The problem with being a barbarian was that you were always broke and you would turn to anything for money (within reason). Asgrim himself was flat out broke, his escapade from the islands of the oracle had come up empty when he spend all his gold on booze and tavern mullets. The smart man would have brought a home with the amount of money Asgrim had managed to steal from the treasure cove, but instead he had spent it all in a matter of days and ended up with nothing. And a hangover. And a large love bite on his neck.
...what a night that was...
So now the tall, muscular and scarred barbarian was once again on the look for adventure. When he left Lomedor, he simply pointed in a direction and asked what was there. It turned out that amongst many other things, there was a place called Dori'ba... AKA: the land of the dead. It sounded very pleasant, so Asgrim decided to head off and see if any graves had too many jewels for their own good. Besides, what good did the dead have for jewellery anyway? In his tribe, when you died, you were set alight and buried in the mountains with no possessions. Asgrim never understood why civilised men decided to lay flowers down besides graves, it didn't make any difference...
The only problem was that Dori'ba wasn't a graveyard, or it used to be. But it looked like something had blown a hurricane through the place and Asgrim ended up looking around a graveyard that had all the gravestones destroyed and no jewellery to take at all.
Asgrim swore and kicked a stone. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind. Not only that, but there were rumours of zombies rising from the graves as well, which it seemed were false. There were no zombies at all, nothing but the desolate wasteland of an ex-graveyard. Asgrim looked at the dark gloomy sky and the trees that looked like bony hands looking to clutch at something. He had imagined that he would find something worth while here but instead he had found nothing at all but dust and crud. Sitting down on a small log, Asgrim rested his head on his hand and wondered what to do next with his boring life.

[OOC: Just as a note (mostly for myself in the future), this is a detour/break from Ita's timeline and a fastforward to Ita's very early raiding days, rather than the sickly Ita currently being portrayed in Your Cities Will Burn. [/random]]

"Ita, as much as I respect yer nav'gational skills, I think we're lost. Are we anywhere near the Ered Annon?"

The lupine scoffed at such a contradictory notion, failing to even acknowledge the raider's incredulous comment. Was he blind? The mountains were right before them, dotting the horizon! It was a beautiful view, Ita mused; the looming snow-capped Ered Annon mountains, the field of grasses stretching for miles in every direction, and the sweet scent of wildflowers coming from an unknown source.

The warrior accompanying her, however, gave his leader a puzzled look. The pair, mounted on horseback, was overlooking one of the most feared areas in Salquedor; Dori'ba, a decaying land where little life existed. In fact, the area had been the site of Ita's second death, when the White Knight Tulkas struck down the cursed Vala and shed her of some of the magicks containing her innately divine nature. Now that said nature was lost, it seemed everything had come full circle; Ita just didn't know it yet, due to the severity of her hallucination.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, the raider finally broke the silence. "I'm, uh, gunna scout the area. An' maybe gather some food. Stay here. Try not to get into trouble." He immediately prompted his horse into a turn and galloped the opposite direction they had been facing. Thinking little of it, Ita raised a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun and scouted the area visually.

Bah. He doubts my brilliance. Everyone knows a lupine's intuition is the best intuition! It seemed odd to her, however, that this particular area of the grasslands was not covered in snow or frost. Blades were bright green, long, and twisted into intricate shapes. The clouds above moved quickly, as though forced through the air by a massive gust of wind, and the mountains in the distance, upon further inspection, seemed almost tinted... red.

"How peculiar," Ita mumbled to herself. "Well, Earthrender, let us check out this anomaly for ourselves!" The horse she sat upon gave a disapproving snort, unwilling to move despite numerous frustrated kicks from its master. Ita hesitated, sighed, and grumbled, "Okay. Let's go... Paprika." Almost instantly the beast was moving.

The more steps it made, however, the more the area before her seemed to change. The beautiful grass around her was disappearing, almost melting, and the clouds above grew darker. Even the mountains before her were shrinking, losing their beautiful red color, until completely out of view. Was she beginning to hallucinate? Ita blinked a few times at the sight before her, a place that seemed eerily familiar. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by a peculiar man sitting on a log Paprika was unknowingly approaching.

Ita motioned the roan horse to come to a stop when they crossed paths. She studied the man for a moment. "Odd. I never realized zombies could be so lifelike," she said to her horse, a hand sliding to the hilt of the short sword hanging at her hip.

Well today hadn't gone as planned that was for sure. Asgrim sat there with a glum look on his face, wondering where he should go next. The land of the dead was in the middle of no-where, with nothing to do it would seem. Asgrim began to think of what would need to be done next, for he would need food soon, and when he got hungry he got grumpy. He had no idea where the nearest town was and so going in a direction could easily get him lost, resulting in the barbarian dying of starvation.

