Post by OZYMANDIAS on Sept 9, 2021 1:15:46 GMT -5
“I’ve got to say, at first I wondered if you even knew who in the hell I was. I assumed you were just like everyone else around here, underestimating me and not giving me a single moment of thought.”
“Before this moment...I didn’t even know your name.”
THE LODGE
It’s not strange to hear the howling winds or the aggressive dance of rain on the windows and tin roofs of Old Harbour. Nestled tightly on the south-eastern shore of Kodiak Island, the Alaskan fishing village rarely sees good days for long.
Howling winds and blistering cold front tend to scare off the faintest of hearts, the anger in the seas often pouring onto land, into the blood of those ashore. The rainfall pelts the village, reminding them that their shelter is no match for the elements and that they should heed every water fall with a warning of a greater storm to come.
Simply named ‘The Lodge’, we begin our tale in the small inn buried within the center of the village, surrounded by a congregation of florists, merchants, fishmongers and more. Residential by night, trade stalls by day. The inn keeps it all together, however, a tightly wound community built around their centerpiece, their meeting point.
The nucleus of the town, the eye of the storm.
“Jesus, brutal weather out there today, eh!” A fish merchant, newly landed in Old Harbour finds his way to the front of the inn. With a warm mix of arranged seating, crackling fireplaces and dining sets the inn accommodates all. From a warm supper to a cold beverage, with bed and board for those not yet settled in the village. The fish merchant came in from Canada a couple of nights back and has barely touched the waters shore in that time. “Any hope of getting out for a haul is well off the table for tomorrow. Here’s hoping it doesn’t spoil the whole trip.”
A small revenue stream for the village is a chartered fishing trawler option, your very own taste of the wild seas and salty air. Those with more money than sense arrive in the summer peaks to venture to the horizon in their rented ships, drop the lobster cages and cast a hopeless fishing line into the dead sea. Whatever adventures they seek, the fishing tours tend to satiate them.
“I’m thinking after today, another day cancelled on the storm, I might need to find my way home sooner than planned. This is a letdown.” The fishing in Old Harbour is simple, some perch further out to sea, some salmon close to the rivers, and mackerel galore on the high tide. But the easiest fishing is that of another kind. A good lure often brings in the biggest catch, and one with pockets of money makes for the best reward.
“It will be a shame to see you go, especially so soon. We were just getting used to your acquaintance.” The innkeeper, normally a short, stout man had somehow disappeared only the week previous. Some say he fell ill with a sickness, others say he grew too big to even leave his bed. But his replacement, a slender gothic brunette with beautiful piercing eyes and a silken flowing dress… she might tell you he went for a long swim.
“Me too, I was liking it here. Everyone is so friendly, so accommodating. It really feels like this could be home one day. They say ‘island time’ is only a myth, but not here. This pace of life is wonderful.” A beer is put in front of him, the barmaid accompanying it with a sinister smirk. “Thanks! I didn’t even order a drink?”
“You didn’t say it, but your mind spoke it. Enjoy the drink, it saddens me to hear you did not get what you came for here. Old Harbour is a sanctuary to these people, all around you. An escape, a release, a new world. We would love oh so much if you could stay here. Maybe another night or two, maybe forever?” She cackles, a slow menacing laugh, but with her beautiful looks, the man thinks nothing of it and chuckles back.
“You know what, compared to my crappy job and where I live… maybe I will just stay here forever!” He tips the bottle towards her to ‘cheers’ and takes a sip.
“Oh honey, don’t lead a girl on like that.” She moves down the bar, her motions keeping the full attention of his eyes. His focus on her hair flowing, her dress dancing as if made from air, her pale white skin sneaking out from underneath. His gaze is so fixed he barely notices the gigantic mass of muscle and sinew sat at the far end of the inn. A veritable monster amongst men, his arms bigger than the heads of others surrounding him. The traveller can’t help but stare, the sheer size of the guy.
“Sorry, miss…” he asks, as the barmaid ventures back.
“Hun, please. We’re friends. Call me Meredith.”
“Oh, uh… Meredith, can I ask about… something?” His question is interrupted by Meredith leaning forward onto the bar counter, her chin resting on a poised fist, her forearm creating the trophy stand for her words.
“Oh I wouldn’t pry sweetheart, that man doesn’t like to be interrupted. He works hard, he devotes his time to this little village, so we thank him by giving him his peace and quiet.” They both look back to the man, his body turned almost sideways to them as he sits at the bar. The light in the inn is dim at best, candlelight and gas lanterns keeping the darkness at bay. Electricity is too complicated in a town like this, so the old-fashioned way works best. As they look at the man, he pulls a candle closer to him, revealing he is sat reading from a small book.
But the gasp on the travellers face says more, as he spots the metal mask strapped to the figure’s face. His eyes widen as he turns to Meredith, desperate for answers but her gaze, her smile, her fascination is still affixed to the traveller.
“Let me tell you a story, one that will warm your soul so much you will feel like you could sink to the bottom of the ocean with ease.” She pops another bottle of beer in front of the man, already capped and open, to which he only glances at. His mind is astray, distracted by the hulking beast in the corner, the man in the iron mask. “Have you ever heard the tale of ‘The Butcher’?”
The traveller takes a moment to gather himself, but Meredith’s infectious smile helps to calm his nerves. He shakes his head slightly, affirming his ignorance of the story.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy from lands far far away. A good boy, a heart so great he had a love for the entire world in it. His passion in life was to help everyone he could, not just his family, not just his loved ones. But the whole world. The boy wanted to give so much, he wanted to fight off evil, darkness, chaos and finally bring peace to the world. It was his passion, his destiny. It was everything about him.”
She motions for the traveller to finish his first bottle, which she switches for the fresh new bottle and encourages him to drink up.
“This boy grew stronger and strong, his passion for helping others fuelled him. It drove him, it gave him purpose. As the boy became a man, his heart grew even more, his love for the world and the people around him grew and grew. Soon the boy was no more, and a giant happy man remained in his place. His family was so proud! That the love he had for them, the joy he brought to them and everyone around him was evident in his size. He was a giant, a happy happy giant!”
Her words grow cheerful and light, engrossing the traveller. He sips his second beer and grows comfortable in his seat, regaled by the story.
“The giant continued to give back to everyone, always helping, always working. Fishing, building, painting, farming, no matter what was needed the giant loved to help. His happiness and his kind heart was known for miles!” She pauses, for dramatic effect. “But there were other people, so angry, so mean and bitter with the world. All they wanted was sadness, anger, pain and suffering. They didn’t like the giant, they didn’t like how he was helping everyone, how he was being a good person.”
Meredith motions for the traveller to drink up, her flirtatious ways endearing to the man sat before her.
“These bad men got angry, oh so angry, and decided they would try to take some of this happiness for themselves. They didn’t like the giant, and they were jealous of his joy! So they came in the night, with torches and loud yelling, and tried to scare his friends away. They tried to scare the joy away from his life. They burned his flowers, his fields and his homes. The giant was so mad.”
“What did he do?”
“The giant woke up and found these bad men tried to take his light away. They only wanted him to have darkness, sorrow and sadness. The giant did not like these things, so he stayed happy instead. His friends and family stayed happy too! And when everyone together is happy, there was no room for darkness to creep in. This made the bad men even madder!”
The traveller is sat back on his stool, relaxed and fully engaged. He continues to drink his bottle, enamored with the barmaid before him. The entire village, all the patrons of the inn, and her focus was only on him. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear.
“One night, the bad men came back. This time they had more torches! More yelling! More shouting! And this time they really wanted the giant to get upset! So they burned his flowers again, his fields, his homes. So much fire, so much sadness in the village.”
