Post by OZYMANDIAS on Feb 18, 2021 21:41:08 GMT -5
THE LIGHTING BRAZIER
“Where is he! Give me Warstein!” Backstage following the Crowning’s massive brawl, titled ‘WarGames’, the air is thick with anger and controversy. Shawn Warstein has pulled off one of the most dubious wins in a wrestling ring and many are not happy with it. One in particular, is not a man one should seek out to upset.
“I will tear his skull from his jaw!” Ozymandias, escorted by a team of medics and his valet Meredith, staggers along the backstage hallway, his body in a state of limbo between energized and near-collapse. He shuffles forward, using the walls as support where needed, or by pushing helpers out of his path. His intentions are clear as there is only one name on his mind.
“Ozymandias, I implore you to step down. This fight is already over, we have lost. Let us go to our room and recover for the next battle.” Meredith tries her best to dissuade the hulking brute, but her words bounce off him like rain. His eyes are foggy, his balance is off but he is driven to find Warstein, driven to get his hands on his victor.
The WarGames saw the greatest clash in Project Honor history, two sides of the war finally meeting in the middle. The greatest warriors from the Fallout side, standing opposed the united front of the Proving Ground roster. What was penciled to be a showstopper quickly became carnage, as bodies and blood flew around the ring. The Butcher intended to make his name known, and despite the outcome that much at least is apparent.
Lifting them over his head and doing his best to crush their spine, Indy Darling and Blair Regent felt the true power of the Butcher in the ring. However that strength and momentum was quickly dispelled, as the magic fire was rapidly extinguished.
Before Ozy can even get up, Shawn runs up behind him with two syringes and drives them into his neck. He injects the contents of it into Ozy and then steps back. Ozy, unfazed, gets back to his feet and stares Shawn down. He starts to charge at him, but before he can reach him, he collapses straight to the mat. Shawn kicks him a few times to make sure he’s down then hooks the leg for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
HOLLY PEREZ: OZYMANDIAS HAS BEEN ELIMINATED! SHAWN WARSTEIN IS THE WINNER OF THE PROVING GROUND SIDE!
Just like that, the charging bull was stopped. Entirely dazed and immediately fatigued, Ozymandias fell prey to a chemical concoction of Warstein’s making. A prolific user of the so called ‘date rape’ drug, another victim just fell into his lap tonight, only this one will remember everything that happened.
“Send him out to me…”, he cries through failing words. Ozymandias has powered through the chemical cocktail but now he was slowly succumbing to it’s effects. Merely feet from the doorway labelled “Shawn Warstein”, his strength was all but spent.
“Come, Ozymandias, this is just our beginning. Do not spoil our advances with petty revenge. Warstein will see the errors in his way, we will make sure of that. This moniker means nothing, this match means nothing… you should rest, so that our mission can continue in Project Honor.”
She says it so calmly, so affectionately but the situation around her is more severe - security has been called to the hallway, alerted by the ensuing storm about to blow through the locker rooms. A known assailant of violent tendencies, Ozymandias will sorely pay for whatever revenge he acts upon tonight. At the behest of Meredith, the medical staff and a sizable security team the beast accepts their aid and returns to his own room to recover.
“Fret not my friend, tonight was only the start. Things are not the same here as in WrestleWorld, that is now plain to see”. Sat in his locker room and hooked up to various instruments, the Butcher now breathes slowly and calmly, his eyes still showing a sign of the poison working its way through his system. “It took us nearly a dozen victories to see a true challenge in that World, and then a couple more dozen before we tasted defeat… we have underestimated these people.”
“He… what he did… he is a coward…”. His words are laboured, speaking gruffly through bated breath, but his opinion on the matter remains. Meredith simply nods to agree, not looking to stir up any more rage within him.
“Warstein has shown his true colors, he has shown that he is no more talented than a rat. Sneaking, stalking for an opportunity, looking to take another’s advantage and not seize his own. I have seen snakes in the grass, but tonight… this was pitiful.” Drugged up with enough GHB to knock out an elephant, Ozymandias impressively stays conscious, breathing deep and slow as Meredith speaks to him. “We will recover, we will return, and we will get our revenge. This is only the beginning my friend, and even then our mark has been felt.”
Indy Darling, Blair Regent. Two of his opposition that were not prepared for what the Butcher could do, was capable of doing to them. The World Ender is his ‘pièce de ré·sis·tance’, the single move that garnered him fame and fear all at once. To raise his foe above his head, and break them entirely, to ruin their world as spare no mercy. Indy and Blair will fight another day, but had the brute not been so adamant with the quick succession of victories… they might have suffered another fate.
Ozymandias has had a storied career, he has faced his ups and downs. Defeat is never an aspect of his career to dwell on, but merely a setback. As the years have flown by, this only proves to fuel his fire but his return, for his next opponent. The Butcher is not one to lay down and say die, a win over his is truly a monumental achievement.
Warstein does not deserve that accolade. He is a fraud.
The clown in the crown.
“We have much to do, much to prepare for. It is time we take our leave of this place once again.” She clicks her fingers, almost arrogantly but it signals the arrival of several hooded folks in robes. The medical team looks perplexed, trying their best to motion the new arrivals out of the room and to give Ozymandias space.
“Come, Brother… our God waits for no man.” Almost instinctively, Ozymandias stands up and begins to walk forward with her, the equipment and pads monitoring him being dragged behind. He grasps and rips cords, cables and syringes from his body and he takes his leave of the doctors, letting the team to watch on in awe, or confusion, at the sight.
THE OLDEST STORY
Back in Old Harbour, days have passed since the great battle at The Crowning. The folks of Project Honor have been kind to Ozymandias since his arrival, and have accommodated the fighter with his own travel arrangements. Waiving COVID protocols is not easily done, which just shows the true power the officials of Project Honor must hold.
Old Harbour has seen its own battles as of late, a cold front that has arrived bringing with it sub-zero winds and arctic storms alike. The town has been awash with hail, ice rain and intense winds, leaving the residents sheltered inside of their homes for longer than expected. The bay itself was awash with visitors, large chunks and platforms of ice flowing in from the freezing conditions. Boats and trawlers sat in place within the waters, frozen out of time, waiting to come back to life once again.
