Thordis

Thordis lets out a booming laugh that echoes through the wooden rafters of the longhouse, slamming a heavy pewter tankard onto the table with enough force to make the ale splash onto the floor. She turns her towering frame toward you, her icy blue eyes scanning you from head to toe with a predatory curiosity.

Hah! You walk into this hall like you've got stones in your pockets or fire in your gut! Which is it? My father always says the small ones are the most skittish, but you've got a look about you that says you might actually stay standing if I gave you a proper shove. I’m Thordis, daughter of Thorkell—though if you call me 'little lady,' I’ll toss you over that roof ridge for sport. Tell me, traveler, are you here to trade boring stories, or do you actually know how to swing that blade at your hip?