"MARR BACRAUT!" Alfhild let out a mighty shout, launching herself over the pile of smoldering wreckage that was once part of her beautiful, magnificent space vessel. Her constant swearing was usually without purpose, but now with her ship in flames, her entire crew possibly dead, enemies to her back, and twenty meters of hallway between her and the slim chance of escape, she figured the gods would forgive her foul mouth.<br/><br/>Alfhild's hair swung violently from a sudden shift in body weight, as she turned down a small hallway. There was no grace in her motions; she was running from a horde of ravenous soj, not aiming to win a ballet recital. If it had been a ballet recital, Alfhild would have won, being as bull-headed as she was. When there was a prize to be won, she won it, no matter the cost.<br/>When she wasn't mentally swearing, Alfhild maintained an inner pep talk of calming thoughts, thinking of things such as warm cocoa and not dying. It wasn't that Alfhild was afraid of dying. She had every intention of going to Valhalla upon her demise, but she would rather that it was on a better schedule than right now. Perhaps that was the irony of most deaths, with the phrase 'he left us so soon' resonating among loved ones so often. Alfhild herself was not thinking so philosophically, instead pondering why she had never stole and pawned Ber's marriage ring to a scrupulous corenan collector. The girl was pretty, but with her temper, how could she even begin to attract a guy? Alfhild was no man-catcher herself, with her constant glowering and booming voice. In fact, she was probably manlier than half the men on her ship. Kole seemed strong, but could barely hold a laser sword, let alone a traditional metal one; Fiske was thin and overall womanly, even Kri was an avid knitter though he always fiercely denied it, and the rest? If she wasn't in mortal danger, she would have laughed.<br/><br/>Further thoughts of her close crew mates agitated her. The mercenaries had appeared on the ship undetected, their assault sudden and brutal. The girl who had brought Alfhild a warning message had been bleeding out, organs held in only by her pale, trembling fingers. She had used her last breaths to save her captain. Each member of the crew flashed before Alfhild's eyes. Her bond with each was stronger than family. One face occupied her mind longer than the rest, a mature looking girl, with an intense, determined gaze. Isa. She was deaf. Even a warning of the assault would not have reached her ears. Unless someone had gone to her directly, or if she somehow managed to hide... Alfhild held back tears as she punched in the code for an intricately carved door. Its two halves began to retract, and through urgency she pushed herself through the crack.<br/>Safely on the other side, Alfhild pressed the emergency close button, the door responding by slamming shut with a thunderous crash. The door was heavily reinforced with the strongest metals in the galaxy, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy. These weren't the usual mercenary fare; she regretted getting entangled with them in the first place. Alfhild turned and bolted, too busy trying to survive than to question the quality of the door further. She had the distinctive appearance of a lion in that moment, for the fierceness of her face and the wildness of her hair. Blood was running into her eye from a gash in her forehead, caused when the medical room of the ship had exploded, sending dangerous shrapnel all about the area.<br/><br/>Alfhild was now in the scout ship hanger, which looked empty and bleak, sooty blast marks covering the once-beautiful silver carved walls. She saw that one ship of the seven that they had remained. Each ship had two seats, guaranteeing at most twelve crew members escaped. Not enough. She climbed into the last ship, taking a deep breath as she pressed the buttons to close the air seal and open the hangar door. As she readied for take-off, a tear rolled down her cheek. The empty seat beside her was every member of the crew. Johan, Ragna, Kri. One seat, with the power to save any single member of her crew if she stayed. But she couldn't. She thought to the disaster of her own greed that had led to this horrifying moment as she engaged the scouter's thrusters, smoldering wreckage of her beloved Hrið lighting up the open skies behind. She would head to the Village, and pray to Odin that her crew members had thought to do the same.