Sifjar

Across the void, far from the Northern Heavens...
Time slips through grasping fingers...
Trust is hard to come by....
But strength and cunningis a source of power....

Sifjar had stepped into the arena like she had so many times before in the two hundred and fifty years since she had landed in this realm; hearing her name chanted gleefully when she was announced. Many a warrior did she face in this coliseum--and most had felt the glorious end that the Aesir woman had given them, her own end never seemed to come for her. She had hoped that Ragnarok would be her last, great battle, but her hopes had been dashed when she had opened her eyes to see the reddish-orange sky of Noxrammas.

The shieldmaiden quickly learned that there were not many in this realm to trust, and to get anything for themself, one had to be either conniving enough, or tough enough to bully people--luckily, she was the latter. She was hauled to the coliseum, where she was but to entertain the masses with feats of strength against opponents. Over the first decade she had spent on Noxrammas, she built a reputation befitting any of the people of the Northern Heavens. She focused on survival mostly, but a spark of hope to one day return to the Northern Heavens to see if she wasn't the only one that survived.

Sifjar worked hard to earn enough coin for materials to first forge new weapons; a shield formed from a hard light projection, originating from a gauntlet that switches to a harmless and plain circular bracelet. The sword was forged from an element known as Vacrum, with allows her to channel energy along the blade.

The next goal was to find or build a ship to get herself home. She happened to do both, in that she from a carcass of a ship, and tried, with many failures through trial and error, to fix it up into a worthy enough vessel to travel in.