda said that, like the trees on the hills, if all you do is weather storms, you end up gnarled and twisted. Opening the door, Kora rose to her full height and took in her surroundings. An impressive height it was too. Six foot six, with a mop of red hair, and limbs that seemed a little too long for the rest of her...not to say that there was any air of fragility about Kora Nørrevinter. She definitely looked like she could punch a man's teeth out with a good swing of her fist...there was just something of an impression that her body hadn't quite accustomed itself to her height yet. She was wearing a black T-shirt that, whilst not in english, featured enough spiky script, dragons and skulls that one could only assume it was merchandise for one metal band or another. A pair of headphones that had clearly been well-used, or at least thrown against the wall a number of times, hung around her neck, alongside a pewter mjolnir on a leather thong. Behind her rose the acting Councillor Hilda Nørrevinter, not quite as tall as her niece, though radiating enough calm authority to more than make up for it in terms of intimidation. She bore the same bright red hair as Kora did, though she wore hers long, part of it tied into plaits that curved round her head and down her back. She was wearing a coat with a collar of wolf fur. The Nørrevinters were always great fans of furs, hides, skulls. Preferably of dangerous animals. Preferably hunted with as little equipment as possible. Everything was a chance to prove your own prowess, and everyone was a potential opponent. It ws only that much bloody-minded pride that could lend itself to fighting your own traders for centuries. But it was also that pride that had led them to offer up their own heir to fight the cult. One they'd paid the ultimate price for. Hilda paused, leaning on the vehicle for a moment and watching Kora, who was bouncing eagerly on her heels, pulling several furs and what appeared to be a sizeable sword from the car. She was so much like her father. It filled Hilda's heart with pride and tore it apart all at once. The older woman's hand reached for the gungnir at her throat, speaking under her breath. [color=9e0039]"Damn you Ren. You've never spoken since, but if you're out there you'd better look after her now that I can't."[/color]