Nancy
The creature's gigantic, grubby hand reached for a nearby pine with such power and might that its stoney skin could be heard grating upon the bark and the wood. The tree's roots came loose with one mighty **Yank**; earth, moss, and grass upheaved as if struck by a tremor, sending a loud *<SCHRRAAAAAASSKK...>* To resonate through the stormy weather, almost as if in mimicry of the thunder that hammered down from above. It paired that display with a low bellow - a cry of anger and hate but *Deep*, far less an animalistic screech and more like a groaning of the earth itself. Its baleful eyes were fixed on that single shadow before him, upon which it swung with the force of a dozen men - nay, it held no reservation for mercy or any consideration other than the defence, .. The RECONQUEST, of its territory. From that perspective, these creatures were dumb. But they also tended to be smarter than people gave them credit for, which made them dangerous - far, far more dangerous than even the most savvy woodland predator.

A creature similar to her in more than one way, which more than came to the fore as a bumrush charge saw her evade most of the tree club, though not entirely. Despite its size, it was *Fast*, and she brought up her own stick to meet the improvised weapon closer to the Troll's grip - there where its leverage was momentarily weak. Her arms bulged, her teeth gritted together, she tasted the blood that ran down her face .. And screamed in retort. The creature's cry of war was low, with a bass that shook the very bones, but hers was like a shrill banshee's shriek - tempered only by the fact that her voice typically didn't lean towards that sort of higher volume. Nonetheless, the monster gripped the tree so tightly that the wood splintered within his grip, and such was its physical power that it would outmatch her easily - **Even her.** And she was strong, too. Strong enough to HOLD it, to STAY its movements for just a second—!!

Her feet sunk into the muddy earth, her palms had started to BLEED from the strain, and her club was *Screaming* For a release ..

And that release, thankfully, came shortly. The monster pushed its weight into the tree, but it was something the berserker had *Predicted* For these *ALWAYS* Relied on their strength ...!! She was like that, too. That's why she knew to be careful! To be more cautious of the QUICK ONES. As it pushed, she manoeuvred herself toward its flanks - thereby FREEING herself from the lock and allowing the tree to continue its path unabated.

The creature struck the earth with enough power to crater it. On her side, her jagged maul found its mark — **Smacking** Into the creature's right knee with such impact it resonated through the forest a sickening SMACK - a blow that saw its black blood pour from its thick hide and even force it into a mild stumble. Alas, it was only through her strength that she managed such a superficial blow at all, for its hide - again - was like a stone .. Its flesh like granite, its blood a precious commodity for alchemists. To the creature, the blow had been nothing more than a mild *TAP*..

But tap the same place repeatedly, and it will eventually start to hurt. This madness kept the exchange going; the creature was far too prideful to consider a withdrawal, and **So was its opponent—** Almost to the point of suicide. Its hefty belly flapped about as it forced itself to regain balance, dropping the tree it held and sending another terrifying crash sound through the forest. It scooped up a rock beside itself and promptly threw a cart's worth of stone and soil towards its foe, who was - this time - just a moment too late to take notice! She swung her warmaul towards the most enormous rock, batting it aside with wild abandon. Still, the earth and grass washed over her like a tsunami, batting her back and sending her to crash a reasonable distance before she eventually stopped by a tree.

She FELT the impact upon her spine. Surely that was enough? Surely she could call it quits then and there?! And even the creature appeared to try and gauge as much - to see if it had **Won.** Instead, when the dust settled, and the mud on her face slowly dripped down to reveal her features, all that was left was a madman's smile - big and toothy, stretched from one corner of her mouth to the other. It was vile, disgusting, filled with malice.

The sound of sweeping winds and battering rain finally eased through the adrenaline again. Thunder crashed in the distance, followed by a ray of light that lit up the eldritch night sky with a momentous clap. .. Out in these mountains, in the far north.

Despite the onset of spring, these parts tended to be perpetually cold. Though it was less severe than in winter, a soft layer of snow still draped the landscape in white, and both trees and wildlife seemed tailored toward a colder climate. It was a landscape of vast pine forests, uneven hills, and mountains topped with eternal snow. The day had already gone into deep darkness, for the days were short, and the nights were long, and the skies seemed illuminated primarily by these... Strange colors in the sky - this peculiar rainbow of colorful hues. Some ascribed mystical reasons behind the formation of these 'northern lights'. Others would undoubtedly try to find a scientific or alchemical reason behind said light formations.

But there was no denying they tended to carry a sense of mystical beauty and grandeur.

This place was not so far north as to bridge - not even tentatively - upon the northern void .. But it was far from civilization. Leagues upon leagues of nothing but pine forest, hills, uneven roads .. But, at the very least, roads. Or, better said, one road that merchants *Sometimes took* To get from place to place. It wasn't unheard of that people travelled through here, only relatively rare - perhaps a few people yearly.

Aside from that, it was as wild as can be imagined. The night was cold and wet, and a pitiful trickle of rain had soaked the forest for almost a full day. It had turned the otherwise soft snow into an icy sludge. The cobblestone road that ran through the forest was incredibly slippery, making travel arduous and difficult. Simultaneously, this overlapping of clouds and the aurora borealis only worsened the darkness, as the light the latter gave off inevitably added to the shadows. The road was one of the few places where looking into the distance was still possible, the thick pine forest bordering it - almost choking it - on each side.

In terms of temperature, it hung around that freezing point. It was cold, but not significantly so—at least, that's what she thought. The place she once called home was far colder than this. However, that didn't remove the fact that her breath turned to mist with every exhale and that her fingers had started to numb.

It was a good feeling.

Yrsa von Schwarzhofen felt as if her heart had been set aflame. And at the moment, this part of the road had become a **Battleground.** Her stumble and crash through the forest seemingly had her pass straight over it, her feet dragging thick marks through it. And though she remained in place for perhaps only two or three seconds - only a few seconds to recover and recompose - it might provide the wary onlooker .. If there were any .. A cursory glance of a young Human woman. But one **So** Different from most of the Empire's populace. She was tall, with auburn ginger hair as fierce as a forest fire and a pair of icy blue eyes that almost seemed to gleam with the same intensity as the ice. Further, her build as a warrior was evident. But it was far less a model example of the Imperial soldier; she had a belly with broad hips and shoulders and an overall bearing that betrayed her liked her pork and mead. Physical exertions like this kept her relatively 'in shape', but she clearly had a disposition for gaining weight. 

And though few within *This* Realm would decipher the meanings behind the black tattoos, the obsidian marks penned upon her skin, they spoke tales of affiliation to tribes of cruel men. Barbaric, uncivilized cults to the far north-east, beyond the reaches of the Empire - into those steppes and wastelands, past the giant mountains that protected Velaris.

And yet, she was here. A **Barbarian!** Clad in what appeared to be ... Furs?! Loosely fitted furs and poorly stitched together leather. More like a caveman than anything else! The weapon she had kept clutched in her hand, the same one with which she parried that **Tree** And used to slow her momentum along the earth by dragging it along as if an anchor, was as poor a weapon as one could envision. It was literally a stick - ... A stick with a head of raw pig iron. Half broken off and chipped protrusions and 'spikes' upon the metal gave the weapon the loose appearance of a two-handed staff... Morning star???? - well, the point of it seemed simple. It evidently had a lot of weight to it. 

The wood seemed solid, and that was its only virtue. A big hammer goes smack or something like that.

Thunder echoed one more time as if the GODS themselves recognized this fight. Yrsa did not believe in any God aside from herself, but she had heard this to be the land of gods, dragons, and demigods. Be that so, then, surely, she should not waver .. And that motivation saw her push herself from the tree she had crashed against. She steadied her feet, blew her wet hair out of her face, and met the Troll's stare dead in the eye.

A creature of folk and fairytales. An evil villain, a beast with no remorse.

Well, that was a little farther from the truth. Arguably, it was just trying to protect its territory like any animal, but it was more intelligent than most animals. It stood at a height of over three fully grown men and had the width of a boulder. Its skin was a dark grey, reminiscent of the rocks from which they were believed to have sprung and originated — and sure enough, many of its body parts appeared dotted with tiny pebbles and rocks as if a link to that mythical past. It stood on a pair of stumpy legs, with arms that were far longer in comparison - almost like the arms of a monkey or ape but more muscular.

It shouldn't be surprising that one might try to make its home in these mountains and caves. 

It wasn't a foe any ordinary Human should make an effort to take down on their own. It was far too big, too strong - more something a large group would need to confront. And anyone could see that the woman was hard-pressed in this unequal matchup!

Yet, her type was often cast as a monster, too. Her crash against the tree had only winded her, whereas most would suffer broken bones and that sort. She thrust the butt of her strange weapon into the snow and dirt, leaving it there momentarily, instead reaching for a pair of oversized, chipped and rusty throwing axes. They hardly seemed fit for the job, but she clutched them confidently .. To which the Troll finally responded. The forest again shook as it broke out into a frenzied charge, further agitated by the woman's stare, and on her part, she **Charged right back at it** - screaming atop her lungs with wild abandon.
Emmett
A rarely trodden path always came with danger. Be it bandits who thought to use the paths as favoured ambush spots, or the odd band of wandering goblins. An unused path was never the safest option. Most merchants would move in bands, or within caravans with hired guards to protect themselves. Even travelers would often avoid such a path, sticking to what was tried and true, even if it took them longer to reach their final destination. But as a smithy who had given her word, she would **Never** Allow a single order to be delayed by even a minute. If she was not true to her word, then what about her wares could be trusted? A reputation for being late as a smithy would be taken as being unreliable, and making repeat mistakes. Thyri refused to have her name besmirched in such a fashion. She would rather they spit on her grave than to garner such a reputation within the merchant world. 

It was here that she found herself within the snow peaked mountain paths. A small hand drawn cart rolling behind her with gear to be delivered to those of a northern village. Whilst the cold wind was biting at her ears and nose, she found the frosty wind was a familiar feeling. A sparkling memory of a long winter when she was but a babe. She had barely been able to see the lights from another house out her old home's window. Dressed in her usual gear, she found herself wishing she had packed a bit of fur with her to warm her shoulders up something proper, or at the very least to provide a bit of shelter against the torrent of rain. Even as thunder cracked overhead, and lightning gave the snow a blinding light, she pushed onwards praying for a break in the storm.

Alas, prayers would not grant her any ease from such a situation. All she could do was push forward into the night, and push she would. If desperation set in, she would carve extra enchantments into the chainmail under her cloth to provide extra warmth just to allow her to pass over this damned mountain.
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Then, as if by divine chance, a break within the clouds. A moment of peace introduced by the roar of thunder. Thyri found herself halting for a moment as she glanced towards the star filled sky and at the lights that hung from the heavens. There was no warmth from such illumination. Nor was there the burning of one's eyes from staring for too long. Only a sense of peace. It was odd being alone in such a cold and forsaken land. Even as the shadows grew heavier from the added light, Thyri could imagine the strikes of lightning from the thunder in the distance.

Only, that didn't sound like thunder, and it was only growing closer.

A gasp escaped her, as well as a puff of mist from her hot breath as she had her first glance of the berserker. Watching as the human crashed across the snow like an avalanche. She had been too distracted by the gorgeous painting that was the sky to notice how the road beneath her had transformed from a cobblestone path to rubble and mud. It was so strange seeing such a woman, with such ferocity in her eyes. The quick realization of the female being a warrior brought answers to questions not yet asked. Yet there was no tried and tested armour, no shield to protect against an arrow, not even a helmet to defend one's skull. All there was was furs poorly put together. But none of that was what caught Thyri's eyes. What caught her gaze were the dark tattoos upon the female's arms.

None too dissimilar to the blue ink that blotted her arms with tales of her ancestors.

Yet her gaze was soon to turn to pure disgust and horror at the reveal of the barbarian's favoured weapon. To her, it was naught but a hunk of metal that needed to be reforged a thousand times over to gain even the faintest resemblance of a proper weapon. She had made better weapons as a dullard child still learning how to properly hold a hammer. She had made better weapons whilst **Drunken**.

For a moment, it saddened her to see such a warrior with so poor a weapon. 
.

It was then that she recognized the opponent of such an individual. A troll that had made it's home within the mountains. She imagined it likely feasted upon goats and bears, as well as the unlucky traveler who found themselves lost within a storm. A bulbous gut likely still held it's previous meal, half digested and possibly even still screaming if it had been small enough.

The smith was shocked to see such a beast being taken on by a lone individual. Tales from her youth had told her that such a creature needed whole battalions to bring them to their knees for even a chance at striking a killing blow. Yet before her very eyes, she could see a human defying the laws of nature once more and standing toe to toe with such a monstrous creature, with weapons in such disrepair as well. If she had been a bard, it would have been beautiful inspiration for a darling tale of humanity. The reveal of the axes was a welcome change, but her heart broke at seeing such munted blades. She had her doubts about such weapons being able to even pierce the skin of such a creature.

She was almost too engrossed in watching the battle unfold that she realized that **She** Was able to help. For a moment, she pondered if the barbarian would even welcome a fresh face into the battle, perhaps they wished to have the glory all for themselves. 

Those thoughts were dashed as her hand grasped her hammer, and one of the many keys that hung from her neck. It was a familiar motion as she slammed the key into the hilt of the warhammer, quickly twisting the item to the side as a glow appeared around the symbol on the hammer. Such a difficult enchantment, yet such a perfect tool for the moment.

Dropping the handles of her cart, she was quick to charge forward. She gave no warcry, nor a shout of anger or fury. The only sound was the soft hum that escaped her hammer, and the crunch of snow beneath her feet. This was going to be a battle she would not allow fate to decide.
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For the moment, she moved to the side. She watched as both individuals charged forward, waiting for the right moment before she gave a sudden turn. In turn, she charged towards the beast with a sense of purpose within her eyes. She would likely reach first, thanks to her having been on the road. But the timing would need to be perfect if she wanted her makeshift and sudden plan to have any chance of working.

It was then that she noticed it. The barbarian had done quite a bit of damage to the right leg already.

It was perfect. 

Being fresh into the fight, allowed her to move without exhaustion. Her sprinting was not graceful by any means, but legs powered by years of lifting steel and swinging heavy weapons were more than enough to carry her weight the distance. As she grew close, she wound her hammer behind her. Her hammer had been with her for years, and swinging such a weapon required a good amount of momentum to properly carry out it's devastating power. But creating a larger wound was not her end goal in this charge.

She was seeking to create an opportunity.

When she was in the perfect range, she brought her hammer around from her left side, allowing it to slam near the open wound that the troll already had as the enchantment took effect. The purple glow was transferred onto the knee of the beast as gravity began to force it down. Upon a joint such as a knee, it would be practically impossible for an already tired monster to stand true and finish the battle without tumbling. She would bring the beast to it's knees and she would hold it there for as long as she could.

Of course, no enchantment could truly last forever.

Even as the large oaf stumbled into the ground, she could already see the beast trying to shake it's limb free of the enchantment. Trying to climb to it's feet to finish the fight. With the berserker growing close, she would need to use every chance she had to keep the creature down.
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Thyri made haste onto the other side of the beast, once more winding her hammer back as she dashed around the feet, before once more slamming the weapon into the opposite knee of the troll, her hammer letting out a shrieking ring from the strike as the key within shattered. The spell was weaker than the other, but it would hold for the moment. It would keep the creature from rising to a kneeling state, thus keeping it's head close to the ground.

