Post by OZYMANDIAS on Jun 17, 2021 19:13:27 GMT -5
THE TOWN
“What is the point of this? Should I even continue to proclaim the power of the Butcher, do I need to write a statement to note the many reasons why he is, he will be, and always should have been your Champion?”
The question lingers in the air, stiff and silent. Vorpal to the ears of those tasked with responding, a crushing terrifying sound. Silence.
“You stand before me as believers. Loyal and devoted to not only our cause and our effects, but also to the greater good we wish to bring forth for this world. You stand loyal to me, the Agnar’s of Old Harbour. You stand loyal to Baldur, son of Magnus from Reine. You stand devoted, to our God, the Great Dreamer.”
Meredith lifts her arms into the air, all eyes on her.
“Your loyalty and devotion will be rewarded tenfold, as we rebuild this world anew. You will harvest the land you desire. You will reap the adoration and fervor of those souls beneath you. And you will have a place alongside Him, when R’lyeh has risen.”
She turns around, facing the ocean. Standing along the shore, Meredith is stood atop a solid granite slab, at the end of the pier. Her platform allows her height over her gathered townsfolk, all wearing simple knitted robes and garbs, all pale and faded from their original colors. A swath of brown clothes varying in shades, their only common unity is the brooch each now has pinned to their lapels. A bright green emerald stone, fastened nicely by means of a custom housing.
“He comes for us, He feels our power growing. He knows we are close, so so close! We have the following, we have the respect, and soon we will have the power.” She turns around to look down to Baldur, now known to the folks as Ozymandias, the Warrior. “Our brother will soon adorn himself with their golden prize, and stand triumphant over those who oppose him, us and our pledge. Soon we will achieve the final key, and can finally begin our summoning practices.”
The weather today is harsh, heavy winds blowing in from the sea carrying seafoam and salted moisture as it crashes across the faces of the followers, yet they seem undisturbed. Their noses red with the cold, their skin paling to the temperature but yet their eyes are alight. Their gaze upon Meredith standing before them, Ozymandias by her side, the ocean roaring in the background.
“Those that have turned their noses from our pledge, those that did not believe we could achieve all that we have today and that our mission was futile… they will soon realize the errors in their ways.” She spins on the rock, looks down to all before her, her usual attire flowing in the wind as she speaks. A light silken black dress, dancing almost like smoke in the wind, never disturbed by the temperatures, always unphased by the world around her.
“They believe we chase dreams, stories, illusions… they will soon learn. Ozymandias will snap the life from his opponents, and return to us with their Grand title around his shoulder. Our Warrior will become a Champion, and leave nothing but bodies and victims in his wake. Our cause is just but our effects are harsh… such is the cruel and horrid world we will leave behind.”
She steps forward on the rock, standing at the edge and looking down to all those below her.
“The gale and gusts have arrived, my children. You can hear the roar of the ocean calling to us, ready to show us her rage, ready to break away for Him to crawl forth and greet us.”
“Let us greet the storm!”
A cheer rises from amongst those gathered before her, a mere couple dozen folks standing in the wake of the ensuing downpour to listen to her words. She holds out a hand to Ozymandias, who takes her by the hips and carries her down from the rock with ease. She brushes the hand down his cheek, grazing the skin then his mask with a devilish look in her eyes.
“Come, they will soon learn to value rage and power, as I do always.”
She turns and leads them down the pier, the long stone-build walkway leading out into the sea like a finger. The rains come, and lash out heavily as they begin their march.
THE STORM
The purpose of the gathering was clear, a moral boost for those in the village that might be losing their way or perhaps coinciding the doubt they harbour with the reaffirmation that this will all result in a conclusion fairly soon. There have been several mutterings of doubt amongst the people, their chatter heard often sometimes loud.
But as they march down the pier, two or three wide along the rough stony surface, it becomes clear immediately this is no longer a joke, a fad or a myth. Meredith Agnar is convinced she will raise R’lyeh from the depths, and she is willing to sacrifice all of their lives so that they can see how committed to this cause she is. Turning back is not an option either, as Ozymandias sheepdogs the pack forward, making sure none have a moment to ponder second thoughts.
The rain now gushes over the land and the waves begin to crash harder and harder against the pier, the wrath of the ocean surrounding the gathered villagers on all sides. As they near the very end of the pier, Meredith stops and turns to face them.
“You have walked the path behind me, but now you must walk the path before me. Join me in our next phase, join me as we unite fully with the sea, and revel in her power. To truly know a foe is to fight them, to test them, to test yourself.”
She beckons all to step forward, as she herself backs right up to the very end tip of the pier. Surrounded and standing on the edge, they are fully united in this pact, nowhere to go but down.