“These bad men don’t give up. Why press a giant like that?”
“The bad men made a big mistake. When he woke up, the giant put out all the fires. Saved all the crops, the plants, the flowers. He saved all those afraid and scared of the fires… but there was one tragedy. The giant’s mother. She got lost in the flames and got swallowed up whole. Oh, how the giant cried that night. Tears as big as lakes and howls as loud as the winds. The bad men thought they had won, finally bringing sadness to the giant’s world.”
Meredith stops to motion to the man to finish up his beer, which he finally does with a long and laboured chug. Only when the final drop is finished, does Meredith grow relaxed and lets a smile break across her lips.
“Ok, done. Then what?”
Meredith leans back on the bar counter behind her.
“The giant got a cleaver from the local butchers, he visited the bad men that night himself… and he chopped them up! One by one, piece by piece, he made sure that every last bit of sadness, sorrow and anger was taken from their bodies. That nothing was left behind for them to ever hurt or upset anyone ever again. Chop chop chop, piece by piece, until nothing remained.”
The traveller looks at her elated, loving the arch in the story… but quickly he grabs the edge of the bar as his balance begins to wobble.
“This was not enough for the giant, as he knew there were more bad men outside of his village. Outside of his little town. So he decided to travel and visit all these other bad men. Chop chop chop, one by one. Off with their heads, off with their arms and legs. No more sadness, no more bad men.”
Either the story, the beer or the gravity of the situation hits the man. Maybe all three, but his balance fails him and he clings to the bar for support. His eyes roll up to meet Meredith’s, almost in a daze.
“And this giant still hasn’t stopped. The bad men are all over, all around us. Some like to hide in masks, some like to wear flashy clothing. Some look and dress like men, bad girls and bad people. The giant doesn’t like those evildoers, so he removes them where he can. A swing of a hatcher here, a big kick to the tummy there, maybe a toss over his shoulder and a quick snap of their spine instead.”
The traveller tries to stand but his legs give way, grabbing desperately to the edge of the bar to keep himself upright. Meredith leans in close, ignoring his struggle and denying him any help.
“Some of these bad people call themselves ‘Sensations’. ‘Straight Shooters’. ‘Tyrants’. ‘Molotovs’. The giant didn’t care, it didn’t matter to him what they called themselves. He just went through them with ease, chop chop chop. After all of that, he realized it’s not just peace and love that drives him, it’s not just joy and happiness. The evil is all around us no matter what, so now he has a better motivator. Do you want to know what that is?”
The traveller fully slips from the bar and hits the floor, but is quickly surrounded by other patrons of the inn. Looking to them, gasping and mumbling for their help, they simply look down on him with blank expressions. A moment passes before they life the traveller up, sitting him back on his stool, his eyes rolling in his head as whatever drug was in the bottles takes effect.
“Do you want to know why he fights for us? Why he devotes his life to us? Because he wants us to have a new world! One free of weakness, of fear, of malice. A new world devoid of ravens, of starlets, of wolfs, huntresses, of Vikings and kings. No more ‘luxury experiences’. He wants to wash away the weak and drown all that remains. He will build a new world for us instead, a new kingdom. A new sanctuary, all together… in R’lyeh.”
The townspeople behind the man push something up the back of his stool, the man groggy as fuck and unable to fight can’t even turn around to see what it is. Meredith slowly makes her way from around the bar, to be by the travellers side. As they tip his stool backwards, they pull him into a waiting wheelbarrow and toss his torso in there without a care. Desperate, the traveller manages to get one last word out.
“....wwwwwwhy.”
“Why? Why does the giant work endlessly to save us from this sick and evil world? Why does this kind heart want to share love and joy with everyone? Because this world is corrupt, this world is broken. And if the fires won’t cleanse them, the rising seas will.” She motions for them to settle the man, and the townsfolk abide without question. “And why are you in this predicament? Why are you in this barrow, a broken and crumbled mess?”
She smirks, her face stretching as her sinister expression breaks into a slight cackle.
“Because our God is always hungry.”
They begin to wheel the man towards the door of the inn, the sound of the howling winds and rain growing louder and more aggressive once the doorway is opened. The traveller, through dilated eyes and blurred senses, trains his eyes to look to the end of the bar one last time, and spies the giant is still there. Still reading his book. Still unperturbed with the actions happening before him. Before they leave fully, the giant takes one look at the man, giving the lost soul one final image of the man in the iron mask.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”, says the masked man to himself under his breath.
THE TOWN HALL
The weather has not truly let up, slight gaps in its thrashings here and there have given the townsfolk of Old Harbour some reprieve. But the wrath of the storm is still to come, and preparations for this battle are underway. From additional support on their doors to nailing closed their shutters, to reinforcing their thin and thatched rooves the entire village works effortlessly to build towards what is to come.
“My people, do not lose sleep over what is to come. We have endured storms, we have fought monsoons and we have come out of it stronger.” Gathered before her in a repurposed boatshed is the majority of the townspeople, stood before their mayor as she address her denizens.
“As your Mayor, I have seen homes ravaged by the winter storms, I have seen families upheaved and unhomed. I have seen those injured and those that have suffered worse fates. But I have seen you all, us, united as a community working tirelessly to help one another. To lend shelter to those in need, to lend food or water to those without it. We are a family, a united front against the storms to come.”
The shores of Alaska are known for their fierce contrasting weather patterns, from a small swelling in the sea to an egregious wave of water enter the homes along the shore. The boats in the bay can withstand the rise and fall of the waters but the docks, the anchorage, the building along the water’s edge cannot take another bad onslaught.
With the summer days growing shorter and the smell of Fall in the air, the townsfolk grow concerned. The day will come that their God will rise from the depths and drown the world as they know it, as they stand in sanctuary behind the walls of R’lyeh. But without the Great One’s control, the seas run rampant and unleashed.
“I implore you to find solace in the fact that we are stronger than ever. We have rebuilt from prior storms, we have reinforced our docks and our promenades tenfold since out last winter, and we have grown in population enormously since our last trip around the winter suns!”
Meredith stands on the podium before the crowd, her words are heard and absorbed. But what she is saying, what she is speaking only lands with half impact. For most eyes in the room are taken by the presence of their warrior, standing to her side.
The Butcher of Reine.
“This rain comes to us from the blue, unexpected and unplanned. We were not ready, this is true, and our failure to prepare has resulted in leaking rooves, slamming shutters and draught doorways. But we are still a ways off from the true Fall storms, the true Winter warpath. We have time to plan ahead, we have time to brace.”
“With what materials! The ships have stopped coming to us for weeks, months even. The waters deny any entry to our ports, and the rumours on the mainland have scared away even the most desperate of vendors!”
The cries from a local townsman ring true. While Old Harbour booms and blossoms mid-summer as a tourist local for those seeking a more peaceful, relaxed pace of life it also bodes a formidable presence. The tales and rumours on the mainland are that not everyone returns from Old Harbour, not everyone comes back to tell their tales. And as much speculation there might be about this… they are true.
“We have scared away the last ship merchant when he came upon one of our rituals, the seafarer trawler rentals have stopped supplying us with customers-”
“-because they all have been sacrificed!”
“-the lumber smith won’t sell to us at his discounted rates no more due to the fires-”
“-scaring the mainlanders into joining the cult!”
“-and the last time I ever sawr a ship coming through here with other good musta been a year or more ago!”
The rabble of the townsfolk heats up, enough to make Meredith lose her cool.
“ENOUGH! I have heard...enough. I get it, you are worried we are about to be cut off from the mainland-”
“-we already are!”
“-and you are concerned we are to be forgotten out here on our island. Lest you forget, we are not the only port on Kodiak Island, and we are not the only stop in the sea. Whatever tensions have risen between us and the mainlanders, we can resolve.”
