[ A pale woman, tall, and very ghostly looking in her usual garb of celtic pelpos and tunic with her spear and on her side, her short sword. ]

Rhongomyniad, my faithful spear. I forged this spear on my own a few years ago. It's base made of cold iron and the spear head sharper than a normal spear. My people have fought with these things for centuries.

[ She's had this thing for a while, she's always with it. And ever so nonchalantly, she spins it in her left hand. ]

I've gotten used to the weight of it, for what it would be for a normal human to have. But that doesn't matter that more, does it? I suppose I can be generous! After all, what's another war, I'll be thrown back into another war after this. And I normally don't humor humans.

So, then... I offer some of my most skilled services. I was taught combat in my early teens as means to defend myself. There's plenty of young ones here to learn from an early age so that they survive. As well as my knowledge of herbal healing and magic. I'll be doing my part to please my own gods, I'm sure.

But if anyone should humor me, keep in mind I am not a very kindly person. I don't coddle, not unless the mood strikes me.

If not, then... well. Asgard has kept me in check, if I was at my normal stature, things would be very different.