My legend was forged in the flames of a thousand battlefields. The skulls of my fallen enemies decorate my home, and I surrender to the small death of sleep each night with their dying cries of anguish echoing in my ears. My love of bacon shall endure for all eternity, my devotion serving as an example to future generations of carnivores. Cows whisper in hushed tones at my passing, mortified to witness the unfettered glory of the harbinger of their doom walking the mortal plane. To gaze into my eyes is to know the inevitability of your own demise, to confront the certainty of death. To face me in combat is to witness a Dark God of Destruction annihilate everything you have ever loved. Also, I like Dutch Brothers.