The Battlemaiden Posted on April 28, 2020 at 08:34:09 PM by RAGNFRIDR
The islands were a constant in her life. It didn’t matter where the battlemaiden roamed, they always tugged at the tethers of her heart. And eventually, she couldn’t ignore the call. It didn’t matter where in the world she was, Ragnfridr would pilgrimage back. As she breathed in the scent of what was once home, many memories flashed through her mind. She lifts her heavy head, roman nose pointed with purpose. She didn’t know what the islands had in store for her -- only that somehow, they felt different.
And she was different, too.
Ragnfridr was a little older, a little fatter, but her body was still quite dense with heavy muscle, with a coat that was tattered with scars -- some old, some new. But the most characteristic were the jagged sets of four that ran down her chest, face, barrel and hip. A close encounter with a big cat that had forever branded her. She was every image the valkyrie she was brought up to be.
Her first set of business had been to spar with another. Unlike others, this had been a friendly affair, one that had put Ragnfridr in a good mood, and left a good impression of things to come on the island. It didn’t matter that she had proven victorious -- for had she been defeated, she’d have been just as delighted. Perhaps moreso, for the youth of the land had grown to be as mighty, just as hers had. While such had not been the case, it was still flattering to her ego that she was still (mostly) undefeated.
After that had been settled, her travels brought her to the falls. The roaring water, and the mist was delightful to breathe in. It was bitterly cold, but Ragnfridr didn’t mind. Her coat was thick and shaggy, protective against the bite that winter provided. She drops down to her knees, and thumps onto her side, and then rolls onto her back. Dirt and grass slings everywhere as her hooves flail with the motions to get her heavy form from her side, to her back. She rocks this way a few times, before she gets enough momentum to fully roll over. After, she stands, and shakes out her coat, slinging the debris she’d picked up in the process, masking her scent with that of the island. Both to mask herself from the unwanted advances of stallions, and to become one with the land around her, so that predators would have a more difficult time tracking her.
After, she sweeps her gaze about, seeking anything of interest to occupy her time.
Onward into the heart of battle, fought the sisters of Odin
And in their hour of their need, he sent forth onto them, the berserker rage.
Now, gods and men, they rose up from the ground, screaming like wild animals.
Such is the gift of absolute power.
All who stood before them died that day, hail the gods of war!
-The Battlemaiden