VALKYRIE STORIES
We of the Valkyrie
Part 1 - Childhood's End
Part 1 - Childhood's End
We of the Valkyrie - Part 1 - Childhood's End
By Dagny Chalice (alternately known as Danika, Valkyrie Chieftess)
As told at Valkyrie Campfire Meeting 6-11-17
In the wake of shifting cold winds, innocence is soon to be lost in the idylic northern village of Selasund. "We of the Valkyrie" - Part 1 - Childhood's End finds shifting alliances and betrayal. Blood will be spilled on ice. Lives will be forever changed. Here now is the Part 1 installment:By Dagny Chalice (alternately known as Danika, Valkyrie Chieftess)
As told at Valkyrie Campfire Meeting 6-11-17
Childhood's End
We pay no mind to the fleet of longships entering the mouth of the bay, meandering round past the snow-clad fjords rising out of the mists. The sun hangs low like a flickering old lantern behind their square sails. Up high on Ari, the craggy hill overlooking our village of Selasund, my much older brother, Elof, and I laugh wildly as we run, slip-siding over patches of snow and ice, stooping to retrieve our missing arrows. He has been setting up wooden targets all afternoon teaching me how to aim a bow and I am sure half of them were missed by me.
Biting my lip, I take in a deep breath, picking up a few shattered arrows wedged between small boulders. "I am not very good at this," I say.
"Nonsense little sister. How many eleven-year-old girls can even hold a bow steady, yet pull back on the bow string, even bring down a wild animal such as you have?" He is so tall and strong and reassuring. So patient. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he gives me a firm shake and spins me round and round again and again making me squeal with delight.
"Sometimes I miss. Sometimes I fail. I did fall over pulling back the string," I sigh with feigned frustration.
"Once. Only once. You were impatient and slipped on ice," he wags his finger before my face. "But already your aim is good and is getting better. You know this. Now shut up and do not beg for compliments. Or do you want me to throw you off this hill?" "He utters a sharp growl and sweeps down lifting me high over his head giving me another shake.
At first, I kick and flail, screaming, "No, no!" laughing so hard. Then shutting my eyes tightly for a fleeting moment, feeling the chill wind whispering in my ears, ruffling through my hair, I spread my arms out wide, slowly opening my eyes again, straightening my body as if I am flying. Eagles soar over us against the darkening blue and gray gathering of storm clouds, but it is almost as if I can see eye to eye with them. I fly with them.
He holds me over his head for a few more moments playfully swinging me side to side allowing me to fly. Yet, those brief moments feel like I am blissfully suspended over eternity on gossamer wings. Then it is over and he gently seats me on the ground next to the rock pile mound here on the peak of the hill sliding down to sit next to me. For as long as I can remember, this boulder strewn hill with its rock mound stacked in a cone pile like a rune marker has been our lookout place.
Leaning back against the rock pile, he unfastens his axe and places it into my hands wrapping my fingers around the handle. The sudden weight is too much and the flat of the head thumps to the icy rock ground between my legs. "Anticipate," he admonishes. "Be alert and ready." I look up at him and he smiles down at me amused, ruffling my hair. "Tomorrow, before I leave, we will work on throwing this again."
Of my three brothers who each taught me fishing, hunting, working with a bow and axe, he has been the most patient and attentive. Why would my other brothers invest so much time training just a girl? But Elof was different. Strong as a bear, busy with the affairs of the village, yet kindly gentle and protective toward me.
Removing his water skin, he places the rim to my lips. Winter was melting away, but the icy winds parched my lips and cheeks and I realize now how thirsty I have been, gratefully taking a long drink. When I am finished, he drinks too. "It is good you are thirsty. An empty vessel takes in more water. Make your mistakes and be open to those that can teach you. You have so much more to learn little Dag and like an empty vessel, you will take in more experiences if you remain open. You are special and you have a destiny. Do not be afraid of anything."
I adore him, his wisdom, and I watched him for a long time before returning my gaze to the bay changing to crimson fire hues in the cloud-draped setting sun. More ships are moving toward our village docks. "Elof, I do not want you to leave tomorrow."
He is quiet and thoughtful before replying. "I must leave on this campaign. I have made a solemn promise to lead our fleet." We stare ahead in silence and I want to cry. He pats my back. "For now, we are losing the light and we should return home," he says softly.
I shiver pulling up my fur coat nodding resigned agreement. "But wait," he places a hand on my shoulder stopping me from rising. "Before we go back down, I have something for you. My goodbye gift." I don't like hearing him mention the word, goodbye, but I am still curious.
