Post by OZYMANDIAS on Mar 23, 2021 18:35:57 GMT -5
The storm had been blowing, for many nights past yet those who should have fled to the sanctuary of their homes stood bravely to face the winds and the rains. The world shudders as the heavens themselves open up and the fury of nature sweeps over the lands before them, bringing forth devastation and suffering with each howling wind.
But to some, the storm poses no threat, poses no concern. To some this is not fear they must run from, but fuel to fire them up, to stand against such adversary. To some the storm is not a threat, not a worry, but an opportunity to overcome a challenge or a test. To some this storm is a manifestation of their challenges, their setbacks, and to overcome such a wave of destruction is to stand tall on the world and yell back at the heavens themselves.
Ozymandias has been this very storm, for as long as he can remember. The wrecking ball that demolishes the very walls of people's comfort, of their sanctuary. A beast of unstoppable power, a tormentor in the night here to ravage and to ruin. But as of late this has not been the case, as more and more dare to brace the storm and take their moment to fight back. Seize their moment to take control.
What does it mean to be a monster, if none are afraid of you?
OLD HARBOUR
Seasons change and with it comes a brutal molting of old and sprouting of new. The rocks of the cliff face, the stones of the ancient pier, the splintering wood on the ships and trawlers, the very people of the small village itself. The winter is harsh, long and unforgiving. The cold wins howls relentlessly, the rains pound against the shutters of windows and dance on the tin roofs, while the ice slowly creeps its way in through the cracks, an invisible demon looking to expel your warmth.
There have been many bad winters but as of late, the most recent years have grown worse and worse. This world truly is poisoned by the people who inhabit it, causing the sea to swell and grow in agony against its will, causing the winds to change course and bring colder fronts when warmth is expected. Never before did this world need a savior more, never more did this world need the sleeping city to rise.
For all he could do to aid and help his people, Ozymandias was still only one man, still only to do so much. Repairs grew in numbers while people fell to sickness and decay. His efforts to restore the village were futile as the winter came with more ferocity than even he could expect. Crops have but frozen still, nearby villages have seized aiding the ‘cultists’ of Old Harbour, and with the waters growing more and more aggressive even shipments from the mainland have stalled.
Old Harbour was meant to be the birthplace of the new world, the landing pad for the Great Old One’s return. A mecca for those who wish to wash themselves in the light of a new God, a new purpose. But if the villagers could not fight against even the weather, what right do they have to demand the love and the mercy of a benevolent God?
Meredith has forsaken her duties as a Priestess of R’lyeh in lieu to perform her job as mayor of Old Harbour, and helping to ensure the village has what it needs. From food to warmth, comfort and help where needed. Her real job here often takes a backseat to the new world she is building towards, but in trying times like this it is more necessary. What good is it to build a new world for a God, only for it’s denizens to fall to the lash of nature's whip.
“The ships have been delayed again, which means we need to wait another week at least before we can resupply.” Her voice is weathered, worn and heavy with stress. Meredith often shows little compassion for anyone, but when it comes to Old Harbour, her family's heritage and namesake lives in this town. These people have followed the Agnar’s for generations, and Meredith can not show her weakness. She is the last Agnar, and this town's last hope.
“I have tried to contact the local villages, but after we ‘enlightened’ them to our cause they have shown nothing but fear and loathing towards us. We could mount a force and seize what we need…”, but even Meredith herself knows this would be in vain. To encourage neighbouring villages to join our rally to raise R’lyeh from the depths is a hopeful wish, but a fledgling reality. Now in these trying times, the locals of this island would offer nothing or less to aid those who would do them harm.
We showed them love, through violence. They show us resentment, through silence.
“Perhaps we could still forage or hunt for sustenance?” She asks it aloud, but inside she knows this to be trivial. The people of Old Harbour are hungry, cold and afraid. To tell them their lives rest in the hands of fishermen, armed with spears on the hunt for wild animals and whatever berries we might pull from the forests… it would be too much.
“What about you, Ozymandias? Do you have any ideas or thoughts on how we might save ourselves from this battle?” She speaks to him, asking for his help and his support in these tumultuous times but to him this is nothing but a passing hurdle. Ozymandias, a warrior of time, a fighter on the cusp of greatness, his battle has only begun. And it resides outside of Old Harbour.
