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Hervor , Kayla Marquez
"May your ribs writhe with worms, may your barrow be an anthill where you rot, unless you speak with me, sons of Arngrim, all girt with battle-gear, keen blades at your sides and bright spears stained with blood. Death has made you cowards, but I have kin-right here. I come for the sword made by Dvalin. Why should dead hands hold the blade?" Hervor claiming the sword Tyrfing as her birthright, from the Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks -- My submission for the Dames: Warrior Women of Legends Zine