“How? By sending your dog after them? It’s his fault we’re in this bloody mess!”
The rabble grows, with Meredith frustratingly rubbing her brow. Stood slightly behind her, Ozymandias lurks and brews, awaiting his cue.
“My people… we will provide lumber. We will get steel. We will get the materials you need for this storm. But you must be patient.”
“My family has been here 50 years, and your bully there has scared off every friendship my father built.”
“I was born and raised on this island, peaceful and sound. And since you brought in this new God talk, nobody wants to come here n’more. You’ve isolated us from the world Meredith.”
“That dog needs to be put on a leash!”
The rabble continues, until Ozymandias ends it with a crash. Grabbing a nearby chair he slams it off the back wall with such force, it shatters completely and stops the rabble entirely.
“You would do well to remember who has fed you these past few years. Who’s hands have delivered your grain, your soil, your lumber or iron.” His voice is aggravated, but the mask adds an extra layer of rasp to each word, a metallic almost synthetic reverberance to his speech. “I implore you to ponder what might have become of your town should Meredith have failed to provide for you. Should I have failed you.”
He stops, his chest beginning to heave in anger.
“Our brother speaks true, Ozymandias speaks only truths. His income, his generous donations have funded this village for many years past. His efforts have helped to bring us to a great standing than ever before, his sacrifices here and out there have generously enriched this little town, and the lives of you all.”
She steps forward on the podium.
“It is true… I have asked a lot from you. I have asked you to blindly follow a new faith, one you did not know of before. I have asked you to commit acts, many if not all that shall never be spoken of again. And I have requested your help and your hands in my pilgrimage for growth, our recruitment drives to the mainland. Not all were willing to heed the word of the Great Old One, not all wanted to worship the Drowned God as we do.”
She looks around the room, waving her arm slowly to let them all know she is here. Her pause allows the outside wind to howl and rattle the thin walls of the old boat shed even more.
“But all we have achieved, all we have accomplished… our sacrifices WILL be rewarded.”
The townsfolk whisper amongst themselves, which quickly becomes louder rabble once again.
“What happens when he’s gone?”
Meredith looks to Ozymandias, his eyes drilled into those of the people before him. She looks back to her town, a smile across the lips of the Old Harbour mayor.
“Ozymandias will never leave us. He belongs to you, to Old Harbour, and to R’lyeh.”
This doesn’t quite satisfy them but gives them enough peace to allow her to continue uninterrupted.
“Tell me… how many of you have fought before, a real fight. A true hand-to-hand fight… some of you? Few of you? Ozymandias has fought for us, week in and week out. When you worry about the winter storms as you sip tea on your sofa, he stands against those that would wish him hard, and he fights. When you warm before a fire, a cozy hearth, he fights.”
She jumps off the mini podium and walks amongst the crowd.
“We have all heard the tales of ‘The Butcher’, the beast from Norway. But has he ever shown any harm towards you? Has he ever inflicted harm on your families, on your friends? Ozymandias obeys his God, he obliges his God. He devotes himself to his God. He does not fight his family, he sacrifices himself week after week for his family.”
As she walks her black silken dress flows behind her, wisping in the air almost like smoke. It flows as if immune to gravity.
“He has become a champion for his people, a signal of great strength and great prowess. He has devoted time, blood, sweat and tears to honing his craft so that he could give it all back to you… and here, you now begin to doubt him?”
She stands beside the townsman that was shouting his concerns, the man now meekly lowering his head to avoid any further attention.
“Ozymandias fights for Old Harbour. He always has. To doubt he will be around for us when times are hard, tough, to worry he will abandon us… is foolish.” She makes her way back to the podium. “I can guide this community, but Ozymandias… he LEADS us. He drives us. He is the backbone of this town, and he will break the backbone of those that oppose us.”
She motions for Ozymandias to take the stage, which he does reluctantly. The room is quiet as they watch him step forward to the edge of the podium, then down onto the floor so that is the same level as everyone. The silence in the room is only offset by the winds blowing outside, and the persistent drips of rainwater seeping through the cracked roof.
“You are less concerned for my well-being, and more about your own. It is greedy, a sign of weakness and humility of your own mortality… it is what makes us human.” He slowly steps forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for each step he takes. “I have not asked for your support, your cheers or your praise. I do not do this for you, therefore I do not ask for anything in return. I do what I do… for Old Harbour.” Again, he steps forward slowly, each footstep making a loud heavy thud as three hundred plus pound comes down in each boot.
“To those who do not observe my fighting, I do not bear a grudge. Watching such violence might turn a weaker stomach. But know this… I enter that gauntlet every time, confident… fearless… assured, that I will leave as the victor.” He stops in the middle of the crowd, allowing them to form a circle around him. “Every fight, every match, every battle, I know that I will be triumphant.”
The people stand there watching him, braced but growing a little more relaxed as Ozymandias eyes them up one by one.
“I have bested the best. I have broken their champions. I have ran the marathon and still have room for many more miles. Their past champions, in the entirety of their tenure, have fallen to my hands… their greatest warriors, men and women, have palled in comparison to my might. Their largest challengers, their flashiest gimmicks, their best contenders… they mean nothing to me.”
He steps back towards the mini-stage where Meredith still stands, her face showing a rare expression of compassion for these people tonight.
“I am the Warrior. I am HIS chosen Warrior. I fight now for Old Harbour, and I will fight then for R’lyeh. My worth, my income, my sacrifices will mean nothing… if we allow Old Harbour to fall.” He looks to Meredith, a slight smile behind her eyes and he simply nods before looking around his people again. “I will fight on for you, but you must fight for me. I will enter that ring as your champion, but when I return with that same golden belt, you must show me what I have fought for.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his breath. “And when I snap my opponent’s spine over my knee for the final time, his screams will awake Cthulhu himself. For Old Harbour, and for R’lyeh.”
Meredith quickly begins clapping, encouraging the rest of the people to join in and cheer and clap also. The growing energy in the room is felt, as Meredith leads the applause. They know it is best to applaud, and Ozymandias can feel their fear.
They reek of it.
But for now, at this moment, between fear, peer pressure and frustrations… they are a community once more.
THE COVE
Later that night, following their riveting and empowering spiel to the townspeople, Meredith and Ozymandias take full advantage of a break in the weather. August brings sunshine while September brings rain, a sign of the bitter months to come. Old Harbour has seen its share of bad days, freak storms and large ocean swells but the years passing are bringing darker tidings to its shores.
“The people really rally around you brother, they really do care and adore you. They are just weak of spirit at times.”
The rain has eased to light spittle, and the winds have calmed to a comfortable yet intimidating breeze nonetheless. The shores of Old Harbour stretch long and wide, from far ends to the looming cliffs above the village. With the wet air and vapid winds blowing across them, the duo take in a brief moment to walk the length of the stoney, sandy shore, the angry ocean closely by their sides.
“It is hard to paint them as flawed when truly all they are is afraid. They worry about what is tome come next, what is to happen should they lose their means. The sea may take their homes one day, but until then they wish to live, and to endure.”
The silence from Ozymandias is enough, Meredith takes this as a sign of annoyance.
“They are not as strong as you, brother. Not in spirit, mind or body. I don’t know anyone that is, truly…”
As they walk along, the soft wind catches Meredith’s black silken dress and as always, it causes it to dance in the air as it she flows with a trail of smoke. Ozymandias simply pulls his trench coat to his body, tighter and sealed against the elements.
“It is true, perhaps… what would we do, should the great Ozymandias stop providing for the village.”
“You would worry with them, about my fate?”