Project Honor was to be a new beginning for him, a new start. His history, his accolades, everything he had built up to arrive at this point was to be tested and challenged at the gates of his new domain. Leaving behind a pool of bodies in WrestleWorld, he had only ever tasted defeat in battle once. A brutal match, the test of the strongest where he succumbed only to exhaustion and collapse. He lost his first fight in many years, and relished the experience for it allowed him to hone his skills and strengthen his body, his mind, his fortitude. He took on an army of competitors, armed with his new hunger for victory, and it took a dozen of the best and baddest in WrestleWorld to beat him. Pushed over a rope and marked as defeated meant nothing to Ozymandias, for he still stood on his own two legs and was ready to fight on.
But Project Honor changed how he looked at the world, it skewed his reality and his understanding of what was a smooth sail before. Postman Pat, a foolish comedic character, an entertainer for the children, surprised him and caught him off guard. He luckily took the victory, but left the ring more shaken than confident.
The brawl for the crown, to be hailed as the new tyrant of the federation, was his next opportunity. His power and prowess fared well as he ploughed through the competition but as the victory was within reach, he came foul to the trickery and quick wit of Warstein. A concoction brewed to put a stallion into a deep slumber, Ozymandias took two doses of the poison and succumbed to its power. Defeated by a trick, a cowardly tactic. Defeated by a fox, quicker and sharper than he was. Defeated.
Project Honor shook Ozymandias to the core, as he was not used to such...rout. Defeat at the hands of a boy, who’s words did more damage than his fists. He would overthrow the Butcher, he would dispel the illusions of great power, and he would unveil a merciless aggressor to the federation. A fighter that was brawn and no brains, a dangerous foe but an easily countered fool. This lead Ozymandias into a bitter spiral leading up to his clash with the Wolf, one which he himself felt coming.
The storm blows cold over the lands, icy chilling gusts. But nothing will sting a man's soul like utter defeat, true and total failure. The Australian Wolf led the pack in Project Honor, his own setbacks fueling his fire as much as Ozymandias. However for the Wolf he fights only for himself, but for Ozymandias he carries the weight of his new world on his shoulders. That fight should have been a closed case, the egotistical fighter looking to reclaim his moment in the spotlight against the Butcher fighting to reprise his name. His reputation.
The Wolf put down the Butcher in such fashion that even he understood to take his victory and run. A man of ice waters and cold rocks, Ozymandias was alight in fire from that night on. His reputation being tarnished with each fight, each victory gone from his grasp. He has left entire federations trembling in his wake, but now he stands defeated by two of the companies loudest mouths, the peacocks of this game. Defeat is bitter, but this bodes more. This is embarrassment.
“I guess we could see what is stored in the cellars, although I’m sure most of our supplies have already been sold to the merchants on the mainland…” Meredith toils and worries about feeding her people, but to Ozymandias this is pointless. The weak will suffer endlessly, they will cry with open mouths, begging for reprieve. Those who are not strong enough to survive this storm alone do not deserve to have a village of support around them. Ozymandias has helped to rebuild this town, to bring them all into a new light of prosperity but now they suffer and balk at the first sign of a struggle.
“Perhaps we should feed them all to the Great Old One, solve our woes in one fell swoop.” His words come from utter annoyance and boredom, but they hit Meredith like a cold slap on the face. Her expression turns from worry to fury, her brow furrowed at his suggestion. On a good day she would ponder the thought herself, but today she is not the Priestess. She is the Mayor.
“I hope you are joking.”
“Why shield and protect the weak? Why guard them from the cruelty of this world, while coaxing them to join us in a new beginning? If they wish to understand why we must raze this world and rebuild a new domain in his name, then I say let them suffer and struggle in these times.”
“These are our people, Ozymandias. Our neighbours, friends, family. Mothers, parents, children. You would so easily send them to a watery grave, as opposed to lending a helping hand?”
“Everything I have done is for these people, everything I have accomplished. I have funded this town, fed this town, built this town. If they are still too weak to survive despite my aid, then they are not who we wish to bring to the new world with us.”
Meredith looks like she is ready to burst, her eyes alight with fire.
“...sometimes the storm is greater than we expect. Sometimes it catches us without warning. Sometimes, we succumb to the storm… but we fight on, despite the outcome. For anyone who finds the weight of defeat to be too much, then I will lead them to the pier myself.” She turns on her heel and makes her way to the front door, swinging open the wooden barn door to Ozymandias’ home. “The further we fall, the closer we are to R’lyeh. It is only a matter of perspective, my friend.”