News had circulated the town of Ozymandias’ defeat, and the people knew better than to approach the man in his brooding moments. Despite a steroid career, Ozymandias was still a stranger to defeat, his power and his drive often being more than enough to turn the tide of battle. His foes either lost plainly, or lost violently, there was no other. But as the years have passed and time has caught up, he has seen more and more setbacks. WrestleWorld was a true test, they threw body after body at him until he tired of it, but yet he fought on. Only one challenger was able to overthrow the warrior cleanly, and has claimed it to be his greatest fight to date.
To Ozymandias, it was a bad night and a good wake up call.
Project Honor would be different, he knew that the day he arrived. Folks here were seasoned, sharpened, ready to kill or be killed. He recognized their faces from towns afar, and some he had even clashed with in his past. Those that tested him greatly now stood as champions, reaching the pinnacle of their place on the roster. Those that were hungry for the gold were tough, if not more daunting, than the golden-clad soldiers themselves.
Ozymandias did not turn away from a good fight, he relished it. What didn’t kill him only proved to make him stronger, more attuned, more aggressive. To rule untouched, undefeated is an honor few have the privilege of claiming. Project Honor houses such individuals, and while they may not appear to the eye as a monument to their successes, in action they have proven their worth.
Elena DeDraca has been one on Ozymandias’ mind for some time, since his arrival in fact. He watched the British Raven decimate her foes, leave nothing but bodies in her wake. A veritable Goddess of the Night, unstoppable in her charge and unremorseful in her victories. She would make for a fine challenge, a true test of skill and fortitude. However Ozymandias was not so lucky to get his moment with the godmother, but instead the runt of her party. The one who barely scratched the surface of his opportunity, the failure that spent more time watching the match from the sidelines than he did in the battle itself.
“Baldur, my friend, you need to rest up. There is no need for you to keep going like this.” Since their return to Old Harbour, Ozymandias had been training hard and working to get his strength back to its peak. Whatever the chemical aftereffects were, ongoing fatigue and distraction was not one he was prepared for. He chose to fight the drug, to sweat it from his system but in the only way he knows how. By working.
“The weather is bad, and only expected to get worse. You are not shielded from these hazards as much as you think… just listen to me, Baldur.” Meredith has stood by Ozymandias since they were children, family friends united to spark a long lasting friendship between the pair. To deny there had been some romantic feelings during their youth would be to tell a lie, but as the years came and went this relationship grew far more than fling or companionship. Meredith had taken a voyage into the unknown, into the dark cosmic horror of our world and had asked her ongoing friend to join her.
But now that they were so engorged in this new venture, they had come so far it would be impossible for them to stop. There was only one end in sight, and despite Meredith’s pleas of friendship, it was she that had brought them to this point. “Can I at least bring you something to eat, some warm soup perhaps? Some mutton or shanks of-”
“Meredith, please… leave me be.” He had spoken few words since their return home, and she thought it best to give him space. However it quickly became apparent that he was not going to follow the advice of medical practitioners and rest. He would continue to train, to fight his defeat and improve for his next battle. Meredith came by with word of his latest challenge, the Australian-loudmouth Aiden Reynolds.
As soon as she mentioned the name, Ozymandias saw no other purpose for his days other than to work, to train and to prepare. Reynolds was a known name in Project Honor, he had proven his worth time and time again and was a forerunner to be one of the top fighters in the federation. The Wolf had lost his chance to claim the Legacy Championship, which would have secured him firmly as the end-boss of this company. Instead he was easily dispatched from the fight, bottling his moment when the time came.
He lost more than just a match, he fell back in rank. He could still fight his way back, he could still howl like a dog until someone hears his whimpers, but sadly this was not to be his chance. A victory over the Wolf would put the Butcher into a much higher standing, and keep Ozymandias’ momentum rising. The only challenge with that is… the Wolf himself.
Meredith sees that her efforts are in vain, as Ozymandias laces up his boots once more. She has tried and failed to keep him indoors, but the anger he showed following the WarGames is rapidly growing inside. They may focus on overthrowing the world one day, but even the Sunken God stays in his slumber during this poor weather.
“If you wish I can accompany you, keep you from your own thoughts? I can make sure you have someone to speak with, to speak out to… please, just let me in Baldur.”
“My name is no longer Baldur!”, he rasps at her. Standing up with fire in his eyes, he is twice, maybe thrice her size, hulking over her frail petite frame. Their friendship grew darker, most mysterious as they began to delve into the world of R’lyeh and what lay at the depths of the ocean. The more they explored the more they grew possessed. But once Ozymandias heard the Call… everything changed, and nothing would be the same again.
“You awarded me this name, you chose this moniker for me, so use it.” It is true, when they took their vows to awaken Cthulhu and raise the undead, they forsake their past lives and adopted their new names. Meredith chose the title of Priestess, while Baldur took a deeper step forward, dropping his family ties and truly becoming Ozymandias.
“I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
The poem holds more weight in his world than any others have truly known. His mother would read to him as a child, all the wonderful works of the pets of fame, but very few clung to his memories such as this. The bravado and gall of the King, to lay claim over his lands and people, to force others to bow before him like their new God, new deity… all easily erased by the sands of time. It was upon his first hearing of this poem he knew that fame, wealth, power… it was all futile. The only true power you wield in this world, is time.
The power to control it, to manipulate it, to remove it entirely. Such cosmic quandaries, such insane theories and baffling ideologies. Yet, but those fables beasts of our sky, time is merely a platform for which they walk on. The Great Old Ones, the monsters of nightmares and angels of dreams, time for them is intangible. The ability to stop time, to stop aging itself. To rewind the clock, the return to your youth, visit loved ones, stay forever amongst their company…
“Meredith… I…”, he says, his voice now weaker. Meredith shows no fear, no concern for her own well being. Afraid of none, a terror to many. Yet right now, in the small domicile of Ozymandias, she knows she is closely confined with a monster. And to see the rage in his eyes, the fire burning inside… she truly was afraid. “I must go.”
