Amon Amarth’s “Amon Amarth” starts to play as we glide across the North Sea, mighty waves carrying whitecaps towards the shore, where they crash into the rough, rugged rocks jutting out from the churning waters of the Skagerrak. The camera moves through the spray and up the cliff face to reach a plateau, a few trees venturing closer to the edge, but they are bent and half barren from the constant onslaught of the wind and salt water. Three men can be seen among these sparse trees, apparently sparring, despite the wind and oncoming rain (or snow, given that the windswept ground shows traces of snow) bare chested. As the camera comes closer and circles around them, it is Christer Lundmark and two equally towering blond, long-haired men who look like twins, trading punches and trying to wrestle each other to the ground. Noticing the camera, Christer raises his hand to stop.
Christer Lundmark: OK, Viktor, Simon, låt oss ta en paus en stund. (OK, Viktor, Simon, let’s take a break for a moment.)
The men grab towels and water, but remain at the edge, leaning against a tree.
Christer: Welcome, welcome, I am impressed you ventured out here. And if you are wondering why we are here in this weather, far from a ring or even just shelter, this is how you build resilience, this is how you learn to work with distracting circumstances and these fine gentlemen here know what it is like and what it means to challenge you.
The twins return his acknowledging nod.
Christer: So some of you might wonder why on earth I walked out of yet another match after attacking my “partner”. In case you did not catch me after the match there, I am sick and tired of being thrown into these kinds of matches for absolutely no rhyme or reason. Give me an opponent and I will face him or her like a man, like a warrior. One on one. At least this week I will finally get what looks like a worthy opponent.
But before I get to him, let’s talk about coulrophobia. Also known as fear of clowns. Designed to be a jester, a fool, a character to make people laugh and forget their worries, there seems to be a surprisingly large amount of people deathly afraid of these. And I’m not talking about this whole evil clown fad, no, regular everyday clowns.
Suddenly he pulls out a smaller axe and throws it, looking like he is aiming at the cameraman, who instinctively ducks away. As he turns somewhat shaking, he shows the axe in the middle of a photo that is pinned to a tree behind him, stuck right in the forehead of a clown.
Christer: Enter Ozric Mortimer. Now looking at him, I can see people getting afraid, but anybody can slap some makeup on, make it look scary and try to cash in on that. No, this guy has more than just a screw loose, from what I could see and hear, his brain looks more like, what do you guys have over there, a Home Depot. Everything he does seems to be driven by and centered around the same things - devastation, violence, pain and suffering.
I know that the Northmen have been accused of these things time and again, while it is easy to ignore that while it did happen, we were far more than just these bloodthirsty monsters only out to spread fear. Ozric, you, however, do not seem to have any other motives than your own, born out of a sick and twisted mind that lost any moral compass of any kind. So I am actually surprised to see you come out of the woodwork only now, since you would have been a perfect instrument for Milenko’s enactment of revenge on CWF.
He produced another axe and throws it, this time the blade sticking across the throat of Loki Synn.
Christer: What a match made in Hel it would have been, the evil jester and the deranged clown coming together. Which also kind of makes me wonder about Hostility really was, a wrestling federation or some kind of sick circus. A carnival that now is back for one last hoorah, to either go down in a blaze of glory or actually get your revenge for something that happened before the vast majority of our current roster even having been part of CWF, so go figure.
It is telling that almost anything that you can find about you, Ozric, is your exploits of hitting people, hurting them, maiming them, even outright killing them in this deranged stupor, this bloodlust, this utter absence of any scruples or morality, I am sure that Elisha would have been proud to have you on his team as the court jester, always on call to do whatever dirty work to be done.
He motions to the twins.
Christer: Even through their connections through The Shadow I could barely find anything else usable on you, but oh well. So how do you approach a match against you? Head on. The difficult thing about a psychopath like you is that there is no common ground to be found other than your aim to create as much chaos as possible, there is nothing linear, there is no saying of what you are going to to next to inflict as much damage, to hurt me to draw that blood. People call us savages, but then what does that make you?
You feed of the fear of your opponents, but why should I be scared of you? Because you are tall? Strong? Evil? Deranged? Who cares? If I admit to be scared of you, I admit that you are stronger than me and you are not. If you have to rely on making your opponent feel scared of you, it shows you’re not confident enough in your own abilities. If you have to carry that spiked bat with you, then you’re not confident that you can do it on your own. Well, I can level that playing field.
He walks over to the tree where the Cederbergh twins are patiently waiting, one of them reaching behind it, producing the large war hammer that Christer had procured in his Hammer of the Gods match against Azrael a few weeks ago.
Christer: If you want to bring your bat, I have my hammer.
He lifts it up with one hand and spins it a few times before hefting it up with both hands and then bringing it down onto an unsuspecting rock, shattering it immediately upon impact.
Christer: How do you think this would feel when it hits your head, Ozric? Would it give you the same amount of satisfaction as annihilating old ladies’ spines with your bat? Would you do it again? In a heartbeat. Would I do it? No, I am not a monster. That being said, don’t expect me to go easy on you in any way, because there are a lot of things at stake in this match. In the bigger picture the honour of CWF to defend ourselves against the insurgents. But also personally. If you look at my record in CWF, it does not look good on paper, I’ll admit that. Yet some things you cannot put down to just the numbers.
At Hostile Intentions I will be there to stop you. Sure, it will be part of the effort to keep Hostility down, but even though we have never met before, this is personal to me. Finally a chance to go one against one again. An opportunity to go against a despicable human being - well, being, not sure how human in the end - and show it its limits. Will there be technical finesse? Probably not. High flying moves? Seriously doubtful. But this will be intense, it will be fierce, it literally will be to the blood. And nobody said that it had to be just a scratch or cut. Nobody said that it had to stop at that.
The already grim look on his face takes on some extra determination.
Christer: Ozric, your life, your career may never be the same again after stepping into that ring with me. I cannot guarantee your well-being, both mentally and physically after the dust settles. I don’t know if you have heard of berserker rage? Some people believe that it is a myth, but if need be, you will be able to see first hand what a true berserker is capable of. And even if you manage to draw my blood first it does not mean that you have this match in the bag.
I don’t care about this magical “surprize” by Milenko, I just want to see - you - down, Ozric. It’s like they say, a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye...
He walks over to Mortimer’s photo on the tree and yanks the axe out of it.
Christer: And blood for blood.
He walks back to the Cederbergh twins and all three men raise their fists into the cloudy skies.
At that the camera zooms into Ozric’s picture and shows blood trickling from the cut in the photo before the picture fades to black.