Post by Mr. C on Oct 7, 2011 9:19:51 GMT -5
The Gods have resigned from the battle, all of them reeling from the trials of the All-War. Brett Cross, the God of Midgaard, the final hope for the realms upon Yggdrasil, arrived just in time, but is no longer looking to be the savior he was presumed to be. Of his army of nine, Wies has died, Viggo has died, and Baz has died. Garrik has gone with Rika on dragon-back to find the portal from whence the demons of Nifleheim. And Rika knows right where it is, because she is in fact the demon Loki in disguise...
Cross has fallen prey to the lies of The God of Mischief, whose motivations are slowly beginning to unravel. Only one man knows true of this treachery, and it is the bowman Garrik. Working on his suspicions, he asked the mage Wies to uncover Loki's secrets, and the old wizard obliged - at the expense of his life. Now Garrik, with intimate knowledge of who Rika truly is, has set off alone with the demon. Left behind are the remains of Cross' army who have finally finished off the remaining creatures of Nifleheim at Asgaard's walls. One battle has ended, just in time for another to begin...
[/color]Cross has fallen prey to the lies of The God of Mischief, whose motivations are slowly beginning to unravel. Only one man knows true of this treachery, and it is the bowman Garrik. Working on his suspicions, he asked the mage Wies to uncover Loki's secrets, and the old wizard obliged - at the expense of his life. Now Garrik, with intimate knowledge of who Rika truly is, has set off alone with the demon. Left behind are the remains of Cross' army who have finally finished off the remaining creatures of Nifleheim at Asgaard's walls. One battle has ended, just in time for another to begin...
The Tale of Loki: Part II
Turning Point
[/color]Turning Point
I'm a demon, a beast, a Jotun. I am not a human or a dwarf or a God. I've lived among the Aesir, the Vanir, the righteous for my entire life, and I have proven I can fit in anywhere I go. My skin, my clothing, they can change at my whim to suit my needs. But my heart, my soul, they have never once crept from being a monster.
And it's natural to want to be with those similar to you. I may be able to fit in with anyone I wish to, but my heart it always longs to be with my own kind. And so I would return from time to time back to Jotunheim, for I had met another - the Jotuness Angrboda. With her, I could once again be myself, free of the constant disguises I lived my life behind. And I was happy, the God of Mischief had a new muse, new meaning in my life. No longer did I have to strive constantly for attention with trickery and sabotage. I had someone who knew and loved my true self. But as with everything in this damned world, it did not, could not last. My world was torn out from under me, and I could do nothing about it.
And it's natural to want to be with those similar to you. I may be able to fit in with anyone I wish to, but my heart it always longs to be with my own kind. And so I would return from time to time back to Jotunheim, for I had met another - the Jotuness Angrboda. With her, I could once again be myself, free of the constant disguises I lived my life behind. And I was happy, the God of Mischief had a new muse, new meaning in my life. No longer did I have to strive constantly for attention with trickery and sabotage. I had someone who knew and loved my true self. But as with everything in this damned world, it did not, could not last. My world was torn out from under me, and I could do nothing about it.
The world tree lunged and creaked once again, and the rickety ramparts of gilded Asgaard shuddered and tumbled further. Above the worlds, Rika and Garrik felt nothing on their tense flight to finding the beginnings of Nifleheim's assault. But back on the ground, Cross and his army were finishing off the last remaining demons at the crumbling walls of the Aesir's kingdom. Crunching through corpses, Cross and the handful of those left alive finished off the dieing, trampling across the dead, leaving no soul the opportunity to keep up the fight. And when the final beast was felled, there was rest.
The Gods had moved to the throne room long ago to plan and regroup, while Hammer and his men stayed to guard the faltering walls. With a massive pyre of the rotten warriors of Nifleheim, the army of the God of Midgaard sat about it - but lines were obviously drawn. Rika and Garrik were gone, two essential pieces of the army, with Rika's skill on the back of the dragon Nidhogg and also her knowledge of the beasts - she was a valued asset in Cross' mind. And Garrik, he could see all, he had a sharp eye and perfect aim, he could fell a Jotun with a single arrow from a mile away. Wies was dead, Baz was dead and Viggo was dead. Five of the nine were dead or gone and all that remained were Agmund the dwarven swordsman, the brothers Bardolf and Ran, Askan the troll and one-eyed Glaeg.