It was then that he suddenly heard something, someone. Two people. Turning his head, the barbarian saw a site he couldn't believe at first. The first person was a small skinny little runt who Asgrim thought he could break like a twig with one hand. But he wasn't the most important person... the most important of them all was the giant bipedal wolf-like creature sitting on a powerful warhorse. The creature's fur was red like the volcanoes of the mountains, and her eyes were wild like the wolfish exterior. Asgrim had heard stories of this creature, Ita the Reckless... the goddess of chaos.

Asgrim huffed to himself, all the gods were were meddling beings who seemed to interrupt in people's lives and basically cause problems where there were none. This war on the moon which was happening at the moment, only a god and his greed could cause that much commotion. All a man really needed was a sword, courage, and the will to kill his enemies. That was all a god should provide for their people, the rest should be up to their followers. Being one of those gods who wanted worshippers and followers would cause you trouble in the end... and here was the result.

Ita the Reckless, no longer was she the divine beast that had cleaved skulls to the teeth with her powerful axe. Instead, she was a mere mortal dog who was reduced to walking everywhere or (in this case) riding everywhere. It was really quite a treat to see Ita look around like a puzzled tourist, wondering where on earth she was. Asgrim would have laughed if it wasn't so pathetic.

It was then that Ita's eyes lay on Asgrim and the barbarian placed his hand on his sword, ready to defend himself... for Ita was unpredictable to the point where she would attack someone just to shut them up from talking. So Lothlomendil knew what she was going to do now. Ita seemed to study Asgrim for a moment before opening her mouth and speaking in a raspy voice...

"Odd. I never realized zombies could be so lifelike,"

Asgrim's eyes flashed as red as Ita's fur, the insult hitting him full on the face. So did she think that just because she was an ex-goddess meant she could mock him? How dare she? Asgrim stood up and drew his blade, snarling at her with anger.

"Do I look like a zombie you flea-bitten mutt?" growled Asgrim, "Looks like living with mortal men seems to have made you delusional Ita, some goddess you turned out to be..."

"Do I look like a zombie you flea-bitten mutt? Looks like living with mortal men seems to have made you delusional Ita, some goddess you turned out to be..." The glaring Ita tore out her sword abruptly in response, forcing the bloodlustful Paprika to whirl about, stomping the ground and unleashing an impatient neigh. Bone remnants crushed under his hooves and dull gray dust was agitated and tossed into the air. "It was an easy mistake to make! Zombies are, after all, blatantly thick and uncivilized," she fired back, holding her blade high in the air before giving it a quick flourish to bring it to point at the man's face.

At this motion, however, she realized the reach of her blade would not be long enough to do more than give Asgrim a new haircut, if she wished to remain on Paprika's back where she had an advantage of speed and maneuverability. Ita would simply use the warhorse as a mobile spell platform, where she could remotely fire off the few spells she had remembered or relearned after losing them all. There were still drawbacks with this course of action, however; since she was riding bareback and lacked totally masterful control of her horse, it would be difficult to stay on its back while still maintaining distance from the barbarian to line up her shots accurately.

"Hell, you're not even a proper brute!" taunted Ita, digging her heels into Paprika's ribs to get him cantering in a circle just out of the man's reach. "I know orcs that could pick you up like a ragdoll and throw you across this gods-forsaken graveyard. Try to catch me, thickie! I dare you." Sheathing her sword to free up a hand once more, Ita's focus soon shifted to recalling one of the spells she forced herself to memorize and relearn. Within seconds a small arcane spark flickered into life, hovering just above her palm. It began to grow and expand into a small ball of red-colored lightning before moving to the tips of her obsidian-colored claws, ready to be fired. The former Vala could already feel the single spell eating away at a small portion of her magical energy, a massive change from her formerly near-endless reserves she once possessed long ago.

Focusing on the blade-wielding barbarian once more, Ita brought up the lightning-crackling hand, her expression focused but otherwise blank. Since "Earthrender" was constantly moving, she had to constantly adjust her aim to remain focused on Asgrim. Remaining seated on the warhorse was no easy task either without the aid of a saddle; directing him was even harder. Everything would have to go perfectly in order for the lupine to come out victorious. Whispering a brief prayer to herself, Ita let the spell fly.

Blood red lightning tore out of her fingertips and through the air like a knife through butter, each small bolt combining into a potentially devastating arc. Almost immediately Ita used her now spell-free hand to grip Paprika's neck, as she had been sliding off him slightly during her attack. After stabilizing herself, Ita's mind became flooded with further tactical decisions; maintenance of speed, what spell to use next, management of her stores of mana, among other points. She cursed her luck for having to fight the man alone without the help of the raider, but she would have to make due. She refused to die in such a pathetic manner, to a simple barbarian.

It would have been incredibly helpful, but Ita doubted her ally would ever return.

