Who, dear reader, be a man and a half?

Cronn the Unstoppable was a man and a half, and a berserker man and a half was he. There was no obstacle that this great hero could not fix with his blood-drenched hands.

"THUNDER," he cried out in a... thunderous voice! "I cook with charcoal and iron! Mine hands are filled with mine enemy's bones, and my helm shields the world from my madness! Yes, knave! I hold in my trembling hands your spine! Hearken! Who be the man? 'Tis me, I doth proclaim! I am! A fearsome man! How fearsome? If strength were measurable in numbers, my power would be twice beyond the reach of a mere 10-scale! I need not a blade, for blades are the tools of the WEAK!"

And Lo, the mighty hero did turn his attention to a nearby ornately decorated door, with his foot.

"What be this devilry? Knock knock, 'tis I! I I I I I I I I I I I!"

The force of his kick did shatter the wooden foundations of the door, revealing a great demon lord within! And lo, the great hero did speak:

"Rend and slash, rend and slash thine bowels! Thou art a sizeable foe! Therefore, thou must be possessed of prodigious entrails! Rend and slash! Lo, the Night Carriage cometh!" And Cronn the Implacable did lay his enthusiastic fists upon his bewildered opponent, but in an instant, his feelings of unstoppable, insurmountable power faded, and he did flee from the brute before him.

"Truly I do indeed require a blade! I need a powerful blade, of the finest materials and craftsmanship!" Tearing across the halls of the crypt, he was soon waylaid by a horde of slavering ghouls. "Ghouls with blades! They be not blades of quality, but they are blades nontheless!" He laid his eyed upon a blade of rusted steel. "When mine own tongue fails, my blade speaks louder than any spoken language! Hearken now, and hear my desire to procure your blades! Heed my words!"

Though his steel was weak, his muscles were strong, and the gibbering zombies crumbled under his relentless onslaught. He had a blade, but he was in need of a blade mightier still. His steel sword glowed with a fiery enchantment, lighting his path through the dark corridors. His might made light, and his blade swept through his foes like they were made of mere mist. At that moment, the hero had no greater respect for any item in all creation than his steel blade. But short-lived was his respect, as he cast his blade aside upon discovering a mighty dwarven mace.

It was a mightier weapon. Not the mightiest, but mighty indeed. A flash of searing pain pulled the mighty one from his reverie, and he turned to find a snarling imp. "Foolish, foolish! Foolish imp. Thou art FOOLISH. And thou shalt soon be foolish and DEAD. Dance thy last, knave!" And the fiend was no more.

"Heed ye, the capacity for destruction and bloodshed! I am the ONE! Imps, zombies, Demons, come try thy luck! Thinkest thou a match for ME!?" The hero paused for a moment, considering that these beasts may not have had the ability to think. But HE could think, and he thought they were dead. No sooner had he torn through a horde of lesser demons and ghouls, that a hissing, scaled wyvern raised its crest and charged. A great blow was struck, and the Cronn the Insurmountable fell into a great pit of cursed muck. Who had left this foul muck here, and why? Why could the previous residents of this tomb not find a way to safely dispose of such evil substances? And what sort of world would be left to his children's children? To make matters worse still, Cronn the Insurmountable's new weapon was now drained of all its magical power.

He knew he would have to find another blade. And sure enough, he spotted one... a mace of pure truesilver! Suddenly, as if on cue, a plethora of firelords began to charge. It was always something. Making a grab for the weapon, he felt a surge of bloodlust. A mighty blow here, and a vicious strike there, and he felt he was now on a whole new level. Even the spirits themselves sought to slay the intruding hero! But no matter how swift or invisible they were, the power of his mighty mace laid waste to all around him. And in that moment, his eyes beheld a miracle of death... the weapon to end all weapons... the Axe of Barbarian Rage. Knowing that this weapon MUST be claimed for his own, he tore through the vicious hordes of the mindless undead, and the ferocious demons, and at last claimed it for his own.
Death surrounded him. But in his heart, he felt the blessing of the Divines themselves. The unholiest of weapons, bestowed upon him by the holiest of Divines. His eyes could but weep as he bore witness to its sheer majesty. He knew what had to be done.

His cause was just.
His will was strong.
And his axe was very, very large.

Scant seconds later, Cronn the Incorrigable found his greatest foe once again. "Let loose your hellish fury, O beastly warrior... For you struggle in vain!" With all the fury of a thousand scorned wives, Cronn the Insatiable dealt the fiend a mighty blow, and split the irredeemable wretch in twain! He felt the hot rush of evil blood soaking his face... and was exhilerated. Victory was his. Yet the rest of the land remained besieged by creatures unspeakably foul. It would take a strong man to bring the light of freedom back to these lands... a strong man with the biggest, baddest axe in the world.

(If anybody understands just what I'm parodying, then you need to get a life. And that makes two of us.)