She ends the sentence with such spice in her voice that Ozymandias winces as she slams the door, her anger at his comments resonating. She speaks the truth, her ideals of progress unskewed by wins, losses or tranquilizations. However to tell a man build of raw muscle and sinew that his power and his prowess is not enough to stop a brash Wolf or a egotistical Tyrant is only growing his flame.
But how will the Butcher fare against a mechanized monster aptly named the Bulldozer?
Following his bitter defeat to Aiden Reynolds, Ozymandias took his anger out on a Project Honor official, earning him a strike and a suspension for a show. For a company filled with pyromaniacs, gothic queens and sexual exploitations they tend to take close care of their personnel.
But now his return is marked with a fight that will determine his status quo in the company. Lance Williams, a one man wrecking machine, matching Ozymandias in size, weight and power. Younger by years and hungrier by miles, this will not be an easy fight. To say he is being punished by the Gods would be easy, but there is only one God that Ozymandias answers to, and he demands blood. War. Sacrifice.
The howling winds pound against the wooden lattices of his home, and in this chaos he can barely gather his own thoughts. Much like many of his recent fights, Ozymandias bodes much better standing in the chaos than cowering from it, so he grabs his coat and ventures outside.
WHERE ICE MEETS FIRE
Lance Williams is a growing brand in Project Honor, a rapidly-rising star who shows true merit in the ring. It would be foolish to ignore the similarities between the pair, from physical size and power to their determination and drive to succeed. Or in other words, to demolish and flatten any and all who stand in their way. A formidable pairing, joined they might be unstoppable but to truly know someone, first they must fight.
There have been many on the roster that did not deserve a second glance, from the foolish jesters of musical nature to the arrogant, brash champions that have yet to face a true foe. Walking into Project Honor there was no respect, no sense of honor anywhere to be seen. Just everyone fighting for themselves, caring about number one. Backstage on in the ring, it was clear that everyone here wants one thing - to be the best.
Ozymandias did not desire the same, for his goals are different to the avenge contender. He does not care about gold, about belts or accolades, about victories or crowns. What he relishes most is power. To hold some weight over his adversary, to feel the fear emaciated from his victims skin, to taste the blood seeping from his defeated foe.
As he marches through the village, it is clear none others had the same thought as he did as to venture outdoors. The rain is harsh and heavy, blowing sideways in the strong winds, almost pushing him backwards with each step. The force of the wind catches his overcoat and drags him from his line, making each movement a misstep. He powers on regardless, ignoring the cold touch of the weather nor the aggression that nature is showing him. The storm wants him to be afraid, but he will not succumb.
This ‘Bulldozer’ has come to Project Honor to face his own storm, to walk headlong into a fight he does not know he can win. His record wanes in comparison to his size but then again, Ozymandias holds the same merits. Neither have truly managed to get their stride in this new place, and neither have inflicted fear into their opponents just yet. Outside of these walls the name means something… 'Bulldozer', 'Butcher'... but in Project Honor we are just another player in this hectic, moving game.
Leaving the outskirts of the small village, it becomes clear that the winds will not allow Ozymandias passage to the lighthouse he wishes to visit. Built long ago during his tenure in WrestleWorld, the lighthouse was a beacon of so many things. Not just a waypoint for ships at sea but also a beacon of hope for the people of the village, a symbol of change and growth. Together, they can work harder and they can rebuild what was once powerful and great. A meaningless tower with a brazier alight at the top, the absence of technology or even purpose make this a misery in our world, another reminder of days past. But when the time comes for R’lyeh to rise, and this world as we know it succumbs to the insanity of our Great Old One… technology itself will mean nothing. All those that remain will crawl and claw at the light, for outside this lighthouse will be nothing, but darkness itself.
He has come to the place on many occasions for some self observations, to ponder what is and what might be, to see how this world affects us and what is worth keeping after the rapture. Each time however, he is left with one answer… power. It is the only thing that is eternal, the only thing of value that can transcend time and space. The only currency this universe knows.
"The brazier remains alight, even in such testing conditions... there is some symbolism in that I am sure."