“Not for one moment. I do not doubt your skills in the ring, or your generosity as a townsgiver. But perhaps, would the sea take you, like it did my brother and father… then where would we be?”
“Should the sea take me, then I will be in R’lyeh, waiting patiently for you to join. That time is far from now, and it is pointless to ponder it.” They step along the stones of the shore, the shells and broken homes of shellfish crunching beneath each step. Ozymandias’s boots show no mercy to the shattering stones and shells, but Meredith chooses the barefoot approach, her steps barely leaving a mark behind. Almost ghostly. “We grow closer to our goal, Meredith.”
Their goal, total domination of Project Honor.
Phase One of the total domination of the world. Take the company by force, take the country by wrath, take the world by storm. Leave no threats standing, leave no doubts to those before you.
Break them all.
“We do, my friend. Closer and closer we climb, one title at a time. The Grand was an easy seizure, pulling it from the soft hands of Mark Hunter. But we cannot lose it now, not on our path to the Legacy. Only when we hold the keys to the kingdom, can we truly call ourselves the alpha.”
“I will not lose it. Not to a boy that barks like a dog.” He grunts, the mask turning his exhale into a light metallic whistle. “I should have utterly broken that fool when I had the moment.”
“You did exactly what we spoke of, and what we planned. Ending Cadillac there and there would have only upset our plans, as the powers in Darlings’ motley crew would have replaced him with a bigger threat.”
“There is no bigger threat than me.”
She pauses, allowing herself to catch her words. “Correct. But to break a contender before the bell has even rung, would see you being punished. You did what we needed you to do. Jackson will be fragile, more so than before. He fears you, he reveres you, he idolizes you while also being terrified. And not you gave him something more to think about.”
She speaks of Proving Ground XXII, where Cadillac Jackson chose the ill fate of taunting the Butcher, and ate a brutal World Ender for his efforts. To tempt the bull, is to get the horns.
“Punishment or not, I should not have allowed that man to leave the ring as he did.”
“By stretcher? Carried out by paramedics?”
“...breathing.”
They continue along the shore, the wind slightly picking up now as it grabs and pulls at the overcoat of Ozymandias. He looks down to Meredith to gauge her temperature, but with every chilling gust of wind she seems to be more ecstatic, more content.
“We have come so far together, have we not? From our domination in WrestleWorld, to our onslaught in Project Honor. We are yet to meet a foe that will truly test the Butcher in battle. Past Grand Champions have fallen before you. Bulldozers, Tyrants and more have crumbled at your hands. And even outnumber, outmatched you have proven successful/ This Jackson might be glamour and drab, but he might be a match you least expect.”
Ozymandias says nothing, doesn’t even change his pace.
“I loathe that I had to spend time studying this boy. I despise that I needed to focus on his skills, or his efforts in that ring. And come Night of Honor, I will not show that amateur any mercy. He might have found his way into this match through a moment of sheer skill, but his luck at that Rumble will not fare well for him in this fight.”
Ozymandias stops, gathering himself for his next words. The wind hitting his face begins to water his eyes and as Meredith looks up at them tearing, she sees only one thing… fire.
“He has fought and fallen to the past Grand titleholder, Mark Hunter. He had fought and failed against Wil Riley, a fool I buried in a mismatched bout. He has fought and been beaten by Lance Williams, another thorn in my side I have bested. He is yet to beat anyone that I have already proven my dominance over.”
“He is new, he is on his journey just like the rest of the sheep. All running aimlessly, blindly towards the golden prize, and none are aware of the wolf holding it. He will soon learn what the Butcher is capable of, and this will last longer than one simple move in the ring.”
“I will not break him immediately… I will not give him a swift defeat.”
“I do not expect it from you, nor do the fans wish for that either. There is bloodlust in that audience, and the people of Japan will expect a show. Do not show the boy mercy, however…”, she pauses for a moment, gathering her next words carefully, “...do not maim him entirely. Should he prove to be an adversary we did not foresee, should he surprise us, then leave him intact.”
She turns and faces the ocean.
“Our God is always hungry for strong offerings.”
They continue down the shore, Meredith almost in a state of euphoria as the sweeping winds catch her dress, the cold wet spray of the ocean dampens her skin and her hair becomes a sopping icy mess. She spins and twirls, her joy evident.
“Oh Ozymandias… does it not feel good? To know our journey might near its end soon? Cadillac aside, our path to the Legacy will be wide open. Should the witch hold it, or the lost prince it matters not. A true fight for the years will be upon us, and with the Grand in one hand and the Legacy in the other, we will truly be… Godsends.”
Ozymandias adjusts his coat, his eyes firmly on Meredith as she skips forward, humming and seemingly elated at the prospect of their future.
“You jump too far ahead, you risk stumbling over. I have walked this path before Meredith, this hungry path.” He stops walking forward, instead turning to face the sea. Meredith spots this and comes back to his side, perplexed. “What comes next must not surpass what comes now. This fool Cadillac walks into the ring with a Champion. He walks into the ring with a veteran. The yes of Japan will be upon me, as will the eyes of Project Honor. I cannot disappoint them.”
“Disappoint? My friend...do you test me? Do you doubt your chances?”
“No… I doubt my restraint.” He breathes in and out harshly, evidently become more and more heated. “You ask me to show some leniency, some mercy so that we might plunge this boy into the depths following the fight? I saw, let me honor the Gods by shattering this boy in the ring. You speak of testing him and weighing his potential for what, a partnership? A friendship? A sacrifice will suffice no matter how it is performed, beneath the waves or under the black skies.”
He bends to one knee, grabbing quite a large stone from the beach before standing back up.
“You have told tales of the Butcher. You have spoken of my past, of my journey. The people of Old Harbour fear me, for good reason. The world fears me. Honor and respect aside, it is their terror that makes them vulnerable.” He holds the big stone in one hand, eyeballing it before grabbing it with both hands and ripping it in half. “Cadillac Jackson does not deserve to be in MY ring. He does not deserve to be in MY match. Had I not stepped out of that Rumble to observe the fight, I would have taken home the victory for myself.”
He throws the rocks into the ocean, one by one, each causing a splash and a spray to blow back on them.
“What are you saying, Ozymandias?”
He pauses, allowing a moment to pass.
“I am beyond showing mercy. I am beyond showing compassion. I am beyond playing peacemaker or moral support.”
“Is this about earlier? At the town meeting... ?”
“This world knows me as a monster, sees me as a monster… it is time I gave them a monster. It is time the Gods stood up and took notice, of the Warrior before them.”
Meredith looks at him, confused.
“The Gods? You mean our one true God…?”
Ozymandias turns to face her, his eyes alight with fire.
“Gods of the deep of the Gods of Valhalla, it matters not. Mortals are born too fragile, and I am here to break them. This world will be ours, in the eyes of Cthulhu, Odin or Thor… they will see that.”
Ozymandias puts his hands on Meredith's shoulders, holding her steady but more so firmly in place.
“No more mercy. No more clemency. Only my fists, my fury, my wrath.” She looks at him, lost as she tries to understand what he is saying. “Worry not for Cadillac Jackson… it is better to fight with honor and die, than to live with shame forever.”
He lets her go, ‘clapping’ her shoulders as he does so. His breathing is heavy, and his tone very firm and sincere. He turns to continue down the shore, leaving Meredith to ponder for a moment… is Ozymandias intended to murder this man? Is her friend entering this brawl with manslaughter on his mind? Ever lost and confused, she is helpless but to chase him down to shore and catch up, walking with him into further darkness of the night.
The wind begins to grow and howl, picking up as it sweeps the sands and the shore, creating vortexes of sands and sea spray. A dust cloud engorges the duo, combating the night's darkness to a venture to conceal the pair, as they disappear into the void, together.
