I am more bad-azz than my opponent

“Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one” - Bruce LeeMassive, I've been alive for about 4000 years now, and I've done some pretty fvcked up bad as fvcking azz shiznit! Do you know how I'm immortal? I drank from the Fricking TREE OF LIFE! AS in the tree of life in fricking HEAVEN! !YOU CAN LEAVE! You see Massive, every so often in human history a blood-soaked, face-eating murder-master comes along who is so impossibly evil, cruel, and utterly unredeeming as a human being that the only logical conclusion is that he was the physical incarnation of Satan's unrelenting desire to bring about the brutal dismemberment of all human souls in Creation and then use those souls to wipe his ball sweat while he makes beef jerky from Sacred Cows and bench-presses Jesus. .. .. .. .. .. .THATS ME! !In the late 830s I sailed at the head of a massive fleet of dragon-headed longboats decorated with multi-colored shields and loaded with spear-hucking bearded Viking azskickers eager for nothing more than to face-shank and/or kidnap and/or massacre every single human being that ran slower than them. When people are asked to describe me, they say something like, "imagine the most horrible thing you can imagine and then crank it up by a factor of five and give it tentacles for a beard". It's important to note that this wasn't the first time the I'de made ultra-violent raids on villages, and quite honestly, by the time people even noticed I was succesfully leading a force of badazz motherfvcking pillaging/rampaging viking hounds all around town, it was too late. There was nothing ANYONE COULD DO ABOUT IT! You see, I realized that the other Viking raiders in my area up to this point were pretty much total idiots. Sure, storming through a village, setting fire to thatched-roof cottages and kicking peasants in the gonads with a boot made of reindeer fur was fun and everything, but your typical fisherman and dirt-farmer aren't exactly dripping with gold and jewels and microwave ovens – and once the initial rush of adrenaline associated with torching a town to cinders wears off you really aren't left with much in the way of plunder or loot or souvenirs to bring home to your bearded Viking wife and children. No, instead I realized that the key to success was to fvck up ultra-holy sites like churches, abbots, convents, and monasteries – for some reason those wacky Catholics liked to stock their places of worship full of golden treasures, and the only people guarding them were a bunch of unarmed holy men equipped with little more than burlap sacks, leather-bound manuscripts, and a vow of non-violence. All the other Viking Lords in my area were g@y little conquerors who wouldn't know the difference between a crucifix and a Big Mac if it was handed to them by the fvcking Hamburglar, the solution here was easy – attack churches, fvck them up, and plunder the sh! t out of them. It's all the excitement of killing, maiming, and destroying, plus it hit my enemy where it hurts and you can make a little cash in the process. You like my story so far? YOU are NOT this GOOD! So then, in 839, I decided to go big, heading straight for the crown jewel of Christianity in one of the most devoutly-Christian places in the world. I took my ships, loaded them up with dudes, sailed way the fvck up some river, and launched an attack on this big azz city – a place that at the time was the single holiest place in the fvcking world. After three full-scale assaults against a fanatically-determined but badly-outnumbered force of dedicated peasant warriors – none of whom were expecting to be attacked by fvcking Vikings in the middle of the night – my torch-bearing comrads battled their way over the walls of the city, and immediately proceeded to turn the city red with the blood of everyone they could find. While one brave peasant did manage to escape with the Shrine of Saint Patrick, my Vikings pretty much went nuts on everything else, killing monks and students, knocking over altars, looting, and turning the abbey itself into a twisted Hexen-map-style temple where my psycho bearded viking Blood God Priestess wife offered up animal sacrifices and read tarot cards and did the Macarena until like four in the morning without any consideration for noise ordinances. SO I KILLED HER TO. .. .BATCH! JK she was fine. A year later, after the temple was mostly rebuilt, I came back and sacked the fvck out of it again. A couple years after that, I did roughly the same thing to the second-holiest city in the world, sailing up a River with 60 ships and attacking it. This place was a center of culture and learning that attracted students from far and wide. Sooooooo. .. I killed the monks, dragged off their loot, and laughed my azs off with happiness when my wife climbed on a Catholic altar, smeared herself with blood and barbecue sauce, and called on the gods for prophesies and badasz chicken wings. Had enough? Well that sucks! ! CUZ IM JUST GETTING STARTED!