To truly be powerful is to truly be untouchable, unbeatable, unbreakable. Ozymandias always believed he held the power in his fist, towering over the fishing folk of a small village or tearing his way through a pack of enemies with his butcher's blade. Few had stood against him and lived to speak of it, those that have will never forget the battle they endured. Power is everything to Ozymandias, and to bring back a long forgotten God will take more than just him alone. He needs to seize the power of this world, and he needs to control it with an iron fist.
Lance Williams desires his moment in the sun, a spotlight upon which to stand in and gaze over his fans, his friends, his achievements. A former star looking to reclaim his glory, and escape the shadow of his friends. Mark Hunter, his only achievement, now stands tall next to him garbed in gold, while Williams remains by his feet. He has much to rebuild, much to achieve, and many more miles to go. This lighthouse is an example of what can be done, to rebuild and remake history.
However for the Bulldozer, this fight will not be his. As the rain whips at his coat and the winds blow soil across the lands, Ozymandias stands by the shore looking up to the cliff, admiring his creation. The lighthouse has become so much more to him in recent times, and like what Williams desires too, it shows he can rebuild. With some hard work and graft, even the old and shine new again. Williams will be a star in this game, and will be a dominant name in Project Honor, but now is now the time to find similarities or ideals in your foe.
"Is that all you have, is that what you bring to battle? You should do more if you wish to dissuade me!", he yells at the skies above. The lightning flashes frequently, aggressively cracking at such close distances. The blinding bright bursts and the lashing of an incredible whip seems like nothing to Ozymandias, as he stands firm, dominant against the storm. "What good is terror, when you are fear itself!"
Ozymandias has a job to do, and he knows what must be done. The Bulldozer will be the example, he will be the sacrifice for which Ozymandias can rebuild upon. The first step in the long climb back to the top of the mountain, so that he can once again stand tall and look down and all those who denied him. He will reclaim his power, he will dominate this federation, and he will open their eyes to the new future that awaits them… the Sunken City will only rise if those who will greet it can bear its presence. Power of the body, power of the mind. The wind howls loudly, the sky breaking apart with flashes of lightning… but Ozymandias shows no fear. No backing down.
His is the warrior of his God, the champion of the Elder One. There are no foes, no allies in this game, only challenges and sacrifices. For Lance Williams, it is to be seen which he falls under. But he will fall.
All men must fall.
But to some, the storm poses no threat, poses no concern. To some this is not fear they must run from, but fuel to fire them up, to stand against such adversary. To some the storm is not a threat, not a worry, but an opportunity to overcome a challenge or a test. To some this storm is a manifestation of their challenges, their setbacks, and to overcome such a wave of destruction is to stand tall on the world and yell back at the heavens themselves.
Ozymandias has been this very storm, for as long as he can remember. The wrecking ball that demolishes the very walls of people's comfort, of their sanctuary. A beast of unstoppable power, a tormentor in the night here to ravage and to ruin. But as of late this has not been the case, as more and more dare to brace the storm and take their moment to fight back. Seize their moment to take control.
What does it mean to be a monster, if none are afraid of you?
OLD HARBOUR
Seasons change and with it comes a brutal molting of old and sprouting of new. The rocks of the cliff face, the stones of the ancient pier, the splintering wood on the ships and trawlers, the very people of the small village itself. The winter is harsh, long and unforgiving. The cold wins howls relentlessly, the rains pound against the shutters of windows and dance on the tin roofs, while the ice slowly creeps its way in through the cracks, an invisible demon looking to expel your warmth.
There have been many bad winters but as of late, the most recent years have grown worse and worse. This world truly is poisoned by the people who inhabit it, causing the sea to swell and grow in agony against its will, causing the winds to change course and bring colder fronts when warmth is expected. Never before did this world need a savior more, never more did this world need the sleeping city to rise.
For all he could do to aid and help his people, Ozymandias was still only one man, still only to do so much. Repairs grew in numbers while people fell to sickness and decay. His efforts to restore the village were futile as the winter came with more ferocity than even he could expect. Crops have but frozen still, nearby villages have seized aiding the ‘cultists’ of Old Harbour, and with the waters growing more and more aggressive even shipments from the mainland have stalled.
Old Harbour was meant to be the birthplace of the new world, the landing pad for the Great Old One’s return. A mecca for those who wish to wash themselves in the light of a new God, a new purpose. But if the villagers could not fight against even the weather, what right do they have to demand the love and the mercy of a benevolent God?
