Heavy eyelids began to droop down lazily over Herja's bloodshot eyes only to flutter open once more just a fraction of a second before the fallen Valkyrie fell into unconsciousness. Trapped in the warm and humid dungeon beneath the arena, her will to stay awake was beginning to falter. It had been several days since she'd been placed in the prison cell that she currently resided in, and in that time Herja hadn't been allowed a single moment to rest or sleep. On top of having her ankles firmly shackled to the ground and a heavy chain connecting her slave collar to the wall, she also had to suffer four large hooks that hung from the ceiling and pierced her wings, two on either side. As soon as Herja began to drift into a much needed slumber, the steel hooks would tear into the tender appendages that granted her the gift of flight. It was a particularly brutal wake up call to say the least.<br/><br/>Proving to be as despicable as could be expected, the dungeon guards even had a bet going on between them to see who could guess how long it would be before Herja could no longer stand; or, in other words, how long it would be until her precious wings were torn to shreds. The Valkyrie despised these wretches even more than she did the other dwellers of hell for making a petty game worth nothing more than a few measly coins out of her suffering. There was no retaliation possible at that moment, however, as she was stuck battling an invisible opponent against which she was powerless to fight back. There was no weapon that could force fatigue into a retreat, no strategy or tactic to outmaneuver it. It was an enemy that Herja couldn't defend herself against, which frustrated her to no end. Her blood was boiling within her veins, but she mustered up whatever shred of willpower that she had left to keep herself from lashing out. Doing so would be futile, and more importantly, it would waste whatever negligible amounts of energy that she had left. She wasn't entirely certain about what would await her in the arena above, but she could at least safely assume that it would be bad.<em>Very</em>bad, most likely. She had to save her rage for whatever beast or opponent that would be pitted against her, not waste it flailing around stupidly against her inescapable bonds.<br/><br/>Again Herja's eyes slid shut and her legs began to give out from underneath her, only for her to be jerked back into consciousness no more than a second later as several sharp jolts of pain coursed through her hypersensitive wings. Realizing that she wouldn't be able to hang on much longer, Herja thanked the Creator as the cell which held her captive began to rumble and float upwards. The adrenaline from the upcoming fight or fights would at least help to temporarily mask her exhaustion, and she would finally be liberated of her bonds. The ability to move freely was taken for granted by most, but it was definitely something that she would cherish for the foreseeable future, assuming that she lived that long.<br/><br/>The cell-turned-elevator finally ended its slow ascent towards the arena floor, at which point Herja's was finally set free from her unforgiving bindings. Even though the hooks were pulled out through the very same holes that they'd pierced through her wings, they still caused the Valkyrie an excruciating amount of pain since the wounds had already begun to close around them. She pressed one hand against her mouth firmly and screamed into it, muffling the sound so as to maintain some shred of dignity while her other hand clenched her side tightly. She didn't let go for at least ten seconds - ten long seconds - and when she finally did, bright red nail marks could easily be seen on her skin. Tears had welled up in the proud warrior's eyes, but she managed to choke them down  as she attempted to regain her composure.<br/><br/>Spotting the weapon rack that had appeared nearby, she marched over to it with a purpose before quickly inspecting the small array of swords that had been included. Laughable quality, all of them, Herja managed to pick out the least pathetic one out of the bunch. Having sheathed the blade at her hip, she also picked up a round, spiked buckler as well as a flimsy spear, holding them both at the ready as she waited for her opponent to materialize. For the next few minutes, she would forget about her lack of sleep, she would be deaf to the crowd's jeers and she would forget about the guards upon whom she wanted to exact her vengeance. For the next few minutes, Herja would do what she'd been born to do - kill hellspawn.