"What is dead may never die.
I don't plan on you dying at Night of Honor Ozymandias."
But I have plans for you.
“Before this moment...I didn’t even know your name.”
THE LODGE
It’s not strange to hear the howling winds or the aggressive dance of rain on the windows and tin roofs of Old Harbour. Nestled tightly on the south-eastern shore of Kodiak Island, the Alaskan fishing village rarely sees good days for long.
Howling winds and blistering cold front tend to scare off the faintest of hearts, the anger in the seas often pouring onto land, into the blood of those ashore. The rainfall pelts the village, reminding them that their shelter is no match for the elements and that they should heed every water fall with a warning of a greater storm to come.
Simply named ‘The Lodge’, we begin our tale in the small inn buried within the center of the village, surrounded by a congregation of florists, merchants, fishmongers and more. Residential by night, trade stalls by day. The inn keeps it all together, however, a tightly wound community built around their centerpiece, their meeting point.
The nucleus of the town, the eye of the storm.
“Jesus, brutal weather out there today, eh!” A fish merchant, newly landed in Old Harbour finds his way to the front of the inn. With a warm mix of arranged seating, crackling fireplaces and dining sets the inn accommodates all. From a warm supper to a cold beverage, with bed and board for those not yet settled in the village. The fish merchant came in from Canada a couple of nights back and has barely touched the waters shore in that time. “Any hope of getting out for a haul is well off the table for tomorrow. Here’s hoping it doesn’t spoil the whole trip.”
A small revenue stream for the village is a chartered fishing trawler option, your very own taste of the wild seas and salty air. Those with more money than sense arrive in the summer peaks to venture to the horizon in their rented ships, drop the lobster cages and cast a hopeless fishing line into the dead sea. Whatever adventures they seek, the fishing tours tend to satiate them.
“I’m thinking after today, another day cancelled on the storm, I might need to find my way home sooner than planned. This is a letdown.” The fishing in Old Harbour is simple, some perch further out to sea, some salmon close to the rivers, and mackerel galore on the high tide. But the easiest fishing is that of another kind. A good lure often brings in the biggest catch, and one with pockets of money makes for the best reward.
“It will be a shame to see you go, especially so soon. We were just getting used to your acquaintance.” The innkeeper, normally a short, stout man had somehow disappeared only the week previous. Some say he fell ill with a sickness, others say he grew too big to even leave his bed. But his replacement, a slender gothic brunette with beautiful piercing eyes and a silken flowing dress… she might tell you he went for a long swim.
“Me too, I was liking it here. Everyone is so friendly, so accommodating. It really feels like this could be home one day. They say ‘island time’ is only a myth, but not here. This pace of life is wonderful.” A beer is put in front of him, the barmaid accompanying it with a sinister smirk. “Thanks! I didn’t even order a drink?”
“You didn’t say it, but your mind spoke it. Enjoy the drink, it saddens me to hear you did not get what you came for here. Old Harbour is a sanctuary to these people, all around you. An escape, a release, a new world. We would love oh so much if you could stay here. Maybe another night or two, maybe forever?” She cackles, a slow menacing laugh, but with her beautiful looks, the man thinks nothing of it and chuckles back.
“You know what, compared to my crappy job and where I live… maybe I will just stay here forever!” He tips the bottle towards her to ‘cheers’ and takes a sip.
“Oh honey, don’t lead a girl on like that.” She moves down the bar, her motions keeping the full attention of his eyes. His focus on her hair flowing, her dress dancing as if made from air, her pale white skin sneaking out from underneath. His gaze is so fixed he barely notices the gigantic mass of muscle and sinew sat at the far end of the inn. A veritable monster amongst men, his arms bigger than the heads of others surrounding him. The traveller can’t help but stare, the sheer size of the guy.
“Sorry, miss…” he asks, as the barmaid ventures back.
“Hun, please. We’re friends. Call me Meredith.”
“Oh, uh… Meredith, can I ask about… something?” His question is interrupted by Meredith leaning forward onto the bar counter, her chin resting on a poised fist, her forearm creating the trophy stand for her words.
“Oh I wouldn’t pry sweetheart, that man doesn’t like to be interrupted. He works hard, he devotes his time to this little village, so we thank him by giving him his peace and quiet.” They both look back to the man, his body turned almost sideways to them as he sits at the bar. The light in the inn is dim at best, candlelight and gas lanterns keeping the darkness at bay. Electricity is too complicated in a town like this, so the old-fashioned way works best. As they look at the man, he pulls a candle closer to him, revealing he is sat reading from a small book.
But the gasp on the travellers face says more, as he spots the metal mask strapped to the figure’s face. His eyes widen as he turns to Meredith, desperate for answers but her gaze, her smile, her fascination is still affixed to the traveller.
“Let me tell you a story, one that will warm your soul so much you will feel like you could sink to the bottom of the ocean with ease.” She pops another bottle of beer in front of the man, already capped and open, to which he only glances at. His mind is astray, distracted by the hulking beast in the corner, the man in the iron mask. “Have you ever heard the tale of ‘The Butcher’?”
The traveller takes a moment to gather himself, but Meredith’s infectious smile helps to calm his nerves. He shakes his head slightly, affirming his ignorance of the story.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy from lands far far away. A good boy, a heart so great he had a love for the entire world in it. His passion in life was to help everyone he could, not just his family, not just his loved ones. But the whole world. The boy wanted to give so much, he wanted to fight off evil, darkness, chaos and finally bring peace to the world. It was his passion, his destiny. It was everything about him.”
She motions for the traveller to finish his first bottle, which she switches for the fresh new bottle and encourages him to drink up.
“This boy grew stronger and strong, his passion for helping others fuelled him. It drove him, it gave him purpose. As the boy became a man, his heart grew even more, his love for the world and the people around him grew and grew. Soon the boy was no more, and a giant happy man remained in his place. His family was so proud! That the love he had for them, the joy he brought to them and everyone around him was evident in his size. He was a giant, a happy happy giant!”
Her words grow cheerful and light, engrossing the traveller. He sips his second beer and grows comfortable in his seat, regaled by the story.
“The giant continued to give back to everyone, always helping, always working. Fishing, building, painting, farming, no matter what was needed the giant loved to help. His happiness and his kind heart was known for miles!” She pauses, for dramatic effect. “But there were other people, so angry, so mean and bitter with the world. All they wanted was sadness, anger, pain and suffering. They didn’t like the giant, they didn’t like how he was helping everyone, how he was being a good person.”
Meredith motions for the traveller to drink up, her flirtatious ways endearing to the man sat before her.
“These bad men got angry, oh so angry, and decided they would try to take some of this happiness for themselves. They didn’t like the giant, and they were jealous of his joy! So they came in the night, with torches and loud yelling, and tried to scare his friends away. They tried to scare the joy away from his life. They burned his flowers, his fields and his homes. The giant was so mad.”
“What did he do?”
“The giant woke up and found these bad men tried to take his light away. They only wanted him to have darkness, sorrow and sadness. The giant did not like these things, so he stayed happy instead. His friends and family stayed happy too! And when everyone together is happy, there was no room for darkness to creep in. This made the bad men even madder!”
The traveller is sat back on his stool, relaxed and fully engaged. He continues to drink his bottle, enamored with the barmaid before him. The entire village, all the patrons of the inn, and her focus was only on him. The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear.
“One night, the bad men came back. This time they had more torches! More yelling! More shouting! And this time they really wanted the giant to get upset! So they burned his flowers again, his fields, his homes. So much fire, so much sadness in the village.”
“These bad men don’t give up. Why press a giant like that?”