It would be the perfect chance for the warrior to attack the head and neck directly. Even just planting one of those rusty blades into the eye of the beast should be enough to give it a true wound.

Blinding the beast would be the best option, perhaps even the blood loss would make it fail to stand once more on it's injured legs, allowing both hammer and axe to cave it's bones in and carve into it's flesh until it's heart stopped pumping it's vicious black blood. A brutal death for a brutal beast. There was nothing that would fit better. 

As the troll slammed it's hand down, Thyri found herself rolling backwards to avoid such a clumsy strike. Snow covering her from the movement, she used the movement to roll her hammer behind her shoulders before bringing it down in an overhead arch to **CRACK** The troll's nail. Whilst it might have seemed like a pathetic wound, the cry of pain the creature gave from the sudden strike was but music to her ears.

It had been so long since she had been in such a battle. Even if it had been so long since she had been truly adventuring, she could not deny the familiar feeling of adrenaline that coursed through her blood. She felt how her muscles pumped as her heart pounded within her ears.

It was an addicting feeling.

She showed no signs of joy upon her face, only signs of focus and commitment. She would assist in felling such a beast, even if she were unwelcome in such an act.
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With the troll focusing on her, she allowed her gaze to wander as she stepped out of it's range, her eyes seeking out the warrior. She hoped that such an individual would strike at the beast without hesitation, even if she had been a surprise addition to the fight.

Tales from her youth told her how great generals and commanders would always adapt during battles to find the best solution. She truly hoped that this woman was one of those greats.

Too many times had she heard of foolish adventurers who had rushed off to their own deaths.
Nancy
Akin to natural phenomena like thunder and lightning, wind and rain, some events just happen—something that goes beyond active thought and consideration. The physical mixing with the spiritual. And somehow, the body moves ahead of the mind. As an experienced adventurer and a master of the weapons she crafted, *Thyri Sigtrygg* Would surely recognize the same - that her entry into the encounter diluted time to a point as if everything appeared to be happening far slower than it was.

Such was the intensity of the battle and also what it required. Because that Troll? Sure, it was large and arguably obese, but every one of its rampant blows was enough to crush a man outright. A single one of its steps was enough to cross vast distances that would make it feel faster than anything—and its stride was of such a pace that it still felt extremely fast. It was arguably going as fast as a horse in a spirited trot.

In a situation like that, every second mattered. Every split movement could dictate an instantaneous death... It is what **She** Knew, her master's path, and perhaps why they were loathed, too- pariahs amidst their people. The role of a warrior in most societies and civilizations, especially Imperial society, was often romanticized and seen as some grand and virtuous thing, a matter of honour and glory and such things.

What children's fairy tale didn't contain a mention of some dashing and noble knight? The handsome fellow atop his steed, coming to save a damsel.

But that was not the reality of these things, of these terrible, absolutely terrifying and horrible situations. There was nothing fun about any of this, just a sure-fire path to pain, death and suffering. And Yrsa's teacher was no man of noble virtue. Nay. By all rights, he was a terrible person, a person who ravaged, slaughtered, tortured and took as he saw fit. There was no glorification, only a recognition and acceptance of these realities.

That's why, perhaps, people hated them. The youthful woman facing this Troll was no noble knight abiding by a code of honor but a wretch caught in a bloodlust fuelled by a vileness beyond even the Troll's capacity. It had sought to batter her, to kill her, so now she was intent on doing the same to it. Even if it backed off and surrendered, that would not have been enough. And, of course, the blacksmith could probably not read minds or scry into the past or future - many of these elements would remain a mystery. But all of these things, these **Factors**, surfaced with Yrsa's reaction. Her twisted face and efforts showed a slight breadcrumb trail to those variables mentioned above.

.. It did not necessarily matter *What* Drew the Troll's attention away. They were fixated on one another, utterly hellbent on coming to a catastrophic collision course that **Anyone would be able to tell was stacked solidly in the Troll's favor** - but the berserker had been *Fishing*, actively PRODDING for even the slightest point of misdirection.

And then someone else entered the fray, someone ahead of her. A shadow in the darkness, .. An ally? Another threat? At the moment, it did not change things. The very **Second** The Troll drew its attention AWAY from the charging barbarian, she reacted nigh-on instantaneously. She had been seeking that, practically begging for it .. And to take note of the slightest bit of inattentiveness on the Troll's behalf changed this entire scenario. Her two axes suddenly LEFT her hands, whistling almost in *Conjunction* With Thyri's assault - their edges aligned in such a manner that they easily betrayed the years upon years of experience she had under her belt with these things. Neither did her approach slow, merely using one of her charging steps to throw her weapons, funnelling into them the total weight and strength of her approach, muscles and posture-

They were borderline blunt. Hardly weapons befitting a warrior. The last time anyone oiled them, well, that was MONTHS ago - because her *Master* Used to do those things. The oxidation was evident all over them. Even so, the blacksmith might've come to note that this barbarian woman-

It wouldn't be right to say she was moving or acting with superhuman feats. It wasn't that, necessarily. It's that a lot of her physical feats are *Bordering on that line.* It was like a... Combination of a top-tier sprinter mixed together with a dedicated powerlifter and then someone who prioritized stamina and then a bunch of other categories, too. Her human form wasn't as potent as her bear shape, but when the rage started seeping into her system and the gears of her bestial instincts started to *Turn*, some of those physical attributes inevitably bled over.

That's also why she felt a pang of RELIEF in her chest. Because she had been fighting a losing battle. And she didn't have much doubt that if she wanted to stand a chance .. She would have to transform in a situation that she didn't dictate. Even then, even transformed, it was questionable whether she would be able to defeat this Troll. .. She didn't like the idea of losing herself to her animalistic instincts; not **Yet.**

Thyri's intervention allowed her to steer her mind away from that. To de-escalate and temper her wrath. Subsequently, the aid was most welcome, and the barbarian's accuracy was **On point.** Those weapons were terrible, but the sheer physical force she put into those throws meant that it didn't matter; they were shaped pieces of metal, and they **Cut.** As the Troll turned its head towards Thyri, one axe buried itself DEEP within the creature's left eye.

The other axe was less accurate but still managed to dig into the monster's shoulder—a significant feat, too, because the blacksmith could also feel that, by the gods, this thing was tough. Her keen use of manipulating its bodily mechanics worked, and it bellowed a pained howl as blood gushed from its now clenched shut-eye .. But it was like striking something as rigid as a rock. It hurt the creature and briefly waylayed it, but even with one functioning eye..

It wasn't even close to death. It was like someone had tripped it and gotten a tiny needle into its eye. That hurt like hell, it was dangerous, but it also didn't kill it. Furthermore, it began to flail around itself wildly. It was far from an effective 'technique' in the realms of mere men - more like a toddler throwing a tantrum. However, this toddler's tantrum could take off heads and limbs, pulverize boulders, and, to make matters worse, it was deceptively fast. Its limbs, arms, and legs were like stone pillars, if just in weight and width. Again, to fight this thing .. Solo?! Or with just the two of them?!?! It was INSANE. SUICIDAL. COMPLETELY UNDOAB-...

It did catch the barbarian. The Troll hit her full-on. Thyri might notice that while the woman had hit her mark by throwing her axes, it also left her without weapons - none of which she could use to defend herself now .. And she was still on a direct collision course with the flailing monstrosity. But her darkened expression said more than a thousand words; .. She accepted these things. A stray swing from the back of the Troll's four-fingered hand SMACKED into her mid-charge, but the barbarian moved like a *Rabid animal*, having outright thrown - JUMPED - into the swing WILLINGLY. She therefore couldn't avoid it, but it also meant that rather than resist the swing, it would *Carry her* - like trying to bat a flying mosquito aside with an open palm. A few of her ribs felt like they cracked with the impact, and a strong heave left her breath knocked out of her, and yet ..

She held on. Her axes had dug deep. And the creature's hide was as if stone. This meant that they would be difficult to dislodge, and while the Troll smacked her aside, she had reached far- .. Far enough! Far enough to GRASP onto the axe embedded in the creature's shoulder and HOLD ON, upon which she bellowed loud and deep, "ᚨᚲᚲᚢᚱᛋᛖᛞ ᛒᛖᚨᛋᛏ! ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᛋ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᛖᚾᛞ!!" - which both.. It sounded like a chant and another language and— it was probably utterly indescribable for the blacksmith. But if her family originated from the same places, if there was any overlap between her origins and the northeastern tribes to which Yrsa originally belonged, maybe it wouldn't sound *That* Strange. In that case, would it not be vaguely familiar?- a language of ancient runes...!!

Her cracked ribs? She showed no signs of even recognizing the injury. As if it simply did not exist.
Emmett
Fate had an odd way of placing one into the strangest of situations. Just a mere week ago she had been speaking with a Champion about a weapon for her child, a sword to defend him and perhaps a blade for her to throw. Now, she was doing battle with a troll, besides a strange woman with blunted weapons. Not once did she ever believe she would be in such a situation, having been content with where she was in life. She couldn't deny that the excitement was a welcome change for once.

A large foe with strong bones was less than ideal for her particular fighting style, especially with a blunt weapon the most she could do was strike at joints and possibly create a bruise or two. But it was not impossible to create openings for the warrior woman to attack. She had already successfully created one. Now she needed to find a way to keep the attention of the beast, and make sure that it did not lose interest in her.

To do so, she needed to enrage it in such a way that it would be forced to blunder.

To speak naught but the truth, Thyri was surprised to see the rusted axes fly through the air. She was even more surprised to see the accuracy of such an act. From the distance she was, she could see that it didn't exactly cut the eye, rather that tear it asunder with the force from the throw alone. A beautiful feat of strength. More brutality than any form of grace.

But she could not disguise the horror on her face at the sheer *State* Of such weapons. Thyri had no clue how **ANYONE** Living could allow such a weapon to obtain such a state. It looked less like the weapon of a barbarian and more like the object a desperate traveler would grasp onto in a century old crypt. Once the battle was finished, she was NOT going to be allowing this woman to escape without a firm lecture on the state of her weaponry.
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With the beast flailing like a fish out of water, Thyri was quick to dash around. She kept her distance, not particularly wanting to be crushed beneath the weight of an angry troll. But it seemed like the warrior had no qualms about such a fate. The blacksmith was witness to the madness of the berserker, watching as she leapt into the strike of the troll, and latched onto the lost weapon. Such an act caused Thyri's grip to tighten. She did not want to be having to scale the beast to regain her weapon in the same way.

As the magic upon the knees began to wane, the beast would likely find itself able to stand soon once more. But before she would allow that to happen, she would cripple the troll in such a way that if they were to fall here, they may rest with the knowledge that the beast may still be yet to die. With her hammer in hand, she charged towards the head of the creature, once again winding her hammer back over her head as she charged before slamming it directly into the jaw of the beast.

If it could not chew, then it could not eat. If it could not eat, then it would starve.

Of course, getting in such a dangerous area did have it's consequences. She was struck by the beast's hand and sent crashing into the snow some distance away. With the wind stolen from her lungs, and a hacking cough escaping her as she rose to her knees. She may have been struck, but she would **NEVER** Go down from a single strike.

It was there that she heard the call of the warrior. That strange and harsh language. There was an odd sense of familiarity to it, but the smith had never heard such words before. Unaware of how similar they were to the runes carved into the head of her hammer, on each key that hung from her neck, and the markings on the chainmail beneath her apron. Whilst Thyri was able to read runic languages with ease, she had never had the chance to speak, nor learn what such a language would sound like.
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Using the hilt of her weapon to drag herself to her feet, she stumbled forward before once more moving into a charge. She had her doubts that the warrior would be able to do much damage with the axes in such a state.

Yet, it was her job as a smith to arm adventurers and soldiers with the weapons to protect themselves, and by Celsus she would arm all she could.

Whilst still some distance away, she held her hammer by the head with one hand, reaching around her back as the rasp of steel sung through the air. It was not often that she drew her shortsword, but there was not a single day where she did keep it in near perfect condition. The blade was polished to a shine, the edge sharpened until it was able to slice through with itself, and the balance was simple perfection. 

She was not the most dexterous woman in the world, reeling her arm back as she tightly gripped the hilt of the blade. "Oi!" She called out to the warrior, as she flung the blade towards them with a sense of purpose, yet poor accuracy. If the woman wished to be able to catch the weapon, she would have to jump for it. But now she needed to make sure that the troll wouldn't attempt to fling the barbarian to the ground before she could even find the right spot to strike.

"Aye! Ugly!" She screamed. Her voice full of adrenaline as she brought out one of her tools. Slamming the metal of her hammer and the tool together to create a steel drum beat to force the dullard creature to look at her. The magic upon the first knee broke with a sharp crack, almost as if the branch of a tree had been snapped. But the second was holding strong for the moment.

Thyri kept on the move, forcing the creature's head to turn just to track her movements. The beast had to be feeling sluggish from the wound in it's eye, but it could be panicking, perhaps even thinking that there were more of them laying within the snow waiting for the time to strike.
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The smith wished for a proper mage to be hidden within the snow, ready to cast a strange and powerful spell to smite the beast within a single stroke. She would have given any amount of coin for such luck to be granted to her.

But in such mountain tops, there would be no rescue, nor reinforcement. If they were to fall, their screams would fall upon the deaf ears of animals and naught else. She could **NOT** Allow such a thing to happen. She refused to die upon such a forsaken mountain, and she would **NOT** Go quietly into this cold night.

The skin of a troll was strong, yet so was steel. The bones were nearly unbreakable, yet so was a mountain. Humanity had tamed both. They would bring down this troll, paint the damned snow black with it's blood. As a merchant, she idly dreamt of using the bones to strengthen her weapons, but dragging down such a corpse from the mountains would be nigh impossible. Yet a vial of it's blood would certainly provide a bit of coin. Such thoughts would need to come later. She needed to stay focused. She couldn't be allowing her mind to wander into such stupid topics in the moment.

She hollered and whooped at the creature, doing her beast to keep it's attention, trying to get it's head to turn towards her. She had struck it last, so she would not be surprised if it was still focused on her and her hammer.
Nancy
Up to now, the barbarian's reaction to Thyri had been purely instinctive, an opening in the massive Troll's defences upon which she pounced the second it opened .. Such was its power, such was the battle's intensity - as mentioned earlier - that this was the only way through which it could be recognized. 

Anything more, and it would mean death. Yet ...

The blacksmith's steadfast refusal to die warranted a glance. Her means of defying fate - such things spoke at a level deeper than any word could convey. The weather was picking up again in the negative sense; the trickle of rain had increased to a freezing deluge - a mixture of wet hail and rain buffeted against those harsh, sweeping winds. Such were they that to keep the eyes open would be to be stung by the downpour. And the darkness did not help in the least to aid in the visibility.

Even so, the barbarian's icy blue gaze travelled from Thyri's overall form .. To the artworks penned upon her skin. Another might overlook it, might ignore it, especially now, but Yrsa beheld them instantaneously. They might not mean much in this realm. Evidently, the one from which she hailed placed great importance on such things and then other qualities, too.