And without any further objections, Ozymandias walks past his friend, opening the door to his home to a welcoming gale outside, and quickly disappears into the arctic haze.
WHERE WOLVES PLAY
Occult whisperings aside, Ozymandias knows his own limits. He feels the cold on his skin, he feels the sharpness of the frigid air entering his lungs, he patiently waits until his fingertips and toes lose feeling, become frozen-number articles on his body. But for him to achieve his victory, for him to know nothing but success moving forward he will need to suffer and endure every storm this world brings him.
Nearby to the village is a small grove of trees, normally dense and wild. Ozymandias has turned this small gathering into his personal domain, an area where he can train his body but also his mind. His release from the normality of this world, somewhere he can ascend to a higher plane… and come crashing back down to Earth.
Many years ago Baldur Magnusson and Meredith Agnar took their vows together, two friends hellbent on changing the world. For Meredith she wishes to cull the weakness of this world. Not physical weakness, nor mental, but the one we ignore often… humanity. If the cosmic beings from afar can thrive in power and eternal life, then the only disadvantage we have is ourselves. For Baldur, he had seen too much suffering and strife within his own world. He wished to never see a soul leave us prematurely, or a loved one to pass due to their time arriving. He wished for life eternal.
But as the famous words of the poem ‘Ozymandias’ declare, the winds of time stop for no man. This world pushes on, this conclusion is inevitable.
All men must fall.
Baldur was truly gone, mere slivers of the young boys remaining in the eyes of Meredith only, but to all else he is now and forever the Butcher. The protector of Old Harbour, and their savior. For now he mends their ships and funds their wares, but these acts are frivolous. The true value of what Ozymandias fights for is unseen… everlasting being. All men must fall, but where and when is rarely in our control.
When the time is right, when they have completed their trials and are ready to raise the sunken city of R’lyeh, that is when their true gift can be awarded… eternal life, as the Children of Cthulhu. To some this is gibberish, to others it is an oath. But to those outsiders it is humorous, a comedic sketch, an avenue of mockery and contempt.
Aiden Reynolds shows his true colors in the ring and out. His mouth knows no end, his tongue being the only muscle in his body that won't break. As soon as word arrived at Old Harbour of the upcoming battle, it was swiftly accompanied by the jeers and insults the cretin was spouting. From disrespecting their God to mocking the result of his battle, Reynolds had foregone his own bitter defeat to try goad Ozymandias into a premature fight.
Truthfully, the temptation to lessen the gap and pay the Wolf a visit sooner was there however as history tells us, good things come to those who wait. Ozymandias was not focused on this arrogant pissant, nor was he even bothered by the fight ahead. A victory over Reynolds however, that posed a greater reward again and one that could not be ignored. The contender for the Legacy belt held some appeal with the fans, and some allure with the powers higher up. We were only two fights into our time at Project Honor, but both had come with great glamour from the audience. Another brawl and a swift victory over the Wolf surely would lead to something greater.
Standing in his forest clearing, Ozymandias has all the tools and equipment he would need for this fight - logs cut into different sizes would act as his weights. Ropes tied around a trunk would be his anchor, and the barkless facing of a nearby oak had been his punching bag for many nights now. He was set, and his training was underway.
He had come here prior to his previous bouts, as a way to not only prepare his body but also his mind. Ozymandias was not one to walk into a fight unprepared, but when it comes to certain battles the names and histories of his foes often mean little to him. Or nothing at all. He knows in Project Honor that things must change, as each fighter brings a particular challenge.
Aiden Reynolds was not an accolade hound, with a plethora of victories under his belt. The few wins he held were small, non-memorable moments in his forgettable past but in Project Honor his luck had changed. Standing alongside his partner, Dickie Watson, Aiden had somehow grown himself a pair of balls it seems, working diligently to match the level of skill and clout his superior holds. Alone the Wolf means nothing, another fighter that will be forgotten as soon as the bell rings three. But alongside his partner, this Commonwealth would pose a real challenge… a true threat.
A wolf's howl rings out through the forest where Ozymandias stands, apt given the circumstances. He has encountered the beasts before but they have not approached. His size and presence threatened even the most ferocious of animals, but with the shifting temperatures and scarce resources perhaps Ozymandias might get to beat a wolf sooner. Much like these small, nimble beasts Reynolds also boasts similar dexterity - smaller than Ozymandias means less of a target to hit, faster and lighter means he will be tougher to catch, and if he is like an of the Australian foes Ozymandias had encountered in the past… he won’t go down easily.
*THUD*
Ozymandias crashes his fist against the exposed surface of the nearby oak, sending a shock up through the trunk and loosening the rain that had settled on the parse branches.
*THUD*
*THUD*
A combo, again shaking loose the moisture and frost from the plants arms. He admires nature greatly, one of the remaining true pleasures this world still offers to him, but unlike the many foes and colleagues he has met in the wrestling world, none are as rigid and vigilant as this tree has been. It humors him greatly, that a defaced tree in nearby forest grove has been more of an inspiration to him.
*THUD*
*THUD*
The howl grows louder, almost like a warning, but Ozymandias ignores it. What he can’t ignore however is the crunch of leaves and sticks - footsteps. He continues to plow into the tree, sharpening his ears to the footsteps. The wolves approach him, he hears it growing closer and closer.
*THUD*
*THUD*
Another crunch, right outside the grove area now. The pack is closing in, and from the sounds of them there could be a lot to deal with. He grabs a smaller brand and starts to prepare, a pack of hungry dogs ready for his blood. He stops and listens, hearing the steps approach until they become visible in the clearings of the trees. Several dogs, a dozen perhaps, all snarling and eyeing up the Butcher. The rains have begun to pour now, so visibility is diminishing while danger is growing.
Any moment now they will advance, any moment now his fight with the wolves begins. He spies one wolf standing closer than any others, the alpha of this pack. Snarling, ready to eat. The wolf takes a small step forward but quickly stops, distracted by something. The pack runs, and one by one each of the wolves flee the area completely, leaving Ozymandias remaining in confusion.