“Too long have we stood back and watched others fight for us, war for us. Our brother, Ozymandias, looms ever closer to tasting his Grand victory. To best his foes and leave victorious shall be no easy feat, but he does it for us. For Old Harbour. For R’lyeh. He has drowned in these waters countless times, only to be reborn. He has spilled blood, his own and that of his enemies, to honor our name.”
Ozymandias remains at the rear, unspoken yet attentive.
“The wolves come for us from all angles, in many forms. We have seen them loud and brash in the form of one Lil’ Petey. A veritable thorn in our side, a rodent that will not die. A fool, a jester, and a very real threat. Our Warrior broke this boy, our Warrior has vanquished this would-be challenger… yet here he is, barking and clawing at the door still.”
As she finishes a large crash of the water splashes up from behind her, scattering beads of water everywhere except on her directly it seems.
“Mark Hunter, another name we dread to speak about. The current Champion, the chosen leader of the people. A usually brash and dangerous foe, that has somehow seen the error in his ways and now fights for justice? For revenge? To avenge his attacks and save his opponent Lil Petey from an early retirement? His motives are skewed, his perception is flawed. His War with Ozymandias will be just that, yet he provoked the realms to include Lil Petey into his affairs.”
She takes a step backwards again, so that she stands on the very edge, heels peeking over the end.
“What do we say to these challenges? What happens to all that dare cross our path, or oppose our progress?”
The chant begins as easily as the waves break against the pier.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
“Yes, the ocean shows no mercy, the ocean shows no remorse. It takes what it wishes, spares no souls. Any that oppose our progress shall reside at the depths, everlasting slumber outside the gates of R’lyeh. For those fortunate enough to understand what power we control, what fortune we access, the gates to the Emerald City may open.”
She closes her eyes for a moment, listening to the chant continue in just a murmur before slowly opening her eyes and shooting an evil, sinister smirk to the gathered crowd before her.
“Dead Cthulhu waits dreaming… let us grace him today with more souls. The ocean is our greatest ally, our fiercest foe. To survive the storm is to enter the new world, but to drown here today is to reside forever within the halls of R’lyeh.”
As her words finish she extends her arms outwards, tossing herself in a slow tumble backwards and vanishes from sight as she plummets into the aggressive waves below. A slight gasp is heard from the gathering, as none expect Meredith to partake in her own rituals.
“We fight our greatest fights so that we can improve. So that we can learn. So that we can perish, or grow stronger. Today, on this pier, you must decide if today is the day you die, or the day you fight your greatest adversary.”
Ozymandias’ words ring out hard and heavy, unspoken throughout the gathering but now as he stalks up behind them, the folks begin to panic. Water levels rise and wave after wave explodes against the pier, their robes already heavy and soaked but the air.
“You either drown and enter R’lyeh as a servant, or you fight back the ocean and stand amongst me as a warrior. This choice is yours, but you must make it… now.”
The couple dozen or so followers understand their choice, but right there and then they freeze. Knowing they are out matched and in over the head the option to turn tail and flee is all too tempting. But the desire for a victory, the taste of power and control, the admiration and the hatred they would merit… It all feels so appealing.
Ozymandias knows this choice. It would be unwise to think this competition will be anything but fair, anything but evenly matched. Mark Hunter holds the golden belt for a reason, and for a purpose. Unmatched in his ring, untested in combat he has been able to carve up the path to victory and defy the odds. Lil Dickie first and Lil Petey second, the man has chosen his opponents wisely. A certain formula to his madness.
Despite the similarities in name, size and arrogance he has accepted the fight of those well established and achieved, and destroyed them. He has climbed to the top of his pyramid and looked down on all of them with ease. He has woven his name into the history of the company, the federation and the business itself for years to come. Mark Hunter is a calculated threat, and one that will hold no punches.
Lil Petey on the other hand has been gifted with his success it seems. His victories have been sparkling, glitzy affairs, his teenage fanbase shrieking on his every move. An insolent star for an inadequate arena surrounded by insufferable adolescent zombies.
But he is yet to truly be defeated. He is yet to truly be destroyed. Ozymandias broke the boy with ease, taking his victory and almost his life. It made little sense at the time why Hunter decided to salvage this boy's life, and seek revenge on Ozymandias at that very moment. But it quickly grew to be apparent.
There is strength in numbers.
The gathered townsfolk huddle together, a rare unified force to fight back against Ozymandias’ surge forward. But as the Butcher tosses them over the edge into the roaring ocean, one by one their hopes and their plea’s are ignored and their destiny flashes before their eyes. The Warrior of Cthulhu boots and punches his way into the group, allowing none to circle him and escape, and tosses all who oppose him over the edge with ease. As their numbers dwindle, so does their perception of victory.
Mark Hunter is coy. He understood the value of that third person, that second set of bones to share his punishment with. Solo with Ozymandias, it would have been a brawl no doubt, with both men putting it all on the line. Funny, Ozymandias last fought for gold against a man that shared a striking resemblance to Mark Hunter, and left that fool laying on the mat in WrestleWorld with a broken spine.
