'This is the last presentation of the day, my King.'
Lady Sif backed down the marble staircase with her head bowed and looked upon Odin.
With his aged features having become more prominent since the death of his wife the lady warrior felt that his new goal of recruiting as many skilled warriors to train and defend Asgard's palace had become more of an obsession rather than protection. For days on end the palace had received scores of warriors sent for from the farthest edges of the Nine Realms by royal command, parading and showing off the various cultures skills, whether it be of the offence or defence nature.
Lady Sif and The Warriors Three had been called upon to supervise the proceedings, and at the request of Odin, put the prize warriors through their paces. Several times the King's special fighters had overcome the visiting warriors. Hogan had out-skilled the blade work of three monks from Niffleheim and Fandral managed to knock out a large brutish moss-like man from Yggdrasill.
There however had been many visiting fighters that seemed up to the challenge, and at the nod of the King had been escorted to the barracks and training camp run by Odin's own Crimson Guard. At the head of this elite group of Asgardian soldiers was a rather rough and gritty man called Theoric. Sif was not impressed with the Captain's attitude due to him being a man of few words, rather communicationg through grunts and guttural throat noises. He never cared for the wellbeing of his troops, and saw them as indispensable, and the new influx of warriors to train to the standard of the Crimson Guard seemed more of an inconvenience to him rather than an opportunity. However, his ability to see the weaknesses in his troops and train them to be the best fighters they could be was the reason Odin had appointed him after Thor had left Asgard with the female mortal.
This appointment of Theoric had been a sore point for the Warriors Three due to the rumours of Volstagg's obvious and imminent raise to leadership. A small scuffle had broken out in the Palace corridors soon after the announcement had been made, with Fandral and Hogun physically restraining Volstagg against Theoric, and Sif calmly talking the new Captain out of dismissing Volstagg out of the service of the All-Father indefinitely...
Sif noticed her eye line had drifted towards the Captain who was stood across the steps that led up to Odin's throne. Stood alone his tall frame cast an impressive silhouette that fell upon the last group of warriors that had arrived at the foot of the stairs and his piercing eyes surveyed the group that knelt before their King. He took a step down and lifted his chin as he commanded the attention of the Throne Room.
'State the name of your Champions and where you reside in the Nine Realms.'
'We are the Three Rogues. We are brothers and sons of Iwaldi and have travelled from the farthest reaches of Northern Asgard in order to-'
'You are Vanir.'
All eyes fell on the All-Father who had arisen from his throne and leant heavily on the golden staff that had killed thousands of enemies in his service. It had been the first comment he had uttered for the past three days of presentation, and the whole room was watching with bated breath at the exchange.
'My brothers and our Father are of Vanaheim, my King.' Came a response from one of the three men who stood their ground. His hair was dark, and three scars ran from his left eye vertically down as if clawed by a wild animal. He stood a head above his two brothers, was as wide as both of them together and his sword and shield were held in front of all three of them, almost as if anticipating attack. Their battered and dirty armour gave away not only their poverty and low-standing, but the patterns resembled that of the armour one the Warriors Three wore. With a glance from Odin, Hogun nodded and a small smirk crossed his face in pride at his nephews.
'Our new Mother is of Asgard, hence why we now reside in your glorious Kingdom.'
Odin gave a glance over the three young men, the small retinue behind them and then slowly lowered himself back into his elaborate seat. With a glance to his right, Theoric stalked down towards the brothers.
'Names?'
'I am Balendin,' the eldest responded, and pointed to the middle and younger brother, 'with Tarben and Endre.'
Theoric scathingly side glanced each brother in turn, shaking his head mockingly.
'Your brothers are no match for my men. They could not reach a Bilgesnipe's behind, nevermind wield a longsword.'
'My Lord-' Balendin began to protest, but he was cut off swiftly.
'I am not a Lord.' Growled Theoric, staring straight into the young man's eyes. 'They are not worth my time and efforts. Prove yourself in combat against a King's warrior then I may just consider your placement in the Crimson Guard.'
With a beckoning movement of his metal clad hand towards Hogun, the Uncle of the three brothers slowly and reluctantly made his way down to face Balendin in combat. As he passed Theoric he made a small grunting noise in disgust towards the Captian, who seemed to grunt back and smirk at the events that were to unfold.
'Let Tarben and Endre fight! They are more than capable of battle!' came a cry from the small entourage. A figure made their way through the three brothers and towards the steps of the throne.
'Stop it sister!' hissed Balendin, pulling her back towards the men.
'My King, please, let my brothers prove themselves.' The girl called to Odin, her large eyes pleading towards the stoic figure.
She was not like her brothers, as she called them. She was not a Vanir, but seemed instead to be Aesir and of Asgard. Her large hair was scruffy and contained many braids and beads and feathers that belonged to the Northern dwellers, and decorations of dyes in intricate designs flowed down her tanned arms. She also looked of low standing and dirty, but her large frame that of a female warrior seemed to create an image of a strong willed young woman who did not fit the role of sister to the smaller Rogues.
Amazed at the impertinence and rudeness of this low life, Theoric strode towards her and stood almost nose to nose, trying to intimidate this disgusting low-life.
'How dare you speak to the All-Father, you insolent wench!' he bellowed, looking her up and down in wonder as to how such misbehaviour had been bred into her.
'Captain!' came the booming voice of Odin. Neither the woman nor Theoric broke their stare as the brute stepped to the side to allow his King to see the pleb.
'Who are you, my child? You are not a Vanir, nor these men's sister.'
Reluctantly breaking her stare with the large bully in front of her she walked towards the bottom of the throne and with her dark rimmed eyes looked into the green speckled pools of blue above her.
'My King, I am Sigyn, daughter of the Priestess Freya, and adopted daughter of Iwaldi, and I demand you let my brothers be allowed to prove their skills in combat, as was decreed by your grace.'
