Allt veit ek Óðinn

Bylgja yowlped as her back leg caught on something. She'd not intended to fall, not intended to crash through the water, not intended for any of this; as the viking stood, dripping wet and bloodied, she shook out her leg and squinted angrily at the ice wall before her. Fine, fine. Fine. If the weather-- if the water, if the world -- wanted to be this way, she'd be that way just in turn.

So, the tattooed she-wolf snarled, reared up on her hind legs, and charged.

She sought to slam her weight against one of the weak spots, bringing all her force to bear on the thin-looking spot. Was it smart? Certainly not. But she didn't care. What was the point of giving a damn about that, anyway? Trying to be smart got her hurt!

Bylgja uses STRENGTH