Sword

Now our hero faced a monstrosity of lore

with a grimy sheen to its skin and horns protruding from beneath its sinews

It wore dark mail and swung a large flail

One swing could have killed

with the plain side of the chain

but the end bore on all sides, four

shape of an ax-head but at the size of a door

its skin was blood red, its height twelve feet or more

showing off 100 horns of black as it wound up its attack

but with the strength of an ox the viking blocks

by striking the ball and slipping the chain

he rushed in to brawl and use his handle to brain

which gave his blade a moment to make blood rain

strait to the heart of the Demon, if it had one

he stabbed with his full force and will

he thought the fight done

for his strike was true and sure to kill

but the blade struck hide with a resounding crack

an untold number of undead amassed around his back

the blade cried, "MORE, MORE! is this not what you came for!"
Odin spoke as well, "If you want Vahól this is your chore,
show all of the unworthy the meaning of war!"

Until the devils defect he could decipher
for undead flesh his sword would prefer
so the dark man set to culling the herd

overhead sang the caw of death's bird

normal methods weren't enough to slay
crippling beyond death is the card to play
manipulating the demon to swing wild
added to his side an unwitting brute-child
and the carcasses were tossed by the flail

with each swing bodies stacking

his sword further cracking

the living dead fell less and less, until there were no more

Now the Viking was tripping over the remains under the ash-fog floor

now there was something he noticed that made all hope seemed lost,

whilst fighting he had amassed many terrible wounds

Then out of darkness from the West came two lit spheres, like flaming moons

Eyes cast against the armored silloette of a beast was the flame's unnatural source

and a familiar yet dreadful neigh told him it was his own dear horse, of-course

except this new version was alive with fire and empty of remorse

its chanfron was riddled with spikes and its shoes were coarse

What trial had Daredevil undergone to prove it's spirit Norse

Through the misty air it galloped hard and plot a course

to kick the demon with a steel hoof and such tremendous force

As the Demon was realing the Horse came to its Man and lowered a hoof as if kneeling

excuse the old phrase, but I've never looked a gimp horse in the mouth

especially one that snorts fire as if it had drank a strong vermouth

The battle turned to riding circles over the endless haze on the cold-hard ground

Now that his horse could bear the exaghstion he matched the devil pound for pound

hoofs never stubbling over a single cadaver

as his sword blocked forever-more

sparks turned to fire loud in the air

Raging steel singed the Vikings hair

When Daredevil was pissed he was a thunderous figure, really quite crass

he was violent, protective and kicking up frost in his charging pass

Its black mane caught fire as it blowed in the air

the watery fume turned to steam all around the mare

His mount rushes in, hastened by fate;

rider readies his blade forward for a joust

mount slames the fiend with his breastplate;

his rider stabs to it's unmarred eye

it tumbled, it fell, it bleed real well

Yet the fiend refused to die

With some strange clarity of mind

regarding the sword and its wear

he thought of the crack, anticipated the grind

he was one with the blade when he felt it tear

the broken blade was sharper, serrated and light

From atop his horse he could no longer fight

he tucked and rolled to prevent the earth's sting

he drove in close to the demon and tucked himself in tight

such speed made the sight blur and the ears ring

a flawless swing and a perfect backhand stroke

he sawed at the tough hide until skin finally broke

he kept close under the back of the demons arm

to stay relatively safe from harm,

while slashing his hand began amassing cuts from its horns

forcing aside the pain and rage he began

in his search to gain the upper hand

he glimpsed white bone protruding

along the full stretch of it's back.

With that knowledge it was over

in a frenzy of cold Norse rage

he grabbed it by the neck

and ripped loose

the demons

spine.

.......

.....

...

so with rage left to give and a broken sword

the viking marched back to the barrows of his own accord