"I think here now atop our secret place is a good time to give this to you." He removes a silver amulet hanging from his neck and places the chain necklace securely around my neck.
I hold the round amulet in my hand staring at it with widened eyes. I have only seen it a few times. He mostly kept it hidden tucked under his tunic. "It is called the Vegvisir, a runic compass. It is very old and sacred and has been my guidepost, my direction sign. Now it is yours to wear. If this sign is carried, one will never lose one's way in storms or bad weather, even when the way is not known. It will show you the way back home and protect you from storms."
Still holding the amulet in my palms, I look up at my brother puzzled. "But why? Why are you giving this to me? You will need this more than I on your journey."
"I give this to you Dagny, because you are the only sister I have and I love you. And because…" he pauses then continues, "the volva said you will need this more than I will in the time ahead."
"You went to the volva?"
He smiles at the confusion spreading over my face. "Yes, I went to the volva to learn my fortune and fate before leaving on the campaign." He seems to notice the distress on my face and softens his tone. "Mainly, I told her of my wish to find a gift for you. She said to give you something personal and important to me."
I nod weakly. "Thank you," I whisper, slowly shaking my head, tears welling up. I clutch the amulet tightly. "I love you. I want you to return home safely," I stammer. "Did she tell you anything else? Will you return home safely?"
"No, she did not say much more. Only to give you this and to trust my fate to the gods." His attention suddenly shifts, looking away from me.
"Something is wrong," he says, staring out to sea in astonishment. I turn to stare in the same direction at the mass of longships entering the harbor. The waters are ablaze in the glare of the molten sun melting into the cloud turbaned sea. But our ships are on fire too! I recognize the banners and he says what I am thinking. "Those are Torva ships. How can this be? They should not be attacking us. Something is…" He starts to rise and in that moment an arrow pierces his eye and he slides back down the rock mound slumping over.
I scream and scream, hands on my head, covering my ears staring at him in shock, then shaking him, holding his bloody head between my hands in sheer terror, rocking back and forth, screeching and crying hysterically. But I realize in a sick craze my brother is gone.
More arrows whiz past my head striking the rock pile behind me with thwacks, sending a crackling shower of stone chips over me. I jerk my head side to side still in shock, struggling to find out where they are coming from. I can feel the wind whip from these arrows, they come so fast and close. Another arrow lands at my feet and one pierces my fur sleeve slicing the skin on my wrist, pinning my forearm to the ground. I see the trickle of blood, feel the sharp sting of pain cut into me and struggle to pull the arrow out. Freeing my arm, tossing the arrow to the ground, I frantically jump up and see movement from the corner of my eye.
Looking to the south, to the shorter hill across a small gorge, I see the movement of armed men. They have climbed the south hill, some moving quickly down the slope, some already in the gorge and scrambling up my hill toward me. I scoop up my brother's bow and arrows, his axe, and with all the strength I can gather, struggle to shoulder them, hoisting the axe backwards into my pack.
I turn to run, stumbling and rolling down the north face of Ari. I bump and slide down the slope, kicking ice, rocks, dust into the air, my head hitting some of the boulders jutting out. But I am so terrified, I do not notice the blood and feel no pain. I stagger and trip into the brush in the foothills reaching a small, frozen inlet lake. And that is when I first see the giant across the gorge.
He is a massive helmeted man dressed as a beast in heavy furs and armor. He and his strange men have circled the foothills and eastern side of Ari and now are running toward me. I run away, out over the frozen lake, slipping and falling on the ice. My leather back pack slips down spilling the axe. It slides across the ice. I slide with it. For a moment, I am paralyzed. My ankle is twisted. I struggle to move. When I look up, the giant man is running over the frozen lake… and just as quickly, is now but a few paces from me. His heavy boots on ice thump, thump, kicking up a silver-white spray. I force myself to slide to the axe, quickly dragging myself over with my elbows and wrists and struggle to get up. He is nearly upon me.
I am on my knees now. He is reaching for me. With all the strength I can gather, I struggle to grasp and lift the heavy axe. It is like holding up a mountain - I barely have the strength to hold it up over my head and shaking all over, my thin arms can no longer support it. Losing my balance, still grasping the thick handle, the axe falls back down to the ice with a thud, the hefty blade piercing the frozen lake. A fissure abruptly forms in the ice, spreading out, widening under the giant man. Under the shadow of his helmet, I catch a glimpse of the surprise in his coal fire eyes as he lurches, staggering to steady himself on the ice breaking up under his feet.
