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Aastra woke up to the typical sounds of your village as the first rays of sunlight shined through the windows and crevices of her home. There were birds singing, men and women talking and laughing, the sound of iron against stone indicating the blacksmith was hard at work sharpening something, and, her personal favorite, the smell of baking bread from around the corner at the bakery. All seemed well, the Gods had smiled across the tribe this day with a beautiful day.

Getting up, Aastra started by stretching and getting down to do some push ups to warm her body and help wake it up. She wasn’t particularly curvaceous, having a moderately sized chest at around a B, smallish around the tribe, and a largish butt that put her in the top quarter of the tribe in that way, evening out what she might lack in chest. She was more so pretty in the face, and while she had suitors in the past, most of the attention she’d been receiving was new due to her performance in the raids. Everyone loved a pretty face, but that pretty face was a lot better when she could also slit an English knight’s throat and bask in the chaos of pillaging after a raid.

Standing back up, Aastra cracked her neck and stretched once more before finding her favorite axe near her bed, a habit which her mother called paranoid. Spinning it in her hand and performing a few parries and swiping moves against the air to begin her practice for the day, she was distracted by the sound of someone at the door. Tossing the axe onto her bed, she sighed and walked towards it, opening it up to see who the heck needed her this early. They were lucky she woke up when she did.

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