More opportunities like this would present themselves. While every exchange in this battle might've felt like a crash of thunder, each blow carrying the impact of lightning, it was a slog. That's what made it so dangerous, too. Most warriors could land a passing blow upon a creature of this type, but .. Few could survive longer than that. All three combatants here would likely recognize that this was a war of stamina and durability - the victor, whoever would weaken the slowest. And it had likely already gone on for some time; the barbarian berserker looked dishevelled. There was blood on her face, hands and legs - blood that wasn't pitch black like that of the Troll; *Her* Blood.

But Thyri's presence changed things massively. She was no longer losing. And now, the TROLL fought a more defensive battle; it plucked the axe out from its eye with a low groan of a howl that sounded equally painful and agitated. It couldn't sound it properly either because the blacksmith's hammer blow upon its jaw had forced its vocalizations into spittle-laden mumbles. Her enchanted weaponry was of a category of its own, and it was likely solely through this virtue that she managed such a hefty impact at all - for the creature's jaw .. By the *GODS* It was **TOUGH.** In Humans, the chin was arguably one of the most rigid pieces of bone, but in a Troll? Its head, save those few spots where it was weaker - the eyes, as the blacksmith noted earlier- was like one giant shield. Rather than sound a satisfying *Smack* Through the environs as might've otherwise been the case, it was like striking a dull gong.

An issue the berserker soon discovered as well. Thyri's efforts to keep the creature grounded and immobile allowed Yrsa to climb from its shoulder onto its back and head. The jagged rock protrusions upon its skin allowed her a strong grip even after she passed by her axe, and it might come to partially explain *How she got here;* The mountain range of eastern Velaris was a nigh-on insurmountable challenge for any army to cross. But she was no army. And her home was filled with mountains, too. She knew how to climb!

The Troll's rapid movements and wettened exterior made it difficult at times, but she managed to crawl up from the arm onto its shoulder in earnest, holding onto its frame by keeping a hand dug into its neck muscles. With that one-handed grip, she swayed back and forth alongside its movements, using one such moment to REACH for the axe she had used to climb just a moment ago - freeing it with a hefty heave and exhale. She had just enough air to lift herself up, one foot on each shoulder with her legs spread wide apart to allow it. It was far from a stable position. Nonetheless, she spent her last bit of lung capacity by sending through the sky a battle cry whilst bringing her axe down towards the back of the Troll's skull with a two-handed grip on her weapon's handle, hammering, *Hammering*, **Hammering** Over and over like she was trying to chop down a tree. But again, whereas one might expect to hear the soft give of flesh and crunch of bones, it was more of a...

*'THUMP... THAMP... THUMP..!!'*

The back of its skull, like its jaw, was practically invincible. Sheer strength alone allowed Yrsa to chip its rocky hide a bit, but it was comparable to a scrape on Human flesh, nothing that would seriously hurt it in the long term.

At that moment, at that particular point in time, Yrsa saw the blacksmith before her and recognized that her timely ally was no natural phenomenon but a person—a person who conversed and yelled in a language she knew. Even to Yrsa, her rune speech was solely the realm of her master and that which she knew to shout as a battle cry. There was understanding when Thyri yelled out her 'OI...!' - evident as the barbarian's eyes went from *Her*, to the blade she held and threw. The axe with which Yrsa had been clobbering was now reduced to little more than a piece of bent metal as if she had struck it down on an anvil repeatedly .. But that sword...!! It gleamed and showed its presence clearly, quickly relaying its sharpness.

Further, while the strange, barbaric woman might've come across as a physical epitome, she wasn't necessarily fighting this Troll in an advantageous manner. She met the Troll's strength with athleticism, trying to deal with its resilience through strength. Even if she was *Less dumb* Than the Troll, even if only a little, it was still very much a picture of a caveman trying to outwrestle a bear. Her physical feats allowed for that. But Thyri's approach was more intelligent. As the blacksmith knew well, the beast was ill at ease with loud, sharp noises, and while it had already raised a hand to try and pluck the woman from its shoulders, its attention snapped to Thyri one more time with even greater rage than before. It was brighter than the average animal but was having trouble concentrating.

It was either one or the other. And while it could make that switch quickly, it couldn't focus on these two foes simultaneously. Its sluggishness due to its half-blinded eye and the knock against its jaw only added to that, but .. It was starting to compensate.

There was one important detail, however. It **Changed** Everything. That being, ... Thyri's blade! Yrsa had SEEN it and noticed its warped trajectory. Noticed how the blacksmith had just prevented her from being CRUSHED outright by the Troll. It allowed for a glimmer of trust and better understanding, even if they couldn't share words yet. She took a frantic leap from her position atop the Troll's shoulders, but she had already powered a mild rotation in her form from right to left. It was far from elegant. But it allowed her to, with that blade in hand, come 'round to cut at the monster while coming down. It was not even a straight cut! Her trajectory meant that her horizontal cutting somehow transitioned into something more .. Diagonal; neither was it her choice of weapon— or was it?!?!

Her axes were heavy. Her maul was heavy, too. But this blade? It felt... It felt lighter than even her arms! It was so easily manoeuvrable that Yrsa only *Noticed it* After she touched ground! She had CUT without even realizing she ... Did?! Her blow with the sword had inevitably traced a line across the lower part of the Troll's head and a portion of its chest. Stiff, rigid areas...!! But they were bleeding now! And the cut was clearly visible!

The barbarian woman clearly had a lot of strength. But now that her weapon wasn't rusty, and she transitioned that strength into a weapon *Meant* For cutting, it was going through the Troll's hide — well, it certainly wasn't easy. But Thyri's weapon was allowing for that!

And that was a cut inflicted upon the more rigid areas. If directed at more vulnerable parts, then maybe...?!

Well, for now, she landed with one foot first - the momentum drawn into her jump having her scathe a good pace or two over ice-crusted earth, from which she recovered through a mild stumbling stagger. Her eyes went from the Troll to the blade, now stained with Troll blood, and she blinked a few times - alternating her gaze between *It* And the blacksmith ...!!

The battle was not yet over by far, though. Thyri's method of occupying the Troll had worked so far, but the cut upon its chest annoyed it beyond belief, and it was losing its patience. While Thyri and Yrsa both engaged it with an utter, hellbent motivation to **Stay alive**, the Troll was doing the same .. And if it couldn't focus on both simultaneously, it would concentrate on **EVERYTHING.** With every one of its muscles trying to SHATTER through Thyri's enchantments, it instead began to hammer its fists upon the ground and the trees and everything around it. One of the trees on its right, a smaller pine but still the size of five or six stories, suddenly began to tumble over .. Which led to it crashing into a smaller tree, which *Also* Began to collapse. The ground quaked with every slam of the Troll's fists, snow, ice and dirt all thrown about so that it left the field as if cloaked by the smoke of a cannon. Powerful gales and gusts, each enough to batter a man, also paired with its limbs. Rocks and boulders shattered, the earth tore, ...!

It was like a preview of the world's ending, localized entirely in this small forest pocket. These Humans would suffer! They would feel its wrath! They hurt it, invaded its territory, and it was no longer willing to abide them!
Emmett
The strike from the troll had done it's damage. Whilst it couldn't be seen on her exterior, she could definitely feel the pain throbbing within her leg and lung. A trip to the local healer in the town that was her original destination would certainly be warranted now. If they managed to come out of such a battle, she could already imagine the look of pure shock upon her parent's faces when she sent a letter detailing such an encounter. Oh, how she wished she could be there to see the expressions, unfortunately, she would only have a few letters of worry to look forward to.

Endurance would crown the victor here. Hours spent within a scorching forge had given Thyri an insane amount of stamina, able to work for hours on end hefting metal and striking steel. But that did not mean she was made of metal herself. Whilst her muscles had been tempered in the forge, her armour was what truly protected her. Thick leather from a pelt without even a modicum of imperfection.

She preferred such armour due to it's weight. It was easier to carry than plate, and if she ever found herself thrown in a river again, she wouldn't be struggling to remove each strap as she held her breath. Though it did sacrifice protection against many things, it was what she felt was best for her.

Even as she banged metal against metal, she could feel her arms aching from the earlier strike upon the beast's jaw. It was like striking a metal rock with naught but a hollow tube of steel. It had been as if her arms had been *Ringing* From the strike. Injuries would have to be looked over later. It wasn't like she could rest in the middle of battle after all.

The ease at which the woman scaled the beast did cause her eyes to widen slightly. After all this fighting, and the woman was still able to climb the beast? The amount of stamina this barbarian had was incredible! Thyri was quite happy to have such a long lasting companion in such a fight, even if she didn't even know the woman's name.
.

She watched as the warrior attempted to strike against the head of the beast, the shameful blunt weapon giving nothing for her efforts. She could dream of how powerful the strike could have been if the weapon was sharpened, and with a stronger handle. She gave a prayer for the poor smith who had created such a weapon, for it to have lasted so long was surely a testament to the durability of the blacksmith themself. Was the woman perhaps from a clan that did not understand the importance of weapon maintenance? Perhaps that was why it was so durable.

She would need to find such a smith herself, and be taught how such a weapon was so strong.

Even if she was proud of her creations, that did not mean that she was unable to keep learning. If she was to one day craft for the Rulers of the lands, then she would need to make sure that her weapons outlasted even that of humanity.

Yet the pride she felt in her chest as she witnessed her blade slash through the creature's flesh. Whilst she knew that strength and momentum would be at play, her blade had cut through the skin of the foul beast. The feeling of watching one's creation perform in battle and crushing whatever expectations she had was a feeling like no other. It had been so long since she saw another use one of her weapons outside of a mere spar or duel. So long since she had seen a weapon of her creation truly spill blood.

Her grin was wide, and adrenaline surged through her body.

With the axes and maul out of the question, she knew there was a chance to bring down the creature now. The blade could slice through the creature's flesh, and she would be able to hold it down. If they positioned themselves right, they would be able to cut the throat of the beast before it even realized what had happened.
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She was reaching for a second key when the troll began it's assault on the ground. The ground beneath her shook as she stumbled, losing her tool in the process and cursing as it vanished into the snow. A true shame with how useful it had been. She should have picked a different one.

She struggled to move as the ground moved beneath her, stumbling from side to side as the troll practically bloodied it's fists with these strikes against the ground and trees. Her final enchantment snapped like twine from the pressure, and the key that Thyri was trying to keep a grip on snapped off of the chain and slipped between her fingers. A curse escaped beneath her breath as it joined the tool beneath the snow.

She was quick to back away, to keep out of the dust and snow that had been kicked up and was soon crouched to keep herself in a ready position. She did not want to be sent tumbling to the floor. Grasping a third key, she tore it from it's place and placed it into the head of her hammer before turning it. As her fingers left the iron key, electricity sparked off swarming around her hand before she placed it onto the head of the weapon, letting the bolts seep into the metal. It almost seemed as if a small storm cloud was forming at the top of the hammer.

Using a warhammer certainly had it's perks, but it left one vulnerable to ranged strikes. Thyri's enchantments allowed her to work around such a weakness, but such keys were near impossible to forge consistently. Spinning the weapon to gain a bit of momentum, she once again brought herself to stand, charging forward even as the ground shook. Even as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her own weight.

She drew the hammer back as far as she could over her shoulders, leaning back before she practically flung herself forward. Muscles that had spent hours lifting heavy metal strained as she threw her hammer at the troll, praying for the accuracy to be better than she had been with the sword.
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She could hear naught but her own heart pounding within her ears as she watched the weapon sail overhead, spinning from the momentum. As it moved, so did she, slamming into a collapsed tree and landing harshly in the fallen branches. She felt them stab at her skin, and became tangled in her hair. She desperately moved to fling herself through the branches, letting the tumble slam her into a rock that had been hidden beneath the snow. She felt the pain stab through her shoulder as she finally rolled to a halt.

Whichever Gods were witness to such a battle must have decided to answer her prayer. The weapon would strike true, striking the shoulder of the beast. Of course, it wasn't the hit that was Thyri was wanting, it was the enchantment that would do its work. As it struck, the key within snapped and the cloud upon the hammer would release the energy stored within. Cracking the air with a thunderous roar as lightning, born from the enchantment, was released unto the beast.

Her hopes were that it would stun the creature. Force the beast's muscles to freeze up in response to the bolt coursing through it's body. She recalled when she had first struck herself with the enchantment, how dazed and confused she had been as she collapsed to the smithy's floor. She had been stunned from the strike, and had perfected it into an enchantment that was grand for taking people down without needing to kill them.

Unfortunately. Thyri had no clue if it would even work against a troll. She had no clue how a troll would react to lightning striking it, or how the electricity would fair against the skin alone.
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Not only was it a gamble, it was a gamble that left her without her weapon. Whilst she could always run to the cart to acquire one of her customer's weapons, she simply could *NOT* Allow one of her deliveries to be broken. Not even with an excuse such as a troll attack.

She owed it to those who put faith in her.

But that didn't mean she would be useless in the battle. She was still full of energy, and had only taken a few hits. She could outlast the bastard troll whilst the warrior got into position to attack it properly, and if she was lucky she would be able to get her weapon back during the troll's confusion.

The snow beneath her was already stained black and red from the battle. It was practically turned to sludge as it had been mixed with the dirt enough to create mud. It was slippery, and she struggled to stand. The trees collapsing around her were the worst part. She knew they would struggle to traverse them, whilst the troll could easily barrel it's way without a second thought.

The environment was not in their favour, they would need to use every trick possible. With only three of her keys remaining, she had no clue if she would be able to rely on her enchantments at all.
Nancy
No wonder it took vast war hosts to bring these things down! Even with all the damage it had sustained, with all its injuries and the adversity it faced .. The creature wasn't relenting. It had walked these lands for longer than generations of **Men**, and man now dared to drive it from its home? It could not verbalize these things. Hell, it likely did not even think about them the same way; its thought processes were *Different.* Indeed, its cruel, thinned gaze was like a vortex of endless rage, indignity and challenge. This was ITS home, and these creatures needed to DIE and LEAVE **Right now...!!**

The barbarian berserker, *Yrsa*, .. The lands from which she hailed had myths and stories about the fabled ending of the world, wherein the gods would return to the realms and wage one final war of annihilation. On a more personal note, the shaman seer who once shepherded her believed that she had some role to play in that, too- .. That her ursine ancestor would rise from her blood once again and do something fundamental.

Perhaps such things were mere myths and stories. ... However;

Thyri might've been one of the few within this realm to perceive a kernel of that idea. The blacksmith's affinity to runecraft might allow her to FEEL something, though, well, that depended entirely on her skill outside her workshop—whether she could identify those traces in the air. Still, something had begun to **Resonate—** .. To those who could feel it, sense it; it was tangible before it even entered the realm of reality.

Most forms of magic within this realm undoubtedly had something mystical, and words could not describe the difference between that and this: a mage conjuring a fireball, a wizard bringing to life words on a scroll. Those were all overt shows of sorcery, of a manipulation of reality. A spectator could clearly identify that to be magic.

This was different. It involved fate, the past, and the future. It was a manifestation of the world rather than something outside brought into it. Binds of ancient bloodlines and a deep connection to nature. The druids of this land practised something similar. But they engaged nature on a more superficial level. They could shape into an animal and back, but that was only changing into such on a physical layer. It did not change their soul.

In contrast, whatever this was weaved deeply into the fabric of creation itself, the culminated power of a creature from a different age. It wasn't correct to say that Yrsa was one or the other - nay, it was like .. She was both simultaneously, but also not. Two sides of a coin, but of a faceless coin. If Thyri and the barbarian *Did* Share some mutual origins, even if it was a distant past for the blacksmith, the sorceries woven into her runes - that of the natural world, .. Runes of power that few of this land would understand - then, indeed... She might feel that. It was like an aura - a feeling of profound wrongness. An evil.

The Troll had cast this part of the forest into an apocalypse. Amidst the scuffle, the barbarian woman—like Thyri—disappeared into the upheaved snow and smoke with no trace. Therefore, for the first half-a-dozen seconds after Thyri's re-emergence, she faced the Troll on her lonesome. Her potent 'keys', mystical weapon enchantments, allowed her to face the terror in a manner few could. She was actually keeping up!! Keeping up with a horror that could easily lay to waste entire GROUPS of levies, knights, and all those things! .. Was that not a testament to her weapons and armor? A testament to her skill??

Further, her choice to assail the Troll with thunder and lightning was genius. Even if supposedly crafted out of stone, the old legends and stories told the same tale: these creatures... They **Feared** The thunder, which likely had something to do with their ancient ancestry. Thyri was putting up a mighty battle while the Troll sought to barrage her with one limb after another, sweeping, grabbing, punching and biting .. It was like a battle of GODS. Then, her hammer struck the creature's shoulder, and for a moment, the Troll ... Shrieked??!! As before, and especially now that its jaw still hung slack from the last blow, it was low pitch and deep in the bass, a shriek to quake the earth. But rage briefly faded to a split second of **FEAR**.

It HATED this weather. It HATED the lightning. It would never come out of its cave during such conditions unless something forced it! Its hide was like a STONE but also wet from the rain. With its limbs released, it tried to cover itself frantically, but Thyri had the upper hand in the exchange .. And the hammer she held pounded upon the creature's flesh without remorse. It took a second for the electricity to traverse through it, yet it found PURCHASE ..! It found PURCHASE, and the beast reeled back, retreating a few paces and whimpering. The stench of cooked and burnt Troll flesh filled the area, and the blacksmith's desired effect took hold;

It was far too large to be stunned in the same manner as a smaller Humanoid. Yet, it gripped the beast well enough. And that which hadn't stunned it necessarily physically stunned it mentally. Again, it FEARED the thunder. And fear locked it in place for just a moment!

But it was just a moment. And there was likely very little doubt that once it returned to its senses, it would come at the blacksmith with even more motivation than before. It RULED this realm. This was ITS territory! These two, two-legged creatures were WEAK and FRAIL and-

And there was no sign of the barbarian! It was a perfect opportunity to strike. It might be enough to END the fight. And yet, she was nowhere to be seen!! .. Then again, the Troll had already proven itself powerful beyond belief. Even if they scored a perfect blow, would that have been enough to stop it? .. Would it not have simply crushed them while it gargled on its own blood??

She did not wish for it to be so. But the unfortunate reality was that she didn't have much of a choice ever since the start of this battle. The wheels had already begun to turn. Her Human shape was maintained through active thoughts, Human emotions and perceptions. Those are what kept her within that shape. However, this Troll encouraged the opposite; it was fighting for its territory, so she saw it as a territorial despite. It was challenging her. Therefore, her instincts activated a fight-or-flight response from her battle cries to everything else.

And ...

Thyri was right. Perhaps they had yet to exchange a single word. But the Troll was dominating the battle by manipulating the world around them. It could move without reserve, and they had to worry about everything else. The truth was that Yrsa recognized it as a weakness within herself.

Her master was little more than a Human. The only 'magic' to him were these psychedelic mushrooms he imbibed before battle. But his swordsmanship was purely physical. Yet, he would not have struggled with this beast. He would have cleaved the Troll's skull in twain with a single strike.

She could not do these things—not yet. Maybe in the far future, with better equipment and the aid of a blacksmith.

Before everything else, that's what she thought about—amid the snow, the chaos. Maybe her master WASN'T the same as her. Because her power always came from her weaknesses. She was scared and, therefore, fought harder. She was weak and, thus, became strong.

Another auric vibration resonated through the forest thicket. Again, feeling it **Heavily** Depended on Thyri and her affinity to her runes. But if she could, it was like an indescribable feeling, yet simultaneously as if something *Else* Was approaching this fight. A spectre or a shadow that attained physicality. A bridge to the world of the dead but also not.

The barbarian might not have taken the opportunity the blacksmith presented in one way, but that moment of pause, those few seconds, were far more critical. The only thing Yrsa regretted was that she could not be sure she would see her strange ally as an 'ally' afterwards. Such things were always tricky. But then, she was no longer in control, and those thoughts faded. She was dumb for thinking she could conquer this thing **Without** Resorting to that .. And with one second more, the presence that had filled the environment collapsed in upon itself in a single manifestation. The Troll had just about started to recover, too, fixating its attention *Entirely* Upon Thyri once more, fully intent to finish this battle once and for all and showcase its wrath in a manner no mortal had ever seen BEFORE-

Its wrath, anger, and hate paled before what emerged from the mist next. Such intensity that it could almost be felt. Battle-hardened warriors had fled from it before. A form of hate that transcended mere emotion and dipped into the spiritual realm.

The sky appeared to respond to it, too. Crackling with lightning in the background. That flash of illumination allowed a brief glimpse of the tall shadow that had now chosen to appear - a preview, though it soon stepped into sight properly. An abomination of claws the size of daggers, Teeth fit for tearing through chainmail as quickly as it did flesh, bone and sinew. A hide so thick that it would take a heavy poundage war bow pulled at total capacity just to puncture it. The Troll's whimpering and cowering from Thyri's electricity had transitioned to more of an angered roar, but the entity that now appeared in this battle *Returned it*; about as deep as its own vocalizations. A guttural, foul vocalization urged upward from the deepest corners of its lungs.

It wouldn't be right to call them rare in these parts. Had Thyri grown up in such environs, she might've even seen or met a pair of varying height and quality. However, the opportunity to see one up close like this?- was relatively rare. And though the barbarian seemed to have gone, it's like ... *Yes*, this THING looked completely different but also similar?! The youthful woman had auburn ginger hair! And this beast had fur of similar coloration, though a little darker due to its abundance. The woman had icy blue eyes, and this beast also had those! Furthermore, the barbarian was a young adult female.

And that was also the case for this thing. Albeit, quite a sizeable one. Especially as it re-entered the area standing on its hind legs. The Troll was massive and tall, like a small tree, the size of several men stacked atop each other. She was still smaller than that. Yet, she reached the creature's chest on her hind legs. It was no longer a battle between one giant and two midgets.

A young adult female **Brown bear.** Though it looked slightly different from most bear species in these parts. The forests she came from were covered in eternal snow, and temperatures tended to be far colder than this pine forest. Hence, her coat of fur was thicker. She was quite a bit fatter and taller; she had more of a predisposition for storing food *Ahead* Of time in her belly. Bears in these lands could scavenge without reserve throughout the year. She could not and depended more on taking down the large game to fuel herself. She wasn't quite as large as a full-blooded adult male? But sizeable enough.

More than that, size wasn't the only thing. The bear's limbs were thick, and its shoulders were broad. Even like this, the Troll still possessed more strength. But that disparity was far, **Far** Less prominent now. She had strength fit for taking down MOOSE and ELK. She had a SPEED fit for keeping up with HORSES. And while its hide was rigid like a rock, she sharpened her claws by tearing through wood and bark. Further, the Troll's arms were long. That length was good from one perspective but also inhibited it from properly transferring its power beyond generating momentum.

The Troll claimed this part of the forest as its own? .. It considered itself master over nature? The very THOUGHT had the bear bristle. At the very least, the ursine's appearance drew the Troll's attention, who very much met the challenge with continued rage. It was more tempered now, more of an... 'Oh, this is different. I can't smack that as easily...' but it was still committed to seeing this through.

It did not take much longer for the fight to continue. With its own strength, the bear thumped its body back down to the ground - landing upon her front paws with a hefty THUMP. She dragged her claw through the mud twice before entering a sprint for the creature of stone. The Troll had already regained its senses from the effects of Thyri's lightning enchantment, but it was *Not in time* To counter the bear's charge, which now crashed into the Troll. She elevated herself up on her hind legs again during the last pace of her sprint, thereby throwing the entirety of her weight against the Troll's frame. It was quite a bit heavier than her, even in bear form, but she had a *Lot* Of momentum going along with her attack .. And the Troll's stubby legs proved ineffective at maintaining its balance. It was like smashing two boulders into each other, and the bear draped itself over the Troll menacingly, claws digging into its stoney flesh while it reached high to snap its clacking jaw out for the Troll's neck. The Troll, in turn, attempted a frantic defence, pressing one hand into the bear's snout whilst slamming its other upon the creature's back repeatedly!

Again, it's unlikely that the bear would wrestle this thing down alone. But the tables had turned somewhat. Whereas Thyri had played the role of a distraction before, the bear was now capturing close to one hundred per cent of the Troll's attention. And Thyri had powerful enchantments and weapons fit for disrupting the Troll's bearing. It was exposed, and perhaps, in conjunction, they could finally bring it down...!!
Emmett
It was like a pulse through her blood. A reverberating tingle of words that she could understand, but not put together. Runes were a strange magic for her. Being able to pull magic from mere symbols and words. She needed no incantation, nor spoken component. All she needed to do was carve the words into her chosen material, and any would be able to bring forth her magic. It was a family magic, one not seen for generations. Possibly, it laid latent in her uncles, her aunts, her parents and even her brother.

Yet she was the only one who could pull the magic out of these words. Only she could empower the armaments she made with such magic.

Years of carving those runes had given her a firm understanding of the written language. She was practically able to write full sentences. To feel such a language ring through the air was disorientating. The horrid power behind such magic pulsed through her lungs and heart. It was as if a sixth sense had awoken within her, and she could **FEEL** The hairs upon her neck jolting from the feeling.

For a moment, she feared something had awoken from the battle. An ancient evil that had laid beneath the snow, burying itself deep within the frost and dirt to rid the world of a doomed horror. She was pulled from her musings by the troll's horrible cry of fear. To strike fear into such a beast was surely a feat that few had performed. Here she was, a mere blacksmith from a village, standing before the great beast with her warhammer striking against the hide of the beast, and with the troll still crying out in horror.

Whilst she may have been from a lineage of artisans, and craftsmen, warrior blood still ran through her veins.

Muscles bulged from each strike. Her nostrils scrunched from the smell, and her hands ached from the grip upon her weapon. The cloud was slowly starting to dissipate from the wind. That's when she noticed the missing warrior. Her eyes sought out her figure, trying to spot her within the dying cloud.
.

Yet she found no peace.

Had she been abandoned? Her helping hand taken advantage of? Had she been left to die whilst the other ran? Surely not. Her mind wiped such thoughts away. The woman had the air of a warrior, and whilst she may not have been a noble knight, she must have had a sense of pride to finish a fight.

It did not matter. There was no chance for her to run at this point. With keys missing, she was **NOT** Going to let such work go to waste.

As another feeling pulsed through the air, Thyri would swear that she could almost **SEE** The resonation run through the air. She could feel it jump through her spine, through her body. It was as if some figure from a dead realm was passing through her, using her *As* A bridge to the other side. Even with the frost surrounding her, nothing felt colder than the pulse as it sung through the air.

Yet still she stood across from the troll. Even as it recovered she stood tall against such a massive beast. The grip around her weapon only tightened as blood dripped upon the snow. Not an ounce of fear was visible within her eyes.

Once more, she tore a key from the chain upon her neck. Once more, her hammer glowed a somber blue. Her features were highlighted by the shine, her amber eyes almost shining gold if one were to peer from the correct angle. Once more, the key snapped as she turned it, watching as the enchantment took hold of the hammer's head. It almost seemed as if small flakes of snow had begun to rain from the hammer's head.

Then, a new beast entered the destroyed arena.
.

For a moment, she cursed beneath her breath. For a moment, she believed that she was going to have to worry about another target attempting to take over the fight.

But as her gaze wandered to the beast that had entered, her eyes sought out the familiar features. The auburn fur, the blue eyes. She was stunned for a moment. Had the warrior truly been a druid? In a way, it made sense. She doubted that such a person would have ran. It made no sense.

She wouldn't be able to dwell. She had seen such beasts around her village, but none had ever drawn close enough to see them in such a state. She had heard that the hunters had encountered plenty of them, and there was a respect for their territory. Now, it seemed as though she would fight side by side against one.

Her family would never believe her.
.

For a moment, she cursed beneath her breath. For a moment, she believed that she was going to have to worry about another target attempting to take over the fight.

But as her gaze wandered to the beast that had entered, her eyes sought out the familiar features. The auburn fur, the blue eyes. She was stunned for a moment. Had the warrior truly been a druid? In a way, it made sense. She doubted that such a person would have ran. It made no sense.

She wouldn't be able to dwell. She had seen such beasts around her village, but none had ever drawn close enough to see them in such a state. She had heard that the hunters had encountered plenty of them, and there was a respect for their territory. Now, it seemed as though she would fight side by side against one.

Her family would never believe her. At least it would make for a great tavern tale.

As lightning cracked overhead, she began her charge to the side. The ursine beast seemed rather content in taking the charge against the beast. She watched as the bear attempted to tear out the throat of the bastard troll. She watched as the troll attempted to bash the warrior bear off.

She would not allow it.

She charged towards the head of the troll, once more winding her hammer back before she moved to slam it against the shoulder of the beast. The enchantment reacted with the wet hide of the creature in an instant as frost swarmed onto the area. It sought out moisture, freezing tightly to the creature's skin. It would slow down the movements of the arm. But she was not finished, nor was the spell.

She moved to the head, using the momentum of striking the shoulder to land a strike against the troll's bulbous nose. Once more, the frost shot out against the moisture. But now it also sought out the snot within it's nose, and the drool inside of it's mouth. She would choke the air out of the beast with frost.

Then, she moved towards the other arm, aiming for the elbow.
.

Of course, the shock of ice and the sudden lack of oxygen would cause the beast to panic, and she struggled to get close to the free arm as it flailed. Slamming both against the ground and bear. She thought to keep her distance, but if she wanted to assist properly, she needed to strike before the spell wore off.

Her mind shot through the possibilities. She could throw her hammer, but there was a chance she would hit the bear and put them both onto equal footing. She could allow the spell to wear off, and use her final key. But that enchantment was no good for keeping something still, and it would ruin the effects of the previous spell. It would free the damn beast, rather than damage it.

There was truly only one option. She needed to land the strike, and she needed to strike true. With years of practice of pounding the same area of metal, pounding her hammer against the anvil. Whilst she may have not had the best aim when it came to throwing, there were few others that would land as many strikes in the same area as she could.

Thus, she flung herself forward. With her hammer held like a spear, she slammed the head into the elbow even as she was slammed backwards. Once more, the air left her lungs as she was thrown backwards. Thyri once again found herself slamming into a log, an aching pain shooting up her back as the frost took over the troll's arm.