Once more, with my last strength, remembering what my brother taught me, I raise up the axe and swinging it once around, throw it at the giant. The sharp blade catches his knee, cutting into him. White teeth clench behind his thick black beard as he grunts in agony, grabbing his knee. Some of his men reach him. And they come for me. Fissures, widening cracks, still forming all around me. And under his and their feet.
Too much weight as the frozen lake breaks up. The giant and some of his men fall through the ice. Odin be praised, I am able to get up and turn to run before the ice breaks open beneath me. I am small and light enough to bound past the fissures and over the smooth ice to the north bank. I glance back over my shoulder and see that the rest of his men have caught up and are pulling their giant leader and the fallen men out of the ice with ropes. Some are still pursuing me.
I leap off the north bank into heavy brush just as the sky lights up behind the hills in an orange and red haze. I realize even in my panic the village and ships are on fire.
From out of the dense thicket of frozen branches and pine needles, brawny arms suddenly reach out, massive hands seize me. I am caught!
And then darkness.
I awaken with a start sitting up abruptly with a gasp. The same dream has been returning, one filled with painful memories. It continues to haunt me. Torture me. I have been dreaming of this life changing event nightly again. I lost Elof six years ago. I am no longer eleven. I am a grown woman of seventeen. But I can never forget. He still holds me aloft among eagles.
I stretch out on the bed, gazing up at the steep ceiling, through the square smoke hole, musing for a long time at the changing light, profound purple giving way to a lighter blue, dawn fast approaching. Snow flakes filter down from the smoke hole, landing on my nose and cheek. It is like this every year around the time of the feast of Ostara the goddess, the return of spring. It was this time of year my brother died, my home destroyed, and I was kidnapped. My world changed and all that I knew and loved was taken away from me. What should have been a time of celebration and renewal was a catastrophe for me.
Perhaps a blessing too. Those brawny arms that snatched me in the thicket saved my life. My kidnapper was my rescuer. I would learn months later he was merely one of the soldiers following the giant brute, but seeing me from afar, took pity on me. He was no more than a simple farmer with a family. His name was Bogdan, and was conscripted - forced under the threat of death - to join the Wends and their allegiance, the very people that attacked us, one of the largest collection of tribes forming the most powerful army anyone had ever seen. The Wends were not even from the Norselands, they were not Norsemen, they did not share our northern blood or language.
Bogdan had covered my mouth, put a finger to his lips gesturing me to be silent, carrying me away into the brush, hiding me from my attackers, stuffing me into a potato sack - a sack he had carried intended for stolen loot. That night I was the loot - stolen from his commander. Bogdan and his brothers and cousins that had sailed together were decidedly disgusted by the carnage and abandoned the campaign. I suppose the word would be mutiny. They stole one of the boats and sailed home back to their farms, taking me with them.
Of course I did not know any of this at first because he was Slavic and spoke in his native Slavonic tongue and I could not understand him. He might as well spoken with rocks in his mouth for all that it mattered. And even if I could have understood the Wendish way, it would have made no difference. For months, I had no interest in making eye contact and did not attempt to speak or offer any sign of communication, not even with hand gestures, so overpowering was my grief. I barely ate or drank or moved, often sitting alone in a corner staring ahead blankly, lost in my suffering.
But his eldest daughter, Mist, was the kindest of them all, adopted after being captured on one of their earlier raids, closest to my age, and I came to trust her. She was Norse like me, spoke my language. And she would often come and sit with me. Feed me. Sometimes wash me and comb my long blonde hair. Gradually I opened up and she taught me their language. She guided me with my chores around their small log house and farm. Eventually I came to trust my kidnapper, his wife, his family of three other daughters and four sons.
While I spoke little at first, Bogdan decided to give me a name because in my first few months there, I refused to say my name. He would later say with a laugh, for want of a name, even a stray cat is given a name. He called me Danika and said it was a Slavic name meaning morning star. Mist said she liked the name and would always call me that.
From Mist and her father, I learned the name of the giant brute that attacked me. He was called Kruto, a voivode, war-lord and ruthless leader of the Rani tribe uniting other tribes under his rule over the Wends. The night my village was destroyed, they had used longships stolen from the village of Torva, several days journey south of us. Torva, like us, was also sacked and burned and most of the villagers killed or enslaved. And this is why no alarms were sounded when ships from the village of Torva were seen entering our harbor. They were our friends and traded with us. They used these ships to fool us into lowering our defenses and then attacked and razed my village.