“Seems my aura disturbs even the most furious of predators.” Meredith, making her from within the thickness of the trees, smiling as she approaches Ozymandias. The rain is pouring and temperatures are below zero, yet she wears only a loose black silken dress, forever flowing in the breeze like a wisp of smoke. “Wolves can’t harm us, Ozymandias. Their pack will never defeat our pact.”
She speaks in tongues, but it’s clear her intentions. She wishes to appease Ozymandias, no longer treat him like a childhood friend and instead look at him only as a merchant of death, a warrior of Cthulhu. His training for the fight with Reynolds ends here, and his frustration is clear.
“Meredith, I asked you not to- “, but he’s cut short by Meredith. She raises a hand to stop him, putting a finger to his lips to silence him. She motions for Ozymandias to follow her, and reluctantly he abides. Meredith leads Ozymandias through the dense forest, back towards the direction she approached from. Bizarrely this is the opposite route to the village and to their homes, so Ozymandias is a little confused.
“Where do you lead me?”, he asks but again is met with nothing but a smirk and silence from her. They continue on regardless, wordless now until they clear the forest and come upon a large clearing. Between them and the ocean now is one vast grassy knoll, and in the middle of it is a lone wolf, seemingly trapped.
“The thing with wolves… they are strong in numbers… but weak alone. Remove the alpha from the pack, and they scatter. Remove the pack, and the lone wolf dies.” They approach the wolf, seeing it snarling and snapping in their direction more and more as they grow closer. The rain prevails and tears at their clothes, as the night sky is upon them so they rely on mere moonlight to guide their way. “Soon you face a lone wolf, and soon you will see what I speak of.”
As they get real close to the wolf it panics and snaps even more, but it’s clear that it’s been snared on the grass by its leg. Blood oozes down the creatures legs but nothing it can do helps to loosen it from the predicament it is in.
“I have led this village down a dark path, and you by my side. I have asked many a great thing from you, and you have willingly obliged. You have sacrificed more than anyone knows, given yourself entirely to my world and my pledge, and for that I am eternally grateful.” She speaks but her focus is on the wolf, not Ozymandias standing alongside her. He stands topless apart from a soaked shirt, the wind and cold starting to grind against his skin but Meredith seems completely unphased by the weather.
“I forget that we took our oaths together, that we both decided to cast away our older selves. I forget, and I apologize. The memories of our youth linger with me, and sometimes I forget the people we have become, sometimes I grow softer and warmer when the opposite is what is needed… there is no warmth for us in the depths, only cold, dark endless void.”
She walks forward to the wolf, holding out her hand to the animal but in its panic it snaps and snarls, trying to bite her. Merely inches from her, yet Meredith seems unshaken.
“You have been my rock, Ozymandias, for which you are aware, and more than you truly know too.” She puts her hand behind her back, clawing into her own dress to produce something, but Ozymandias doesn’t see it in this dim lighting and harsh weather. “I hope I have been your beacon in this darkness… your soul, wild and brutal, sting rings dear to me. I still see you as that young boy who stole my heart… reminders are needed to keep us on track.”
She stands up and Ozymandias sees what she pulled out now, a sharp and shining blade. She turns to face him with a small smile upon her face, before lunging for the wild animal and driving the weapon into its neck. The animal fights as best it can, biting and chomping at her but every move is too slow, too delayed for her. She repeated strikes, plunging the blade into the wolf over and over, its blood gushing from the severed artery and drowning her face and chest in it’s warm claret. With a soft whimper the wolf collapses, bleeding out and slowly leaving this world behind.
“You see… a wolf alone, is a weak wolf. A dead wolf.” She stands up and turns to face Ozymandias, the blood from the animal covering her face and chest, her dress soaked in the cruor. “We can worry about the pack, or the hidden intent but the wolf stands alone for now. And we can end a lone wolf.” She smiles, her white teeth a stark contrast to the dark red liquid on her face.
Ozymandias walks past her and unclasps the trap, letting the wolf's dying form finally be free.
“And what of the wolf now?”
“...it becomes food. It feeds those that need it most, it helps others grow stronger. You lost one fight, but this wolf can feed us and helps us grow, just like our friends will feast tonight.” She looks around her and the remaining pack members have arrived, watching on from a distance. They don’t attack, but their eyes are on their deceased friend, warm and ready to be ravished.
“A brutal demonstration, all to get your point across.” He eyes the now-dead wolf, almost remorseful for the animal.
“This is merely the circle. What was once powerful is now lacking. What once ruled the lands now becomes dust in the wind. Predator to prey, this is nature. You need to see that we are not too far apart from the animal kingdom. Perhaps when we rebuild our new world, we can take a lesson from these beasts?”
The pack grows closer, and Meredith motions it is their time to leave. As the rain pours down, the blood and claret on her washes down her neck, her chest, into her clothes, down her pale white skin.
“Soon you face your lone wolf, and soon we ascend to predator status. I was wrong to think of you anything less than who you are now, who you’ve become… the Butcher will feast on wolfsblood come Proving Ground.” They walk side by side, leading back to the village.
“My defeat is temporary… I will reign supreme once more.”
She smirks, a little chuckle too.
“I know… you lead this pack, it is just a matter of time before the pack realizes. Help them to see, and cull the weak from the pack.”
“As you wish, my Priestess.”
“And you, my Warrior.”
Their conversation ends as the sound of wind and hail drowns out all words. They have no sooner departed the clearing before the pack descends on their fallen mate, what was once friend has become a feast. A hungry beast feeds and grows greater, a lone wolf dies and is forgotten. Such is the cycle of life.
Aiden Reynolds mocks and jeers the Butcher, but ultimately he is unprepared to face this battle, he is uneducated in the fight before him. His past achievements will pale in comparison to this duel - a defeat might lead him to the hungry mouths of the wolves, a victory might regain some of his clout with his peers. Either way, it matters not.
The Butcher is coming, one more gauntlet on the path to the New World.
