Embark on an epic journey with a legendary warrior from a secret elite military mercenaries group, as he carries-out treacherous missions to get back to his Norse village in Alaska. In a society where honor is earned through battle and entry to Valh...
I wrote this story in the middle of one of the most severe storms in Houston, Texas in 2023. The storm included intense winds up to 90 mph which caused wide spread devastation, mass loss of power, toppling of trees, and no internet for two weeks at my home. The power cable split in half electrocuting the tree in my backyard with the wind collapsing a major branch destroying our back fence. With the time I spent without power and internet, I created this story. This story was forged from thunder and devastation.
Caution: This story is NSFW and for adults only, because it includes extreme violence, sensitive subjects, and sexual elements. This story is not for the ideologically sensitive. Viewer digression is advised. 07/17/2023
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En hont val mort wi smi'var sel. Valhalla victor wi en.
In fear and death we forge our souls. In Valhalla we dine as one.
Deep into the jungle of the Congos stood a small shack. This shack was in an area surrounded by mud huts with dirt walls and thatched roofs. The shack was guarded by two large dark skinned males carrying Chinese Type 56-2 rifles; rifles similar to the Russian style AK-47. The dark skinned men appeared to be part of a militant group or some sort of pirate mercenaries. They stared out at the distance with their stern and serious expressions overlooking a dirt road slightly over grown with wild grass and plants. Suddenly from the jungle emerges a white vehicle. A jeep drifted around a turn of trees while bouncing up and down from around from the wildly uneven terrain. The two soldiers watch as the jeep wildly approaches them.
From the reflection of one of the guard's glasses, the vehicle came to a sudden stop. A man with military boots wrapped in alligator skin places his foot outside of the jeep. He lifts himself out of the vehicle and blew smoke from his mouth using a large cigar. He took one more puff of his cigar and pulled his hat down.
Inside the shack was a tall man laying on straw. He heared the sound of a vehicle and looks over to the door. To his faint surprise the door swung open. Before him was a dark skinned man who began popping his knuckles. "Good morning. Bishop. I'm glad to see you have been sleeping well." The tall dark skinned man announced with an African accent. "Have you had enough time to think about our agreement?" He asked. "Bishop, Seal, 232550." The man said appearing very weak. "You're friends are not coming. You also do not have to fake being weak. We know your methods. So tell me Bishop. Why are you here?" The mysterious dark skinned man asked again. "I'm here to aid the UN in peace keeping operations." The man on the floor replied. "You are not. You keep lying. You know how I feel about these lies. I tell you again. Why are you here?" The man asked again crouching down on the ground to look at the man on the floor. "Fuck you." He responded staring at the dark skinned man. "You can tell me or I will cut it out of you. You are Navy Seal? You have family in America? So why not you tell me and I let you go." The dark skinned man stated. "Bishop, Seal, 232550" The navy seal man responded. "You are piece of shit. You lie to me and you insult me around my men. You come to spy on us. You come to bring us to your ways." The dark skinned man began yelling. "You tell me now or I cut off your leg. Tell me the truth! You can do this now. Say it now." The man yelled growing impatient.