The armed men I saw coming from the lower foothill that killed my brother were an advance party that had landed further south, moved inland, surrounding, ambushing my village from both sides. We had no warning, no chance. Kruto killed my father and mother, my family, many in my village.
Kruto the Terrible is now my mortal enemy and I vow to one day kill him.
My father had been earl of our village for many years, but because of a serious and debilitating battle wound, my oldest brother, Elof became earl of the village. Spies directed Kruto's men to my family and to my brother. They knew my brother was the chieftain, and this is why they killed him and intended to harm or kill me. I am especially sure of this after I accidentally and with some good luck wounded Kruto with my brother's axe. And to this day, the whereabouts of my two other brothers are unknown. I can only assume dead.
I lived with this family for just over five years. But I was nearly sixteen when I was told Kruto had learned I was alive and was searching for me. Why he sought a girl that was no threat to him I did not understand. I wanted revenge, but him? For a minor knee injury? I am nothing, I thought - why me? But no matter the reason, Bogdan and his family were no longer safe with me around. I had to leave. And I wanted to leave, to return home to Selasund. I did not know what to expect, but I had to find out. I was more than a little bit surprised when Mist asked to go with me. We hugged everyone, wiped away our tears, and together sailed on a small vessel piloted by Bogdan's cousin.
When we sailed into Selasund, what we found was chaos. Not the village structures themselves. Surviving villagers that had fled the carnage had returned and rebuilt the village. Related families from other villages had also come to live here. The chaos was more about a power struggle. After the Wends had raided and plundered our store supplies and valuables, murdered the villagers and stupidly burned down the village, there was really not much left to rule over and they left behind a strategic harbor. I decided their method of conquest was not intelligent. Meanwhile, cousins and uncles related to my family fought in my absence over which one of them could rightfully rule as earl. They had several contentious leaders.
My opinion of the current chieftain, my third cousin, Hakon, is a complete idiot. I do realize I sometimes have strong opinions. But I am sure I am right. He has done next to nothing to shore up defenses or give much incentive to farmers. He is quite good at enriching himself, however.
He resents me too. As do some of the others in his ruling party. Some of the villagers say I am rightfully the earl. I have tactfully stayed out of the power struggle for the time being.
Six years. How much has changed. The skylight is growing brighter now. I decide to get up out of bed and face the day. But in that moment, I hear the longhouse door being kicked and broken open. Loud footsteps. Things getting knocked over and smashed.
Two men burst into my room, one carrying a sword, the other a leather cord. He seizes me, ripping off my amulet necklace. Spinning me around, he begins to strangle me with the cord. It happens so fast and I gasp and choke, kicking, flailing, fighting, grabbing at the cord, struggling for breath.
I kick the sword bearing man between his legs. It drops from his hand as he bends over in pain, then raises his fists and hits me again and again on the sides of my head. The room is becoming darker, a tunnel ahead of me. I cough and beat my pillow in desperation and remember the knife. I pat, pat under the pillow, fingers fumbling, grappling for my knife, fingers tightening around the handle. With my life ebbing away and with a desperate swing, I stab the strangler's forearm. He lets out a cry of pain and I am free of the cord. I swing the knife again, but sword man grips my wrist, twisting the knife away. They both drag me off the bed and beat me relentlessly on the floor. I scream, still kicking and fighting.
Blood gushes over my face and breasts, and I see the glint of steel blades emerging from a neck wound to the strangler, and a chest wound to the other man. Both men sway on their knees then fall face forward to the ground. Mist and Reginleif stand over the fallen men, their swords drawn. I cough again, clutching my throat, catching my breath.
They sheath their swords and help me to my feet. Mist runs her hands over me checking for injury, clearly distressed for me. "Are you alright?" I nod still trying to regain my voice.
"What kind of men do you keep company with?" Reginleif darkly jokes. She has pale blonde hair in tight cornrow braids, in contrast with her strong features and prominent jaw. She is a true fighter. I shrug, smiling weakly. "I think they were spies," she says more seriously. "I have never seen them before in the village."
"Nor I," says Mist. "What should we do?" Mist brushes back honey colored hair from her eyes. Her face always softer, composed and pretty no matter how dire the situation. She has been like a close sister and rock for me since my return.
"I will speak with Hakon at the feast tonight," I say. "Till then, say nothing. If there are others like them hidden in the village, we do not want them to know what happened." Mist and Reginleif nod and search the men's bodies for identifying clues or papers. Mist finds my round Vegvisir amulet and chain on the floor next to the man that had the cord. Retrieving it, she holds my hand open and pours it into my palm, closing my fingers around it. I kiss her cheek and whisper, "thank you," and she smiles back sweetly. They drag the men's bodies away, to where, I do not know. I quickly clean off and get dressed.
