12-09-2015, 06:34 PM
I am iron and I forge myself
The Jungle is a unique place; it has always seemed to have more magic than other lands, even though they are all now equal. There are parts unexplored, and a thousand different creatures they don’t even have names for at the moment; their sounds create a continuous cacophony unlike any other. Every other Kingdom’s noise is silence in comparison. That’s purely speculation, of course, and a blatant bias. She’d never been to the blinding sands of the Desert or to the burned husk of the Valley. She’s never felt the Chamber pulse beneath her hooves. But every time Lagertha leaves the Jungle and then returns, there’s something that settles in her, something that she likes to think recognizes her and her lineage, and knows her heart in a way that even Rhy does not. Why else would it give her immortality, with the caveat that she must serve the eternity of her days for her Kingdom? Not just for the time that she reigns as Khaleesi - but for forever.
She will have to live with the outcome of this war for all of time, so they better fucking come out on top; stronger, and without regrets.
Lagertha and Naga are very different, which means that the panther-sister is probably a far better welcoming committee than the gunmetal gray Queen could ever be. She represents the harder side of the Sisterhood, the stereotypical iron fist and attitude and pride, while the younger woman is loquacious and enthusiastic. Anyone who could persevere beyond an initial meeting with the two of them would be a valuable asset. The Khaleesi moves quietly through the dense brush, no longer hindered by arcing, striated horns that rustled the flora unnecessarily. The monkeys and bird keep to their usual chattering, used to her presence beneath them. They call out to warn their earth-bound, four-legged friends of danger and strangers, not to betray their presence. Lagertha picks out a different sound now - voices - and turns to make her way towards the border. There must be a visitor.
She doesn’t quite make it, though, when she is suddenly blinded by some stray rays of light that made it through the canopy, falling on - she blinks furiously, side-stepping to get out of the way of the twinkling lights. “Jesus christ!” Lagertha identifies Naga, and addresses her concerns to the sister. “Naga. Who is this… bright girl?”
She will have to live with the outcome of this war for all of time, so they better fucking come out on top; stronger, and without regrets.
Lagertha and Naga are very different, which means that the panther-sister is probably a far better welcoming committee than the gunmetal gray Queen could ever be. She represents the harder side of the Sisterhood, the stereotypical iron fist and attitude and pride, while the younger woman is loquacious and enthusiastic. Anyone who could persevere beyond an initial meeting with the two of them would be a valuable asset. The Khaleesi moves quietly through the dense brush, no longer hindered by arcing, striated horns that rustled the flora unnecessarily. The monkeys and bird keep to their usual chattering, used to her presence beneath them. They call out to warn their earth-bound, four-legged friends of danger and strangers, not to betray their presence. Lagertha picks out a different sound now - voices - and turns to make her way towards the border. There must be a visitor.
She doesn’t quite make it, though, when she is suddenly blinded by some stray rays of light that made it through the canopy, falling on - she blinks furiously, side-stepping to get out of the way of the twinkling lights. “Jesus christ!” Lagertha identifies Naga, and addresses her concerns to the sister. “Naga. Who is this… bright girl?”
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons