830 C.E.

On the evening of a brisk winter day, you hear war drums in the distance. Your worst enemy, the Anglo-Saxons, have decided that it's about time to have another turf war. This bitter rivalry surpasses you by decades, and yet, you've seen enough of the horrors to make up for that. You, a woman, is one of your tribe's fiercest warriors. Starting from a young age, you were trained to be able to fight alongside the wisest of generals, and to fight the fiercest of nations. You're practically a walking legend, a household name, and what the people call "a gift from Odin himself".

That's why you sprung up from your slumber that night and climbed a hill to see the commotion. Sure enough, the Anglo-Saxons were setting up camp right at the edge of the borders your forefathers so lovingly "agreed" upon. You quickly ran to tell your general about what you saw. Once you deliver the news, you're told to go tell every man in the force. You run to tents, spread the news, then on to the next. Soon enough, news of an impending war spreads to the people, and the they all start to wish you luck in coming days whenever you pass by. You've no doubt that this will be a resounding victory for you and your people.

A fortnight from then, you walk around the base, seeing tents being set up, supplies being carried by the commonfolk, the business of war has never been lost on you. It's frigid, and yet, everyone moves and makes an effort to do their part. The one thing you know you have to focus on is getting your war paint done. It's a ceremonial tradition that every viking carries out on the eve of a battle. Tonight's is more important than ever. The paint often displays strength and intimidation, striking fear into enemies. You walk into an open tent to find a woman grinding up paint in a bowl. You make yourself known and she looks up.

"Ah. Come in, brave warrior. Out of the cold." she smiles and gestures to the nearby seat "I'm Kerstin, you must be the hailed warrior everyone has been talking about."