As Cthulhu commands it, so it will be done.
“Where is he! Give me Warstein!” Backstage following the Crowning’s massive brawl, titled ‘WarGames’, the air is thick with anger and controversy. Shawn Warstein has pulled off one of the most dubious wins in a wrestling ring and many are not happy with it. One in particular, is not a man one should seek out to upset.
“I will tear his skull from his jaw!” Ozymandias, escorted by a team of medics and his valet Meredith, staggers along the backstage hallway, his body in a state of limbo between energized and near-collapse. He shuffles forward, using the walls as support where needed, or by pushing helpers out of his path. His intentions are clear as there is only one name on his mind.
“Ozymandias, I implore you to step down. This fight is already over, we have lost. Let us go to our room and recover for the next battle.” Meredith tries her best to dissuade the hulking brute, but her words bounce off him like rain. His eyes are foggy, his balance is off but he is driven to find Warstein, driven to get his hands on his victor.
The WarGames saw the greatest clash in Project Honor history, two sides of the war finally meeting in the middle. The greatest warriors from the Fallout side, standing opposed the united front of the Proving Ground roster. What was penciled to be a showstopper quickly became carnage, as bodies and blood flew around the ring. The Butcher intended to make his name known, and despite the outcome that much at least is apparent.
Lifting them over his head and doing his best to crush their spine, Indy Darling and Blair Regent felt the true power of the Butcher in the ring. However that strength and momentum was quickly dispelled, as the magic fire was rapidly extinguished.
Before Ozy can even get up, Shawn runs up behind him with two syringes and drives them into his neck. He injects the contents of it into Ozy and then steps back. Ozy, unfazed, gets back to his feet and stares Shawn down. He starts to charge at him, but before he can reach him, he collapses straight to the mat. Shawn kicks him a few times to make sure he’s down then hooks the leg for the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
HOLLY PEREZ: OZYMANDIAS HAS BEEN ELIMINATED! SHAWN WARSTEIN IS THE WINNER OF THE PROVING GROUND SIDE!
Just like that, the charging bull was stopped. Entirely dazed and immediately fatigued, Ozymandias fell prey to a chemical concoction of Warstein’s making. A prolific user of the so called ‘date rape’ drug, another victim just fell into his lap tonight, only this one will remember everything that happened.
“Send him out to me…”, he cries through failing words. Ozymandias has powered through the chemical cocktail but now he was slowly succumbing to it’s effects. Merely feet from the doorway labelled “Shawn Warstein”, his strength was all but spent.
“Come, Ozymandias, this is just our beginning. Do not spoil our advances with petty revenge. Warstein will see the errors in his way, we will make sure of that. This moniker means nothing, this match means nothing… you should rest, so that our mission can continue in Project Honor.”
She says it so calmly, so affectionately but the situation around her is more severe - security has been called to the hallway, alerted by the ensuing storm about to blow through the locker rooms. A known assailant of violent tendencies, Ozymandias will sorely pay for whatever revenge he acts upon tonight. At the behest of Meredith, the medical staff and a sizable security team the beast accepts their aid and returns to his own room to recover.
“Fret not my friend, tonight was only the start. Things are not the same here as in WrestleWorld, that is now plain to see”. Sat in his locker room and hooked up to various instruments, the Butcher now breathes slowly and calmly, his eyes still showing a sign of the poison working its way through his system. “It took us nearly a dozen victories to see a true challenge in that World, and then a couple more dozen before we tasted defeat… we have underestimated these people.”
“He… what he did… he is a coward…”. His words are laboured, speaking gruffly through bated breath, but his opinion on the matter remains. Meredith simply nods to agree, not looking to stir up any more rage within him.
“Warstein has shown his true colors, he has shown that he is no more talented than a rat. Sneaking, stalking for an opportunity, looking to take another’s advantage and not seize his own. I have seen snakes in the grass, but tonight… this was pitiful.” Drugged up with enough GHB to knock out an elephant, Ozymandias impressively stays conscious, breathing deep and slow as Meredith speaks to him. “We will recover, we will return, and we will get our revenge. This is only the beginning my friend, and even then our mark has been felt.”
Indy Darling, Blair Regent. Two of his opposition that were not prepared for what the Butcher could do, was capable of doing to them. The World Ender is his ‘pièce de ré·sis·tance’, the single move that garnered him fame and fear all at once. To raise his foe above his head, and break them entirely, to ruin their world as spare no mercy. Indy and Blair will fight another day, but had the brute not been so adamant with the quick succession of victories… they might have suffered another fate.
Ozymandias has had a storied career, he has faced his ups and downs. Defeat is never an aspect of his career to dwell on, but merely a setback. As the years have flown by, this only proves to fuel his fire but his return, for his next opponent. The Butcher is not one to lay down and say die, a win over his is truly a monumental achievement.
Warstein does not deserve that accolade. He is a fraud.
The clown in the crown.
“We have much to do, much to prepare for. It is time we take our leave of this place once again.” She clicks her fingers, almost arrogantly but it signals the arrival of several hooded folks in robes. The medical team looks perplexed, trying their best to motion the new arrivals out of the room and to give Ozymandias space.
“Come, Brother… our God waits for no man.” Almost instinctively, Ozymandias stands up and begins to walk forward with her, the equipment and pads monitoring him being dragged behind. He grasps and rips cords, cables and syringes from his body and he takes his leave of the doctors, letting the team to watch on in awe, or confusion, at the sight.
THE OLDEST STORY
Back in Old Harbour, days have passed since the great battle at The Crowning. The folks of Project Honor have been kind to Ozymandias since his arrival, and have accommodated the fighter with his own travel arrangements. Waiving COVID protocols is not easily done, which just shows the true power the officials of Project Honor must hold.
Old Harbour has seen its own battles as of late, a cold front that has arrived bringing with it sub-zero winds and arctic storms alike. The town has been awash with hail, ice rain and intense winds, leaving the residents sheltered inside of their homes for longer than expected. The bay itself was awash with visitors, large chunks and platforms of ice flowing in from the freezing conditions. Boats and trawlers sat in place within the waters, frozen out of time, waiting to come back to life once again.
