I am beyond inspired by the north and black tattoo team and their amazing style tattoos and hope to get a tattoo from them in the near future... ( i have a fun idea for a crazy tattoo- ) *** The cold of the grave was nothing compared to the chill of the Helvegr—the path to the underworld. The hero viking warrior's Iron-Side did not die with a sword in his hand on a sunny battlefield. He died coughing blood in his bed, his heart failing before his spirit did. Yet, the Norns were not finished with him. As his eyes closed, the scent of sea salt and pine faded, replaced by the damp stench of wet earth and ancient decay. He woke not in the golden halls of Valhalla, but on the frozen banks of the river Gjöll.The Rise of the Draugr before him stretched a desolate landscape, shrouded in mist, rotten flesh and dotted with shattered burial mounds. Emerging from these holes were the Draugr. They were not corpses, but hulking, swollen monsters of black smoking flesh, bloated with hate, possessing the strength of ten men. They were greedy, ancient warriors who were denied paradise, now guarding their tarnished treasures and seeking to contaminate the living. The hero viking warrior did not have his beloved axe, Ragnarök-Bringer, but he felt a burning heat upon his skin. He looked down at his own arms. Tattooed upon his chest and arms was a sprawling saga of his own life: Fenrir the wolf was locked in chains on his right forearm; Odin’s ravens, Huginn and Muninn, wrapped around his shoulders; and over his heart, the mighty Thor raised Mjölnir. As a Draugr rushed him with inhuman speed, roaring with a voice that sounded like grinding stones, the tattoo of Thor flared with blinding blue electricity. Heroic Tattoo of the Afterlife screamed, striking out with his bare fist. The tattoo surged.... (The air crackled.)... His fist hit the Draugr with the force of a thunderbolt. The monster’s head erupted, turning into ash and scattering into the dark wind.The ink was alive. It was his strength, his memory, his weapon.... and More spirits gathered—ancient draugars rising from the mud, their eyes burning with the magic of seiðr. They brought night in the middle of this dim day, twisting the weather, causing hallucinations. The hero viking warrior fought with all his energy abd rage. He roared a battle cry, and the Fenrir tattoo on his right arm seemed to move, his skin growing cold and violent. He fought as a Berserker, feeling no pain, his knuckles bleeding light. The Fight Against the Gods...the path was blocked by a larger, terrifying entity—the spirit of a forgotten god, corrupted by the desolate afterlife, clad in armor woven from the skeletons of sea creatures. It was a dren, an oceanic troll-spirit, seeking to drag him into the deep river. "You are not Odin," as the entity threw a net made of frozen human hair. The hero viking warrior grabbed the net. The tattoo of Odin on his shoulder whispered knowledge—where to strike, when to move. He ripped the net apart and he struck the god-spirit in the heart.... The tattoo of the raven banners flared, summoning the spectral memory of his loyal army.The creature didn't just die; it shattered, its power feeding back into the hero's skin, making the tattoos glow even brighter. The Final Stand had the warrior continue walking through the stinking blood rivers as a beacon of radiant, inked power in the land of shadows. He was not a warrior of Valhalla, nor a dweller of Helheim. He was the Aptrgangr—the again-walker—a hero who brought the battlefield to the afterlife. His tattoos were his sagas, and he was still writing them, one monster at a time. The ink was eternal, and so was his rage.............. I would love to fly to the United Kingdom and get inked by the Northern Black tattoo team and i am ready..... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
