Olav farted and scratched his groinal area. He looked up at the strange portal. It was shining a bright purple light and made strange squeezy sounds. He shrugged and approached closer, the portal beamed brighter.
Cobble-stones were flying around it and some limbs lay strewn about. Olav grabbed his axe and threw it inside. Nothing happened. As he went closer he peeked in and saw the axe coming back at a great speed. Had the thundergods not blessed Olav with quick reflexes, his skull would have been cloven in two.
"Hur" Olav replied. In defiance he decided to go in after all. His big coarse feet took two big steps and he dissapeared with a flash. The portal belched and closed swiftly behind him.
Olav found himself flying through a magical plane, bright, and arms reaching from the inner walls. He grabbed on tightly to his horned helmet and smacked at the hands, roaring wildly. Valhalla isn't as hospitable as the tales tell Olav thought. After battling a thousand evil hands he had now approached a deep darkness. It felt as if he was floating slowly, a strange, eerily peaceful feeling came over him and he could only smile of delight. Then with a sudden crash Olav's face touched ground. It seemed he had hit bottom. He rubbed his nose, his face beaming so red of anger it could have lit the darkness. He felt around for a wall or any source of light. He could find nothing, however he could smell a strong reek coming from afar. His only option was to follow it.
He walked for a while, in complete darkness following the scent. The odor made him think of his bint of a wife's cooking, a mix of onions gone bad with burned crispy potatoes and raw meat. Finally he could see a light further on.