News had circulated the town of Ozymandias’ defeat, and the people knew better than to approach the man in his brooding moments. Despite a steroid career, Ozymandias was still a stranger to defeat, his power and his drive often being more than enough to turn the tide of battle. His foes either lost plainly, or lost violently, there was no other. But as the years have passed and time has caught up, he has seen more and more setbacks. WrestleWorld was a true test, they threw body after body at him until he tired of it, but yet he fought on. Only one challenger was able to overthrow the warrior cleanly, and has claimed it to be his greatest fight to date.
To Ozymandias, it was a bad night and a good wake up call.
Project Honor would be different, he knew that the day he arrived. Folks here were seasoned, sharpened, ready to kill or be killed. He recognized their faces from towns afar, and some he had even clashed with in his past. Those that tested him greatly now stood as champions, reaching the pinnacle of their place on the roster. Those that were hungry for the gold were tough, if not more daunting, than the golden-clad soldiers themselves.
Ozymandias did not turn away from a good fight, he relished it. What didn’t kill him only proved to make him stronger, more attuned, more aggressive. To rule untouched, undefeated is an honor few have the privilege of claiming. Project Honor houses such individuals, and while they may not appear to the eye as a monument to their successes, in action they have proven their worth.
Elena DeDraca has been one on Ozymandias’ mind for some time, since his arrival in fact. He watched the British Raven decimate her foes, leave nothing but bodies in her wake. A veritable Goddess of the Night, unstoppable in her charge and unremorseful in her victories. She would make for a fine challenge, a true test of skill and fortitude. However Ozymandias was not so lucky to get his moment with the godmother, but instead the runt of her party. The one who barely scratched the surface of his opportunity, the failure that spent more time watching the match from the sidelines than he did in the battle itself.
“Baldur, my friend, you need to rest up. There is no need for you to keep going like this.” Since their return to Old Harbour, Ozymandias had been training hard and working to get his strength back to its peak. Whatever the chemical aftereffects were, ongoing fatigue and distraction was not one he was prepared for. He chose to fight the drug, to sweat it from his system but in the only way he knows how. By working.
“The weather is bad, and only expected to get worse. You are not shielded from these hazards as much as you think… just listen to me, Baldur.” Meredith has stood by Ozymandias since they were children, family friends united to spark a long lasting friendship between the pair. To deny there had been some romantic feelings during their youth would be to tell a lie, but as the years came and went this relationship grew far more than fling or companionship. Meredith had taken a voyage into the unknown, into the dark cosmic horror of our world and had asked her ongoing friend to join her.
But now that they were so engorged in this new venture, they had come so far it would be impossible for them to stop. There was only one end in sight, and despite Meredith’s pleas of friendship, it was she that had brought them to this point. “Can I at least bring you something to eat, some warm soup perhaps? Some mutton or shanks of-”
“Meredith, please… leave me be.” He had spoken few words since their return home, and she thought it best to give him space. However it quickly became apparent that he was not going to follow the advice of medical practitioners and rest. He would continue to train, to fight his defeat and improve for his next battle. Meredith came by with word of his latest challenge, the Australian-loudmouth Aiden Reynolds.
As soon as she mentioned the name, Ozymandias saw no other purpose for his days other than to work, to train and to prepare. Reynolds was a known name in Project Honor, he had proven his worth time and time again and was a forerunner to be one of the top fighters in the federation. The Wolf had lost his chance to claim the Legacy Championship, which would have secured him firmly as the end-boss of this company. Instead he was easily dispatched from the fight, bottling his moment when the time came.
He lost more than just a match, he fell back in rank. He could still fight his way back, he could still howl like a dog until someone hears his whimpers, but sadly this was not to be his chance. A victory over the Wolf would put the Butcher into a much higher standing, and keep Ozymandias’ momentum rising. The only challenge with that is… the Wolf himself.
Meredith sees that her efforts are in vain, as Ozymandias laces up his boots once more. She has tried and failed to keep him indoors, but the anger he showed following the WarGames is rapidly growing inside. They may focus on overthrowing the world one day, but even the Sunken God stays in his slumber during this poor weather.
“If you wish I can accompany you, keep you from your own thoughts? I can make sure you have someone to speak with, to speak out to… please, just let me in Baldur.”
“My name is no longer Baldur!”, he rasps at her. Standing up with fire in his eyes, he is twice, maybe thrice her size, hulking over her frail petite frame. Their friendship grew darker, most mysterious as they began to delve into the world of R’lyeh and what lay at the depths of the ocean. The more they explored the more they grew possessed. But once Ozymandias heard the Call… everything changed, and nothing would be the same again.
“You awarded me this name, you chose this moniker for me, so use it.” It is true, when they took their vows to awaken Cthulhu and raise the undead, they forsake their past lives and adopted their new names. Meredith chose the title of Priestess, while Baldur took a deeper step forward, dropping his family ties and truly becoming Ozymandias.
“I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
The poem holds more weight in his world than any others have truly known. His mother would read to him as a child, all the wonderful works of the pets of fame, but very few clung to his memories such as this. The bravado and gall of the King, to lay claim over his lands and people, to force others to bow before him like their new God, new deity… all easily erased by the sands of time. It was upon his first hearing of this poem he knew that fame, wealth, power… it was all futile. The only true power you wield in this world, is time.
The power to control it, to manipulate it, to remove it entirely. Such cosmic quandaries, such insane theories and baffling ideologies. Yet, but those fables beasts of our sky, time is merely a platform for which they walk on. The Great Old Ones, the monsters of nightmares and angels of dreams, time for them is intangible. The ability to stop time, to stop aging itself. To rewind the clock, the return to your youth, visit loved ones, stay forever amongst their company…
“Meredith… I…”, he says, his voice now weaker. Meredith shows no fear, no concern for her own well being. Afraid of none, a terror to many. Yet right now, in the small domicile of Ozymandias, she knows she is closely confined with a monster. And to see the rage in his eyes, the fire burning inside… she truly was afraid. “I must go.”
