She was stalking her prey for what seemed like hours. Bow in hand with arrow notched, she was ready. Peaking over a fallen log, she found him. Beautiful and strong, full of ripe meat to feed her village. She took the shot, dead on. She hated that part. As the stag fell to the ground, she felt its pain and the life leaving the poor beast. But she’s knew it had to be done. Sadness filled her viking heart but reason overcame her need to help her village. She gave thanks to the gods for the honor of finding such a beast. Mother taught her that vikings need resources to trade and feed their village. Father taught her that there are other lands with unlimited resources and strange magic. But as a viking, she was a hunter, not a warrior. No matter how much she wanted to be. She knew the bow, not the sword. She often watched the shield maidens train and occasionally join them. But would often leave with something bruised or broken.
As she hoisted the carcass onto her shoulders, already sweating, it continued to slip off and need readjusting. As she walked into her village that evening, she greeted her fellow villagers and showed the game she brought them. She dropped it off to the local meat butcher and continued onto her evening duties. She continued work on her sword skills with one of the village shield maidens but knew she wasn’t any good. She walked home to change for the nightly feast, sweaty, worn out, and a nice bruise forming on her right cheek from the shield bash that caught her off guard. She noticed a strange man leaning against a post. He was tall, blonde, and well dressed, but not like from any viking village she’s ever seen. It appeared his village’s banner colors were blue and gray, with a skull with horns on his chest. She didn’t know of any village with those colors or sigil. He looked to be sleeping as he stood there with arms and ankles crossed, but as she approached, he opened his eyes and watched as she walked by. She readjusted the large shield she had over her shoulder and kept walking.
Later during the feast, he showed up again. He sat at her table and shared ale with her. They talked for hours. But as the night drew on, well inebriated from the strong ale and the amount they had, he mentioned a land called Aratari that had a group of warriors from all over the land. For hours he explained how they protected and defended their city with bravery, sword and bow, and ale. Over and over it was tales of glory and excitement for any one. None of the secular feeling that her village threw upon her. It didn’t take long before she found herself daydreaming about experiencing it all for herself.
Before long the sun began to rise and she realized they’d been talking all night. It was then she began to think about why she was still in this village and if there was a better destiny for her out there. After all, she had no real ties to this village. No siblings, children or even a partner to tie her down. In reality, she was free to choose what she wanted to do. So she turned to the man one last time and said, “When you return, take me with you.”
So they set off to the realm of Aratari to join with her new family, The Guard. It didn’t take long for her to feel like she fit in and soon after they began to call her, Meda Dragonhugger.