She felt herself panting as she struggle to gain footing. This was the chance. The troll was both struggling to breath, and would struggle to use it's arms with the ice freezing them. It would slow down it's movements, and struggle to fear itself. With an angry bear upon it, it was a death sentence. It had to be.
.

She felt the warm blood run down her forehead, and over her eye. Ironically, it resembled a warrior's paint of old. It ran down her face, dripping over her eye and down her cheek. She must have looked like a mad woman as she struggled to her feet. 

But she needed to know if the beast would fall here and now. She needed to see it's death with her own eyes, or she would believe that she had failed. She could not allow such a thing to happen.

Her leg ached as she put pressure onto it. Her back was pained as she straightened herself. Her arms felt as if they would fall as she hefted her hammer up. All things that would be sorted with a healer in the future. Her eyes glanced over the blood that lay upon the snow, painting the barren landscape a fine red. Blotches of snow were darker where the troll had been.

A shaky step forward was her first step. Followed by a hurried second. Then a third thump, and a fourth pound.

Once more, she found herself charging. Her breathing heavy as she raised the weapon, her target in sight. 

A proud scream escaped her. A fine war cry as she slammed the hammer down onto the troll's one good eye. The ice upon it's face would crack around the area, possibly even stabbing into the squishy object as the hammer smashed through the pupil, before travelling through the rest,
.

But she was not finished. Even if the troll were to scream a muffled scream, she hefted the hammer up once more. Uncaring of if the beast could break it's arm out of the frost and grab her. She brought the hammer down, again and again and again.

It was as if she were pounding down against an anvil.

The eye socket was smashed again, and again, and again. Black blood coated her hammer as the eye was crushed beneath the weight and the strength. Even parts of it splashed against her armour from the troll writhing in pain.

She did not care about the beast's agony.

As if she were wielding a pickaxe, she would mine a way through the creature's skull and into it's brain. Bone would turn to dust beneath her weapon, and they would both gain access to the flesh beneath the hide.

With a final cry of fury, she hefted the hammer up and slammed it down against the skull, praying for the socket to crack.
Nancy
The dark sorcery entwined into the bear's shape may have a similar result as the druidic practices of the Elves and others - some of whom weren't even that far from Mistrion's borders .. And it might come to add further to the tale of the *How* And *Why*. The mountain range separating Velaris from the chaotic, eastern barbarian ranges was nigh-on impenetrable. It was so exceedingly rare for them to be a crossover that the native Elves had rarely seen an individual of the barbarians like that, and that was probably why she had managed to get through relatively unscathed! The Orcs manning the southern borders would probably know her variant well - know them well enough to give them a wide berth and meet them with nothing more than *Hostility*, for that is what they deserved. Yet, ... Yet...!!

It could help to fill in the picture. Those mountains were almost unclimbable. But someone already quite apt at climbing, together with its ability to transform into a beast unburdened by the cold? Able to scavenge the wilds and go for months without contact with any other Humanoid creature? Her eyes had twisted in fury. Again, a druid might, too, turn to the shape of a bear, but it was questionable whether they had indeed become one - or whether they had merely adopted its skin.

Therein lay the connection of magicks. The runecraft of Thyri was by far a different game and produced vastly different results. But were they not also similar? The blacksmith's craft somehow attuned creation to invoke effects by matching patterns—the underlying language of creation itself. And that was the case for Yrsa's bear shape, too. The wild magicks ran through her veins to such a degree that it might not even be considered *Magick* Anymore .. Merely a physical phenomenon! And the SHADOW, the evil figuratively hovering over her shoulder, there was something deeply primal to it. The barbarian was undoubtedly but a... A manifestation of that! A vessel— an HEIR. Something that had yet to grow to the same levels of intensity and might.

But those same magicks .. They were **Ancient.** That which composed the berserker barbarian must've felt as old as time itself! Hundreds of years! Perhaps more! And to MOST, it would've merely been thought of as a form of auric disruption. That uncanny feeling something was *Wrong.* However, Thyri had the advantage of knowing her runecrafts. She might've been no wizard, but she was undoubtedly well-attuned to such manifestations. In fact, a wizard would find it *More* Difficult to feel such things because they worked via the understanding of the mind whilst this could not be understood in the same sense; was it a curse, a blessing, .. The last embers of something far mightier? Or something that emphasized all those categories?— then again, the only reason why all of this mattered was because of the disparity in **Strength,**

The TROLL was by far the mightier creature. Its hefty, stone-like fist SLAMMED into the bear's back repeatedly, and it was slowly regaining the upper hand in this duel of might; it was pushing back against the bear's weight, forcing Yrsa's hind paws to dig deep into the mud, ice and earth. However, it wasn't *That* One-sided anymore. While the Troll had more weight, height, and overall power, and the bear only got up to its chest comparatively speaking, the difference was that bears of her breed - brown bears - had a build meant for stamina and stability. Again, as mentioned above, her shoulder line was broad. Her head was large and thick. Her back? It might've not been crafted out of stone, but the Troll's hammer swings sounded like they impacted a thick rug rather than flesh- her fur dampened their impact to a fraction, and her muscles absorbed the rest. Right now? The Troll left little more than bruises.

But more important than that was the distribution of weight. The bear's entire body centred around maintaining a solid posture; Yrsa's hind legs carried the remainder of her weight. Further, she was arced forward, not only keeping her weight and power but driving *All of that*— over four hundred pounds of pure muscle and fat— into this wrestling match. The Troll undoubtedly weighed almost DOUBLE that, but it had only stubby legs to support it. That ground it, but it also meant that such forward pressure was forcing it on the back foot, and it was threatening to **Topple.**

Its lengthy arms could have done more to compensate for that. It tried to press a palm into Yrsa's snout but could only relay a fraction of its strength. Furthermore, it attempted to do so one-handedly, whereas she matched her entire weight against the thing. There was, without a doubt, a significant disparity between the intelligence with which she conducted herself in her Human shape and her smarts as a bear. A druid might maintain their intellectual capacity even while shapeshifting. But Yrsa was different. Her *Entire world* Changed; her thoughts became dulled, and her vision altered. But while her human form seemingly carried some of the vestigial effects of her bear form - her strength and durability - her bear form also carried over some of her vestigial intelligence.

For a brown bear, she was very, very smart. That might not mean too much. But in a wrestling match like this, while the Troll relied on pure power, she countered it with technique. And that's what brought it to the forefront, too. She somehow seemed to know how to deal with the distribution of the Troll's weight, shift herself, move, and keep herself stable ...! It was an *Active* Thought process. One that was encouraged by the swirling pool of HATRED that had settled into her eyes ...!—

Alas, even that would not have been enough. If Yrsa had continued this fight on her own, she would have inevitably lost. That's because the Troll was just *That much stronger.* Even if she could wrestle it for a while, there's no doubt it had more chances and opportunities than she did. A... Consequence that seemed to be in the process of happening; even with her masterful weight distribution and her grappling skills and all those things, the Troll's palm was digging into her snout - digging into her flesh - and Yrsa felt herself *Relenting.* She SNAPPED her teeth about the limb, drawing blood, but it was also like chewing on ROCK .. A slow process!!-far too slow for her to make a difference. She WOULD be bashed off, and then the battle would be as good as over- .. But then...!!

Her mind could no longer understand it. Her fixation on the Troll and its challenge meant that Thyri's presence largely passed her by without notice. But she recognized the... The sound of falling icicles? She had turned stray caves into a den many a time. She KNEW that sound! It was annoying because it kept her up while she tried to hibernate. But it was also comforting in a way? The sound of Thyri's frost-encrusted hammer felt similar, literally FREEZING the Troll's hide where it stood.

And that changed everything.

Maybe one-on-one, it would've won. But two-against-one? With one mighty swipe of her left claw, the bear SWATTED aside the frost-encrusted limb. The ice had visibly and tangibly weakened the integrity of its rock-like skin, which meant that Yrsa's claw found *Far more purchase* Than before; her previous attacks had been little more than thick gashes upon rock, but right now, her claws sliced **Deep.** She advanced with her right hind paw, forcing her weight against the Troll's left shoulder, holding on by sinking her teeth into the rocky outcroppings. While such an attack did not leave much of an injury upon the Troll, it strengthened Yrsa's position- preventing the thing from pushing her off.

Thyri ensured that wherever the Troll was strong, she made it weak.** A blow on its elbow might've not done too much otherwise, but that exact blow prevented it from bringing its arm about to coil around the bear's neck. Furthermore, the ice growing onto its nose was starting to make it panic. Because it was forced in a lock to wrestle the bear, Thyri had free rein as to where she struck—aside from the occasional flailing limb.

When it came to such bouts of strength, there was little more fatal than *Panic.* It was struggling to breathe, and such a response was perhaps normal. But strength and pressure predominantly came *From* The breath; .. And the fact that it wasn't doing that anymore—.. The bear felt the difference **Immediately.** In the wild, those competitors that gave to fear, hesitation and panic **Always** Lost. And while the Troll had gone on to flail wildly, she was keeping her ground, strengthening her posture, utterly hellbent on claiming her place in the natural hierarchy. It was working, too; the Troll was giving way! It resettled its right foot behind it to regain a stabler posture, but it was still buckling backwards! The bear's pinpointed, localized strength was trumping over the Troll's rampant, uncontrolled fury and with one final exchange ...-

As the Troll withdrew, Yrsa again advanced, sticking to the creature whilst her teeth ground upon the stone of its skin. She twisted her ursine body to the right, left paw mirroring the Troll's right, before SNAPPING back all her power and weight upon the Troll's left side! Her right paw SLAMMED into the creature's arm and back. Her left front paw dragged a cruel gash across its chest. Her head she thrust into the creature's body, sticking close— and again, with that one final exchange, transitioning everything she had available to her and exploiting every angle Thyri had presented, she THREW BACK the Troll, taking it down with one mighty push-and-pull that saw it collapse like a castle tower struck by a catapult. It stumbled upon its side before crashing onto its back, the earth quaking again as if the mountains were torn asunder!

And it *Did* Try to gather its bearings and to stand up. But it was heavy. And while that weight came with power, the distribution of its limbs made that quite difficult. In addition, Yrsa clamped onto the Troll the second it fell, continuing her charge and slamming a paw onto its chest to keep it **Pinned.**

Even if it were to manage, the blacksmith fully showed the power of her craft. Now that it was downed, Thyri had easy access to the creature's eye, and her hammer strikes sounded like she was shaping a WEAPON rather than ending a Troll. Crash, **Crash**, ***<KRRAAASSSSHHRSSHHGGHH...>*** ..

Thyri could feel the initial rock layers give way to the softer parts below. Every strike became easier. While the Troll continued to try to resist, its limbs weakened. Low roars of rage, as it had sounded during the battle, slowly transitioned into yawns of suffering and pain. It was a slow and resilient creature, and its passing was similar. 

Finally, one last strike of Thyri's hammer put a fatal end to its resistance. It also showcased the Troll's mystic origins, as it seemed to ... Turn into rock entirely?! Its intelligence simply dissipated. And with that, and the removal of its soul- if it had one-, had the entirety of the Troll turn into nothing but a slab of rock. The grey color of its hide turned darker, and those bits of squishy flesh and blood underneath its stoney hide solidified into one.

It no longer breathed. And thus, the battle was won.

... But what came next? The barbarian had turned into this hell beast to fight the Troll, but Yrsa and Thyri hadn't exchanged a single word! The bear appeared to be panting slightly, breathing elevated from the intensity of the wrestling match. Its attention had yet to go to the blacksmith. But its eyes still held that same level of intensity in its eyes!
Emmett
Her hammer came down like a strike of thunder. Her rage grew with each strike. The rage of a barbarian. The rage that had laid dormant within her blood for so long, finally gaining an opportunity for release. Many of her family member's had always had troubles with anger, yet this was a different beast entirely. Her cries for battle grew louder with each strike landed. Her cries of rage grew as her hammer thundered against the skull of the creature. Until she finally felt the damned bone break, and her hammer finally struck through. She felt the change between rock solid bone and squishy flesh. She heard the pain cries of the beast that now lay dying at her feet. 

Her rage grew.

With a final cry, a final shout, a final scream to the heavens and the Gods that bore witness to this battle. Her hammer flung down and slammed into the brain of the beast. 

No longer did her hammer bounce back, no longer could she use the momentum of each strike to power the next. Her muscles ached as she tore out the hammer, bits of hide crumbling at her feet as the beast turned to rock. Her clothing was dripping with black ichor, a mixture of a dark red dripping unto the snow beneath. Her eyes scanned over the corpse, as if seeking out any sign of movement. Part of her couldn't believe that the battle was over. Part of her refused to believe that the fight was over with them living.

And yet what lay before her, was the rotten corpse of the troll. 

It felt as though her gloved hand was frozen to the hilt of her hammer. Her hand refusing to release her grip by even the slightest bit. She took a few steps back, mist escaping from her mouth as she took deep breaths to calm her pounding heart.

Her bloodied face stared at the destruction before her. A weapon dripping with the flesh, brain matter and blood of the beast it had slain. Pride welled within her chest. For she had slain this beast, even if not alone.
.

It had been her hand that had throw the final blow. *Her* Hand that had pinned the beast to it's spot. **HER** Hand that had terrified the beast. 

The grin on her face almost seemed manic. A laugh of disbelief escaped her. The battle was over. They had won. Even with a single key remaining, dangling from her neck, she knew the battle had been worth it. It felt as though her ancestors were smiling upon her, as if they had taken their hands onto the hammer and granted her their strength to strike that final blow. She had dedicated her life to the craft in the name of her family. She had dedicated so much study to her magic, understanding every little inch of the runes that she could read. The runes that she could draw power from.

Now, it felt as though she had been rewarded.

A chance to finally see just how powerful her enchantments were in battle. Tales from customers and adventurers had given her the inkling of just how powerful her magic truly was, but she neer had the chance to see just for herself. Even if she had them for most of her life, battle was not something she had always been quite happy to jump into. Her blood felt like it was on fire just from the thought of the fight. Her pained legs felt like they could sprint the rest of the way to town, uncaring of how steep the mountain was, or just what would be in the way. Her heart was primed with energy.

As she turned to finally greet her companion in battle, it was then that she noticed the glint within the eyes. Was this truly still the warrior that had fought beside her, or was this just some crazed animal that had thrown itself into the mix? She couldn't help but take a few steps back as the snow crunched beneath her feet. Her hands once more rested upon the hammer as she called out.

"Hail! Are you alright?!"
.

It felt like the correct thing to do. She knew the woman had been fighting long before Thyri had arrived. She had no clue what level of injuries the lady might have had. If it had been quite drastic enough to change into such a form, she had no doubt that the woman might need some help. Whilst Thyri did have a handcart back on the path, it was going to be difficult with all the weaponry inside.

It was then that she was reminded of the weapons she had yet to deliver. A soft curse escaped her at the thought of just where that cart could be now. For all she knew, it was back at the bottom of the mountain, shattered by a tree or even buried beneath the snow. It was painful to imagine all her work squandered from such a battle. If she had to reforge all the items that she had inside of the cart, then she was surely going to lose a fair bit of coin in the process. She just hoped that her customers would understand why she had to delay their orders.

Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the bear as thoughts shot through her mind. She wished to ask about the magic. That familiar yet dreadful sense that had sung through the air without care of what was around it. It was the first time she had ever felt something similar to her own magic, something similar to her family's history. For all she knew, this could have been a lost bloodline from thousands of years back, or even just a connection to wherever her family truly began.

The possibilities were endless for her. The questions only grew, and she desperately wished for answers. 

Once more, she called out.

"Is that you?! The warrior who was fighting the troll?!"

The woman she had thrown her sword to. She prayed the beast would answer, and that she would not have to find such a corpse hidden within the snow.
.

She did not want to bury such a fine warrior within this mountain. Such a person should be celebrated within a tavern! Two fine ladies, one of the craft and another of the axe, taking down a troll upon a mountain. Such a tale would be worth a few free rounds within an inn, perhaps even a hearty stew for their troubles. Especially if the town had been plagued by such a beast.

Thyri knew it was difficult to find good help within these lands, with paths such as these, adventurers didn't oft come to the towns and villages. The wilds were not a friendly place, and for those who were unfamiliar with the landscape could easily be lost within a blizzard, whilst those that came ill prepared would freeze within their tents. Even now, she could feel the swear across her brow attempting to freeze her eyes shut as the wind blew. The mountains were harsh and unforgiving. She knew many merchants who would even fall with seasoned guides.

She was lucky to have been born in a snowy climate.

Her eyes scanned over the ursine beast, watching it for even the slightest movements. She had no clue if the creature had even understood her, yet she prayed that the battle was well and truly over. She was unsure if she would be able to outlast such a creature, with exhaustion creeping up her back and frozen blood covering her face. Yet still, she stood firm. Her hands upon her weapon, ready to react if the bear seemed even the slightest bit hostile.

She would *Not* Fall here.

For as much as she loved the snow, and enjoyed the frost, she wished to pass away somewhere sunny. She wished to feel the heat of the sun upon her face when she finally fell. With a prayer to her Goddess, she wished for such a fate to be bestowed upon her. To restrict her from dying in such a horrid landscape.

Slowly, she attempted to regain her breath. Each breath sent out a tumble of mist, partially obscuring her vision.
.

One of her hands moved to her cheek, smearing the blood that leaked from her forehead against it. It streaked against her sunkissed skin, creating a beautiful contrast. If she were to look within a mirror, or perhaps even just a puddle, she would have been shocked at the mad eyes that stared out. Eyes that were ready for war. To swing her hammer until she could swing no more.

Red and black blood were her warpaint for this night. Splattered across her face as if it had just been thrown. Her amber eyes shone against the small snowflakes that came down from the troll's earlier rage. In a way, she still held that odd beauty even as she stood with her muscles tensed. Her arms were practically pulsating from how hard her muscles had work, from how hard they were willing to continue working.

She looked like a barbarian. 

Yet there was still civility within her. She did not charge to attack, and her hair stayed in it's complicated braid. Her hair smacked against her forehead and back as it was whipped within the wind. Bits of twigs from her earlier crash into the tree stuck out, and there were even a few leaves.

Her leather armour had been torn in places, and bits of chainmail hung loose from where it had been hidden beneath. She would need to repair so much of her armour, and likely reforge most of the chainmail if she wanted it to be a full set again.

She tried her best to stand still, but with the energy that was flowing through her blood, she found herself struggling to stop moving as she adjusted her weight on her feet, moving from side to side.
Nancy
It was a mighty victory. As the last strands of life faded from the Troll, Yrsa - in her bear shape - settled her weight down upon her right paw, which she had planted atop the Troll's chest. She initially guided her snout along the creature's hide, licking and biting at times to ensure it was completely dead. But it didn't take her long to confirm their kill. A kill that meant so much more than a singular victory because it meant that now this Troll's territory ... Was **Hers.**

In the battle's aftermath, Thyri could see features and marks upon the ursine beast that few were privy to. Like the warrior she saw fighting earlier, she appeared to be a young adult. While it wasn't an exact one-to-one transition, the growth of either form directly mimicked the other. And that? ... That was potentially problematic.

Out of all bear species and stages of development, the only two categories more dangerous than what *She was right now*, were either a full-blooded adult male before winter or a mother defending her cubs. But even those were entirely predictable; stay from the cubs, and most would be fine. Stay away from the adult male, and it most likely wouldn't be bothered to pursue due to the exertion.

Her variant was so dangerous because young adults tended to be dumb. They didn't yet know their limitations. And took to situations with a dangerously curious demeanour. It was, in effect, a curse of being a top-of-the-food animal; just through sheer existence, she proved more than a match for eight out of ten woodland creatures. Few predators actively hunted brown bears, after all.

But that also meant those two out of ten situations were exceedingly dangerous. With that level of might came arrogance and the inability to fully grasp that some creatures were mightier and more powerful still. A fully grown, weathered adult male would probably know those two-legged creatures were best to give a **Very** Wide berth. And a Troll, whilst not precisely on the same level as a thinking, creative Humanoid, that was far too dangerous for her to engage on her lonesome too.

She did not yet know these things. She was still stupid and foolhardy. And a singular glance would reveal that any sort of thinking process beyond the instincts of a bear was well beyond her now. The battle had ended with the Troll's demise, but adrenaline was still pumping through the bear's system. There was still a deep fixation in her gaze, which screamed of the **Berserking** State she still found herself in; that hunger for war and death and ...

That was the point when Thyri spoke out. Within an instant, the bear's gaze snapped over to the blacksmith. So occupied was the creature with the Troll corpse that the blacksmith's presence had momentarily eluded her. Heck, even mid-battle, it wasn't so much that this bear actively worked alongside Thyri - rather .. She exploited the opportunities provided. Or was that really true? It was a deathly stare. The creature had turned its head toward the woman but left most of her body idle, unmoving.

A gush of air left the bear's nostrils. A huff.

Creatures like this one tended to communicate far more through postures, gestures, and mild vocalizations—nothing akin to Humanoid speech. The bear's huff was equally a threat as it was a point of inquisition: Who WAS this woman? And that it had BETTER not be threatening to claim HER territory as the Troll had. And that curiosity marked her, too. Whilst another bear might've simply left the woman be or distanced themselves, she was arcing forward *Just a little*, just enough to correctly inhale the woman's scent.

It was ... Pungent.

Thyri was a mighty warrior. She had shown that much! She just faced down a Troll! But this bear ... Creatures of this type were fast and sturdy. Could she face down another threat? There was likely little doubt that if the bear considered Thyri a **Threat**, the creature could be on the woman within a span of a second. They were close to each other - perhaps too close. To call the situation tense was a massive understatement; the bear locked its eyes with Thyri, very much looking like she was preparing another charge, but then-

Well, it wasn't really anything sudden. The creature tilted its head rightward *Just* A little. It took another sharp inhale. And... Yes! Thyri DID smell pungent. But, it kept her back. Had the blacksmith woman been *Anyone* Different, **Anything** Different, Yrsa would've lost herself to her berserk. She or the blacksmith would've ended up as another corpse to add to the pile. It was, truth be told, one of her greatest fears whilst in Human form. And the blacksmith could likely NOTICE that. The intensity of the bear's stare, the tension within the creature's muscles..

Thyri, ... Looked familiar. It smelled familiar. Some speculate that bears had this uncanny ability to recognize distant family members, even those far removed—something to do with inbreeding and all those things. Well, regardless of whether that was true or not, the manner of Thyri's appearance—her steadfast refusal to look away, she might—it was like locking eyes with a shieldmaiden—another fabled warrior archetype from her people.

Right now, her mind was trying to determine whether Thyri was a threat, food, or something else. Deep within the recesses of her mind, that part of her which still clung to her Human intelligence, something was pounding at her mentally not to consider the woman either of those first two categories. The jury was still out on the first one. But the bear was pretty sure that something like this? It wasn't food. She felt that trying to eat this would hurt her, too.

So what was it? Why did it look so familiar? And the rage intrinsic to her form, somehow ... Somehow, it didn't feel as extreme.

Nonetheless, the two likely remained in a deadlock for the moment. It was an extremely precarious situation that wouldn't quickly change because even the slightest variation in the Human's presence might *Just be enough to set things off.* Her mind was trying to fight a desperate battle against her animalistic instincts, exacerbated by the idea that this warrior **Helped** Her. There was no god to heed her prayers, but, that Human side of her wished desperately for her to stay her claws-

-

That darkness of wrath and hate, of the primordial forces of nature.

It had been a few hours since her departure from their encampment. That was normal; they often had their own tasks and challenges, which seemed part of why their fellowship functioned as well as it did. He usually seemed occupied(?) with gathering various herbs, which was part of his trade. Tolius, too, often seemed to pursue his own works. And as for Yrsa, she occupied herself predominantly with the natural world. She usually limited her presence in the camp for food, rest, or mild companionship. However, aside from that, even in her human state, she showed many qualities and preferences that directly overlapped with her bear aspect.

One such example was that their encampment, down by that frozen river, was relatively small. Yrsa, however, considered a vast area adjacent to it to belong directly to 'her' territory, which is probably how she ran afoul of that Troll. And that territory stretched for quite a few miles, carefully guarded as her sense of scent far exceeded the capabilities of any Human or Elf.

So, it was typical for her to go missing. What was less usual was that the weather was abysmal: freezing cold, with thunder striking regularly in the background and heavy rainfall. The type of weather that, as per a rule, had her return to whatever she called 'home'. She **Never** Stayed out with weather like this, hating the thunder almost as much as the Troll did. Furthermore, while Thyri had taken notice of the spiritual mirror that came paired with Yrsa's transformation, there was *Another* Who was acquainted with that feeling, too. He had been in her presence many times and seen her transform several times. Though there was a distance between them, surely he would recognize them by now; that feeling of... Of **Whatever it was!** — almost similar to the boons of his PATRON but different...!

It was telling. And the sounds of their battle could be heard for many leagues from their position. Of course, the thunder did obscure them somewhat, and it'd take being in 'that general area' to notice it properly. But he KNEW the bear's habits. The risks she took. The juvenile dumbness with which she made her way through the forest. 

It was only a matter of time until she bit off more than she could chew. If there was ever a time of urgency for the young alchemist, if he even cared, then it was probably this. And if he made that choice, he would arrive at what seemed to be a mountain adjacent to their camp - perhaps some... An hour or two walking from that place. Still, the middle-of-nowhere location they had chosen to pass through, several leagues from any point of civilization. A single road ran through this heavily forested territory, covered in snow and ice, which clearly only seldom saw use. 

But more evident than that was the SHEER DEVASTATION left behind by the battle against a... A — he could've heard the sounds from a distance! The sounds of a CAVE TROLL. Those gluttonous, ravenous creatures, giants that no single bear could take down, no matter how mighty. Trees had been uplifted and thrown about as if toothpicks. The ground was cratered. The otherwise snow-covered forest floor now looked like a scene from the end of the world, covered in a muddy, icy slush. As mentioned, the weather was poor, a mixture of wet hail and heavy rain.

There, he would stumble upon the sight. The sight of a Troll that had formed to stone. And two figures - two shadows - staring each other down amid the darkness. One, he knew very well. Not only did he know it well, but he probably understood its implications, too.

She wasn't in her Human form, and worse, she looked fresh out of battle. And the last time that happened... Well, that probably didn't need a stronger reminder!
Omar
As the alchemist wandered near their camp, shivering in the cold, he laughed softly to himself as he wondered how Yrsa could also wander about in this mess. She was from far colder climes, he reminded himself, so this might be nothing to her. But still... He pulled his hood further over his head as the rain began to softly fall, deepening the chill. In her human form, he wasn't sure how well she could stand up to freezing rain. But then again, he was all too aware she wasn't a typical human. Normally, he wouldn't be out in the dark looking for herbs and reagents. He was aware of a particular kind of mushroom native to Mistrion that he thought might be easier to find at night. Plus there were some flowers that only bloomed at night that might also prove easier in the darkness. His darkvision gave him enough light to see by, and he picked his way carefully and slowly through the forest... For a while, at least.
** **

At first, Alcuin thought the distant sounds were just thunder. The storm had picked up after a small reprieve, and he was just considering going back to the camp when he heard the yelling and screaming. Even at this distance, he was *Certain* It was her. He started walking that way, trying to listen and be sure before he just darted off deeper into the forested mountains. They had formed quite a bond, the warlock and the berserker, so when he felt that wave of her wild magic, he knew the clock was ticking on whatever fight or situation he was in. His thoughts raced as his feet began to, pushing through the sloshy snow and brush. He still wasn't entirely certain what triggered her bear form, but it seemed like generally she was under duress when using it. He chased the crystals of his panted breath through the air, his hood flying off in the wind, shaggy brown hair quickly becoming soaked in the rain. Coming to the road, he paused briefly in consideration. By distance it was probably quicker, but with how slippery it was and how clumsy he was, it was better to keep slogging through the slush and keep his traction.
** **
The fear in his heart and his mind stirred the darkness within him, and he was bombarded with images of Yrsa dead, dismembered, and otherwise brutally mutilated. If his heart hadn't been pounding from running full speed, it would've jumped out of his chest. He knew it was just the influence of his demonic patroness, but it still stoked the fear higher and higher, pushing him to run harder and faster than he ever had in his life. He couldn't let the only good, close friend he had die–it still felt odd, still warmed his heart, to even call her *Friend*. It was lovely and exhilarating, and he *Wasn't* Going to lose her.
** **

After what felt like an eternity of running, he found himself at the bottom of the hill they were upon. He immediately took in the black bloodied corpse, the bear atop it, and the bloodied woman nearby. While the healer was concerned for the woman, knowing Yrsa wasn't in control and could attack anyone in this state, he was more concerned with his friend. The blood matted her already messy fur in places, and he felt a pit in his stomach at how *Much* Of it there was. She'd been pretty badly wounded. He'd just been teasing her earlier today for using too much of his healing supplies–now he felt like an ass. Eyeing the strange woman a moment longer, and deciding she was probably too injured to stop him *If* She was an enemy, he gathered all the breath he had left to yell, **"Yrsa!!"** 
** **

Alcuin made his way up the hill as quickly as he could manage, getting another look at the woman as he passed, ready to use the shadows to move out of reach, if needed. She looked... Oddly a little familiar, with tattoos reminiscent of Yrsa's, the similar hairstyle, and with a face covered in blood; he could've believed they were related. Giving her a curt nod, he continued on towards the corpse. He hesitated just a moment; he'd only ever read stories about cave trolls, coveted their blood as a reagent. He never thought he'd actually *See* One. Pushing aside thoughts that he needed to gather what blood he could, the alchemist clambered up to the bear, taking her large head in both hands and making her look at him a second. Those blue eyes stared back at him, looking untroubled other than the usual 'I must protect' look, so he released her to her angry staring and began to assess the damage, pulling a jar from his pack that he applied ointment from, as she would let him. More talking to himself than her, he wondered aloud, **"What did you get into this time? It really... Tore you up. Though,"** He regarded her confident, unwavering stance a moment, **"You don't seem to care much."** Once he was satisfied she wasn't in any danger, he stood next to her, one hand knotted in her fur, in a mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, and restraint. 
** **

Golden brown eyes looked down at the woman below them, not unkind but still firm, a bit wary of who she was and what exactly had happened here. He knew Yrsa had a penchant for starting trouble, so it was possible this woman had already been battling this beast, and Yrsa swooped in to snatch it. But the scene around made him think more that they had fought this thing together. Yet he had no way of proving that the wounds on his friend *Weren't* From this woman. As much as he *Wanted* To trust her kind face, he was struggling to. Her obvious pain and suffering was... Distracting for him. He could nearly hear Alekhya purring in his ear to make her *Sing*. But cruelty was far from natural for him, and was something he was... Uncomfortably, begrudgingly, trying to learn. For the time being, he could only fully unleash the darkness within in battle; even then, his glee in causing harm was so disgusting to him, still, so opposite the life he had lead before. That life was over now, and he had to keep reminding himself, though he hated it being true.
** **

Speaking with a mixture of wariness and curiosity, the Elven warlock introduced himself, **"I'm Alcuin Demodred, of Velaris."** Patting Yrsa before getting a grip in her fur again, he continued, **"This is my friend, Yrsa, who I think you've... Met?"** He asked with some uncertainty. **"Once I'm satisfied you're friend and not foe, I'd be happy to heal you, as best I can."** At the mention of healing, a little of his natural warmth broke through the firm facade he was trying to hold. She was pretty injured, and his healer's heart just couldn't let her go on like that. Looking back at Yrsa, before turning again to the woman, he spoke a warning with some edge in his tone, **"Do be careful. When she's in this state, she's a bit... Unpredictable. She probably thinks you're in her territory or something. So I wouldn't get too close, if I were you."** He had full confidence that Yrsa would never hurt him, and that even if she did, he was fairly capable of hurting her back now, compared to when they first met.
Emmett
Unfortunately for the blacksmith, she was not all too familiar with the dangers of bears, and what was best to avoid. All she knew at the moment, was that the beast was now staring at her. She held the gaze as she waited for an answer, any sort of sign that this was the woman she had fought alongside with. She stood firm, only a hasty dash away, with her hammer primed if she was rushed at all.

