Post by Mr. C on Apr 26, 2009 21:56:23 GMT -5
XIII.
“Fire.”
Cross and Glaeg rounded over the top of a hill, and as they did they could see in to the gloriously beautiful valley. The hills rolled lazily on either side, this village was in the middle of it all, with a rushing river running through its center. The village was surrounded by large stone walls, and the entire town looked like it could certainly be a grand epicenter for trade. But there was not a single sign of life there at all. It sat deathly still under a sky of fire.
The Viking brothers frown at one another and pull back their hoods as they stood atop the hills and strained to look in to the valley. Together they continue in, wandering down the dirt path towards the town, and just as they reach the walls, every brick, every piece of the town crumbles in front of them. It was as if it had been burning beneath the fire of the morning sky for far too long and everything they saw before turned to ashes. Startled, they step back and watch as everything falls except for the rare and thickest of support beams and foundation. An entire village, burnt up in a flash. Tearing off their robes, the two Viking warriors drew their blades. This was nothing normal, not for Midgaard: this was a grand act of sorcery and Cross knew right from whence it came.
But then, as the brotherly sons of Odin looked on at the horrendous sight, a bustling came from below the ashes, an ironic sign of life. Right before them, boney skeleton hands clawed their way up from the wreckage. Stark white bone covered in disgustingly tattered pieces of flesh dug out from under the burnt chaos until they stood tall above ground. These dead warriors of Hel took up arms, having brought with them crude knives and axes and stood firm against the Vikings. The Norsemen watched in odd curiosity, unable to take their eyes off the frighteningly unique ordeal until the last one made its way above ground. Then, with a cry, the dead warriors charged, a hundred strong in their legion all with one goal: destroy Hammer and Glaeg.
Just like these demons of Niflehelm, Joe Dark had returned from the crypt to take on Brett Cross once more. Surely it’s in the history books that “The Ladies Man” had defeated “The Norse Hammer” in the past, but it’s also been recorded that Cross had certainly proven that as a fluke. Now, from the dead seemingly, Joe Dark was challenging Brett once again and this time with a higher prize. Surely he couldn’t think he’d beat Brett Cross when the events mattered. Surely he didn’t think he’d beat Brett Cross for his Pure Title, for Brandrwulf. That was a feat held for Gods. And Brett Cross was the only one present in EUW, he’s the God of Midgaard, a massive warrior who has bested nearly every man he faced in the federation so far. So Joe Dark’s challenge? Child’s play, a skeleton’s taunt. It meant nothing and would prove to be nothing. At Young Guns, Brett Cross would show that that original match-up was indeed a fluke and nothing more and that he was indeed the best warrior to grace EUW.
Cross smashed one of the undead warrior’s skulls in with the pommel of his blade before turning and shattering the spine of the demon behind him. One-eyed Glaeg at Cross’ side brought his axe down through the collarbone of his own adversary and the two of them glanced about. They were completely surrounded by these squawking heathens and behind the front lines more were climbing up from Hel. The Vikings fought on, wave after wave, but it would only be a matter of time before the numbers got to them.
But, as Joe Dark was nervous of Cross, Cross was nervous of Dark. There was certainly a second-guessing to each subsequent match he had with him. Surely he had beaten him afterwards soundly every time, but it was no secret that a quick-footed fighter could best Cross before he had the opportunity to think. He also knew that Joe Dark had no problem tweaking the rules to his favor, and perhaps he would do it this coming match as well. Dark’s a hardcore wrestler through and through, as any EUW veteran must be. Cross was as ruthless as they come in his own right, but Joe Dark’s a different kind of fighter, and one that you must watch out for. With plenty of bad luck in his time in EUW, Joe Dark was a sleeper, a man that was difficult to face because while he doesn’t win often, he has the capacity to win at any moment.
Glaeg stumbled and fell, and the legions of skeletons in their tattered fleshy-clothing dove on the Viking. Cross yelled out, and charged forward to aid his cousin but the horde wrapped their disgusting limbs about him, a dozen or more pulling him backward, pulling him downward, pulling him under, drowning him beneath the ashes, pulling him from fire to fire and as he went down, he saw Glaeg was being pulled down as well. Cross growled and struggled against it, but for the time being it was no use. He was caught with his mind off the prize, a lesson he assuredly needs to learn prior to Young Guns. He was caught thinking of his father, wondering why he would set him up like this. But the true lesson Cross needed to learn was to not let Joe Dark set him up the same way.
Pulling him deeper, he struggled harder, but the legions continued to rip and tear at his arms, digging through dirt and flesh to drag him under with them. And Glaeg fell with Cross, the two of them being pulled under. Struggling to stay above ground, to not be pulled to Hel. To stay in the bright realm of Midgaard, and not the eternal fires of Niflehelm. Cross’ reached out just as his lower half became fully submerged in the dirt and he gripped one of the posts that still stuck out in to the land of the living. With a yell, he called out to his cousin and extended his arm. Glaeg took it and held tight, for the two of them needed at this point just to survive.
