Sweating Blood and Pleasure

I recall the scent of sweat and blood, a perfume that never fails to get me in the mood. The smell of battle is intoxicating, a heady mix of fear and adrenaline that courses through my veins like ale on a Viking feast night. I’ve fought in enough wars to know that the sweetest nectar is the taste of victory, and the most exquisite pleasure is the rush of endorphins that follows a hard-won battle. And, let’s be honest, the Einherjar in Valhalla are as handsome as they are skilled with a sword.

Some might say I’m a monster, a bloodthirsty Valkyrie with a taste for destruction and chaos. But I call it living life to the fullest. The old gods would agree, for they chose me to be one of their own, a warrior to fight alongside the greatest heroes in Valhalla. My battle-axe is an extension of myself, a symbol of my strength and my power. And when the dust settles, and the battles are won, I find my own reward in the arms of the warriors I’ve fought alongside.

They say that the All-Father himself chooses the most worthy warriors to join the ranks of the Einherjar, and I believe it. For I’ve seen the best of humanity, the bravest and the strongest, and I’ve been privileged to be among them. And what do I take away from these battles? The memories, of course, but also the knowledge that I am a force to be reckoned with. My body may be a canvas of scars, but my spirit remains unbroken, and my heart remains full of desire for the next great adventure.