When the Future Meets the Past [Bryndís Silvertide]

[Thurion Heavenshield]

Laekia
Some pathetic excuse of a 'mead hall'

Planet Laekia was not too far from his homeplanet Midvinter - the white jewel of his gods and his people. It teased him just by sitting there, outside of his reach. Not that he cared, by now. Having been exiled for almost a century does that to a person. The lack of caring could also be blamed on the loss of his youth, his psyche and his career. Not to mention the good people under his command. The oh-so-glorious Republic had been a place he'd once called 'home' for many years, ever since his family was left to rot by the 'illustrious' High King of Midvinter. "Beorlund the Bold" his cronies chanted as his father - the "Bear of Clan Hammerhand" - was cast away like a pebble in a lake, and his family along with him. A family of pebbles, as it were. And now the Republic turned their back on him as well, after all he'd done for them; the blood he'd shed and the men he'd sacrificed for each victory for over 50 of their Galactic Standard Years. Far longer than any of their kin could ever pull off as well as he did. And so he came here, to Laekia and her cheap excuses for mead halls, or 'cantinas' as they would call them.

Perhaps he chose to come here just to tease himself by being so close to Midvinter, just so he could feel something, whether it be a sense of longing or regret. Couldn't tell if it worked or not, but here he was, sitting on a much-too-tiny bar stool. He'd already crushed two of 'em beneath his massive weight and large frame, much to his frustration. These people didn't know how to build proper furniture, let alone how to brew proper mead. "Beer" they called it. Despicable stuff, but he'd grown used to the bitter taste after so many years that he didn't give the taste much thought anymore. Some runts who'd probably never killed a man in their lives were making loud and rude remarks from the table behind him at some poor waitress trying to do her job of serving those louts their drinks. The remarks growing in raunchiness at time went by, Thorvald had managed to ignore them until now.

The waitress was suddenly grabbed by one of the "men", making her spill all the drinks she was carrying onto the floor. "Now that was rude of you, don'tcha think, wench? I believe we need to show you the meaning of humility. Show her, boys!" Just as the party-of-five rose from their seats to brutishly humiliate the poor tavern girl, the Frost Giant grabbed hold of his bottle of beer and crashed it into the one of the men standing behind him. It caught all of them off-guard, watching their comrade fall to the floor with pieces of glass implanted into his forehead, unconscious. Rising from his creaking seat, Thorvald of the Hammerhand clan turned around to meet their gazes of disbelief at what they saw towering above the four remaining louts. With his seven foot five inches in height, he practically had to lean down to bash his forehead - seemingly made of stone - straight into the skull of his next target. He could hear a cracking sound coming from the man's forehead and nose followed by the man writhing in pain on the floor, still awake to sense the searing headache as opposed to his comrade who got the bottle smashed into his face.

The three remaining hoodlums tried their luck in outnumbering the Frost Giant, but to little success. The first few punches landed against the thick furs he'd draped around him, barely leaving a mark or making him flinch upon impact. With fire in his eyes the Valkyri grabbed hold of the nearest thug, lifted him above his head and threw him several feet on top of his friends. The resulting crash made the table flip on its side, further adding to the chaos. That's when all hell broke loose at the cantina, as strangers all around him began to pummle eachother for no discernable reason. For once he felt like he was home again. A wicked smile broke out across his face as he finished off the already beated opponents by pouring their own drinks on them, adding to the misery they most assuredly felt. Once he felt content with his work, he turned to the tavern girl who'd been close to receiving a good beating had it not been for him. Pulling her onto her feet, Thorvald managed some comforting words. "Watch yourself next time, girl! I will not be here to do the dirty work for you, then. You better learn how to better defend yourself against such louts, you hear me?" Well, they seemed comforting in his mind, at least. The poor girl just rushed off with tears in her eyes, not even bothering to thank him. She was weak, just like all these drunkards. He'd give anything for someone worthy of his attention to walk through those doors.

[member="Bryndís Silvertide"]

 

[Kassandra Distorith]

They'd barely given her time to pack.

