She roared in
With a fury
And abandon
Rarely seen
Charging in with
Naught but
Two axes
And terrible vigor
Creating corpses
As she waded
Through swathes
Of combatants
Only dried blood
Decorated her garb
As new blood
Rained upon it
A fire raged
In the eyes
Like a gift from
Odin himself
A trance-like fever
Made her immune
To the flames
And steel of enemies
With battle cries
Two axes
And the promise
Of Valhalla awaiting
Focused recklessness
Drove her to charge
Into combat as a
Savage discipline
Hearing in her mind
As heads rolled
Chants in Old Norse
And djent
“Glorious
Daughters and sons,
Hearken these words
And know my voice!
Ingen kan
Rive mitt kjott,
Og ingen dyr
Kan drepe meg!
Vi fortsett a
Legendene i nord,
Hvor vi kan vaere
Legende i sang!”
Consume Reality! 