Captain Oarsum: The giant came for us, and we divided and ran. Six of us made for a nearby cave. Your father, myself, and a private named Stout, made it just in time to watch Whitman, Price and Haddad get torched.
But, it was a case of out of the fire and into the frying pan…
The cave was inhabited by a heathen Satanic Death Cult. At first their leader was apprehensive but Stout spoke fluent Dago and convinced him to take us in.
He not only took us in, he professed to know methods by which we could defeat our unnatural foe.
Methods that would cost us our very souls but save our beloved Empire. So we took part in an ungodly pact and purged our salvation for all eternity to become more than men proceeded with the Spaniard‘s ritual.
The fresh chickens blood didn’t agree with Stout’s stomach, as he was the type of man who blackened a steak before smothering it in sauce. A bloody waste if you ask me….
But I digress… we took a crimson well to hell, and the Spaniard said farewell.
The three of us were soon standing abyssal abandon of Hades…
Before a great daemon Master of war who held out a contract for three souls inscribed on an impossibly large parchment of human skin.
Hellyoda: My bitches you will be…
As soon as this soul waiver have you signed your training begun will have… done.
Captain Oarsum: We complied…
Once we figured out what the fuck he was saying
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