But the divisons were clear - Askan sat off to the side, fuming. The only troll of the group, he was meant to be an outcast of the lot, and he was a short, misshapen creature as well. But the battle was not going as he wanted, not at all. Trolls were never known for being able to keep their anger in check, and Askan was no exception. Nine of the worlds' best generals, the lone survivors of Ragnarok, and they were dropping like flies under the leadership of a man who was meant to be a God. Askan was a runt among his people but still dwarfed Cross, yet HE was the one given the power of Brandrwulf, and now all of Askan's men were killed. Pathetic.
Agmund too took a stance off to the side, far from the others, just staring in to the blaze. He was a swordsman, a dwarf under the tutelage of the greatest Dwarven warrior ever known - Baz. His hero, his role model, his teacher was killed in cold blood. Baz, a man he trusted and loved, thought it better to die in a blaze of glory than to wait it out and fall like the others. He realized the pathetic truth of this war far before the others. They had all come here to die, the Norns had foretold it at the beginning of time. Ragnarok is set to kill us all, and any who are set to survive has been predetermined. So if you are to die, you will die, and if you are not to die, you will not - so we should be fighting as once force, wasting no time, for you cannot outwait destiny. He realized this, and Agmund was fuming that he could not have helped him survive.
Above the realms, Garrik came to this same truth as he rode in silence behind Rika. What Wies meant was that if they were to die, there is nothing in the world that can change it, right? They all had a time to fall, and they should not try to change it. But if that is true, then why are we fighting this war, this Ragnarok, this battle that was meant to be done without their help? And if their help was not needed, why must he aid Cross towards the answer? And what is that answer meant to be?
Bardolf and Ran sat by Glaeg on the other side of the pyre, sitting in silence, not sure how to act. They were crestfallen obviously, but did not want to give up hope. For, after all, they had just won this battle, hadn't they? If they could win here, they could keep pushing, keep fighting, keep winning until Asgaard and the other realms were saved, couldn't they? They clung to their optimism, despite the evidence about them. And as for their general? He stood, looking out over the planes of Asgaard, searching the horizon for any who may come to challenge them once again - but his own mind and heart were racing with questions without answers, too.
The scene stayed silent for a while, but as Cross looked out over the realm, a rough hand clamped down on his shoulder. Though he spoke soft, his voice boomed in to the night, echoing strong over the crackling embers of the bonfire. Brett turned back to look up in to the face of Askan, who frowned down at him. Behind the troll stood Agmund stoic, obviously subscribed already to whatever Askan was to say.
"Hammer, we are leaving. Agmund and I have decided it leave your army. We are born warriors, and we choose to fight strong. When we joined, we saw you as a hero. But after the death of friends and teammates, we know the opposite - you are a fool and unfit to lead. You respect not your army, or your fellow warriors. All of our soldiers have perished, all that remains are us five, and now you are down to three. If we are to die, we will die. But we will not die because of your ineptitude. Goodbye."
And before Cross could open his mouth to retort, Askan brushed past Cross roughly, and Agmund followed in suit. Cross looked back, his brow furrowed, looking for help from the final members of his army, but they turned their heads away. He looked back to see if the departed would return, but they continued to walk off. And like that, he had but three men left to his army. Three men against the realm of the undead. Three men left to save the world.
*
I am superior to all others. It's been proven. At Scars n' Stripes, I won not just one match but two. The first match, I retained a title with ease, throwing the pathetic Danny Tenfold clear from the ring. I got rid of the pathetic gnat for the final time. And then when I was done with that title's match I went in to the Royal Rumble, the main event of the night, and I demolished everyone before me to enter the main event of Prestige with an eye towards the World Heavyweight Title.
The following week, I threw out that pathetic Lionheart Title because I did not need it any longer, I was moving to more important things, I was moving to the biggest prize of them all, the one that's eluded me for the longest. And all I have to do to achieve this glory is defeat Hetfield and TiTAN - two man I have proven better than on atleast one occasion. If it were not the case, they would not have sabotaged the last match we had, they would have played it down the middle. But they fear me. Everyone in this business fears me right now.
