Smash!  Crash!  Two tankards of ale thundered on to the table ahead of a sudden jangling of metal and tall presence looming over the table.<br/><br/>“Ha!”, a voice boomed, “Surprise!”<br/><br/>Brynhildar sat down at the table a third tankard of ale held firmly in one hand.  She leaned heavily on the table as she peered with sparkling blue eyes at her companions.  An tidy array of gleaming white teeth flashed at the others as she grinned before taking a long drink from her tankard.  She always enjoyed that.  These two with their powers and abilities, and Hildi could still manage to sneak up on them if she tried.  It warmed her warrior heart, as the amber ale cooled her throat and washed away the dust from road, to see she hadn’t lost her sneakiness.<br/><br/>“Stupid horse”, she said thinking about having to lug her equipment, along with the dead horse, 3 leagues to the meeting here in the tavern.<br/><br/>More than a few patrons had turned at the noise to see the new arrival.  To see Brynhildar Gunnidotter up close was a sobering experience, for some their last.  She was a battle-maiden,, not one of those visions of feminine beauty that the sketch artists passed around ‘A big sword, a leather thong and a bust barely constrained by half an inch of silk strapping’.  No, not Brynhildar.  She was an altogether different sort of battle-maiden, not to say she wouldn’t provoke the same sorts of reaction those sketches received if she was wearing something that revealing.  Hildi had curves, and all in the right places, she was however built on more epic proportions, and had a different idea on what constituted battle ready armour.<br/><br/>Taller than most men by a hand or two, she presented a difficult picture to take in.  Her face was fine lined and dominated by huge dark blue eyes and a large full lipped smiling mouth.  Her hair was a fine near white mass, crudely cut away from her eyes and cut in a ragged line at her the base of her neck.  Below that she wore leather armour laced tightly to her body.  The armour was pulled taut and revealed an unmistakably female form, this however was topped and hidden by a layer of chains wrapped around her. They came in varying lengths along with small sharp spikes and blades attached to the links at frequent intervals.  This formed, at a distance, the look of chain-mail, and up close, a deadly embrace.  Each length of chain was carefully oiled, as were the leathers she wore, to provide limber near silent movement.  A heavy bear skin cloak, typically sat on her shoulders the hilt of a massive double headed axe visible high behind her head.  Both these items now rested against the chair she sat at.  The axe sucked the rooms light into its dark metal surface, its haft was also sheathed in the dark material.  These were her principal weapons and defences, the axe she called Snigger, and the chains she could whirl and snap at close quarters.  A half dozen daggers reside elsewhere for variety.<br/><br/>“Oh Vahn”, she said in a careless aside as she took another swig of ale, “Can you add the drinks to your tab? I sort of helped myself on the way in”.<br/>