Post by OZYMANDIAS on Apr 7, 2021 22:46:22 GMT -5
OOC: Tyler Bradford, I apologize for this RP. Not my best week unfortunately, and not my best work! I’ll try to give you a better fight down the line.
PROLOGUE
The wrath of nature always amuses me.
How she comes in the night, howling and blasting, her invisible force that tears roots and shingles alike. Her strength, that can drive waves as big as houses onto the shores, capsizing any smaller vessel that stands in her way. How her cold icy rains can bring about a death even to those that are lucky to be sheltered.
But as the morning comes and the skies clear, she takes a moment of reprieve to allow the sun to shine down on all she has destroyed. A warm glow for her to bask in her glory, as she has left all around her decimated.
Mother Nature is cruel in motion, but her and I share very similar tastes. We both like to watch the world around us fall.
EYE OF THE STORM
For what felt like endless days and nights the storm rolled in from the Pacific Ocean like a stampede of bulls, tearing and destroying all that stood before it. Homes ravaged, ships and trawlers capsized or cut loose. Animals and foliage destroyed by her icy rains.
The storm took Old Harbour by surprise, a forecast misinterpreted causing them massive setbacks and delays. The Priestess can no longer join her church, her gathered cultist, but must remain in action as the Mayor of Old Harbour. Meredith never did like the rains, her obsessions always lay within the glowing aura of a blazing flame.
For the warrior of Old Harbour, this was another day of work. Ozymandias stood tall over the other villagers, a giant amongst men. Unfortunately, that made him a prime volunteer to help mend the town also. With a slight break in the storm he was able to gather the towns best and most able men to mend the homes and tend to those injured by the grueling winds and torrential downpours.
A hard days labour, but in lieu of his training this was to become more than repair work. More than simply offering a lending hand, a helpful ear to those that need it. To Ozymandias, this was yet another test.
But by whom?
The monstrous sleeping giant of the deep, or the thundering Norse gods of his heritage? Ozymandias often remembers his youth with a strange perspective, thinking upon the storms as his highlights, and the fight that they brought. Ironic than in his later years, it would be he who is bringing the storms now.
“The proving ground calls for me once again…”, he mutters to himself as he takes a break from his work. Behind him the village of Old Harbour continues to mend and cure what damage they received form the vicious, endless ocean storm. But Ozymandias eyes the sky, and sees the eye looking back. “She will storm upon us again soon.”
The wind has already begun to change, and the reprieve they faced during the sunshine today is only a momentary gap before round two of their battles. Ozymandias watches the sky above, noting the changes in the clouds, spying the formation of the oncoming winds hours ahead. He might have left the sea behind him, but his blood will always be a fishermen's. And a keen eye for a storm, is a keen eye for the future.
He picks up a small rock from the sandy shore that runs along the village, and easily snaps the stone in half. “The newcomers challenge me now… Tyler Bradford.” Muttering to himself, he tosses one half into the water, and attempts to skim the second half along the surface. “You would throw fresh faces and new fodder at me it seems.”
Speaking to nobody in particular, he begins to stroll along the shore, aiming clearly for the long stony pier at the end. Jutting out into the sea like the finger of a giant, Ozymandias often finds himself walking the length of this walkway as he stirs his thoughts around his head, a penceive of murderous intent mixed with dire optimism for the future.
“But of all the fighters you pose in this gauntlet, you won’t give me what I want… the Tyrant.” He kicks at some loose stones as he climbs the steps and begins the long march along the pier. Shawn Warstein has evaded Ozymandias on a couple of occasions, and the thought of that worm holding power over his head boils inside him. “Tyrant, Wolf and now… another fresh face hailing themselves as an Icon.”
Ozymandias rarely tastes defeat but since his arrival to Project Honor he has been closer to moments of rout than moments of victory. Normally a stallion in his field, he has felt more like a working horse than he would have wished. To taste a moment of glory against a foe like Lance Williams, a beast in his own right. Or Postman Pat, comedic relief but one that packs a punch. Those fleeting moments are ones he wishes to continue.
“I am beset by Gods, above and below. Trials and tests of my will and fortitude, all to determine what? If I can brawl as good as Thor, or if I can destroy as good as Cthulhu? What end is in sight for the Butcher?”
He continues to walk along the pier, the soft seafoam and splash of salt on his face providing a moments escape from the sweating and heated work behind him in the village.
“Bradford is a new addition to the roster, but one that shines so brightly already. To pit his against the Butcher, to test his mettle against a foe such as I? Well, such is the musings of senior management. I’m sure the fans will get a thrill, watching us both ravage each other in the ring.”
He stops mid-pier, to look out to the horizon and to the looming black swell before him.
“The Great Old One might not have any world left to return to, if Mother Nature gets her way. The far side of the storm approaches… poetic, in a sense. My tenure in Project Honor has been much like these winds of late, powerful in bursts and exhausted in due time. Only to build up for another round of rage and fury.”
He sighs, his words and breath coming through his mask filtered and metallic sounding.
“I have much of a pier to walk, and far further to go even then it seems. Bradford, I truly hope you heed the warnings and stay far from my path. My pent up aggression for the Wolf and the Tyrant are reserved for them alone, and should you find yourself in my way longer than needed…”
He kicks a stone into the water, watching the cold black abyss swallow it whole.
“...then R’lyeh will be waiting for you.”
Turning back, a light rain begins to pour over his head, a nice chilled massage to herald his return. The reality of course is that the brewing storm returns, a large black cloud following Ozymandias. It seems ironic, that he would mend the damage caused by a storm, when he himself is the storm causing the torment.
Alas, the show must go on. Ozymandias and the villagers of Old Harbour will brace themselves once more, and as the winds and rain return they will stand their ground and hold. They will fight. Tyler Bradford has entered into the fray against a withered old fisherman it seems, but despite those days behind him… Ozymandias will always be a Butcher.
For Tyler Bradford, he will be the example to all who come after. Ozymandias is not fearful of the storm, he IS the storm. And like the brittle shack homes collapsed before him, all those opposing him will learn it too.
All Men Must Fall.