Roman Cripate, who I demolished in the Rumble, claimed he wanted a piece of me this week on the last edition of SnV. Yet, here we are, nearing showtime, and he is not my opponent, nor is he even present on the card. He talks tough, but he knows he wants nothing to do with me. Danny Tenfold? The new Lionheart Champion? Why, it's only because I let him, because I threw the damn title away and let him pick it up from the floor. And now I face Roy "The Cobra" Viper. A man who I've already proven far superior to, as I demolished him and Tenfold at the same time at Retribution to win what was once the Pure Title. He's a joke of a competitor and is the least of my worries this week.
He's shown that he has the intelligence to manipulate those around him. His greatest claim to fame involved turning on Kirk Kennedy and aligning himself with Mark Rivera, but the company he keeps speaks volumes of his character, as he seems to have more trouble facing his own brothers than working towards any kind of earnest achievement in this company. But perhaps, if anything, there is a lesson I can learn from Roy. My army is falling, my men are dieing around me, they're betraying the team, they'd rather die alone than at my side - and that speaks volumes of what's come to be of Brett Cross.
I am a God, the God of Midgaard, and I must act it. I am a role model to those around me, I am a general and I must work towards being one. I cannot be squabbling with those beneath me because I think myself better than them. I cannot rub it in their face and hope for them to respond well. I can no longer lead with my words, I must lead with my actions. My best years, my longest Pure Title reign was when I kept my mouth shut and did my job. My greatest years as a warrior were when I spoke only to motivate and fought hard amongst them. That's a true leader - and I've lost my way.
I am King Cross. I am a God. I am The Bifrost Brawler, The Norse Hammer. I have a legend longer than all others in this business. I have accomplished more than anyone else in this business. When you look at the roster, there are no others who come close to my tenure. Warrior, Meltdown, Vincent, they are all gone. The only men left to challenge my status would be washed-up retirees like Xplode and Oblivion trying to make "one last run." I am the veteran in this business - there is no one here that's been in this company longer. And I must work towards acting like it. The first step towards doing that is beating The Viper in true Brett Cross fashion.
He's a peon, a weakling. He's no warrior like me, he's a scheming snake - he's no better than the bastard Loki. But inside that ring, there is no time for mind games. No opportunity for him to outsmart me, for inside that ring, on the battlefield, he is in my world. There is no one better than me when it comes to a fight, to a battle, to a war. I am the true beast of this business, the epitome of a perfect warrior. If an opponent tries to fight fast, I can withstand the attacks, I can take the punishment and wait for my opportunity to strike. With those fast opponents, they only take one strong hit, they're so fragile. Roy Viper will be no different. All it takes is one strike from The Hammer Mjollnir and it is all over.
And if he tries to outwrestle me, I can take that punishment too and battle out. My sheer size alone will be enough to limit many of his attempts at submissions. I'm just too big, too massive, for him to try and force me to do anything. When it comes down to it, I am a Jotun and he is a dwarf. The match is simply unfair. And that's what it should be - when you face me, when you face a God, the match should not be fair. You should not have a chance. That's just the way of the world.
This week Viper, you have no chance. You're not in my league now and never have you been. But beyond that, you're facing a man with renewed energy. You may expect me to have my eye on the prize, to be looking past you and to Prestige, but that's hardly the case. I'm a true warrior and I know exactly how to win a match, I do not overlook any battle. Especially this one. Because I have something to prove, and you taught it to me. I'm losing my army, and I'm losing them fast. And it's all my fault, my leadership is to blame. This week, I will beat you in to submission to prove a point. To prove that The God of Midgaard is back. To prove the leader we've all been waiting for truly is here.
That this leader truly is Brett Cross.
The God of Midgaard.
[/color]I am superior to all others. It's been proven. At Scars n' Stripes, I won not just one match but two. The first match, I retained a title with ease, throwing the pathetic Danny Tenfold clear from the ring. I got rid of the pathetic gnat for the final time. And then when I was done with that title's match I went in to the Royal Rumble, the main event of the night, and I demolished everyone before me to enter the main event of Prestige with an eye towards the World Heavyweight Title.
