Valkyries ride to collect the finest warriors for feasting and war in the Netherworld. The eldest of these, Grace, has selected a berserker for her army – but will the berserker go willingly? Read on to learn more about ‘Valkyrie’ Grace!
- Winged Viking helm
- Shield maiden braids
- Black & gold greaves, bracers & breastplate with fur collar
- Gold tasseled skirt
- War Hammer of the Wolf
- Electricity radiates from point of lightning-imbued hammer impact
- Viking light shields and crackling lightning during Benediction
- Hammer serves as a lightning rod during Holy Nova
- Divine Intervention amplified with summoned lightning
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ALTERNATE FATE LORE
The Valkyrie and The Berserker
Red mist covered the muted sun of the Netherworld, and the valkyries in their feasting glade turned their noses up to inhale the smell of nearby fire and blood.
“War,” said one, the eldest, called Grace.
“War,” said the others.
Cheers erupted from the dead warriors at the long table. As the valkyries mounted their horses, the warriors wagered on who would return, hoping for their own relatives and friends.
With her great war hammer lifted, Grace led her sisters to the magic hedge closest to the battle. The sisters sang to open the barrier between worlds, a trick only valkyries know, and leapt over the hedge to the living world, where the sun beat down on the hillside littered with the dead. The valkyries dispersed among the victims, galloping, dreamlike. Some of the delirious dying thought they saw winged angels; some saw armored warriors and some saw barefoot maidens. Well-fed crows scattered to the trees as the valkyries made their choices.
Grace passed by those crying for mercy, for death, for the glade or for their mothers. She left behind a dozen warriors with lightning and shadow-burnt sword wounds until she found the fighter who had felled them. The berserker laid face-down, her hair soaked red with the blood of her enemies, swords still in her fists, an axe buried in her shoulder.
Into the mud Grace dropped. With one sharp tug she freed the axe from the berserker’s scapula. The warrior’s groan bubbled in the mud and blood pulsed from the wound. “Not dead then,” murmured the valkyrie, “but not far from it.” She settled on the ground to accompany the berserker into death.
“Hail, Warrior,” she said. “Tonight, you feast in the glade.”
“Rather not,” mumbled the berserker. She rolled one muddy eye to glare at the Valkyrie. “Have a moose stew going at home.”
“It is a great honor to be chosen for the warriors’ glade,” said Grace.
“I make my own honor.” The berserker winced.
“Death cannot be turned away.”
“When Death comes, I’ll deal with him. Right now, I deal with you.”
“Fair.” Grace stood, gripping her great hammer in both hands. “I shall heal your wound, and then we shall fight. If I prevail, you shall feast with your foremothers in the glade tonight.”
The other Valkyries paused to watch, their dead trophies bent limp over their horses. None had ever seen such a bargain, but none dared to question their eldest sister.
“And when I prevail?” coughed the berserker.
“Then I shall return for you another day. Unless you die of natural causes.”
“I would never!” The berserker spat mud and tried to rise, her swords vibrating with power. “How dare you!”
“Then we have a bargain.” The sky blackened, roiling and rushing to cast the battlefield in shadow. A dense cloud formed over Grace and her berserker, rippling with electricity at its edges, just before the world erupted in a strike of golden lightning.
Read Grace’s canon lore: