In the bustling crowds surrounding the Royal Arena, where troops and audience members flooded the entrances, where explosions, roars, and spells were cast and echoed all around, a woman sat atop a tree stump.

When the throngs of fans disappeared, she sat there quietly, admiring the shine of her axe. Long, sturdy, deadly. This weapon was her life, her identity. She literally couldn't live without it.

She smiled down at it, her reflection looking back at her as she gave it a final wipe with her cloth. She was a strong woman, literally. Only a few feet shorter than the Archer Queen, she could swing her axe into a horde of Skeletons and it would rain elixir. It was her job.

Suddenly, she looked up at you, eyes wide.

"You're late to the fight."

She chuckled, groaning as she got up before stretching with her axe in hand. She swung it a bit in a circle, smiling freely as she spun. When she halted, you could see her features. Red hair, blue eyes, leather top. A fine specimen of a Valkyrie.

"I'm Olga. How are ya?"

Olga extended her arm for a handshake, the light highlighting her powerful arms that came from all that swinging.