“The bad men made a big mistake. When he woke up, the giant put out all the fires. Saved all the crops, the plants, the flowers. He saved all those afraid and scared of the fires… but there was one tragedy. The giant’s mother. She got lost in the flames and got swallowed up whole. Oh, how the giant cried that night. Tears as big as lakes and howls as loud as the winds. The bad men thought they had won, finally bringing sadness to the giant’s world.”
Meredith stops to motion to the man to finish up his beer, which he finally does with a long and laboured chug. Only when the final drop is finished, does Meredith grow relaxed and lets a smile break across her lips.
“Ok, done. Then what?”
Meredith leans back on the bar counter behind her.
“The giant got a cleaver from the local butchers, he visited the bad men that night himself… and he chopped them up! One by one, piece by piece, he made sure that every last bit of sadness, sorrow and anger was taken from their bodies. That nothing was left behind for them to ever hurt or upset anyone ever again. Chop chop chop, piece by piece, until nothing remained.”
The traveller looks at her elated, loving the arch in the story… but quickly he grabs the edge of the bar as his balance begins to wobble.
“This was not enough for the giant, as he knew there were more bad men outside of his village. Outside of his little town. So he decided to travel and visit all these other bad men. Chop chop chop, one by one. Off with their heads, off with their arms and legs. No more sadness, no more bad men.”
Either the story, the beer or the gravity of the situation hits the man. Maybe all three, but his balance fails him and he clings to the bar for support. His eyes roll up to meet Meredith’s, almost in a daze.
“And this giant still hasn’t stopped. The bad men are all over, all around us. Some like to hide in masks, some like to wear flashy clothing. Some look and dress like men, bad girls and bad people. The giant doesn’t like those evildoers, so he removes them where he can. A swing of a hatcher here, a big kick to the tummy there, maybe a toss over his shoulder and a quick snap of their spine instead.”
The traveller tries to stand but his legs give way, grabbing desperately to the edge of the bar to keep himself upright. Meredith leans in close, ignoring his struggle and denying him any help.
“Some of these bad people call themselves ‘Sensations’. ‘Straight Shooters’. ‘Tyrants’. ‘Molotovs’. The giant didn’t care, it didn’t matter to him what they called themselves. He just went through them with ease, chop chop chop. After all of that, he realized it’s not just peace and love that drives him, it’s not just joy and happiness. The evil is all around us no matter what, so now he has a better motivator. Do you want to know what that is?”
The traveller fully slips from the bar and hits the floor, but is quickly surrounded by other patrons of the inn. Looking to them, gasping and mumbling for their help, they simply look down on him with blank expressions. A moment passes before they life the traveller up, sitting him back on his stool, his eyes rolling in his head as whatever drug was in the bottles takes effect.
“Do you want to know why he fights for us? Why he devotes his life to us? Because he wants us to have a new world! One free of weakness, of fear, of malice. A new world devoid of ravens, of starlets, of wolfs, huntresses, of Vikings and kings. No more ‘luxury experiences’. He wants to wash away the weak and drown all that remains. He will build a new world for us instead, a new kingdom. A new sanctuary, all together… in R’lyeh.”
The townspeople behind the man push something up the back of his stool, the man groggy as fuck and unable to fight can’t even turn around to see what it is. Meredith slowly makes her way from around the bar, to be by the travellers side. As they tip his stool backwards, they pull him into a waiting wheelbarrow and toss his torso in there without a care. Desperate, the traveller manages to get one last word out.
“....wwwwwwhy.”
“Why? Why does the giant work endlessly to save us from this sick and evil world? Why does this kind heart want to share love and joy with everyone? Because this world is corrupt, this world is broken. And if the fires won’t cleanse them, the rising seas will.” She motions for them to settle the man, and the townsfolk abide without question. “And why are you in this predicament? Why are you in this barrow, a broken and crumbled mess?”
She smirks, her face stretching as her sinister expression breaks into a slight cackle.
“Because our God is always hungry.”
They begin to wheel the man towards the door of the inn, the sound of the howling winds and rain growing louder and more aggressive once the doorway is opened. The traveller, through dilated eyes and blurred senses, trains his eyes to look to the end of the bar one last time, and spies the giant is still there. Still reading his book. Still unperturbed with the actions happening before him. Before they leave fully, the giant takes one look at the man, giving the lost soul one final image of the man in the iron mask.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”, says the masked man to himself under his breath.
THE TOWN HALL
The weather has not truly let up, slight gaps in its thrashings here and there have given the townsfolk of Old Harbour some reprieve. But the wrath of the storm is still to come, and preparations for this battle are underway. From additional support on their doors to nailing closed their shutters, to reinforcing their thin and thatched rooves the entire village works effortlessly to build towards what is to come.
“My people, do not lose sleep over what is to come. We have endured storms, we have fought monsoons and we have come out of it stronger.” Gathered before her in a repurposed boatshed is the majority of the townspeople, stood before their mayor as she address her denizens.
“As your Mayor, I have seen homes ravaged by the winter storms, I have seen families upheaved and unhomed. I have seen those injured and those that have suffered worse fates. But I have seen you all, us, united as a community working tirelessly to help one another. To lend shelter to those in need, to lend food or water to those without it. We are a family, a united front against the storms to come.”
The shores of Alaska are known for their fierce contrasting weather patterns, from a small swelling in the sea to an egregious wave of water enter the homes along the shore. The boats in the bay can withstand the rise and fall of the waters but the docks, the anchorage, the building along the water’s edge cannot take another bad onslaught.
With the summer days growing shorter and the smell of Fall in the air, the townsfolk grow concerned. The day will come that their God will rise from the depths and drown the world as they know it, as they stand in sanctuary behind the walls of R’lyeh. But without the Great One’s control, the seas run rampant and unleashed.
“I implore you to find solace in the fact that we are stronger than ever. We have rebuilt from prior storms, we have reinforced our docks and our promenades tenfold since out last winter, and we have grown in population enormously since our last trip around the winter suns!”
Meredith stands on the podium before the crowd, her words are heard and absorbed. But what she is saying, what she is speaking only lands with half impact. For most eyes in the room are taken by the presence of their warrior, standing to her side.
The Butcher of Reine.
“This rain comes to us from the blue, unexpected and unplanned. We were not ready, this is true, and our failure to prepare has resulted in leaking rooves, slamming shutters and draught doorways. But we are still a ways off from the true Fall storms, the true Winter warpath. We have time to plan ahead, we have time to brace.”
“With what materials! The ships have stopped coming to us for weeks, months even. The waters deny any entry to our ports, and the rumours on the mainland have scared away even the most desperate of vendors!”
The cries from a local townsman ring true. While Old Harbour booms and blossoms mid-summer as a tourist local for those seeking a more peaceful, relaxed pace of life it also bodes a formidable presence. The tales and rumours on the mainland are that not everyone returns from Old Harbour, not everyone comes back to tell their tales. And as much speculation there might be about this… they are true.
“We have scared away the last ship merchant when he came upon one of our rituals, the seafarer trawler rentals have stopped supplying us with customers-”
“-because they all have been sacrificed!”
“-the lumber smith won’t sell to us at his discounted rates no more due to the fires-”
“-scaring the mainlanders into joining the cult!”
“-and the last time I ever sawr a ship coming through here with other good musta been a year or more ago!”
The rabble of the townsfolk heats up, enough to make Meredith lose her cool.
“ENOUGH! I have heard...enough. I get it, you are worried we are about to be cut off from the mainland-”
“-we already are!”
“-and you are concerned we are to be forgotten out here on our island. Lest you forget, we are not the only port on Kodiak Island, and we are not the only stop in the sea. Whatever tensions have risen between us and the mainlanders, we can resolve.”
“How? By sending your dog after them? It’s his fault we’re in this bloody mess!”
