I am a Valkyrie. And I may never go home, unless I wish for battle. And I do. I wish to make my father, the Allfather, dance when my spear goes through his good eye.

	The Valkyries are Odin's 'daughters'. More accurately, we were created by Odin to collect the souls of the worthy dead to fight in his armies. We have three guidelines which we must follow: Follow the orders of Odin, collect the souls of the slain, and serve Valhalla. Blah, blah, blah, a whole lot of shit if you ask me.

	Our normal duties involve crossing the Bifrost(under the supervision of Heimdal, so that no wrong turns are taken), flying until a battlefield is found, and sending the souls of the dead to Odin. The souls of the best warriors are collected before the flight return to Valhalla, to become Einherijar. All the lesser souls are consumed by the Allfather.

	My race have a broad group of abilities: all have at least some limited aptitude with magic, all can trap souls(if we see the are worthy) to bring to Valhalla, all can fly on black-feathered wings. The vast majority are trained heavily with one weapon or another. All have inhuman strength, an unearthly grace, as is fitting. We are not mortal rats.

	My individual strengths focused on the destruction of Asgaard's enemies. Few weapons could pass my shield, fewer still could spill my blood. The berserker rage that I summon in battle has led to the death of many a Jotun, skewed by my spear after a dive from the sky.

	Above all, Valkyries are supposed to be obedient. Something in the basic template Odin used for his 'daughters' went wrong with me. It's gone wrong a few times my sisters. Brynhildr was an example of that, and our father condemned her for for it. She wasn't perfect, so she was outcast. Refused. Thrown down to Midgaard. None questioned the will of the Allfather after that.

	After millenia of collecting the souls of pitiful mortals, I began to question it. Allfather would cause the mortals to battle, we'd collect the souls or send them to him. He'd absorb them, and grow stronger. The cycle would repeat. Why make them fight? Why did we not collect the worthwhile while they lived, and begin their training then? Why not collect the souls of Jotun or the svartalfs?

	And why in the fuck did I have to do all the fucking work while dearest Daddy got fat on the essence of tens of thousands of mortals?

	I became tired of the ceaseless flights, ceaseless collections and sendings. Tired of doing the bitch work with no reward. My flight was ordered out, on another collection run. Tribes of skraelings fighting each other, squabbling over who's territory ended where.

	My sisters left; I did not. They returned. They left again, to collect another batch. And returned again. Five more times, they went out, before our flight was called before Odin's corpulent ass.

	Father called me forward, and asked why I had not been leading my flight as before. Why I did not come back with new Einherijar for him.

	"Because I'm sick of the bitch work. Go collect souls yourself. You have fed on millions before, I'm sure you can spare the energy [i]Father[/i]. My spear does not leave Asgaard, my wings will not be dirtied carrying another mortal soul back. Unless you are too heavy to move, in which case call upon your sun to drag you across the Rainbow Bridge."

	That is what I told him. It was thing wrong thing to say. He set my flight, my sisters who had my back a thousand times before, upon me. I slew them, lest I be slain. I take no pride in this. I have slain my kin, the worst crime any creature can commit.

	Now, I am falling through the mist that beneath Bifrost. Heimdal looked sad. Dearest Daddy himself dragged his fat fucking ass out of his chair to throw me off the bridge between worlds. He made me mortal, and tore my wings off. For the first time since I was created, I am scared. I am confused by what might happen in the future.

	I am scared, confused, and so [i]very [b]FUCKING [u]ANGRY.[/u][/b][/i]