Post by Mr. C on Jun 29, 2009 20:49:59 GMT -5
XVII.
“Make us proud Hammer, the God of Midgaard.”
The rain came down like bullets, heavy and fast in the storm. The skies were full of coal-black clouds that stretched from horizon to horizon, and if it weren’t for the foam of the seas there would be no distinction between the brooding sky and the murky ocean deep. Waves rose high and crashed down hard with thunderous splashes, and the air was filled with thunder trembles as lightning struck about on the seas. But frightening still, our two heroes sailed their ship right through the middle of it. Brett Cross and Glaeg, recently saved from Niflehelm by Hermod the Swift were instructed to return to their home village and to do so they had to cross the wide expanse of these tumultuous seas. The sails were pulled in, the winds were too reckless right now to guide any skip and so Glaeg was on the task of attempting to navigate the vessel towards home as Hammer rowed.
The one-eyed Glaeg peered out in to the blackness, attempting to find home. He scanned the horizon closely, but through the gale he could not tell which way was which. Leaning over the edge, Glaeg peered out further, holding the vessel’s figurehead for stability, and as soon as he leaned out, a large force slammed in to the side of the boat and cast our hero Glaeg in to the murky depths. Glaeg, startled, struggled to swim back to the boat, but the defiant currents pulled him far off in to the sea. Cross stood, throwing aside the oars as he did and cried out to his friend, but it was overshadowed by an unworldly cry. Up from the ocean deep shot the beast Jormungandr, writhing up through the stormy seas and as he crashed upward through the waves, his jaws opened wide and he swallowed poor Glaeg whole. Infuriated, Cross cried out once more and the winds swallowed up the sounds. Unsheathing his blade, our distraught warrior gazed out in to the ocean, looking for the demon.
Jormungandr, a once peaceful beast was riled in such a way by the force of Ragnarok. Every beast in the end of days becomes its darkest self; every hero has their darkest moments. The Midgaard Serpent, who was once just happy to chase its tail underneath the calm waters of his realm had turned in to a bloodthirsty beast, bent on claiming all of the waters of Midgaard as his own. And Glaeg, the man who had survived so much, the sole survivor of Brett Cross’ legion through the years, was taken down by a simple loss of balance and then swallowed whole without any chance at a fight. Cross growled and spread his arms wide in challenge of the massive Midgaard Serpent. For if he was going to take his friend so suddenly, so horrifically; then it would be only right to return the favor.
”Jormungandr!” Cross cried out, the end of it accented by a very large thunder clap. “Show thyself, demon! Ye’ve taken my friend! Now rise and face me!”
And then, as if on command, the sea-snake rose up from the waves and let out a screeching cry of its own. It stood tall with not even a quarter of its length above the tides and still stories tall than Cross or the vessel he rode upon. The Midgaard Serpent then snapped its head back and let out another screech, this one louder than the first and causing Brett to recoil and hold his ears and then as it did, a purple mist shot out from its mouth and began to fall down from the skies. On instinct, Cross ran for the edge of the boat. He remembered the scop’s stories from long ago, Jormungandr was a poisonous beast and just inhaling the venomous spray could kill even the strongest God. The Viking got to the far side of the boat and dove off, yanking the vessel with him and over-turning it above him with a loud crash.
Brett Cross kicked his feet as he used the boat as cover from the mist, but it was no use. Mere seconds after the tent was created, the wood sizzled and crackled loudly like a strange wet fire, and in no time the boat was almost completely disintegrated, revealing our hero to the beast. With his prey back in his sights, the serpent screamed and dove in fast, jaws open on our hero. Brett dove underwater at the last second and grabbed the snake’s bottom jaw just as his opponent crashed in to the waters above him. The two spiraled deep beneath the waves, Jormungandr writhing and struggling to get Cross off of his underside, and Brett merely holding on for dear life. The two continued this death-dance for well over 15 minutes before the serpent had to rise back up for air and when he did, Cross came up with him, still clinging tight to the scales beneath the demon’s venomous mouth – droplets coming down and burning trails of his flesh clear off of his back.
But Cross held strong through the entire battle, just as he had held strong through the entire journey. He had to keep fighting, to keep fighting for all the men he’d lost, for his captain Glaeg. Especially for Glaeg at this moment, who didn’t have a chance to act or to fight back. The same Glaeg who was caught by surprise and couldn’t defend himself against a beast that was entirely out of his league. Cross had lost too many friends to the horrors found in each of these nine worlds and it was almost too much to bear, even for a God. He’s lived with the burden of sorrow for a while, but for Glaeg he’d do what a Viking should. Not sit and mope, but win the fight.
With fleeting grip, Cross struggled to climb up higher, but just as he did the demon snapped its head back and flung Brett high in to the air, nearly another full length above the demon Jormungandr’s height above the waves. And when Cross hit, a piece of scrap wood from the destroyed boat was what broke his fall. He lay still on it, his body wracked with pain from the devastating fall, as well as the effects of the venom on his back. Our hero groaned out in pain and opened his eyes, looking to sit up, and as soon as his vision returned, he was in time to sea Jormungandr’s tail raise up from the ocean depths. The Midgaard Serpent, whose entirety stretched all the way around the realm of Midgaard raised its tail high behind Cross and then smashed it down over Cross’ torso, driving him through the scrap wood and deep beneath the sea.