The rabble grows, with Meredith frustratingly rubbing her brow. Stood slightly behind her, Ozymandias lurks and brews, awaiting his cue.
“My people… we will provide lumber. We will get steel. We will get the materials you need for this storm. But you must be patient.”
“My family has been here 50 years, and your bully there has scared off every friendship my father built.”
“I was born and raised on this island, peaceful and sound. And since you brought in this new God talk, nobody wants to come here n’more. You’ve isolated us from the world Meredith.”
“That dog needs to be put on a leash!”
The rabble continues, until Ozymandias ends it with a crash. Grabbing a nearby chair he slams it off the back wall with such force, it shatters completely and stops the rabble entirely.
“You would do well to remember who has fed you these past few years. Who’s hands have delivered your grain, your soil, your lumber or iron.” His voice is aggravated, but the mask adds an extra layer of rasp to each word, a metallic almost synthetic reverberance to his speech. “I implore you to ponder what might have become of your town should Meredith have failed to provide for you. Should I have failed you.”
He stops, his chest beginning to heave in anger.
“Our brother speaks true, Ozymandias speaks only truths. His income, his generous donations have funded this village for many years past. His efforts have helped to bring us to a great standing than ever before, his sacrifices here and out there have generously enriched this little town, and the lives of you all.”
She steps forward on the podium.
“It is true… I have asked a lot from you. I have asked you to blindly follow a new faith, one you did not know of before. I have asked you to commit acts, many if not all that shall never be spoken of again. And I have requested your help and your hands in my pilgrimage for growth, our recruitment drives to the mainland. Not all were willing to heed the word of the Great Old One, not all wanted to worship the Drowned God as we do.”
She looks around the room, waving her arm slowly to let them all know she is here. Her pause allows the outside wind to howl and rattle the thin walls of the old boat shed even more.
“But all we have achieved, all we have accomplished… our sacrifices WILL be rewarded.”
The townsfolk whisper amongst themselves, which quickly becomes louder rabble once again.
“What happens when he’s gone?”
Meredith looks to Ozymandias, his eyes drilled into those of the people before him. She looks back to her town, a smile across the lips of the Old Harbour mayor.
“Ozymandias will never leave us. He belongs to you, to Old Harbour, and to R’lyeh.”
This doesn’t quite satisfy them but gives them enough peace to allow her to continue uninterrupted.
“Tell me… how many of you have fought before, a real fight. A true hand-to-hand fight… some of you? Few of you? Ozymandias has fought for us, week in and week out. When you worry about the winter storms as you sip tea on your sofa, he stands against those that would wish him hard, and he fights. When you warm before a fire, a cozy hearth, he fights.”
She jumps off the mini podium and walks amongst the crowd.
“We have all heard the tales of ‘The Butcher’, the beast from Norway. But has he ever shown any harm towards you? Has he ever inflicted harm on your families, on your friends? Ozymandias obeys his God, he obliges his God. He devotes himself to his God. He does not fight his family, he sacrifices himself week after week for his family.”
As she walks her black silken dress flows behind her, wisping in the air almost like smoke. It flows as if immune to gravity.
“He has become a champion for his people, a signal of great strength and great prowess. He has devoted time, blood, sweat and tears to honing his craft so that he could give it all back to you… and here, you now begin to doubt him?”
She stands beside the townsman that was shouting his concerns, the man now meekly lowering his head to avoid any further attention.
“Ozymandias fights for Old Harbour. He always has. To doubt he will be around for us when times are hard, tough, to worry he will abandon us… is foolish.” She makes her way back to the podium. “I can guide this community, but Ozymandias… he LEADS us. He drives us. He is the backbone of this town, and he will break the backbone of those that oppose us.”
She motions for Ozymandias to take the stage, which he does reluctantly. The room is quiet as they watch him step forward to the edge of the podium, then down onto the floor so that is the same level as everyone. The silence in the room is only offset by the winds blowing outside, and the persistent drips of rainwater seeping through the cracked roof.
“You are less concerned for my well-being, and more about your own. It is greedy, a sign of weakness and humility of your own mortality… it is what makes us human.” He slowly steps forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for each step he takes. “I have not asked for your support, your cheers or your praise. I do not do this for you, therefore I do not ask for anything in return. I do what I do… for Old Harbour.” Again, he steps forward slowly, each footstep making a loud heavy thud as three hundred plus pound comes down in each boot.
“To those who do not observe my fighting, I do not bear a grudge. Watching such violence might turn a weaker stomach. But know this… I enter that gauntlet every time, confident… fearless… assured, that I will leave as the victor.” He stops in the middle of the crowd, allowing them to form a circle around him. “Every fight, every match, every battle, I know that I will be triumphant.”
The people stand there watching him, braced but growing a little more relaxed as Ozymandias eyes them up one by one.
“I have bested the best. I have broken their champions. I have ran the marathon and still have room for many more miles. Their past champions, in the entirety of their tenure, have fallen to my hands… their greatest warriors, men and women, have palled in comparison to my might. Their largest challengers, their flashiest gimmicks, their best contenders… they mean nothing to me.”
He steps back towards the mini-stage where Meredith still stands, her face showing a rare expression of compassion for these people tonight.
“I am the Warrior. I am HIS chosen Warrior. I fight now for Old Harbour, and I will fight then for R’lyeh. My worth, my income, my sacrifices will mean nothing… if we allow Old Harbour to fall.” He looks to Meredith, a slight smile behind her eyes and he simply nods before looking around his people again. “I will fight on for you, but you must fight for me. I will enter that ring as your champion, but when I return with that same golden belt, you must show me what I have fought for.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his breath. “And when I snap my opponent’s spine over my knee for the final time, his screams will awake Cthulhu himself. For Old Harbour, and for R’lyeh.”
Meredith quickly begins clapping, encouraging the rest of the people to join in and cheer and clap also. The growing energy in the room is felt, as Meredith leads the applause. They know it is best to applaud, and Ozymandias can feel their fear.
They reek of it.
But for now, at this moment, between fear, peer pressure and frustrations… they are a community once more.
THE COVE
Later that night, following their riveting and empowering spiel to the townspeople, Meredith and Ozymandias take full advantage of a break in the weather. August brings sunshine while September brings rain, a sign of the bitter months to come. Old Harbour has seen its share of bad days, freak storms and large ocean swells but the years passing are bringing darker tidings to its shores.
“The people really rally around you brother, they really do care and adore you. They are just weak of spirit at times.”
The rain has eased to light spittle, and the winds have calmed to a comfortable yet intimidating breeze nonetheless. The shores of Old Harbour stretch long and wide, from far ends to the looming cliffs above the village. With the wet air and vapid winds blowing across them, the duo take in a brief moment to walk the length of the stoney, sandy shore, the angry ocean closely by their sides.
“It is hard to paint them as flawed when truly all they are is afraid. They worry about what is tome come next, what is to happen should they lose their means. The sea may take their homes one day, but until then they wish to live, and to endure.”
The silence from Ozymandias is enough, Meredith takes this as a sign of annoyance.
“They are not as strong as you, brother. Not in spirit, mind or body. I don’t know anyone that is, truly…”
As they walk along, the soft wind catches Meredith’s black silken dress and as always, it causes it to dance in the air as it she flows with a trail of smoke. Ozymandias simply pulls his trench coat to his body, tighter and sealed against the elements.
“It is true, perhaps… what would we do, should the great Ozymandias stop providing for the village.”
“You would worry with them, about my fate?”
“Not for one moment. I do not doubt your skills in the ring, or your generosity as a townsgiver. But perhaps, would the sea take you, like it did my brother and father… then where would we be?”