As the creature huffed, Thyri was still in the middle of gaining her breath back. Puffs of mist escaped her opened mouth. Hell, it looked like steam was actively coming off her body from how heated her muscles were in the moment. Her hand was tightly gripped around the key within her hand, ready to slam it into the head of her weapon in a moment if the need rose. She was still coming down from the adrenaline of defeating a troll. She believed that she could take on **ANYTHING** That the world threw at her in this moment.

Even if she was rather injured.

As she stood, she adjusted her pose for the moment, the head of her hammer moving behind her. She could swing it in front of her in a split second if she really needed to. Watching as the creature seemed to be preparing a charge. She waited, and tensed her muscles. Ready to catch the animal upon her hammer. Though she did wish she kept her blade, such a thing could easily pierce such fur.

But the beast never came.

They stood, locked at a standstill. Their fiery gazes matching with one another.

Her blond hair blew wildly as the wind picked up. The ink upon her skin was easily seen even with the blood and frost covering them. She looked every part a barbarian. One might even relate her to a berserker even. Yet the posture she kept with her weapon showed just how much practice she had with such a brutal tool.
.

The snow irritated her nose as it gently rained down. The lightning in the distance both blinded her and cleared her vision. Allowing her to see where it struck in the distance, yet made it difficult to see what was closer to her. The only thing she could smell was the blood that covered her body, a vicious and disgusting stench of mixed bloods. She felt the cold biting at her ears and fingers, the sweat dripping off of her skin quickly freezing.

But she still stood her ground, even if she was up to her ankles in the snow.

She stood her ground in this destroyed landscape. She could taste iron within her mouth as she stood her ground, her teeth slightly bared as she continued panting. It felt as though time had slowed down, as seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours. 

She swore she could hear the agonizing tick of the clock. Time slowly passing.

It was slow, but the stand off was clearing her mind of the rage that was bottled up within. The rage that sought to escape in a brutal flurry of blunt strikes against the nearest skull, just to allow her to experience such a dreadful rage.

She slowly began to realize just what sort of situation she was actually in. She was injured from the battle, and even if the ursine may have been in a similar state, she had her doubts about being able to withstand such a creature with so little magic. Whilst she may have been a rather powerful warrior, and enchantress, she was still only human beneath it all. She relied quite heavily upon her enchantments in battle against beasts.

Humans were something she could handle with ease. They were predictable, and she knew what areas would hurt the most. She had been in plenty of bar fights to understand what sort of hit would knock a person out.

It was then that she could feel her ears prick up at a sound. The crunching of snow?
.

The shout was what she heard next.

It was enough to snap her attention away from the beast. Usually, it would be a rather fatal mistake to take one's eyes off a creature of such power. But she was too tired and injured to be thinking properly. She watched as the man approached, her eyes watching over his features as he eventually passed. Confusion was quick to enter her gaze as the alchemist nodded. Just what in Celsus' name was happening?

Then, she watched as he approached the beast. Truth be told, Thyri did try to shout out a warning, out of fear that the creature may rip him to shreds. Her voice was too hoarse to actually speak. When had she gotten this thirsty? Her throat felt so dry. The cold wind and the battle had thoroughly dehydrated the blacksmith. Then, she watched as he began to care for the beast!? She truly was out of her element in such an area. An elven boy approaching and caring for a beast after a battle with a troll? Perhaps she was dreaming. Maybe she was inside a bard's tale as some sort of curse for mistreating a customer by mistake, a curse made to confuse her.

No, that didn't make sense. She needed to get her head on straight and think properly.

Giving a quick hake of her head, she returned her gaze to the duo. For a moment, she feared she would have to fight two on one. But it seemed like her worries were quickly dashed as the man's gaze met hers. She still subconsciously moved her hammer to the front, unsure of what he wanted.

Thus, she listened as he spoke. She listened to her name, and his little explanation. She needed a healer. With the adrenaline already wearing off, she was beginning to feel just how painful the earliers strikes had really been. It felt as though her leg was slowly being torn apart from within.

So, she took a moment to step forward, letting her hammer hang low to show she wasn't wishing to use it. She stood proud and called out to the duo.
.

**"I-"** She took a moment to cough, clearing her throat of the dryness. **"I am Thyri Sigtrygg, of Marsalus Village. Enchantress and blacksmith of the Eternal City."** She might as well use all the titles she could think of that might have any meaning. She had absolutely no clue just how this would end. **"I have met your companion there. She assisted with the troll."** She blinked to clear the snow out of her eyes. **"There was another woman who had also been fighting the troll, did you see her from where you came?"**

She still wasn't certain that the bear was the warrior that she had fought alongside. If the woman had been knocked down, then it would likely be best to try and find her before she fell due to the frost.

But she did heed the warning that was given, she didn't make any moves to advance from her spot. But her eyes continued to search the locale, trying to find any trace of the woman. Trying to see if she had survived like she did. She had no clue if she would next be drinking in a tavern with the lass, or digging her corpse up from beneath the snow.

Such a battle tale would be worthless told by one mouth. It was a battle that deserved to be sung about!

But, she knew that such a fate befell many an adventurer in such mountains. A challenge could always prove more difficult that it actually appeared to be. With her having no clue how injured the woman actually had been, or if the troll had struck first, she had no way of knowing if the woman had been dying during the fight. But she had seemed healthy, so surely...

She could not stop her mind from wandering. The possiblities were endless.
Nancy
Their battle had finished. Though every moment must have appeared like a folk tale brought to life, the only sign of it now was the Troll's stonified corpse and the devastated surroundings. The darkness that had choked this forest might've felt especially prominent now; there was not a speck of light for leagues around, and though the massive creature had knocked down a few trees, there were still many more, thick pines that blotted out the sky. It was a miserable place, cold and wet - even Alcuin would likely have arrived at the scene drenched from head to toe. Yet .. There was something peaceful about it, too. A bittersweet conclusion, frigid and miserable, but victorious.

They may no longer be capable of direct communication, but Thyri was right; it was not something that could be said. A battle of this calibre had to be sung and regaled via tall tales and those likes—and even then, who would believe them? But did they need to share it? Was their shared memory of this event not enough? As they remained fixated on each other - the ursine horror and the runic blacksmith - there was obviously still that layer of tension. It could *Still* All go to hell; the beast could perceive Thyri as a threat and charge, at which point the warrior woman would hammer down her weapon and-

Some seers and witches of Yrsa's homeland said the 'eyes are mirrors into the soul'. Therefore, while they could not speak, and Thyri would have **Nothing** To confirm anything more- nothing based on purely physical changes- that locked gaze might've felt like it held something significant, too. It was almost too dark to correctly see one another, but they were still close, and the bear's icy eyes nearly seemed to shimmer at times, reflecting whatever light there was like a frosted lake.

Wild animals weren't just bloodthirsty murderers. Often, their violence held a far broader scope and *Meaning.* And Thyri could probably FEEL some of that, strangely enough! Yrsa's transformation naturally tied her with her ursine ancestor, who imbued her with rage and wrath, but that same ancestor was no more, and no less, than a beast of the natural world. An exceptionally long-lived beast, sure, but even its vilest curse could not eradicate its naturalistic desires. Sometimes ... Bestial instincts encouraged a path of harmony rather than immediate violence.

That magical connection might have made it tangible for the blacksmith. It might have seemed like the beast lay cloaked beneath this evil, spiritual pressure. As mentioned before, something SHADOWED it. But it wasn't so much evil as it was just ... *Intense,* A calling to a particular set of behaviours and instincts.

And if anyone knew those things well, it had to be Alcuin. Was his patron not similar, in a way? From that perspective, both parties—both Thyri and Alcuin—engaged with Yrsa differently. Thyri knew her rune magic, which probably had some mutual origins with the nature of Yrsa's condition. Alcuin, however, was a highly talented alchemist and healer who often went out to collect herbs. Even if she had probably been his most tangible experience with brown bears, how he dealt with her *Back then* Clearly demonstrated his affinity with such creatures. And then ... He was an Elf - what Elf from Velaris DIDN'T know a thing or two about nature? Besides, even if his knowledge regarding this species was limited before, Yrsa had been sure to give him a thorough crash course.

That's why he might be able to grasp the reality of this situation even *Before* He spoke out. No doubt about it; the problem just a moment before had been **Extremely** Tense. But creatures of this type also perceived time differently. Had she truly wanted to attack Thyri, that decision would've come quicker. Instead, the bear merely seemed to be holding its ground. If one extrapolated that to its next logical point, especially considering how fervently she protected her turf, ...

Her Elven friend arrived at precisely that moment. He'd seen it before! The creature **Wasn't** Going to attack Thyri. If anything, that prolonged stare slowly built to a mild understanding. The blacksmith respected this bear's boundaries but simultaneously **Respected her own,** Which was just as important. If she had chosen to lower her weapons or walk away, there's no doubt Yrsa's mental instincts would've instantly switched over to think of her as 'PREY'. If she had raised her voice or done anything hostile, the bear would've perceived her as a THREAT. And she was curious about her...!! But, there was one factor that played an equally sizeable part.

Again, Thyri looked familiar.

So, there was no reason to examine her further. When she first met Alcuin, she thought the Elf was some weird hag orc goblin hybrid! He just smelled a little better!

Maybe all of that didn't matter. Perhaps it was just a staredown about to descend into violence. But the bear **Broke** Her eye contact with Thyri, averting her gaze. She lowered her rear into a mildly relaxed seat, wiping one paw across her snout as she worked to lick her injuries better. As an alchemist, Alcuin—more so than anyone else—would probably be aware of bear spittle's healing properties; it is naturally antibacterial. And for the better, too. She was covered in cuts, scratches, and bruises while trying to wrestle that Troll. Her fur absorbed a lot, but that thing was still coarse and rigid.

Thyri had been given the 'okay'. And when Alcuin's voice shot through the area? The blacksmith's wariness was well-placed given how tentative the creature had been with someone that just FOUGHT beside her; a random stranger would've undoubtedly gotten mauled. But that wasn't her reaction to the Elf at all! The rain and thunder had left her sense of smell a little impaired, meaning she hadn't noticed his presence so closely to her. So when he *Did* Show up, there was almost excitement in her bearing. Not so much as a wolf or a dog, who would go about with maximum intensity; more an immediate stare thrown his way, filled with recognition. She wiped another paw across her face before lowering herself down to all fours again, exhaling shortly through her nostrils in a manner that relayed her approval.

Yrsa sauntered over to the Elf, crudely attempting to barge her head into him as usual. And as per usual, for a display of mild affection, it still had **Way** Too much strength behind it; enough to floor a grown man. But then, Alcuin was probably used to that by now.
Omar
It wasn't too hard to piece together what had likely happened here. Knowing Yrsa as Alcuin did, she probably engaged this huge troll on her own, with full confidence that she could best it with no issue, thinking more of the glory of the kill and the story rather than keeping herself safe and alive. He shook his head at the thought. Then this woman... Thyri... Must've wandered along and tried to help. Well, *Succeeded* In helping, from the looks of it. A small part of him was irritated that Yrsa would take on something so significant without him, mostly because he wanted to be of help, but there was also that hungry, dark part of him that was upset to miss out on the bloodshed. Swallowing against that feeling, he tried to be more attentive to blonde woman as she spoke. Her story confirmed his theory, and at her question, he couldn't help a hearty chuckle, smiling down at her broadly.
** **

**"Well, you see,"** The alchemist looked back at the bear then again at Thyri, **"** ***This*** **Is the woman you were fighting alongside. She has some very special magic, the ability to shapeshift."** The awe was readily apparent at his voice as he talked about his friend, **"It's extraordinary, isn't it? But as I said, she's unpredictable right now."** With that, she nearly barreled him over with her affectionate nudges. He did his best to hug her large head, patting her on the jaw softly with a loving smile on his face as he looked at her. Even he hadn't fully comprehended yet how long he'd been waiting for someone to care for, even just in a friendly way. He had so much love to give and had nowhere to place it for so very long. Thus it flowed forth rather unabashedly now, like warm sunlight amongst the dreary snow. He spoke softly to the bear, **"I know, I know. I missed you too. It's only been like... Maybe an hour or two? You could've just brought me along to begin with, you know?"** He ruffled her fur playfully before becoming more serious. **"I need to tend this woman–Thyri's–wounds. Don't get in my way, ok?"** The warning in the question was incredibly mild, but it was still there. He couldn't have her running them over while he tried to work, likely wasting both precious supplies *And* Possibly hurting the blacksmith more.
** **

Hopping down off the corpse of the troll, now that Alcuin was a little calmer, he noticed it had already turned to stone, and thus its blood dried up with it; a shame, it would've been such a useful reagent. The healer approached the woman carefully, gentle brown eyes looking her over for the worst injuries. She was so covered in blood, hers and the troll's, it was hard to tell what was most severe of her injuries. He decided to try a bit of general healing first, to make it easier for her to walk. Then he could do more once she told him more about her injuries and if she would allow him to examine further. Taking a few steps closer to her, only about a pace away, he reached out to touch and waited a moment for her consent before doing so. **"I'll do what I can to heal you, but I was only an adept at best, and..."** He trailed off uncertainly, brows furrowing and anxiety coloring his features, **"I just hope Callisto hasn't shunned me, though she'd have the right."** Touching Thyri's shoulder with the utmost tender care, he waited with bated breath to see if his healing still worked. To his happy surprise, the soft amber glow radiated from his hand, and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding. It would only heal all her injuries a mild amount, since he was spreading the spell over her entire body. It would close small cuts completely, but larger gashes and deeper muscular wounds would require more care, perhaps at camp. 
** **

After a moment, Alcuin withdrew his hand, bringing his pack around and opening it, fumbling inside before withdrawing a few bottles. One contained what was obviously a healing potion and the other a translucent green brew. He handed over the health pot first, **"I'm sure you know what that is. I'm hoping it can mostly finish off what I wasn't able to heal with my limited magic... Well, limited healing magic, anyway."** He more muttered the last bit to himself, with a resigned sigh. Handing over the other bottle, he explained, **"This is just a little energizing elixir, it should give you the strength and stamina to make it back to our camp, if you'd like. Then there, I can treat your wounds better, and you're more than welcome to rest before going on your way."** He wasn't sure she would accept, but... She also really shouldn't travel in her condition, even after his healing.