Meredith has forsaken her duties as a Priestess of R’lyeh in lieu to perform her job as mayor of Old Harbour, and helping to ensure the village has what it needs. From food to warmth, comfort and help where needed. Her real job here often takes a backseat to the new world she is building towards, but in trying times like this it is more necessary. What good is it to build a new world for a God, only for it’s denizens to fall to the lash of nature's whip.
“The ships have been delayed again, which means we need to wait another week at least before we can resupply.” Her voice is weathered, worn and heavy with stress. Meredith often shows little compassion for anyone, but when it comes to Old Harbour, her family's heritage and namesake lives in this town. These people have followed the Agnar’s for generations, and Meredith can not show her weakness. She is the last Agnar, and this town's last hope.
“I have tried to contact the local villages, but after we ‘enlightened’ them to our cause they have shown nothing but fear and loathing towards us. We could mount a force and seize what we need…”, but even Meredith herself knows this would be in vain. To encourage neighbouring villages to join our rally to raise R’lyeh from the depths is a hopeful wish, but a fledgling reality. Now in these trying times, the locals of this island would offer nothing or less to aid those who would do them harm.
We showed them love, through violence. They show us resentment, through silence.
“Perhaps we could still forage or hunt for sustenance?” She asks it aloud, but inside she knows this to be trivial. The people of Old Harbour are hungry, cold and afraid. To tell them their lives rest in the hands of fishermen, armed with spears on the hunt for wild animals and whatever berries we might pull from the forests… it would be too much.
“What about you, Ozymandias? Do you have any ideas or thoughts on how we might save ourselves from this battle?” She speaks to him, asking for his help and his support in these tumultuous times but to him this is nothing but a passing hurdle. Ozymandias, a warrior of time, a fighter on the cusp of greatness, his battle has only begun. And it resides outside of Old Harbour.
Project Honor was to be a new beginning for him, a new start. His history, his accolades, everything he had built up to arrive at this point was to be tested and challenged at the gates of his new domain. Leaving behind a pool of bodies in WrestleWorld, he had only ever tasted defeat in battle once. A brutal match, the test of the strongest where he succumbed only to exhaustion and collapse. He lost his first fight in many years, and relished the experience for it allowed him to hone his skills and strengthen his body, his mind, his fortitude. He took on an army of competitors, armed with his new hunger for victory, and it took a dozen of the best and baddest in WrestleWorld to beat him. Pushed over a rope and marked as defeated meant nothing to Ozymandias, for he still stood on his own two legs and was ready to fight on.
But Project Honor changed how he looked at the world, it skewed his reality and his understanding of what was a smooth sail before. Postman Pat, a foolish comedic character, an entertainer for the children, surprised him and caught him off guard. He luckily took the victory, but left the ring more shaken than confident.
The brawl for the crown, to be hailed as the new tyrant of the federation, was his next opportunity. His power and prowess fared well as he ploughed through the competition but as the victory was within reach, he came foul to the trickery and quick wit of Warstein. A concoction brewed to put a stallion into a deep slumber, Ozymandias took two doses of the poison and succumbed to its power. Defeated by a trick, a cowardly tactic. Defeated by a fox, quicker and sharper than he was. Defeated.
Project Honor shook Ozymandias to the core, as he was not used to such...rout. Defeat at the hands of a boy, who’s words did more damage than his fists. He would overthrow the Butcher, he would dispel the illusions of great power, and he would unveil a merciless aggressor to the federation. A fighter that was brawn and no brains, a dangerous foe but an easily countered fool. This lead Ozymandias into a bitter spiral leading up to his clash with the Wolf, one which he himself felt coming.
The storm blows cold over the lands, icy chilling gusts. But nothing will sting a man's soul like utter defeat, true and total failure. The Australian Wolf led the pack in Project Honor, his own setbacks fueling his fire as much as Ozymandias. However for the Wolf he fights only for himself, but for Ozymandias he carries the weight of his new world on his shoulders. That fight should have been a closed case, the egotistical fighter looking to reclaim his moment in the spotlight against the Butcher fighting to reprise his name. His reputation.
