Valkyrie v Waechter

[UKWF]

Post your RPs for the match below. 2 RP cap, max. 500 words per RP.

[CraigTheCylon]

"You can feel it, Valkyrie, yes? An end approaches."

[Magdalena Waechter is sat before a desk, lit as usual by candles. In her hand is a darkly feathered quill, which she dabs in an inkwell before returning to the wide sheet of rough paper splayed in front of her.]

"We have circled each other this past month without any clear result. We hurl our insults, we clash blades, we bleed - but then the tides of battle drag us apart. Invariably it is our allies, our loyal soldiers, who take the fall for us."

[Mid-sentence, Magdalena stops and offers a small smile to camera.]

"Well, yours take the fall. Mine have acquitted themselves rather well."

[She keeps talking as she returns to her writing.]

"Mercifully, then, the others all have their own troubles over this 'Summer Fest' period, which means we will be all alone to...conclude our little philosophical debate. I with the terrible truth of a beautiful void ruined by life, you with your fanciful falsehoods of warrior deities and noble deeds. Tell me, then, Válidottir - and forgive my pronunciation, your dialect is not without difficulties - have you heard from your gods recently?"

[Magdalena rests the tapered end of the quill on her pursed lips.]

"Do they look down on the world sometimes, to see how their shield maiden is performing? Perhaps offer some life guidance or mystic boon to your travels? I would expect at least some moral support. Though the more pressing thought is, do any of them look like deliciously muscular Australia -
ackt-choo!"

[Turns out the feather end of the quill was tickling her nose. The Canoness frowns and holds it further away.]

"Hrmph. It matters little in any case. This is a story of mortals, after all - the story of you, Valkyrie. One more text for the Order's black library, to sit on the shelf beside the tales of our fiercest foes down the centuries. There is an open space waiting beside the chronicle of Katalina Star, not your ideal neighbour I would imagine, but I like to keep my conquests together. Hält alles ordentlich. Of course, I already know how this one ends..."

[With a flourish, Magdalena finishes her last inked line, puts down the quill, then picks up the scroll and rolls it up with another enigmatic smile.]

"...but, you do not get to look. Like the rest, you shall wait to act out the final chapter on the ninth of this month, but just between us, I would brace yourself for a most unpleasant conclusion."

[Fin.]

[Valkyrie and Hana]

With the camera fading up, the view was of Valkyrie, the Dane was focused on taping up her forearms. When she spoke however, no English came out, the Dane spoke in fluent, perfect, Munich accented German.

“I won't butcher the linguistics of your native tongue, having worked on a beach where German tourists spent their summers you pick up the intricacies quite easily, but if you want me to speak to you so only you and your soldiers can understand, then I will indulge you Magdalena. The Gods I follow the old ways of, they aren't exactly talkative, but I have myself acknowledged each one of them to be a capricious Fotze. It's all a question of faith. The film Dogma explained it that it doesn't matter what you have faith in, just that you have faith, and a good idea.”

“I have a damn good idea of what you are about, and as best I can tell Magdelena, you are nothing but a coward. You mention your soldiers and how they acted, because that's what they are to you. Suicide troops, to do as you bid and follow orders blindly and unquestioningly. Night Train, Lowri and Neal were not mein soldiers, they are brothers and sisters in arms and we worked as a unit, no one was the boss. Night Train last time around, a friend of mine and someone I actually enjoy spending time with because you probably never experienced the joy of fighting and then getting drunk with anyone who fights alongside you. We drink, we fight, we make our ancestors and families proud!”

“And what have you got? Zealots, brainwashed flagellent zombies who can't think for themselves, they run forward like lemmings to dive off a cliff because you demand it. Well here's what I'm going to suggest to you Magdalena: Leave the pets at home, do not bring them to the show to back you up because I suspect the truth about you. And that truth is that your so called Nihilistic existence actually fears me. Every match so far has been you and your trained flying monkeys, and you just are there to pick up the pieces like a Carrion bird waiting for the lion to finish his snack. If you bring your soldiers to the show, I swear to you now that I will hunt them down and make sure that the match is kept pure. If you aren't scared of me, you'll save me the job of having to knock out the half pint and the tank.”

“And when you finally meet me one on one, I will show you exactly how a Viking berserker, a gloryhunter in search of a good fight, followed by a good drink and the celebrations shared by a successful raid fights in such a situation. What is coming your way will make you feel I kneed you in the Fotze!”

Valkyrie drew her thumb over her throat, cutting the video to static...

[Valkyrie and Hana]

An open firepit outside of the Omega Academy, used by the students and staff alike to kick back and relax away from the three rings. A pork roast had been set up across the fire and was slowly cooking away as Valkyrie threw a log onto the flames to keep the cooking going.

“That your plan to dispose of Magdalena once and for all? Spitroast with a spear and serve her for dinner?” the voice of Paul Donovan, the retired British wrestler had a couple of bottles in hand as he passed one to Valkyrie, the Dane grinning as she took a swig of the contents.

“Chance would be a fine thing, but I don't think anyone would be too impressed with me murdering her again. Even if it turned out to be smoke and mirrors I don't think I'd want that rap on a record.”

“Aww, our tamed Viking going soft on us!” Another voice, a British accent, received pronunciation as head coach of the Academy, Paul's nephew James approached, Valkyrie threw him a mock scowl as the final part of the group, Tali Donovan approached with a juice box in hand.

“Vee going soft? Not happening! No way! She is tougher than Mum is, and Mum is tougher than you Daddy!” Tali grinned as she walked over to the Dane, who dropped down and high fived the five year old.

“Don't mistake smart thinking for going soft. I've got grievances with Magdalena and I'm going to avenge them all. Count out victory and the fact she's a kusse that I really don't like? And I'll tell you what that word means when you're old enough to pay the fines to your Mama Tali”

“Ohhh! Rude word!” the kid nodded with a giggle as the group sat down around the fire, Valkyrie leaned back as she swigged from the bottle, the elder Donovan breaking the silence.

“The Dane swears in her native tongue, doubly so around my favourite eldest niece, the exemplar of the fact that Good is Not Nice. And I know Vee, that you don't claim to be good, I know for a fact that even though you are a sworn Shieldsister to your students and trainers, and a damn good friend of the family that you have blood on your hands.”

“When you don't feed a hungry dog and insist on poking it with a stick, you find out how quick it turns on you. But that was then, and right now I'm going to take apart the Order by finding out how flexible Magdalena's bones and ligaments are. If the flagellent wants to be brutalised, then I'll save her the job of finding a plank of wood to smack in her head and just introduce her to the pure rage of a berserker.”

“No story?” Tali looked up disappointed.

“No camera around for it, but hey, while Magdalena cooks, I got one for you...”

-end-