The Batlord

The Lay of Sigurd: Remixed Part VIII c.

It was a hollow victory. A look beyond the walls showed that Metallica's army had been hardly diminished. It also became apparent that the assault on the wall had been a diversion. Poseurs were at the gate trying to force it open with a battering ram. The great timbers of the gate were already starting to bend and crack. Once they breached the gate there would be nothing to stop them from pouring into the fortress. Not on my watch, bitch! I rushed down the stairs and found Johan organizing the defense of the gate. When he saw me he looked relieved and said, "Dude, thank fuck you're here! The gate is about to fall and I need as many badass motherfuckers as possible to hold the poseurs off!" I threw him the horns, "Fuck yeah, dude! Any poseur that steps foot in this bitch'll get short shrift from me!" We braced the gate with great timbers to gain time while men on the walls rained arrows and boiling hot oil down on the attackers. The poseurs fell back with great losses, and the men at the gates cheered in relief. It was only a short reprieve, for one of the poseurs had an RPG and fired it at the already damaged gate. There was a great explosion and for several moments I remembered nothing. I slowly came to and realized that I was on the ground. I was dazed and only semiconscious and the only thing that I could hear was a loud ringing sound in my ears. I saw dead and dying men all around me. Some had been blown apart. Some were merely missing limbs. Some silently screamed while frantically pulling at foot long wooden splinters embedded in their flesh. I wasn't sure why this should be or what had happened to me or where I was or anything else. Then men started flooding in and killing the wounded as they silently cheered for their triumph. Then I remembered the words of the dragon Fafnir and my blood ran cold: You have long held aloft the banner of True Metal, and have bravely fought it's enemies, but your battle is doomed. Even now, the forces of false metal eat at the roots of all that you love, and, day by day, bring True Metal ever closer to its inevitable destruction. One day, you shall stand alone as the last of your kind, and shall know the taste of despair. But almost as soon as they appeared they stopped with looks of confusion and fear on their faces. Gradually I became aware of a sound other than the ringing. It was the blast of a horn. The entire valley was reverberating with the deafening sound of a great horn. I staggered to my feet and gazed at one of the ridges towering over the fortress. At the top was an army, and at its head was Joey DeMaio of Manowar.

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