The Wolf put down the Butcher in such fashion that even he understood to take his victory and run. A man of ice waters and cold rocks, Ozymandias was alight in fire from that night on. His reputation being tarnished with each fight, each victory gone from his grasp. He has left entire federations trembling in his wake, but now he stands defeated by two of the companies loudest mouths, the peacocks of this game. Defeat is bitter, but this bodes more. This is embarrassment.
“I guess we could see what is stored in the cellars, although I’m sure most of our supplies have already been sold to the merchants on the mainland…” Meredith toils and worries about feeding her people, but to Ozymandias this is pointless. The weak will suffer endlessly, they will cry with open mouths, begging for reprieve. Those who are not strong enough to survive this storm alone do not deserve to have a village of support around them. Ozymandias has helped to rebuild this town, to bring them all into a new light of prosperity but now they suffer and balk at the first sign of a struggle.
“Perhaps we should feed them all to the Great Old One, solve our woes in one fell swoop.” His words come from utter annoyance and boredom, but they hit Meredith like a cold slap on the face. Her expression turns from worry to fury, her brow furrowed at his suggestion. On a good day she would ponder the thought herself, but today she is not the Priestess. She is the Mayor.
“I hope you are joking.”
“Why shield and protect the weak? Why guard them from the cruelty of this world, while coaxing them to join us in a new beginning? If they wish to understand why we must raze this world and rebuild a new domain in his name, then I say let them suffer and struggle in these times.”
“These are our people, Ozymandias. Our neighbours, friends, family. Mothers, parents, children. You would so easily send them to a watery grave, as opposed to lending a helping hand?”
“Everything I have done is for these people, everything I have accomplished. I have funded this town, fed this town, built this town. If they are still too weak to survive despite my aid, then they are not who we wish to bring to the new world with us.”
Meredith looks like she is ready to burst, her eyes alight with fire.
“...sometimes the storm is greater than we expect. Sometimes it catches us without warning. Sometimes, we succumb to the storm… but we fight on, despite the outcome. For anyone who finds the weight of defeat to be too much, then I will lead them to the pier myself.” She turns on her heel and makes her way to the front door, swinging open the wooden barn door to Ozymandias’ home. “The further we fall, the closer we are to R’lyeh. It is only a matter of perspective, my friend.”
She ends the sentence with such spice in her voice that Ozymandias winces as she slams the door, her anger at his comments resonating. She speaks the truth, her ideals of progress unskewed by wins, losses or tranquilizations. However to tell a man build of raw muscle and sinew that his power and his prowess is not enough to stop a brash Wolf or a egotistical Tyrant is only growing his flame.
But how will the Butcher fare against a mechanized monster aptly named the Bulldozer?
Following his bitter defeat to Aiden Reynolds, Ozymandias took his anger out on a Project Honor official, earning him a strike and a suspension for a show. For a company filled with pyromaniacs, gothic queens and sexual exploitations they tend to take close care of their personnel.
But now his return is marked with a fight that will determine his status quo in the company. Lance Williams, a one man wrecking machine, matching Ozymandias in size, weight and power. Younger by years and hungrier by miles, this will not be an easy fight. To say he is being punished by the Gods would be easy, but there is only one God that Ozymandias answers to, and he demands blood. War. Sacrifice.
The howling winds pound against the wooden lattices of his home, and in this chaos he can barely gather his own thoughts. Much like many of his recent fights, Ozymandias bodes much better standing in the chaos than cowering from it, so he grabs his coat and ventures outside.
WHERE ICE MEETS FIRE
Lance Williams is a growing brand in Project Honor, a rapidly-rising star who shows true merit in the ring. It would be foolish to ignore the similarities between the pair, from physical size and power to their determination and drive to succeed. Or in other words, to demolish and flatten any and all who stand in their way. A formidable pairing, joined they might be unstoppable but to truly know someone, first they must fight.
There have been many on the roster that did not deserve a second glance, from the foolish jesters of musical nature to the arrogant, brash champions that have yet to face a true foe. Walking into Project Honor there was no respect, no sense of honor anywhere to be seen. Just everyone fighting for themselves, caring about number one. Backstage on in the ring, it was clear that everyone here wants one thing - to be the best.
Ozymandias did not desire the same, for his goals are different to the avenge contender. He does not care about gold, about belts or accolades, about victories or crowns. What he relishes most is power. To hold some weight over his adversary, to feel the fear emaciated from his victims skin, to taste the blood seeping from his defeated foe.