Mist soon catches up with me in the village. "You seem in a hurry Danika. Where are you going?"
"To see Groa," I say, hurrying my pace past the longhall, eyeing Hakon and a gathering of his men peering at me with disdain. I return a stony gaze. Mist gives them a look of contempt.
Children are playing on the path before us, running and skipping around the village well. We do all we can to not step on a child.
"Why do you wish to see the shaman?" Mist presses.
Two boys hear mention of the shaman and taunt us, shouting together, "Groa the witch! Going to see Groa the witch!"
"Groa our wise seer, our volva!" I shout back.
Mist goes a step further and slaps both boys on their butts. "Have some respect," she calls to them. They shake their head and giggle as they rub their asses, running off. "Would you like me to come with you?" she offers.
I shake my head. "This is very personal." Mist nods. "I will see you tonight."
Groa, never the social one, lives just beyond the edge of the village in a small hut surrounded by a sentry of boulders. I part the beaded curtains and poke my head inside. She raises a hand and gestures me to come in, pointing to a three legged stool. I take a seat and watch her as she cleans a leather piece. She wears a brown hooded cloak, the hood draped over her eyes, a red vest, and various ornaments. Long gray hair sneaks out from under her hood. The skin on her gnarled hands and parts of her face are burned and disfigured. She was old when I was eleven. She is older still. She says nothing to me. My eyes wander around the room. There are potions on shelves, bones, skulls of animals, gourds, wands, and magical items all around.
After a while, I ask her, "Why do you ignore me?"
She continues working before looking up, but not directly at me. "Because you are impatient."
"I have questions," I say, kneeling before her.
She stops working for a moment. "Then ask. No one is stopping you," she says, looking away from me to one side.
"What is to become of our village? Will there be peace?"
"No. Something terrible is coming. Very soon. Little time left." She resumes working.
"Is it the Wends? Are they coming back?" I implore.
Groa sets the leather work down and looks up again. "They are already here. And more are coming. A bigger army than before. You especially, are in great danger. You have something they want."
A wave of fear washes over me, but I marshal composure and fight it off. Looking steadily at Groa, I plead to her, "Tell me please. What is it I have they want? How can I save Selasund?"
Groa brushes the leather piece off blowing on it here and there. "If you knew what they seek, what awaits, you would hide under the boulders and wish not to come out. You must go to the Hrafn Forest. Your answers lie in the forest of ravens and within the temple of the dead and the Norns. It will be a perilous journey."
"But the Wends. None of the other things you say make sense. As always, you speak in riddles. What about the Wends?"
"I told you, they are coming. Little time is left. No more questions today. Put this on." Groa displays the leather piece she has been working on, a finely crafted leather battle vest. I rise up from the floor and slide it on admiring the fit.
"You… made this for me?" Groa nods. "Thank you. This is… beautiful."
Groa handles my amulet stroking its face. "This that you wear, it is also a spiritual compass that guides your heart and steps to make the right choices. Also if you have lost yourself and your faith, Vegvisir will help you find yourself again."
I nod, drop to my knees, and sticking my tongue out as far as I can, lick the shaman's palm.
By evening, the longhall is festive and oil lamps burn brilliantly. The long tables are decked with food and drink. People laughing, singing, eating, drinking and raising their cups to Ostara. Several musicians play. Mist and Reginleif are at my side. We look beyond the crowd to the jarl chair where Hakon sits, some of his men sitting close by. He seems to know I'm looking at him. He glares at me.
"Excuse me," I say to my companions. They nod as I walk away and cross the crowded hall to the earl.
"What do you want?" Hakon grouses, taking a long drink from his cup before setting it down to look at me with scorn. Some of his men stand up and come toward me.
"A moment of your time," I say as politely as I can.
"Can't you see I am busy?" he laughs, looking around at his men before taking another drink. His men laugh with him.
"It is about your power here. And the future of your village," I assert. "There was an attack this morning. Some men from the Wends."
He cocks his head back, staring up at the ceiling, shrugging with an exaggerated mix of drama and exasperation. "Alright, we will talk." He gesture me to follow him to a small back room behind his chair. "What is it this time?"
