After recovering from their respective injuries, Desmond and Aisha left the cave of the armored armadillos, heading deeper into the mines. It wasn't long before Desmond reconsidered his initial impression of Aisha's strength. Seeing her turn a pair of impaler beetles into jam had that kind of effect on people.
Aisha was like the most beautiful of berserkers, brandishing her massive Warhammer made of magma. The ground shook with every step she took, the hissing sounds caused by her hammer breaking the wind always followed by the grotesque sound of flesh and bone being crushed with brute force.
It was hard to associate Aisha's naive and kind smile with her battle-crazed attitude. "It seems to be a racial thing." Desmond thought to himself, associating the word Valkyrie in Aisha's race name with war and battle.