As he marches through the village, it is clear none others had the same thought as he did as to venture outdoors. The rain is harsh and heavy, blowing sideways in the strong winds, almost pushing him backwards with each step. The force of the wind catches his overcoat and drags him from his line, making each movement a misstep. He powers on regardless, ignoring the cold touch of the weather nor the aggression that nature is showing him. The storm wants him to be afraid, but he will not succumb.
This ‘Bulldozer’ has come to Project Honor to face his own storm, to walk headlong into a fight he does not know he can win. His record wanes in comparison to his size but then again, Ozymandias holds the same merits. Neither have truly managed to get their stride in this new place, and neither have inflicted fear into their opponents just yet. Outside of these walls the name means something… 'Bulldozer', 'Butcher'... but in Project Honor we are just another player in this hectic, moving game.
Leaving the outskirts of the small village, it becomes clear that the winds will not allow Ozymandias passage to the lighthouse he wishes to visit. Built long ago during his tenure in WrestleWorld, the lighthouse was a beacon of so many things. Not just a waypoint for ships at sea but also a beacon of hope for the people of the village, a symbol of change and growth. Together, they can work harder and they can rebuild what was once powerful and great. A meaningless tower with a brazier alight at the top, the absence of technology or even purpose make this a misery in our world, another reminder of days past. But when the time comes for R’lyeh to rise, and this world as we know it succumbs to the insanity of our Great Old One… technology itself will mean nothing. All those that remain will crawl and claw at the light, for outside this lighthouse will be nothing, but darkness itself.
He has come to the place on many occasions for some self observations, to ponder what is and what might be, to see how this world affects us and what is worth keeping after the rapture. Each time however, he is left with one answer… power. It is the only thing that is eternal, the only thing of value that can transcend time and space. The only currency this universe knows.
"The brazier remains alight, even in such testing conditions... there is some symbolism in that I am sure."
To truly be powerful is to truly be untouchable, unbeatable, unbreakable. Ozymandias always believed he held the power in his fist, towering over the fishing folk of a small village or tearing his way through a pack of enemies with his butcher's blade. Few had stood against him and lived to speak of it, those that have will never forget the battle they endured. Power is everything to Ozymandias, and to bring back a long forgotten God will take more than just him alone. He needs to seize the power of this world, and he needs to control it with an iron fist.
Lance Williams desires his moment in the sun, a spotlight upon which to stand in and gaze over his fans, his friends, his achievements. A former star looking to reclaim his glory, and escape the shadow of his friends. Mark Hunter, his only achievement, now stands tall next to him garbed in gold, while Williams remains by his feet. He has much to rebuild, much to achieve, and many more miles to go. This lighthouse is an example of what can be done, to rebuild and remake history.
However for the Bulldozer, this fight will not be his. As the rain whips at his coat and the winds blow soil across the lands, Ozymandias stands by the shore looking up to the cliff, admiring his creation. The lighthouse has become so much more to him in recent times, and like what Williams desires too, it shows he can rebuild. With some hard work and graft, even the old and shine new again. Williams will be a star in this game, and will be a dominant name in Project Honor, but now is now the time to find similarities or ideals in your foe.
"Is that all you have, is that what you bring to battle? You should do more if you wish to dissuade me!", he yells at the skies above. The lightning flashes frequently, aggressively cracking at such close distances. The blinding bright bursts and the lashing of an incredible whip seems like nothing to Ozymandias, as he stands firm, dominant against the storm. "What good is terror, when you are fear itself!"
Ozymandias has a job to do, and he knows what must be done. The Bulldozer will be the example, he will be the sacrifice for which Ozymandias can rebuild upon. The first step in the long climb back to the top of the mountain, so that he can once again stand tall and look down and all those who denied him. He will reclaim his power, he will dominate this federation, and he will open their eyes to the new future that awaits them… the Sunken City will only rise if those who will greet it can bear its presence. Power of the body, power of the mind. The wind howls loudly, the sky breaking apart with flashes of lightning… but Ozymandias shows no fear. No backing down.
His is the warrior of his God, the champion of the Elder One. There are no foes, no allies in this game, only challenges and sacrifices. For Lance Williams, it is to be seen which he falls under. But he will fall.
All men must fall.