I tell him everything, the men that tried to kill me this morning, how Mist and Reginleif killed them. We have spies among us. Testing our defenses. I explain my deep concerns for the weak fortifications and overall defense of the village. He insists the Wends and he have an agreement. I tell him the agreement means nothing. It is a trick. He does not believe me.
"You are wasting my time," Hakon bellows. "You are too young to know better. This is about power is it not? This is the real reason you came to me. Well, I will say this. You are too young to lead this village. I am the rightful earl here, not you. I do not like you. And the people here do not like you. Why did you return? Go away to where you came from. You do not belong here."
"You are not listening to me," I shout angrily. "We are in great danger, you, this village, all of us. They are coming. They will attack us. We must strengthen our fortifications now and prepare…"
"We are done here. Get out," he says, pointing with annoyance at the door.
Back in the hall, Mist and Reginleif look at me expectantly. I shake my head. When I reach them, I lean closer and whisper, "Hakon is a stubborn man. He will not prepare. We must take matters into our own hands."
They both nod understanding. When I glance back over my shoulder, Hakon is whispering to several of his own men. They nod and cross the room approaching us. We place our hands on our sword sheaths. The music stops, the room suddenly grows quiet. All eyes are upon us.
Copyright Danika Meyers
In the beginning, the Valkyrie came from the far north, many as free women and shieldmaidens from the lands of Vikings and Torvaldsland. Journeying south, settling in the forests of ravens, a place called Valkyrie Forest, they took the name Valkyrie Panthers for their band. They and their bonds and thralls carried with them some of the rich cultural heritage and influences of the northern customs. The Valkyrie were led by Danika Stenvaag.
One day, the Torva Panthers, journeying from the forests of Tharna in search of a new home, came upon the Valkyrie in their forests, soon joining them. The Torva were led by Robin Dancer. Together, they became the Valkyrie Torva Panthers.
Entering Valkyrie Forest, you are in a world shrouded in spires of jade-hued pine... a place of snow-clad, glacier peaks and waterfalls, clear cold meandering streams, and long forgotten standing Runestones. You have journeyed far north into the Northern Forest and are close to the border of Torvaldsland... This is Valkyrie Forest, an upper region of the Northern Forest.
Take a few moments to stop and enjoy the peace of the forest. While you are in meditation, take note of the Valkyrie Ravens flying overhead; they are always watching over the lands. They may even be watching you. It is magical.
One day, the Torva Panthers, journeying from the forests of Tharna in search of a new home, came upon the Valkyrie in their forests, soon joining them. The Torva were led by Robin Dancer. Together, they became the Valkyrie Torva Panthers.
Entering Valkyrie Forest, you are in a world shrouded in spires of jade-hued pine... a place of snow-clad, glacier peaks and waterfalls, clear cold meandering streams, and long forgotten standing Runestones. You have journeyed far north into the Northern Forest and are close to the border of Torvaldsland... This is Valkyrie Forest, an upper region of the Northern Forest.
Take a few moments to stop and enjoy the peace of the forest. While you are in meditation, take note of the Valkyrie Ravens flying overhead; they are always watching over the lands. They may even be watching you. It is magical.
While the site is down, view some of our photos...
Visit our site on Flickr here:
Valkyrie Torva Panthers Photos on Flickr
https://www.flickr.com/photos/valkyrie-panthers/
Visit our site on Flickr here:
Valkyrie Torva Panthers Photos on Flickr
https://www.flickr.com/photos/valkyrie-panthers/
This site is under reconstruction. Now be a good surfer and come visit our new site again soon. Thanks for your patience!
The Valkyrie Panthers have become a treatment and story concept (Warner Bros.) but are years away from production. In the meantime, story concepts are played out on controlled gaming platforms and virtual reality. The original platform was developed in Second Life by a young female college student during her freshman year at UCLA with two other female friends and continues today as a live action roleplay game in a virtual Valkyrie Forest found here: http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Valkyrie%20Forest/220/95/26
Below are some sample albums of the Valkyrie Torva in Valkyrie Forest from their Valkyrie Flickr web site. The photo albums are not current, going back years to 2011, and as such are in desperate need of updating. The photo samples presented here were taken during the flexi era, before mesh builds became mainstream. Expect them to be updated with many more photos coming soon. For now, some of the albums presented here reflect the seasons in Valkyrie Forest. A recurring theme are the Valkyrie feathers, blue for the air color of the Valkyrie, red for the fire passion of the Torva that joined them. Together, they are elemental like air and fire, found in the seaons... One sisterhood... Click the photo links to take you to the albums.
ValkyriePanthers.com
© 2016. All Rights Reserved.