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>Alfhild frowned, staring at the whirring tangle of wires and metal that was the engine of her eternal beloved. It wasn't often that she visited the engine room, ironically knowing little on how her ship operated, but at this moment it felt vital to inspect. She had been passing the engine room door when an unearthly screech had graced her ears, apparently coming from the slowly turning beast. She was smart enough to know it needed fixing, but not knowledgeable enough to fix it herself. Ber would take care of it. Alfhild had complete faith in her red-headed firecracker of a mechanic, having seen her talents firsthand in many a pinch before. She always had the tendency to be able to work around any problem that came her way. Alfhild remembered when they first met, how Ber followed her all about the Village, pestering her non-stop until finally Alfhild gave in and allowed the girl to be a part of her crew. As Alfhild thought about it, she realized that most of her friendships had been born that way. Did she have some sort of secret ability, or strange scent that attracted people to her? The unlikelihood of the proposition made Alfhild snort in laughter, covering a wide, toothy grin with her bracered arm.<br/><br/>The heat of the engine room began to get to Alfhild and she exited. Normally she would just deliver the message to Ber through the minute earpiece systems shared by all Hrið personnel (save Isa, for obvious reasons), but it was currently lunch time and Alfhild had yet to stop by the mess hall for a much needed meal. Ber, and most of the crew, would be gathered there already, without a doubt. Kole's dishes were not something commonly missed on the ship, especially when he made his renowned nässelsoppa. Mouth watering, Alfhild began to pick up the pace. Her training earlier that morning had been more rigorous than usual to make up for the lack of activity the crew had been facing for the past few weeks. They had of course performed a few raids on hostile cargo ships, using their usual technique of pretending to be abandoned and then ambushing when the unsuspecting scavengers locked on to their docking bay, but they hadn't gone on a real mission or landed on a planet for a job in quite some time. Alfhild had been encouraging the crew to join her for early morning sparring, but only Kri and Ragna had seemed at all enthused, which perhaps shouldn't have come as a surprise. Alfhild had always been intent on training their most inept, Kole, in the traditional Norse way of the sword and laser weapon, but it seemed the only way to get him interested would be to trick him, and that wasn't Alfhild's way.<br/><br/>Kri was already an excellent fighter, especially with a short-ranged weapon, and his sparring with Alfhild always helped hone the other party's abilities incredibly well, their fighting styles being on such opposite ends of the spectrum. If Alfhild didn't best him with her pure strength, his speed would be the downfall of her. Ragna was also a good bare-handed and grappling partner, though her small size would sometimes be her weak point if Alfhild acted quickly. Occasionally the captain would bring in various weapons to improve Ragna's skills at disarming an opponent. If neither of her crew members were available, Alfhild would use a sparring bot, or train with the variety of machines they had in the training wing.<br/><br/>Alfhild wandered the light gray and dark wood hallways, carved with intricate patterns of boats, warriors, horses, and other designs. Hrið truly was beautiful on the inside, kept clean by the devoted Isa and her cleaning bots. It made Alfhild feel more connected to her past ancestors, the one who had fled through the Bifröst. The sections depicting the gods made her especially inspired, reminding her of why she had begun traveling in the first place. They would find them, and Ragna would have to eat her own words.<br/><br/>Alfhild entered the mess hall, tying her mass of blonde hair back with a strip of leather in preparation for the feast she was about to take part in. Her eclectic mix of leather, traditional Norse, and Valdoonian clothes and armour gave the already beastly woman a fierce, but disheveled appearance. A variety of drawstrings and belts wound around her waist, connected to pouches containing important items and her favourite weapons, one being a laser-edged Norse sword, that was originally from Earth, but enhanced through the ages and passed down her family.<br/><br/>Alfhild disregarded the long tables where most of her comrades currently sat, instead focusing resolutely on food. She approached the counter, grabbing a bowl and spoon before sliding down the counter to be face-to-face with the ship's resident cook, Kjoljandr. "Góðan dag, Kole," Alfhild flashed him a grin, "what are we eating today?" Kole had probably benefited from the temporary peace they had been having, simply pleased to work in his kitchen without the possible threat of dying hanging over his head. "Did Kri help with the meal this time around?" Her closest friend had taken her drunken request to help in the kitchen, and Alfhild never had the heart to tell him that it wasn't meant to be taken seriously. It wasn't likely that Kri was a burden in the kitchen, though it did cut down on the two's sparring time together.<br/><br/>As Alfhild awaited her meal, she turned to look at her crew. All seemed well, and she couldn't help but smile.