02-01-2016, 10:21 PM
I am iron and I forge myself
When last they’d met, Lagertha had been no more than several years old, and already quite determined that one day, she would wear the crown of thorns. Rodrik was the young, handsome King of the Chamber, and she was no more than a simple soldier. And oh, now the roles have changed. Who now wears the mantle of power, and who comes creeping into the other’s territory?
Oh, how times have changed; and in more ways than one.
She smells the death on him, and the masculine musk, which makes her don her metal spikes. They cover her in sheet metal, leaving her outer areas protected from basic attacks. The sickly-sweet rot masks whatever may have jogged her memory of the past. The Khaleesi’s memory is keen, but not perfect - not for one so completely changed. With a soft growl in the back of her throat, Lagertha moves towards the intruding smell, recklessly pounding down the path. She is a battering ram in her own right, and knows these trails as well as Rodrik does.
The Iron Lady bursts through the dappled brush, trumpeting her challenge to the once-chestnut, now-decomposing stallion. She has had it up to her ears with trespassers. He just happens to be the unlucky one. She doesn’t stop charging at him, and is more than fully prepared to run him down and trample him to death, or impale him, or something similar, if he doesn’t quickly find a good reason for her not to do so.
Oh, how times have changed; and in more ways than one.
She smells the death on him, and the masculine musk, which makes her don her metal spikes. They cover her in sheet metal, leaving her outer areas protected from basic attacks. The sickly-sweet rot masks whatever may have jogged her memory of the past. The Khaleesi’s memory is keen, but not perfect - not for one so completely changed. With a soft growl in the back of her throat, Lagertha moves towards the intruding smell, recklessly pounding down the path. She is a battering ram in her own right, and knows these trails as well as Rodrik does.
The Iron Lady bursts through the dappled brush, trumpeting her challenge to the once-chestnut, now-decomposing stallion. She has had it up to her ears with trespassers. He just happens to be the unlucky one. She doesn’t stop charging at him, and is more than fully prepared to run him down and trample him to death, or impale him, or something similar, if he doesn’t quickly find a good reason for her not to do so.
Lagertha
warrior queen of the amazons
[yikes. idk why she's doing that. ]