The Norse Hammer sunk, falling fast all the way to the bottom of the ocean. There he lay on the bottom, unconscious as Jormungandr squirmed and screeched above the waves. Brett lay still, nearly dead, but that wasn’t the end of Jormungandr’s punishment. The demon, feeling about on the bottom of the ocean, found its prey and wrapped its massive tail around Cross’ torso and began to squeeze every last drop of life from him. Bubbles spewed from Cross’ lax mouth as he was strangled far under the sea, knowing that this would be the end of his time. He had finally let everyone down, and couldn’t fell the beast of his own realm. It had been a life of short-comings for The Norse Hammer, and finally he had met his match. He would die better off than loyal Glaeg, die better off than the legion that was felled by poison in Jotunheimr, die better than any of those lost souls that live out their eternity in Niflehelm, but death was unkind no matter how it came.
Brett Cross, the God of Midgaard, was finally finished. Out of all of his accolades, the list stopped here. His limbs fell limp at his sides, crushed in against him, and his lungs slowly began to fill with air as he could feel his joints popping and cracking under the sea serpents’ pressure. He was the God of Midgaard, but couldn’t fell the Midgaard Serpent. And he thought, as water and doubt poured in, that he was truly not a God at all. That wielding Brandrwulf was nothing more than a cheap title. He was no greater than any other man, and he just wielded a fancy blade. Everything he had done, anyone could have done. And now that he’s in the big leagues, it’s all over. Cross’ head rolled forward as the final bubbles of life came out of his mouth, ready to succumb to all of this. But as he did, the loudest thunderbolt of all cracked through the sky, shaking the world and touching down on the highest point in the sky – the top of Jormungandr’s head.
The demon cried, this time not out of blood thirsty but out of pain. It squirmed in agony and shook its head high above the waves, flailed its tail in agony, and as the demon suffered from the jolt, a bright light flashed in to Cross’ eyes, startling him out of unconsciousness. Beneath the waves, Cross looked around to catch his bearings, and he instantly spotted the beast’s body was sitting at the bottom of the ocean, no longer wrapped around him. Hammer swam to it and began to crawl up his torso, climbing up one scale at a time out of the murky deep. Struggling against a broken body, struggling against the venomous burns at his back, struggling against his loss of breath, he climbed the beast, scale by scale. He struggled against fatigue, against pain, but no longer did he struggle against himself. Just like when the entire voyage started, that was a sign to persevere; if not for he, then for the Gods, for the nine worlds.
Brett crawled his way up, scaling the hundred story demon as it spun and writhed in pain from the lightning bolt that struck its head. Many times Cross slipped, many times he lost his footing through the serpent’s thrashing, but he continued up and up, as high as he could. This demon stole his friend, and he would get him back – one way or another. He was the God of Midgaard and no lowly sea-snake would defeat him. With a body broken, his lungs full of water and poison burns all over his person, he climbed as high as he could and when he reached the top, he rose Brandrwulf, his godly title, deep in to the demon’s chest and released his foothold. Jormungandr’s cry was startled and quick, and then gurgled out of him as Cross severed him down the neck, allowing gravity to pull him downward and sliding Brandrwulf through the beast along the way. Then, when Cross hit the water, the beast swayed and fell forward, slamming down on top of the Viking and sending him under once more. But this time, the God of Midgaard fell peacefully having accomplished what he had set out to do – avenge Glaeg and free Midgaard of its demon.
But, as the beast fell, a new wound emerged upon it as its left eye exploded outward in a geyser of puss and blood as mighty Glaeg crawled out from the trapdoor of gore. He stood on the back of the beast and scanned out once more, this time looking for his friend. Glaeg then looked down, and noticed that the beast was not moving, and was even filling the ocean with its blood, and he knew exactly what had come of his friend and dove beneath the waves to find him.
Cross, who had a rough month leading up to Pain in Vain would surely be felling a beast of legend come this Tuesday. His opponent, Chance Fusion, has been the epitome of a “thorn in his side”, the demon in his realm. A man who was at one time petty cannon fodder was now causing trouble in Cross’ life, costing him victories and being a general annoyance as he quests for Brett’s title. But Cross knows all too well what the demon’s capable of and wouldn’t dream of thinking of Chance as easy pickings any more. See, the true trouble of the kills comes from the fact that the demon Chance Fusion wasn’t always this way. It was Ragnarok; it was a chance at the EUW Pure Title that changed him. And, no matter how cute and cuddly The Lion may have been, he’s a fierce competitor now and must be put down.
Cross has to fight to defend his title as God of Midgaard, and as the rightful wielder of Brandrwulf, no matter what is thrown at him. He is the one and only Pure Champion and wouldn’t allow Fusion to take that from him – not for as long as he lives would Cross allow that. And Fusion, despite any claims for the title, is not. Cross has been through too much, and has far too much on his side to fall. He’s the current champion, and holds not just the title but the second-longest reign of any and all Pure Champions so far – a record that will be shattered after Pain in Vain. Cross has the experience, the size, the strength and the sheer ability. Chance, despite what he has become recently, is and always will be a young pup, just a lion cub. He’s not the snake Jormungandr like he’d like to be considered. Chance only knows mind games, and they won’t work on a beast like the Viking, Brett Cross. He invented the brilliant art that is so popular in EUW as of late.
See, without even stepping in to the ring, the battle is won. Chance is afraid of Cross, and that’s why he’s been tormenting him so these past weeks. And, even so, what has it gotten Chance? A single tag-team victory. One where Cross wasn’t even pinned. And on the flip side, Cross holds one back over Fusion. As well as countless other pinfall victories in their long, long history. Including a handful leading up to the time he won this title. See, all Chance Fusion did was put up a strong showing once, and besides it being a fluke, it didn’t even matter. Come Pain in Vain, when everything is finally on the table, Cross will prove why he’s the EUW Pure Champion, the God of Midgaard, the proper wielder of Brandrwulf.
And Chance Fusion? He’s nothing more than a gutless snake.
