THE QUEEN OF THE NORTH
Name: Valeriya Fullstag
Age: 31
Sex: Shemale
Race: Valkyrie
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 250lbs
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Skin Tone: Pale/White
Piercings: Nipples
Kinks: F-list.
Biography:
The Tundra is an unforgiving place to live. The winters are harsh, and food is often scarce. But despite that, the barbarian tribe flourish. They hunt and ride the length of the tundra, and any who enter are prey to them and their needs. That is unless a deal is struck. The current chieftain, Valeriya, is forgiving of travelers who wish to trade, and trade well, but those who just try to sneak past the Barbarians are caught and then used as slaves.
The story of Valeriya Fullstag began twenty some odd winters ago, born to two regular members of the tribe. Her Father was a Raider, her Mother was a craftswoman for the tribe. She made the tent covers, clothes, and other items for the people. Her birthname was Valeriya Raknisdottr. With two rather important professions, Val's early life was not one of want. She grew like a weed, by her teenage years already standing at six foot tall. She learned to fight, as she wished rather than taking over her mother's role of crafting. She took to the sword like a baby to a breast, finding swordplay to be the most enjoyable way of combat. She thought of one day joining her father in a raid, and that excited her more than anything. However, that would not come to pass.
The Fullstag tribe was the target of a raid from a rival tribe within the mountains, and while Valeriya was able to stand her ground and kill her attackers, many of the tribe was not so lucky. Within that number were her father and her mother. At the age of 16, she had to build their pyres, and watch their spirits go to the gods. Her father was to enter Valhalla, as was her mother. They both had fought bravely, and thus Valeriya knew she would see them once more. But that didn't stop her from being wracked with pain, guilt that she wasn't there to protect them, to help them. With the tribe splintered, the roles of leadership were under constant shifts.
The following four years were rough on the Fullstag tribe. The chieftain was changing constantly, due to the right of combat that every member held. If they believed they could do a better job, they challenged the chieftain to a duel. The winner was then proclaimed chieftain. No one survived more than two or three fights before they fell, so every year saw between five to six different chieftains. Due to the infighting, raids nearly halted, hunting became a difficult task, and hunger was well felt by all. Val could never remember the monster of hunger clawing at her belly before, and for four years she managed to survive it. A terrible four years, but she managed it.
Upon the coming of her twenty-first winter, Valeriya stepped up to challenge the current chieftain of the tribe, Roltan. A drunkard of a man, who only thought of raiding for booze, instead of food. They had stores to squeeze by the winter, but there was still time to go for more, yet Roltan only wished to drink. So, Valeriya stepped up to challenge him, and as the law proscribed, he accepted. They met within the hour in front of the eating hall that had been set up for their winter camp. Her longsword versus the Chieftain's ax. The fight wasn't long, but it was messy. Roltan, though drunk, could still swing his ax with ferocity, striking out at Valeriya with anger and purpose. He wanted to live and to stay chieftain after all. But Valeriya wasn't going to lose to a drunkard. She blocked and parried strikes, the edge of the blade making dents in the haft of Roltan's ax rather than meeting blade every time.
Rogue slashes from both sides earned blood, feeling it trickling down her arms, while Roltan's legs were becoming soaked with the viscous fluid. Then the turning point of the fight came, and Valeriya blocked the swing of Roltan's ax once more, this time with enough force that the head of it fell away, though the act of it put a gash within her left shoulder. Roltan staggered back now that his weapon was broken, and Valeriya took the chance to rush him and ram the blade through his heart. The drunkard didn't even manage to breathe his final words before he passed, and though he was a drunk, Valhalla awaited him for dying in battle.
Valeriya was proclaimed Chieftain, hailed as Valeriya Fullstag for the first time. She lifted her sword arm in victory, the other too weakened by the open wound on the shoulder to lift. The village healers came to tend to her wounds, while she issued her first order. Hunting raids were to leave within the hour. They needed to bulk the stores before the winters come, and once they were sufficiently filled, then they would feast to celebrate her win. And within the month, the storehouses made had been filled to bursting, miraculously having found a herd of elk which could be hunted heavily. The oracles proclaimed it a sign of the gods' pleasure that Valeriya was now chieftain.
The feast occurred within the middle of winter, a large meal with plenty of drink, and revelry. Valeriya drank her share, and ate her fill, laughing with the few friends she still had from childhood. Her left arm was still not fully mobile due to the scar that now ran along her flesh, a dent in her profile, but one she could deal with.
Seven years passed, and Valeriya still remained chieftain of the Fullstag. She had a few challengers after the first winter, and she won them all with ease. After she won four times in a row, the members of the tribe thought it proper that she was to continue in her post for now. As the years passed, she bound the other tribes to hers, unifying a good number of the Barbarian tribes. She won ether through challenge of the chieftain, or through mutually beneficial deals struck with other chieftains. Those whom would not bind to her often found themselves at the mercy of raids, or mindless attacks. Valeriya was determined that the tribes be bound. In those seven years, she had brought the Fullstags back to what they had been before that terrible raid.
And still, she leads them, directing raids upon the settlements that encroach upon the Tundra, leading hunting parties into the further north. With every year that passes, she feels exceedingly more adept at her role as Chieftain, and it shows. None would challenge her anymore, quite content with her as Chieftain.
[ Not written out expressly, but Val's people have grown from a pack of barbarians and nomads to a functioning Kingdom. They've founded a capital city, Iceholm, and use a castle that was built into the side of a mountain as their own. The castle itself was found there, abandoned, and Val's people claimed it for their own use. A town was built around the castle, as well as a port though the ice closes it for part of the year. Val's nation is quickly growing into that of a proper Kingdom, which also means she must play the part of a proper Queen. The adjustment is hard, but she makes due, for her people.]