And without any further objections, Ozymandias walks past his friend, opening the door to his home to a welcoming gale outside, and quickly disappears into the arctic haze.
WHERE WOLVES PLAY
Occult whisperings aside, Ozymandias knows his own limits. He feels the cold on his skin, he feels the sharpness of the frigid air entering his lungs, he patiently waits until his fingertips and toes lose feeling, become frozen-number articles on his body. But for him to achieve his victory, for him to know nothing but success moving forward he will need to suffer and endure every storm this world brings him.
Nearby to the village is a small grove of trees, normally dense and wild. Ozymandias has turned this small gathering into his personal domain, an area where he can train his body but also his mind. His release from the normality of this world, somewhere he can ascend to a higher plane… and come crashing back down to Earth.
Many years ago Baldur Magnusson and Meredith Agnar took their vows together, two friends hellbent on changing the world. For Meredith she wishes to cull the weakness of this world. Not physical weakness, nor mental, but the one we ignore often… humanity. If the cosmic beings from afar can thrive in power and eternal life, then the only disadvantage we have is ourselves. For Baldur, he had seen too much suffering and strife within his own world. He wished to never see a soul leave us prematurely, or a loved one to pass due to their time arriving. He wished for life eternal.
But as the famous words of the poem ‘Ozymandias’ declare, the winds of time stop for no man. This world pushes on, this conclusion is inevitable.
All men must fall.
Baldur was truly gone, mere slivers of the young boys remaining in the eyes of Meredith only, but to all else he is now and forever the Butcher. The protector of Old Harbour, and their savior. For now he mends their ships and funds their wares, but these acts are frivolous. The true value of what Ozymandias fights for is unseen… everlasting being. All men must fall, but where and when is rarely in our control.
When the time is right, when they have completed their trials and are ready to raise the sunken city of R’lyeh, that is when their true gift can be awarded… eternal life, as the Children of Cthulhu. To some this is gibberish, to others it is an oath. But to those outsiders it is humorous, a comedic sketch, an avenue of mockery and contempt.
Aiden Reynolds shows his true colors in the ring and out. His mouth knows no end, his tongue being the only muscle in his body that won't break. As soon as word arrived at Old Harbour of the upcoming battle, it was swiftly accompanied by the jeers and insults the cretin was spouting. From disrespecting their God to mocking the result of his battle, Reynolds had foregone his own bitter defeat to try goad Ozymandias into a premature fight.
Truthfully, the temptation to lessen the gap and pay the Wolf a visit sooner was there however as history tells us, good things come to those who wait. Ozymandias was not focused on this arrogant pissant, nor was he even bothered by the fight ahead. A victory over Reynolds however, that posed a greater reward again and one that could not be ignored. The contender for the Legacy belt held some appeal with the fans, and some allure with the powers higher up. We were only two fights into our time at Project Honor, but both had come with great glamour from the audience. Another brawl and a swift victory over the Wolf surely would lead to something greater.
Standing in his forest clearing, Ozymandias has all the tools and equipment he would need for this fight - logs cut into different sizes would act as his weights. Ropes tied around a trunk would be his anchor, and the barkless facing of a nearby oak had been his punching bag for many nights now. He was set, and his training was underway.
He had come here prior to his previous bouts, as a way to not only prepare his body but also his mind. Ozymandias was not one to walk into a fight unprepared, but when it comes to certain battles the names and histories of his foes often mean little to him. Or nothing at all. He knows in Project Honor that things must change, as each fighter brings a particular challenge.
Aiden Reynolds was not an accolade hound, with a plethora of victories under his belt. The few wins he held were small, non-memorable moments in his forgettable past but in Project Honor his luck had changed. Standing alongside his partner, Dickie Watson, Aiden had somehow grown himself a pair of balls it seems, working diligently to match the level of skill and clout his superior holds. Alone the Wolf means nothing, another fighter that will be forgotten as soon as the bell rings three. But alongside his partner, this Commonwealth would pose a real challenge… a true threat.
A wolf's howl rings out through the forest where Ozymandias stands, apt given the circumstances. He has encountered the beasts before but they have not approached. His size and presence threatened even the most ferocious of animals, but with the shifting temperatures and scarce resources perhaps Ozymandias might get to beat a wolf sooner. Much like these small, nimble beasts Reynolds also boasts similar dexterity - smaller than Ozymandias means less of a target to hit, faster and lighter means he will be tougher to catch, and if he is like an of the Australian foes Ozymandias had encountered in the past… he won’t go down easily.
*THUD*
Ozymandias crashes his fist against the exposed surface of the nearby oak, sending a shock up through the trunk and loosening the rain that had settled on the parse branches.
*THUD*
*THUD*
A combo, again shaking loose the moisture and frost from the plants arms. He admires nature greatly, one of the remaining true pleasures this world still offers to him, but unlike the many foes and colleagues he has met in the wrestling world, none are as rigid and vigilant as this tree has been. It humors him greatly, that a defaced tree in nearby forest grove has been more of an inspiration to him.
*THUD*
*THUD*
The howl grows louder, almost like a warning, but Ozymandias ignores it. What he can’t ignore however is the crunch of leaves and sticks - footsteps. He continues to plow into the tree, sharpening his ears to the footsteps. The wolves approach him, he hears it growing closer and closer.
*THUD*
*THUD*
Another crunch, right outside the grove area now. The pack is closing in, and from the sounds of them there could be a lot to deal with. He grabs a smaller brand and starts to prepare, a pack of hungry dogs ready for his blood. He stops and listens, hearing the steps approach until they become visible in the clearings of the trees. Several dogs, a dozen perhaps, all snarling and eyeing up the Butcher. The rains have begun to pour now, so visibility is diminishing while danger is growing.
Any moment now they will advance, any moment now his fight with the wolves begins. He spies one wolf standing closer than any others, the alpha of this pack. Snarling, ready to eat. The wolf takes a small step forward but quickly stops, distracted by something. The pack runs, and one by one each of the wolves flee the area completely, leaving Ozymandias remaining in confusion.
