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◊ Brunhildr ◊
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• The Antarctik
• Valley passage
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The sound of sharp steel echoed out the mountain valley, a guttural roar rumbling when an axe bit deep into the troll’s arm. The bone cracked beneath the strike, ice crystals blooming along the wound. Brunhildr wrenched the weapon from frozen flesh. Her thick cape coated in heavy snowfall as she surged forward to lock the edge of her oaken shield into the jaw of the hulking monster. Her knees bucked at the weight, boots sinking deep into fresh snow. Runes edged along her arm flared, flickering once, twice, muscles tensed as she forced the towering brute downward. With a roar she drove the axe into the thick sinew and rough fur of its leg.

[color=#26619C]“Leif! Right flank!”[/color] The blonde bellowed through the thick snowstorm, an arrow loosed into the troll's eye when it desperately tried to push itself upright. Whether to flee or charge one last time the two warriors didn’t know.

Brunhildr scoffed, ending it with a final strike of her axe. Skull split to the teeth to silence the desperate growl. A fur-clad boot kicked at the lifeless body, blood trickling from the final wound before freezing shut. Like the aftermath of a brutal fight. She straightened, shook the sudden tension in her shield arm and proceeded.

“Lady Brunhildr, a masterful blow.” Said the gruff man, the runes on his armour denoting his lieutenant rank in the Antarctik’s army.

The valkyrie smirked at that, then crushed it. Head held high, pale blue eyes indicative of her disdain despite the amusement it solicited. [color=#26619C]“Flattery is for court clowns, Leif.”[/color] She nodded once, then pressed onward into the valley.

It wasn’t unusual to find a mountain troll this side of the border. What was strange was its sudden aggressive behaviour. They had been stealthy, after all. Wide berths of its habitat, no unusual lights or sounds.

… And yet it decided to attack anyway.

Brunhildr grimaced at that when she and her compatriot doubled back. The storm had settled, it always did when the city gates were within arm's reach.

[hr]

Palace duties were a dull affair. Brunhildr often considered whether biting her own tongue might be preferable to enduring them. She was no scholar. Antarctik valued strength far more than debate. Still, some obligations could not be ignored.

She was reading the letter when the raven arrived. Or rather, when she noticed it had already been there for some time, waiting with patient irritation. A summit of powers. That alone was enough to sour her mood.