“Should the sea take me, then I will be in R’lyeh, waiting patiently for you to join. That time is far from now, and it is pointless to ponder it.” They step along the stones of the shore, the shells and broken homes of shellfish crunching beneath each step. Ozymandias’s boots show no mercy to the shattering stones and shells, but Meredith chooses the barefoot approach, her steps barely leaving a mark behind. Almost ghostly. “We grow closer to our goal, Meredith.”
Their goal, total domination of Project Honor.
Phase One of the total domination of the world. Take the company by force, take the country by wrath, take the world by storm. Leave no threats standing, leave no doubts to those before you.
Break them all.
“We do, my friend. Closer and closer we climb, one title at a time. The Grand was an easy seizure, pulling it from the soft hands of Mark Hunter. But we cannot lose it now, not on our path to the Legacy. Only when we hold the keys to the kingdom, can we truly call ourselves the alpha.”
“I will not lose it. Not to a boy that barks like a dog.” He grunts, the mask turning his exhale into a light metallic whistle. “I should have utterly broken that fool when I had the moment.”
“You did exactly what we spoke of, and what we planned. Ending Cadillac there and there would have only upset our plans, as the powers in Darlings’ motley crew would have replaced him with a bigger threat.”
“There is no bigger threat than me.”
She pauses, allowing herself to catch her words. “Correct. But to break a contender before the bell has even rung, would see you being punished. You did what we needed you to do. Jackson will be fragile, more so than before. He fears you, he reveres you, he idolizes you while also being terrified. And not you gave him something more to think about.”
She speaks of Proving Ground XXII, where Cadillac Jackson chose the ill fate of taunting the Butcher, and ate a brutal World Ender for his efforts. To tempt the bull, is to get the horns.
“Punishment or not, I should not have allowed that man to leave the ring as he did.”
“By stretcher? Carried out by paramedics?”
“...breathing.”
They continue along the shore, the wind slightly picking up now as it grabs and pulls at the overcoat of Ozymandias. He looks down to Meredith to gauge her temperature, but with every chilling gust of wind she seems to be more ecstatic, more content.
“We have come so far together, have we not? From our domination in WrestleWorld, to our onslaught in Project Honor. We are yet to meet a foe that will truly test the Butcher in battle. Past Grand Champions have fallen before you. Bulldozers, Tyrants and more have crumbled at your hands. And even outnumber, outmatched you have proven successful/ This Jackson might be glamour and drab, but he might be a match you least expect.”
Ozymandias says nothing, doesn’t even change his pace.
“I loathe that I had to spend time studying this boy. I despise that I needed to focus on his skills, or his efforts in that ring. And come Night of Honor, I will not show that amateur any mercy. He might have found his way into this match through a moment of sheer skill, but his luck at that Rumble will not fare well for him in this fight.”
Ozymandias stops, gathering himself for his next words. The wind hitting his face begins to water his eyes and as Meredith looks up at them tearing, she sees only one thing… fire.
“He has fought and fallen to the past Grand titleholder, Mark Hunter. He had fought and failed against Wil Riley, a fool I buried in a mismatched bout. He has fought and been beaten by Lance Williams, another thorn in my side I have bested. He is yet to beat anyone that I have already proven my dominance over.”
“He is new, he is on his journey just like the rest of the sheep. All running aimlessly, blindly towards the golden prize, and none are aware of the wolf holding it. He will soon learn what the Butcher is capable of, and this will last longer than one simple move in the ring.”
“I will not break him immediately… I will not give him a swift defeat.”
“I do not expect it from you, nor do the fans wish for that either. There is bloodlust in that audience, and the people of Japan will expect a show. Do not show the boy mercy, however…”, she pauses for a moment, gathering her next words carefully, “...do not maim him entirely. Should he prove to be an adversary we did not foresee, should he surprise us, then leave him intact.”
She turns and faces the ocean.
“Our God is always hungry for strong offerings.”
They continue down the shore, Meredith almost in a state of euphoria as the sweeping winds catch her dress, the cold wet spray of the ocean dampens her skin and her hair becomes a sopping icy mess. She spins and twirls, her joy evident.
“Oh Ozymandias… does it not feel good? To know our journey might near its end soon? Cadillac aside, our path to the Legacy will be wide open. Should the witch hold it, or the lost prince it matters not. A true fight for the years will be upon us, and with the Grand in one hand and the Legacy in the other, we will truly be… Godsends.”
Ozymandias adjusts his coat, his eyes firmly on Meredith as she skips forward, humming and seemingly elated at the prospect of their future.
“You jump too far ahead, you risk stumbling over. I have walked this path before Meredith, this hungry path.” He stops walking forward, instead turning to face the sea. Meredith spots this and comes back to his side, perplexed. “What comes next must not surpass what comes now. This fool Cadillac walks into the ring with a Champion. He walks into the ring with a veteran. The yes of Japan will be upon me, as will the eyes of Project Honor. I cannot disappoint them.”
“Disappoint? My friend...do you test me? Do you doubt your chances?”
“No… I doubt my restraint.” He breathes in and out harshly, evidently become more and more heated. “You ask me to show some leniency, some mercy so that we might plunge this boy into the depths following the fight? I saw, let me honor the Gods by shattering this boy in the ring. You speak of testing him and weighing his potential for what, a partnership? A friendship? A sacrifice will suffice no matter how it is performed, beneath the waves or under the black skies.”
He bends to one knee, grabbing quite a large stone from the beach before standing back up.
“You have told tales of the Butcher. You have spoken of my past, of my journey. The people of Old Harbour fear me, for good reason. The world fears me. Honor and respect aside, it is their terror that makes them vulnerable.” He holds the big stone in one hand, eyeballing it before grabbing it with both hands and ripping it in half. “Cadillac Jackson does not deserve to be in MY ring. He does not deserve to be in MY match. Had I not stepped out of that Rumble to observe the fight, I would have taken home the victory for myself.”
He throws the rocks into the ocean, one by one, each causing a splash and a spray to blow back on them.
“What are you saying, Ozymandias?”
He pauses, allowing a moment to pass.
“I am beyond showing mercy. I am beyond showing compassion. I am beyond playing peacemaker or moral support.”
“Is this about earlier? At the town meeting... ?”
“This world knows me as a monster, sees me as a monster… it is time I gave them a monster. It is time the Gods stood up and took notice, of the Warrior before them.”
Meredith looks at him, confused.
“The Gods? You mean our one true God…?”
Ozymandias turns to face her, his eyes alight with fire.
“Gods of the deep of the Gods of Valhalla, it matters not. Mortals are born too fragile, and I am here to break them. This world will be ours, in the eyes of Cthulhu, Odin or Thor… they will see that.”
Ozymandias puts his hands on Meredith's shoulders, holding her steady but more so firmly in place.
“No more mercy. No more clemency. Only my fists, my fury, my wrath.” She looks at him, lost as she tries to understand what he is saying. “Worry not for Cadillac Jackson… it is better to fight with honor and die, than to live with shame forever.”
He lets her go, ‘clapping’ her shoulders as he does so. His breathing is heavy, and his tone very firm and sincere. He turns to continue down the shore, leaving Meredith to ponder for a moment… is Ozymandias intended to murder this man? Is her friend entering this brawl with manslaughter on his mind? Ever lost and confused, she is helpless but to chase him down to shore and catch up, walking with him into further darkness of the night.
The wind begins to grow and howl, picking up as it sweeps the sands and the shore, creating vortexes of sands and sea spray. A dust cloud engorges the duo, combating the night's darkness to a venture to conceal the pair, as they disappear into the void, together.
"What is dead may never die.
I don't plan on you dying at Night of Honor Ozymandias."
But I have plans for you.