"It was an easy mistake to make! Zombies are, after all, blatantly thick and uncivilized," Ita retorted, or at least attempted to retort.
This insult misfired somewhat, for it was true that Asgrim wasn't knowledgeable of many things and was uncivilised. And he was proud of it, for civilised men were cowardly and weak at times, always throwing gold at a problem instead of ever trying to fix it with muscle. The only exceptions to this were a few people that Asgrim had ever met, such as The Black Dragon. Now there was a man who wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty to get some answers.
"I may be uncivilised, but at least I'm no leg-humping ex-goddess," grinned Asgrim, "See... I know nothing about you gods because you don't interest me. Who wants to be a god? Where's the fun in that? But where I come from, if you don't kill an enemy, it's because they're too weak and living is a more fitting punishment. And your an example why, you walking carpet of ticks and mites. Rumour has it you were even beaten by a mortal in a tin-can suit of armour as well... HA! The mighty Ita the Reckless, who claims to be an all powerful being who can wield some axe and shoot thunderbolts out of her armpits. Beaten by a mere man..."
Ita then tore out her sword from her scabbard and waved it above her head with some sort of bravado and her horse neighed. She pointed the blade at Asgrim's face... only to find that the blade fell quite a distance from him and would only cut a bit off the barbarian's black locks.
"I think your sword is a little short..." chuckled Asgrim, reaching for his longsword. Drawing his blade forth, Asgrim held onto it, ready for a fight.

But instead, Ita dug her heels into her horse and childed Asgrim to come and catch her. Now only was she a shihtzu, she was also a coward. Asgrim didn't bother chasing after her. What was the point in giving the baby his bottle? Maybe Ita thought of this as well, for she seemed to be raising her hand up and casting some sort of spell. Asgrim started to crouch like a mountain cat ready to pounce. He waited for the right time for it, waited for the time when he would pounce. Ita was sure taking her time, and that was the problem for spellcasters. The only good wizard was one who was locked in his little tower. Asgrim didn't like magic much, anyone could do it. But who could... oh crap she was about to fire!

There was a flash and Asgrim jumped backwards as the lightning spell hit the ground where he once was. Only his mountain cat like reflexes had saved him from being turned into soot, but the shock wave from the spell sent him flying backwards. Asgrim landed heavily on his back, the shock waves shooting up his spine. Asgrim grunted and rolled backwards, using the force of the spell's shockwaves to land back on his feet.

"Too afraid to tackle me one on one Ita?" goaded the barbarian.
And then he did something which was surely going to make sparks fly. He was provoking the dog, but he would bare with the inability to not be able to sit down when he got there. Asgrim turned around, his back to Ita, bent over and pulled down his loin cloth that was hiding his shame, baring all to Ita in a classical barbarian moony!

"C'mon Ita, hit me right here" he jeered, slapping the right cheek, "If you do then I'll buy you an ale!"

Paprika was getting impatient now, his breathing turning violent and erratic. The warhorse thrashed its head and let forth a bellowing neigh, nearly throwing the lupine off his back from the force. Stabling herself, she whirled the beast to an abrupt stop, sending a cloud of dust into the air. When it faded, Ita studied the result of her attack. Rather than the man having collapsed on the ground convulsing or simply dead, a circular dot of charred ground marked the area the bolt had hit, and missed. He was a quick little bugger. The barbarian, however, had been preferring to taunt her rather than give chase, so why bother stay moving? "Too afraid to tackle me one on one Ita?"

Ita snorted, her demeanor turning pompous. "I am showing you mercy. A frontal assault would have made you die slower and more painfully." Holding up her free palm once more, another arcane spark materialized just as before. Rather than growing into a ball of electricity, however, it rapidly formed into a large globe of fire. Now that she was stationary, it would be difficult to miss; hurling the fireball in his direction, she hoped for the best. Then Asgrim proceeded in his heretical displays, even going so far as to moon the former goddess. Temporarily stunned by such a horrible sight, Ita gave an agitated growl before honoring the brute's request. Another fireball soon followed as an attempt to ensure his rear was properly fried to oblivion.

"How dare you?!" she bellowed in verbal reply, tearing out her short sword once more and raising it to the skies, forcing Paprika to violently pivot to face him. The horse's glare was as piercing as its owner's, clouds of vapor pushed out of its nostrils with each exhalation like that of an angered bull. A brief flash of light within Ita's sword-holding palm was the only apparent cause of her blade bursting into flames with the haste of a matchstick, giving it the appearance of a torch. "You want to fight like men, huh? Let's hope you have friends to remember your pathetic life once I take it from you."

With a single powerful kick the warhorse tore into a charge, galloping in a trajectory just to the side of the stationary barbarian. Ita let go of her horse's neck and positioned herself; finally, when close enough, she dug her claws into its body before launching herself off of it and hopefully into the barbarian directly. By knocking him off balance she could at least get in a powerful fiery stab with her weapon, finishing him off once and for all. He already had been a waste of her time and attention thus far. Paprika, now riderless, made a pronounced U-turn to prepare himself for a second charge, this time directly at his master's enemy to aid in the fight.