Not that she'd had much to pack, really. Her precious leather-bound journal, her clothing, and the furs she'd hunted for herself. Everything else could remain with the people who has cast her out as easily as they'd given her those same gifts in the past. She'd even been forced to leave her weapons behind, as they'd been passed down to her from her mother, and her mother before her.

Whispering an oath to Teign, Bryndís shook her head, setting her braided hair into motion. The ramp lowered, and her tall frame had to duck as she stepped down it quickly.

Laekia.

Well. As far as planets went, it could have been worse. It was similar enough to Midvinter that it wasn't a drastic culture shock, though the lack of tall, imposing Valkyri warriors and shieldmaidens was a bit startling. She herself, counted among the shorter of her people towered over many of those bustling about the port city. Bryn exhaled noisily and strode down the street, finding that people tended to scurry out of her way as long as she looked like she knew where she was going.

Up ahead, there was a bar, according to the sign above scrawled in Basic, currently disgorging patrons who were barely sober enough to walk in all of their indignant, pugilistic glory. The blonde stepped around them and paused in the doorway before adjusting her bag on her shoulder and striding inside. Pale blue eyes blinked as they adjusted to the level of the light, coursing over the patrons that were in such an establishment.

It was a far cry from the mead halls Bryn had once enjoyed at home.

[member="Thorvald Hammerhand"]

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

The whole place was at it now. Tavern patrons were all involved somehow in the unyielding destruction of this establishment, breaking bottles and brawling eachother into submission, crushing bar stools and entire tables in the process. Blood and sweat created a hefty musk throughout the entirety of the large open area, coupled with the strong alcoholic scents associated with a seedy cantina at the edge of the galaxy.

At the centre of it all now stood the Frost Giant, happily and mercilessly fisting his way through the throng of people caught up in the all-vs-all fight. One after one they fell unconscious under his might, cracking skulls and breaking bones. For some unimaginable reason people wished to throw themselves at him, as if he was the cause of all this. Which, to some extent, he was, but it was the drunken louts who'd started it. Now he was left to finish it in its entirety.

The fight came to a halt when one of the patrons decided to pull a knife at Thorvald, who stared the man down with steely eyes of the darkest blue. Reaching for something behind his back, the beastly man pulled out a huge battleaxe, far larger and heavier than any common human variant. This axe was Valkyri-made; forged in the fires of Teign and an ancient inheritance through his heritage. This axe had been passed down from generation to generation among the chieftains of the Hammerhand clan, and with his father's death it was now his to wield. The man who'd pulled the knife trembled at the sight of the burly man making his way over to where he stood shaking in his boots. With a surge of strength the Frost Giant raised the axe above his head and brought it down before him.

While the man had more than likely already prayed to whatever gods he worshipped, the blow did not in fact strike at him - indeed, Thorvald never meant to hit him - but instead crashed down into the floorboards with a thundering noise, after which everything went quiet. All gazes were now upon the Hammerhand, as he reared his ugly head to them all and roared: "Everyone, get the kark out! NOW! This brawl is over!" Needless to say, the patrons were quick to leave the establishment without so much as a single tip, darting towards the exit faster than a Hrothwürm could dig a tunnel. And they were pretty fething fast at digging tunnels.

[member="Bryndís Silvertide"]

 

[Kassandra Distorith]

[member="Thorvald Hammerhand"]​

A pale brow lofted at the sight that greeted her, once her cerulean gaze adjusted to the light within the bar. She stepped to the side of the doorway as those still conscious and mobile enough to do so pelted for the door in a near-frenzied fashion. It was a stampede of epic proportions and Hrothwürmian speeds.

Impressive and ridiculous all at the same time.

A smile twitched at her lips as she gaze at the lone survivor and spared a glance for the ceiling as she implored Teign for patience. Freshly exiled from Midvinter, and who stumbles into her path but another Valkyri. One she did not recognize, if she were to be honest. But Midvinter was not a small planet and she knew well that many of her people had left their homeworld.

Bryn picked her way through the sentient 'rubble' eyeing the tall, broad-shouldered warrior. "Thank you for clearing it out for me...it's almost as if you knew I was coming." The smile that teased at her lips blossomed into a grin, her voice giving the Runian words their proper pronunciation.