“Seems my aura disturbs even the most furious of predators.” Meredith, making her from within the thickness of the trees, smiling as she approaches Ozymandias. The rain is pouring and temperatures are below zero, yet she wears only a loose black silken dress, forever flowing in the breeze like a wisp of smoke. “Wolves can’t harm us, Ozymandias. Their pack will never defeat our pact.”
She speaks in tongues, but it’s clear her intentions. She wishes to appease Ozymandias, no longer treat him like a childhood friend and instead look at him only as a merchant of death, a warrior of Cthulhu. His training for the fight with Reynolds ends here, and his frustration is clear.
“Meredith, I asked you not to- “, but he’s cut short by Meredith. She raises a hand to stop him, putting a finger to his lips to silence him. She motions for Ozymandias to follow her, and reluctantly he abides. Meredith leads Ozymandias through the dense forest, back towards the direction she approached from. Bizarrely this is the opposite route to the village and to their homes, so Ozymandias is a little confused.
“Where do you lead me?”, he asks but again is met with nothing but a smirk and silence from her. They continue on regardless, wordless now until they clear the forest and come upon a large clearing. Between them and the ocean now is one vast grassy knoll, and in the middle of it is a lone wolf, seemingly trapped.
“The thing with wolves… they are strong in numbers… but weak alone. Remove the alpha from the pack, and they scatter. Remove the pack, and the lone wolf dies.” They approach the wolf, seeing it snarling and snapping in their direction more and more as they grow closer. The rain prevails and tears at their clothes, as the night sky is upon them so they rely on mere moonlight to guide their way. “Soon you face a lone wolf, and soon you will see what I speak of.”
As they get real close to the wolf it panics and snaps even more, but it’s clear that it’s been snared on the grass by its leg. Blood oozes down the creatures legs but nothing it can do helps to loosen it from the predicament it is in.
“I have led this village down a dark path, and you by my side. I have asked many a great thing from you, and you have willingly obliged. You have sacrificed more than anyone knows, given yourself entirely to my world and my pledge, and for that I am eternally grateful.” She speaks but her focus is on the wolf, not Ozymandias standing alongside her. He stands topless apart from a soaked shirt, the wind and cold starting to grind against his skin but Meredith seems completely unphased by the weather.
“I forget that we took our oaths together, that we both decided to cast away our older selves. I forget, and I apologize. The memories of our youth linger with me, and sometimes I forget the people we have become, sometimes I grow softer and warmer when the opposite is what is needed… there is no warmth for us in the depths, only cold, dark endless void.”
She walks forward to the wolf, holding out her hand to the animal but in its panic it snaps and snarls, trying to bite her. Merely inches from her, yet Meredith seems unshaken.
“You have been my rock, Ozymandias, for which you are aware, and more than you truly know too.” She puts her hand behind her back, clawing into her own dress to produce something, but Ozymandias doesn’t see it in this dim lighting and harsh weather. “I hope I have been your beacon in this darkness… your soul, wild and brutal, sting rings dear to me. I still see you as that young boy who stole my heart… reminders are needed to keep us on track.”
She stands up and Ozymandias sees what she pulled out now, a sharp and shining blade. She turns to face him with a small smile upon her face, before lunging for the wild animal and driving the weapon into its neck. The animal fights as best it can, biting and chomping at her but every move is too slow, too delayed for her. She repeated strikes, plunging the blade into the wolf over and over, its blood gushing from the severed artery and drowning her face and chest in it’s warm claret. With a soft whimper the wolf collapses, bleeding out and slowly leaving this world behind.
“You see… a wolf alone, is a weak wolf. A dead wolf.” She stands up and turns to face Ozymandias, the blood from the animal covering her face and chest, her dress soaked in the cruor. “We can worry about the pack, or the hidden intent but the wolf stands alone for now. And we can end a lone wolf.” She smiles, her white teeth a stark contrast to the dark red liquid on her face.
Ozymandias walks past her and unclasps the trap, letting the wolf's dying form finally be free.
“And what of the wolf now?”
“...it becomes food. It feeds those that need it most, it helps others grow stronger. You lost one fight, but this wolf can feed us and helps us grow, just like our friends will feast tonight.” She looks around her and the remaining pack members have arrived, watching on from a distance. They don’t attack, but their eyes are on their deceased friend, warm and ready to be ravished.
“A brutal demonstration, all to get your point across.” He eyes the now-dead wolf, almost remorseful for the animal.
“This is merely the circle. What was once powerful is now lacking. What once ruled the lands now becomes dust in the wind. Predator to prey, this is nature. You need to see that we are not too far apart from the animal kingdom. Perhaps when we rebuild our new world, we can take a lesson from these beasts?”
The pack grows closer, and Meredith motions it is their time to leave. As the rain pours down, the blood and claret on her washes down her neck, her chest, into her clothes, down her pale white skin.
“Soon you face your lone wolf, and soon we ascend to predator status. I was wrong to think of you anything less than who you are now, who you’ve become… the Butcher will feast on wolfsblood come Proving Ground.” They walk side by side, leading back to the village.
“My defeat is temporary… I will reign supreme once more.”
She smirks, a little chuckle too.
“I know… you lead this pack, it is just a matter of time before the pack realizes. Help them to see, and cull the weak from the pack.”
“As you wish, my Priestess.”
“And you, my Warrior.”
Their conversation ends as the sound of wind and hail drowns out all words. They have no sooner departed the clearing before the pack descends on their fallen mate, what was once friend has become a feast. A hungry beast feeds and grows greater, a lone wolf dies and is forgotten. Such is the cycle of life.
Aiden Reynolds mocks and jeers the Butcher, but ultimately he is unprepared to face this battle, he is uneducated in the fight before him. His past achievements will pale in comparison to this duel - a defeat might lead him to the hungry mouths of the wolves, a victory might regain some of his clout with his peers. Either way, it matters not.
The Butcher is coming, one more gauntlet on the path to the New World.
As Cthulhu commands it, so it will be done.
