The Batlord

The Lay of Sigurd: Remixed Part II

Devin had asked me where I wanted to go when I was about to go time travelling, and I just told him "Send me someplace bitchin'!" Naturally, he sent me to Norway in the time of the Vikings. I guess that's why he's a fucking genius. Anyways, that's exactly where I now was. Fucking awesome! I'd been making mead in my bathtub since I was five years old, but now I was gonna get to have the real shit. Did I already say "Fucking awesome!"? Well I'm saying it again since it bears repeating. I was in a snow covered clearing in the middle of a particularly grim and frostbitten forest. It was cold as balls, but I'd listened to far too much Immortal to let a little thing like sub-zero temperatures bother me. While looking around, I noticed a column of smoke coming from somewhere to the south, so I started making my way there.

After about twenty minutes of walking, I came upon a clearing with a small house in the middle. There was what appeared to be a forge off to the side. It looked...forgey. You know the drill. If you want more detail, then you're gonna have to spoon me first. That actually sounded pretty gay now that I think about it. If you tell anybody about this I'll drive across the country, smoking meth and shitting in an adult diaper, just to find you and punch you in the throat. Anyways, there was some dude at the forge hammering at a piece of metal on an anvil. I approached the dude, intent on asking him directions to someplace bitchin', like a wizard's tower or a pagan orgy, when I noticed that the blacksmith was actually Varg Vikernes of Burzum. I was sorta weirded out, since, as any non-poseur will know, Varg Vikernes is a convicted murderer, neo-nazi, and just an all around nutbag. Of course, he was the only person I'd seen here, and he'd recorded Filosofem, so I guess I had no choice but to be cool. He finally noticed me when I got closer, and I thought I saw him sneer at my Morbid Angel shirt, but he quickly covered it up and greeted me. "Hail fellow Defender of the Faith! What brings you to my humble abode?" "Uh...what's up, uh...dude. Devin Townsend sent me through time, and now I'm here to engage in bitchin' adventures." Then he got a funny look on his face for a second and said, "If you were anyone but a True Metalhead I would say anything, but...no, this is too much for even one such as you." Obviously I wasn't gonna take this kinda shit from a chode like him, so I demanded that he tell me what he was talking about. "Well, if you really must know; far from here lies the land of Gnitaheith. It is a barren wasteland where nothing now grows. It has been poisoned by the fiercest of all dragons, Fafnir. He is a fearful and terrible beast with scales as hard as iron, and a gaze that would bring even the bravest of men to madness. In his dark cave lair, he guards a great treasure. I say that we slay Fafnir and split the treasure between us." I didn't trust the prick, but slaying a dragon? "Fuck yeah, motherfucker! What the fuckin' fuck are we fuckin' waiting for?! Let's go turn that bitch into a purse! Not for me of course, I'm just saying." Then he told me, "Not yet, my hot blooded friend. First, you need a sword that can pierce Fafnir's armored scales." He then handed me a bitchin' sword. I swung it around a few times, and then struck it against the anvil. It instantly shattered into tiny pieces. I shouted at him, "What the fuck? This sword fucking blows!", after which he handed me an even more bitchin' sword. I swung it at the anvil and again it shattered. Varg looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I see that you are a True Metalhead of the highest caliber, and that you need a sword to match. I shall give you Gram." I was quite stoked about this, "You got a gram?! Oh hell yes! Roll us a fattie and call some of your neo-nazi bitches so we can get this party started!" But he responded, "No, you fool! The hero Sigmund was given the sword Gram by Odin himself. This sword was shattered when Sigmund met his doom, but I have forged it anew and now give it to you to slay the dragon." With that he produced the most bitchin' sword yet and hand it to me. For the third time I struck the anvil, but this time the anvil was split in two. Bitchin'. After that, Varg Vikernes and I began our journey to Gnitaheith to slay the dragon Fafnir. Hold on to your butts, folks. Asses shall be smote, and names shall be taken.

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