The following week, I threw out that pathetic Lionheart Title because I did not need it any longer, I was moving to more important things, I was moving to the biggest prize of them all, the one that's eluded me for the longest. And all I have to do to achieve this glory is defeat Hetfield and TiTAN - two man I have proven better than on atleast one occasion. If it were not the case, they would not have sabotaged the last match we had, they would have played it down the middle. But they fear me. Everyone in this business fears me right now.
Roman Cripate, who I demolished in the Rumble, claimed he wanted a piece of me this week on the last edition of SnV. Yet, here we are, nearing showtime, and he is not my opponent, nor is he even present on the card. He talks tough, but he knows he wants nothing to do with me. Danny Tenfold? The new Lionheart Champion? Why, it's only because I let him, because I threw the damn title away and let him pick it up from the floor. And now I face Roy "The Cobra" Viper. A man who I've already proven far superior to, as I demolished him and Tenfold at the same time at Retribution to win what was once the Pure Title. He's a joke of a competitor and is the least of my worries this week.
He's shown that he has the intelligence to manipulate those around him. His greatest claim to fame involved turning on Kirk Kennedy and aligning himself with Mark Rivera, but the company he keeps speaks volumes of his character, as he seems to have more trouble facing his own brothers than working towards any kind of earnest achievement in this company. But perhaps, if anything, there is a lesson I can learn from Roy. My army is falling, my men are dieing around me, they're betraying the team, they'd rather die alone than at my side - and that speaks volumes of what's come to be of Brett Cross.
I am a God, the God of Midgaard, and I must act it. I am a role model to those around me, I am a general and I must work towards being one. I cannot be squabbling with those beneath me because I think myself better than them. I cannot rub it in their face and hope for them to respond well. I can no longer lead with my words, I must lead with my actions. My best years, my longest Pure Title reign was when I kept my mouth shut and did my job. My greatest years as a warrior were when I spoke only to motivate and fought hard amongst them. That's a true leader - and I've lost my way.
I am King Cross. I am a God. I am The Bifrost Brawler, The Norse Hammer. I have a legend longer than all others in this business. I have accomplished more than anyone else in this business. When you look at the roster, there are no others who come close to my tenure. Warrior, Meltdown, Vincent, they are all gone. The only men left to challenge my status would be washed-up retirees like Xplode and Oblivion trying to make "one last run." I am the veteran in this business - there is no one here that's been in this company longer. And I must work towards acting like it. The first step towards doing that is beating The Viper in true Brett Cross fashion.
He's a peon, a weakling. He's no warrior like me, he's a scheming snake - he's no better than the bastard Loki. But inside that ring, there is no time for mind games. No opportunity for him to outsmart me, for inside that ring, on the battlefield, he is in my world. There is no one better than me when it comes to a fight, to a battle, to a war. I am the true beast of this business, the epitome of a perfect warrior. If an opponent tries to fight fast, I can withstand the attacks, I can take the punishment and wait for my opportunity to strike. With those fast opponents, they only take one strong hit, they're so fragile. Roy Viper will be no different. All it takes is one strike from The Hammer Mjollnir and it is all over.
And if he tries to outwrestle me, I can take that punishment too and battle out. My sheer size alone will be enough to limit many of his attempts at submissions. I'm just too big, too massive, for him to try and force me to do anything. When it comes down to it, I am a Jotun and he is a dwarf. The match is simply unfair. And that's what it should be - when you face me, when you face a God, the match should not be fair. You should not have a chance. That's just the way of the world.
This week Viper, you have no chance. You're not in my league now and never have you been. But beyond that, you're facing a man with renewed energy. You may expect me to have my eye on the prize, to be looking past you and to Prestige, but that's hardly the case. I'm a true warrior and I know exactly how to win a match, I do not overlook any battle. Especially this one. Because I have something to prove, and you taught it to me. I'm losing my army, and I'm losing them fast. And it's all my fault, my leadership is to blame. This week, I will beat you in to submission to prove a point. To prove that The God of Midgaard is back. To prove the leader we've all been waiting for truly is here.
That this leader truly is Brett Cross.
The God of Midgaard.