Putting away the empty bottles, he snapped his fingers with a big grin, looking at Thyri with excitement, **"Oh! I just realized! You said the Eternal City, right? We're actually headed there, to the mercenary's guild."** Looking back at the bear, he shouted excitedly, **"Did you hear, Yrsa? I think she might be able to help us!"** What a wonderful coincidence this turned out to be. If Thyri lived and worked in the Eternal City, she should be able to tell them all they needed to know about it. And it would be great to have a contact there already. Whispers in the back of his mind suggested how much chaos and suffering he could cause in a place so big and crowded... But he tried to push it to the side, for the moment. He still wasn't ready to face that part of the deal he'd made yet.
Emmett
No matter how long she kept the gaze for, not matter how hard she stared, she could not break the moment. It was as if her head and been locked in place by an iron bar, connecting her gaze to the bear's. The intense feeling washed up and down her spine like waves crashing against rocks.

It was such an odd feeling. Only adding to that was the feeling of the beast being shadowed by something greater.

But then, the bear broke the contact first. Thyri felt a gasp of relief escape her from the movement. She watched as the great creature moved, sitting down in the snow and tending to it's own wounds. The bear was obviously a companion to the elf, anyone would be able to see that. But it only forced more questions into her mind. Just why was an elf in Mistrion? Why were they such buddy buddy with a bear? She needed answers, but the strength in her legs was beginning to fail her.

It felt almost like she'd collapse in mere moments. A slight wobble in one of her knees, a shiver up her back as her eyes blurred ever so slightly. The exhaustion of slaying a great beast was certainly quite the symptom to deal with.

Then, she received her first answer. The woman *WAS* The bear. She blinked in confusion. Her mind taking a moment to catch up as she let out a noise of surprise. A shapeshifting warrior? How incredible. It made perfect sense as well, the warrior definitely did not seem like the kind to run from such a battle. 

The woman had merely changed to fit the battle better, and with such a transformation, it had been perfect to finish the beast.

Thyri breathed a sigh of relief as she finally allowed herself to relax. Such a feeling caused her to drop to one knee, using her hammer to stabilize herself. A few deep breaths were stolen from the cold air as she refueled her lungs.
.

**"Ya've got quite the friend there."**

She had a grin on her face as she let out a tired laugh. They seemed like quite the interesting pair. A barbarian warrior with what seemed to be an alchemist elf? Not a sight she expected within such mountains, but most definitely a welcome one. She was a bit wary as the elf first approached, but then again what did she have to lose in the moment? She was already exhausted. As the man laid a hand upon her shoulder, once more a sigh of relief escaped her as she felt the healing magic wash over her body.

First, she felt cold, then warm as wounds started to heal. A fun addition of healing was the added energy that they gave people, as the body was able to focus upon the more severe injuries, rather than worrying about it all. **"Any 'ealing is good 'ealing, lad."** She was able to push herself off the ground, her hand remaining on her hammer, but keeping it on the ground.

Her smile only grew as she was handed the healing pot. Memories washing through of the first time that she had taken one. She was quick to take a swing, before drinking most of it down as she felt the wounds under her skin begin to repair themselves rather quickly. But she did hold a rather surprised look at the second bottle, taking a moment to look over it. Even if she was feeling a bit more energized from the healing, it would probably be better to be safe rather than sorry.

She was quick to drink down the energy elixir as well.

**"Gods, cannae say I agree with the texture, but I can feel meself standing a bit lighter."** She took a moment to test the weight of her body, gently bouncing from one heel to the other. It was nice to have the energy back, she already felt as if she could run down the mountain itself!
.

**"I 'ave to take yer offer. Don't really want to be wandering round 'ere alone in this condition."** Going alone after defeating a troll? Too risky. She wasn't going to lose her life because she was an idiot and thought too highly of her skills.

As the man spoke of the Eternal City, a bit of surprise appeared on her face. That was quite the coincidence! **"Aye, I do live there. I'll gladly 'elp ya with whatever ya need, but first..."**

She took a moment to peer over to the bear, taking a moment to glance around her before her gaze eventually returned to Alcuin. **"Ya friend there needs to take better care of 'er weapons. I cannae believe what I saw in that fight. I've seen bloody spoons with better slashing capabilities."** Oh, she was *NOT* Going to let those weapons go without revenge. She was going to give the woman a firm lecture, even *IF* She was a bloody bear.

**"That mace as well... Celsus protect it, it looked like it 'ad been taken right from the ore deposit it was found at."**

She didn't even know where her own blade was in the moment, likely wherever the woman had transformed. But that could be anywhere after the troll slammed the ground.

**"I don't spose that she can understand me proper like, can she?"**
Nancy
The remnants of the barbarian's "Weaponry" Lay scattered over the former battlefield; one of her throwing axes—the one she had sought to clobber the Troll in the head with—lay bent and split in twain. The head was terribly deformed, which both served as a testament to the woman's strength and her lack of understanding over such things; she got her weapons to CUT solely through force alone. And the handle was little more than a splintered mass. Meanwhile, her weird 'pole-club-morningstar-abomination' still stood erect close to the road, planted in the ice, snow and dirt, most of the jagged ends broken off. The pig iron head itself was torn and sundered - and though it didn't need reiteration for the blacksmith, to reiterate nonetheless, it was literally just a stick with a lump end of metal.

Her friend Alcuin might recall that their first adventure outside his hometown involved collecting them again—her 'cutters' and her 'smasher'. Alas, despite their efforts, it seemed that those weapons had outlived their usefulness and that even if she hadn't run into that Troll, they wouldn't have lasted her much longer.

... Her previous master always took care of those things. And maybe it was for the better that she ran into these people- these .. Companions? She didn't really understand what they talked about, almost to the point of comedic effect, but she did notice their different .. Emotions? Alcuin probably knew it well. And though her acquaintance with Thyri was *Short* - they hadn't even spoken a single word with each other - she very much appeared to perceive the world in an entirely animalistic manner right now. It wasn't like a druid where they just took the form and added the plus-points to their Humanoid capabilities; she no longer could *Think* Like a Human. She no longer saw as Humans did. Smell became far more critical, and even her concept of 'time' and the space in which things happened was drastically different.

The only thing that remained, which made her just a bit more intelligent than the average brown bear, was the vestigial intelligence woven into her essence. In other words - her Human form held vestigial ursine physical capabilities. Her bear form, lingering embers of Human cunning and smarts.

What made that significant to observe, especially for Alcuin, was that he had seen it a few times. There were particular triggers for her transformations back and forth. As a doctor, healer, and highly skilled alchemist, he might be able to identify that triggering certain behaviours in her *Might* Allow him to attain some modicum of control or influence, those transformations. There were plenty of potions and concoctions that allowed for specific highs and mental states, after all. But whether he saw that or even found any interest in that, ..

What was fact was that she had been wandering aimlessly. And, like the state of her weapons, that couldn't go on for much longer. This meeting may have been different from how she met Alcuin. Thyri was a completely different person with a vastly different personality. And yet, there seemed to be some mysterious significance to it. For all her physical power and might, without them? This berserking barbarian was probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere.

Instead, the creature appeared to perk up somewhat at Alcuin's words. She shook her head, somehow managing to puzzle together that—yeah, yeah, maybe she SHOULD have brought him. She didn't interpret it the same way, but she got to the same conclusion, sort of. And while she didn't precisely understand *What* He said, she still comprehended basic instincts; big enemy easier to conquer with two. Anyway, she huffed a little in disregard, having the Elf run afoul of her eternal stubbornness, at this point, she casually turned her sights back to Thyri. She initially paced around the place for a few seconds, still wary. But when she was sure they were in the clear, the bear got **Straight** Up to the blacksmith and alchemist ..

They had been close before, but this was on an entirely different level! Thyri could probably feel the heat from the creature's breath, which visibly misted the air every time she exhaled. While parts of her fur were coarse, some clumps and strands appeared quite soft, too. She was close enough that Thyri could literally *Touch* Her if she reached out.

And yet, there was not a single sign of aggression. She was even quite gentle. Somewhat distracted at times - but brown bears played rough. And she did not barge herself between the two of them while Alcuin administered his healing. Alcuin's excitement was palpable. And that *Kinda* Shot off on her as well. She didn't know WHY .. Only that her Elven friend was in good spirits.

Huh.

So..

In other words, Thyri had a positive impact on her companion. And she still looked familiar! Overall, she decided that Thyri was okay. Yep. Didn't even need to keep an eye on her anymore. So that's probably why when the woman went off on her rightful criticisms of how Yrsa maintained her weaponry, the bear just .. Kinda stared at her absently. And Alcuin could tell it was the *Exact* Same sheepish look she pulled in her Human form, too. Somehow, due to her appearance and *What* She said, Thyri kinda reminded Yrsa of her old master! But different! Nicer! And, uh, she did think the woman was slightly peeved about something. That made sense. So she did FEIGN some level of interest? But it was *So* Evident that whatever the blacksmith was saying, it went right over her head.

Was there ever ANYTHING more frustrating? Not only did she use weapons derived from the Stone Age- hell, they probably made better spears back then- but she also seemed wholly OBLIVIOUS to her wrongdoing! If she was in her Human form, she'd probably have responded with something like, 'AH, BUT... YOU SEE MY DEAR FRIEND THYRI, WHAT IS A BLADE IF IT DOES NOT ALSO SMASH?? IT IS AN AXE CLUB.' .. And it's not like she could SAY that? But that's the *Feeling* She gave off. This... Juvenile ignorance!

And as to make matters worse, something *Suddenly* Came to distract her. Yrsa needed to figure out what it was. She heard something SNAP or TWITCH or .. Whatever it was! But with little more than a second or two to spare, she reared herself up and turned about with a spirited gait, probably bamboozling her two companions to go off into a lazy sprint through the forest. It was lazy because she needed to go faster. But it was still a sprint, still relatively quick!

Well, it probably wouldn't do to stand in the rain for much longer anyway, and her path did *Seem* To head in a direction loosely toward their encampment.
Omar
Feeling the tension that was in the air melting further and further away, only to be replaced by the wet, bitter cold of the night, Alcuin couldn't help a warm chuckle at Thyri's words. He spoke with great warmth and affection for Yrsa, **"You don't have to tell me twice. She's really something else, huh?"** He whispered, playfully and a little conspiratorially, **"I'd love it if she'd bathe more, but you can't win 'em all, right?"** Despite her many perceived faults, Alcuin really had few complaints about the berserker. He was quite an understanding and permissive person, so she could get away with a great deal with him, as she had discovered when they went to his home. Alcuin was just happy to have someone he could truly call a friend, someone he felt he could rely on, someone that wouldn't betray or abandon him. He thought of his parents with a pang of sadness, but shoved it down with a resolve to likely never see them again. He couldn't risk bringing the darkness he now knew he'd carried inside for so long near them again. He'd rather die than hurt them, even after their soft disowning of him.
** **

Yrsa's approach caused Alcuin's brows to raise a little, but then he saw she just seemed to be curious. Turning back to Thyri, he continued to smile, **"Well, I don't know quite what you did, but she seems pretty happy and relaxed around you. And quickly too! That's good."** He ruffled her fur slightly before retrieving the potions he gave Thyri. It felt odd, now, to think of how he and Yrsa had met. He was so tortured, so lonely, and so desperate for his madness to end... He'd gambled greatly in standing his ground with her, but it had paid off. While his insanity was... More controlled now, and he felt both happier *And* Had a companion, he wasn't sure if things were exactly better. While having an answer was helpful, finding out that he was losing his mind because he was tied to a demonic demigoddess, who now chose to call in the debts he unknowingly owed her... It wasn't a *Happy* Answer, and he was still mentally scrambling, in the quiet moments, to figure out how he was going to fulfill her wishes without losing himself entirely.
** **
After Thyri drank the elixir, the alchemist nodded in understanding. **"Yeah, sorry about that... I don't have my full set of equipment on the road, so uh..."** He scratched his head a little nervously, displacing a piece of leaf that had gotten stuck there at some point. **"I do the best I can to make things palatable."** Feeling more relaxed himself and having provided the aid he could, Alcuin took a moment to really look at Thyri. Her muscles spoke of the work she did, and she indeed looked awfully similar to Yrsa's own style of braids and tattoos. Yet where Yrsa radiated a playful and lazy lethality, Thyri wore her kind heart over a seemingly iron will. Seeing the end of the standoff between the two women, as well as seeing and healing her injuries, he had no doubt of the strength and power Thyri was capable of. But she didn't exactly carry herself like a dangerous warrior; she was more approachable than that.
** **

The rain continued to trickle down through the trees, and he was very aware of the crunch of snow under their feet, especially as the bear shifted nearby them. He knew he'd be freezing half to death, drenched as he was, if not for Yrsa's nearby warmth. He was truly gladdened to hear Thyri's acceptance of his offer. Looking down the hill, he could see her cart on the road that he had passed on the way up. From the glance he'd gotten at it, with the tools and weapons on it, it had to be hers. With a nervous laugh, somewhat embarrassed that he, as a man, probably wasn't as physically strong as this woman, he offered, **"I uh, I could** ***Try*** **To pull your cart back to our camp."** He wasn't sure what else they could do with it otherwise; he hated to leave her hard work exposed to bandits and the elements.
** **
Taking a look at Yrsa upon Thyri's question, he saw that adorably oblivious look on her face and sighed, **"She understands more than you would think, but... Not quite enough to always fully grasp. I'd be willing to bet she doesn't understand a thing you're saying, other than the general... Feeling of it."** For a moment, the alchemist stared into her blue eyes, feeling he could sense the human within looking back at him. He'd seemed to trigger... Something in her, upon their first meeting, that had caused her to revert. And he was rather certain anger helped her become a bear. But his brows furrowed as he wondered about the exact conditions for her transformations. It'd be awfully convenient if he could find a way to control or influence them... The dark whispers in his mind intensified a moment, scaring him with a physical jolt and breaking the train of thought. Maybe that would be a dangerous thing to look into, if he wasn't in the right mind... But before he could ponder further, his bear friend broke out in a galloping sprint that distracted him.
** **

With a mixture between a chuckle and a sigh, he spoke to Thyri as he watched Yrsa disappear into the trees, **"Well, we'd better follow her, lest she get into more trouble. At least she's vaguely going towards the camp."**