I beg to differ.
You are.
Lapkit of the Valkyrie, Shield Maidens of Valhalla;
Battlecat of a thousand tales of glorious victory;
Wielder of Thor’s Hammer;
He hurls bolts of Zot as mortal man doth cast spear and battleaxe.
Fiercest of a fearsome brood,
Broodmate of the heroes of sagas and runes yet unwrit;
But boasted of in the high halls of fame and glory,
And hissed in caves of dread and darkness.
Grandsire of all the Kits of Viking lore,
Whose sharp ears stand like spear tips;
Upraised, erect, listening for evil-sounds,
The lies that fall from lips of trolls not good.
Fangs of iron; claws of steel;
Maw dripping with the black blood of evil doers;
Terror of Trolls, ruiner of Rats, destroyer of Dims;
His muzzle darkened with evil gore.
Now he purrs;
Brave Beocat!