The Lay of Sigurd: Remixed Part VIII b.
With vile cries invoking the names of As I Lay Dying and Bullet for My Valentine the poseurs surged toward the wall in a great wave. Our archers loosed their arrows and slew many of them, but for every one that fell ten took his place. They carried with them great ladders that they pushed against the wall and crawled up like vermin. At first only a few could make it to the top of the wall, but more and more came and soon we were hard beset. I became trapped between two groups of poseurs with five men against thrice the number of poseurs. Raising Gram into the air I cried, "Killing is my business...", and my men responded, "...And business is good!", and we charged at the poseurs. They fled from us, for the poseurs of Metallica's army feared Dave Mustaine above all else and could not suffer to hear his words. We cut down many of them, but they eventually regrouped and began to push us back. But the Light of True Metal was with us and the poseurs could not stand against us for long. But as soon as we finished with these scum, more poured in and we were harder beset than ever. We readied ourselves for one final attack only to see the poseurs open a path down the middle of them and a man walk through and stalk up to us. This was no ordinary man. He was almost seven feet tall and massively built. He wore only tattered pants and a black hood. Strangest of all though was his weapon. In both hands he carried a huge chainsaw. He pulled the chord and it started up with a great roar that chilled our hearts. I turned to a man behind me, "Dude, since when do ancient, Germanic poseurs carry chainsaws?", and he said with fear in his eyes, "I don't know man, but this is some f
ucked up s
hit right here!" Suddenly, with a wordless scream of mad, animalistic rage he charged at us with his chainsaw held in the air above his head. He was much faster than his bulk suggested, and it was all I could do to roll out of the way. The man behind me wasn't so lucky. The chainsaw split him from head to wang in a spray of blood and viscera. That's a cool word. Viscera. Yeah. Dripping red and with blank, insane eyes the chainsaw wielding behemoth turned to me, swung his weapon over his head, and brought it down with bone crushing force. I managed to bring Gram up to block, but the force of the blow brought me to my knees. Sparks flew like rain as the saw tried to eat through my sword. A lesser sword would have broken, but Gram was forged by Odin himself and its holy steel snapped the saw's chain. The broken chain flew through the air and struck the monster in the face, covering it in blood. Screaming in agony and holding his face in his hands he dropped to his knees. Triumphantly I got to my feet and stood over him. I brought Gram over my head, saying, "Decapitation! It's what's for dinner!" and then I cut his head from his shoulders. My four remaining men cheered and renewed their attack. The poseurs panicked and fled with us in close pursuit. Their terror was so complete that they ran headlong into their own people causing chaos in the poseur ranks. Soon they had been driven into a tightly packed mass of confusion that we cut our way through with impunity. All over the wall panic and despair were descending on the enemy and they were being eradicated and even thrown screaming from the wall. We had driven the poseurs from the walls of Wacken.