The Batlord

The Lay of Sigurd: Remixed Part III b.

After what seemed like fucking forever, the sun finally set and nightfall came, which was good, cause I was getting pretty sick of waiting here with Mr. Nazi Hot Dog Water. I woulda tied his shoelaces around his balls and used him to go fishing in the river, but I figured it would be good to have him around to help fight the dragon. Just then, I felt the ground shake beneath me, and Varg said, "The dragon is awake!", and I responded, "No shit, Sherlock! Now shut the fuck up and get your bitch ass ready!" Soon, the shaking of the earth became ever more intense, and we became overwhelmed by a foul stench. The ground was now continuously heaving and it became hard to stand. I drew Gram and looked to my right to make sure that Varg was ready, only to find that Varg had disappeared. The fucking shit cunt! I didn't have time to look for him though, for the massive head of Fafnir appeared over my head and wicked talons big enough to hold me in their scaly palms clawed at the banks of the river. The stench was now almost completely overpowering. Fafnir was truly massive and terrible, with scales so black that it was as if the stars themselves had disappeared, but his belly was pale and wrinkled and covered in a foul slime. He dipped his great neck down toward the river and began to drink. A true Defender of the Faith such as myself fears nothing, be it man or beast, but even I could feel a tremor of fear at the site of such an abomination. Gathering my courage, I invoked the name of Dio, patron saint of dragon slaying, and thrust up with Gram into Fafnir's belly all the way up to the hilt. The beast let out a scream that deafened my ears, and reared up on his hind legs before falling to the ground. He writhed and screamed and breathed flame in agony, forcing me to hide behind the bank. After several minutes, the dragon eventually ceased its struggles and lay still, appearing to be dead. I climbed out of the river bed and approached the inert body of the hideous creature, careful that its stillness might be an act.

When I approached Fafnir's great head, his eye opened and looked at me with such hate and malice that I understood what a poseur must see when he sees my gaze. Then, the dragon spoke, "Hail, son of Sabbath. I have long known that you would one day come, for I have seen you in my dreams. You are truly the greatest of your kind. You have long held aloft the banner of True Metal, and have bravely fought it's enemies, but your battle is doomed. Even now, the forces of false metal eat at the roots of all that you love, and, day by day, bring True Metal ever closer to its inevitable destruction. One day, you shall stand alone as the last of your kind, and shall know the taste of despair. Enjoy your triumph this day, but know that it shall be short lived", and then he let out a wicked laugh. With a look of contempt I said, "That's what all poseur dragons who're about to get teabagged say", and with what that, I unzipped my pants and dropped my nuts right on his eye. "Yeah, right in the center of the pupil. Now, clockwise around the iris. Now, counter clockwise. Oh, and what's that? That's a nutsack figure eight is what that is. You've just been teabagged times infinity. True Metal for life, bitch!" Apparently he died at some point during this, but I'm sure he got the gist. So, I just done slayeth a motherfucking dragon. What have you ever done?

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