But to include Lil Petey, to save Lil Petey and have him in this fight as a patsy? A sacrifice? Not very becoming of the try-hard fan favourite. Petey has felt Ozymandias’ wrath in person, and Hunter has felt it in passing. To enter this fight expect a fair battle is foolish, and quickly the tides will go two against one. But that is what we are prepared for. That is what we are trained for.
That is what we are built for.
As the last of the followers fight back against Ozymandias, the majority have already taken the plunge into the arctic depths. Some by choice, some by force but all must wash away their sins. The final follower is thrown from the pier into the waters below, the harsh and unforgiving waves crashing them into one another, smashing them against the pier wall, tossing them around as they struggle to find the stairs to ascension.
No mercy for any. Outnumbered and outmatched, it only takes one to fight an army. This two-man army will soon learn that teamwork and brotherhood will only get you so far. There will be no friends in this fight, no allies… only a victor, and victims.
THE BEACH
“Today the followers learned of what it takes to stand against such oppression, such raw power. To step into the depths and leave the safety of the shallows behind. To truly fight for your life. As they emerged from the waters, their old selves washed away they began a new life, a new purpose. A new belonging.”
Meredith walks along the beach, a sense of elation overcoming her as she spins and twirls on the sandy shore. She kicks up the stones and shells beneath her feet, relishing in the aftermath of the storm and the baptismal by force.
“Oh, what joy it must be for them to venture home, drop their wet robes and stand before a raging fire. Alive, warm, well. Their old purpose forgotten and their new commitment to Cthulhu left before them.”
She continues to relish in joy, despite the grim outcome. Of the couple dozen that ventured from the pier today, half returned. Some remained below the surface, sinking to their forever resting place. Others struggled and fought for rescue, succumbing only to the sea’s power with a fight.
“Others will listen to the pledges they took today, to the joy and the relief these followers now feel. No longer neighbours or labourers of Old Harbour but now united as Children of Cthulhu.”
She dances again, skipping along the beach, a very rare and very poetic form of excitement from her.
“And what of those that I pulled from the sea?”
“Those that lost their lives today did so by their own choice. Their destiny was laid out before them, it only mattered if they abided by the written path, or created their own tales. Those that the sea rejected, shall be buried in the land. They do not deserve a welcoming to R’lyeh.”
How cruel and harsh it sounds, that they gave their lives to this pact, to this goal and yet as soon as they fail they are so easily pushed aside. So easily forgotten.
Project Honor is a stark reminder of that. For some victory is the only important matter, the only thing that sees them through each passing day. To win a fight or seize a victory is everything, but to suffer a defeat or eat a loss… tragedy. All too common we see complaints of immature fighters and noises of grief from upset darlings, kicking and screaming as if they were children. Unhappy in their performance and the decisions of others.
How pathetic.
To turn and bolt for the door instead of fight, instead of battle onwards. To see victory as the only thing that makes the world turn, yet to balk and shriek when it slips from your grasp.
That is what makes Lil Petey such a danger.
“Tell me, brother, do you dread this match? Do you worry or loathe the opportunity before you?”
“I am… of mixed minds.”
Petey has yet to show any true tremors for his actions, nor any real sense of pride. Impractical in how he fights and senseless to his actions and results, he fights bravely whether he sees a victory or a loss. A man truly with nothing to lose, and a man that needs to be monitored and handled carefully.
“Petey sits in my mind, like a bad dream. He has climbed the ladder as have I, yet he has taken a vastly different approach. I fought forward with power and violence, he did so with fame and comedy. I broke bones and spilled blood, he broke laughs and spilled wine.”
“Petey is your concern? The foolish dancing boy that refers to himself as a dripping puddle? I am surprised.”
“I have fought his kind before, I have walked his path… blind arrogance and ignorance of my foes. Cocky to the end, defiant to no end. I have shown Petey what I am capable of, and what I will gladly repeat however…”
Meredith walks forward, sensing some pain in Ozymandias.
“What is it, brother?”
“...I do not think breaking him will be enough. The boy persists. He surges forward. He finds the silver side of every coin.”
“Then you must simply cover both sides of the coin with his blood. Do not worry me into thinking you might actually… respect this boy?”
Ozymandias grunts, turning his back on Meredith. He looks out to the ocean before him, watching the small trawlers in action as they traverse the pier, looking to reclaim any that have lost their lives to the ocean today.
As they climbed the stairs of the pier, one by one the terror in their eyes died, one by one they grew fearless. Even when confronted with Ozymandias at the top of the stairs, they did not stumble or falter. The thought of another plunge would be their last, but yet today they had fought their biggest fight, and won.
They beat death.
A handshake, perhaps a slap on the arm on a grasp of the shoulder. Simple little gestures from the Butcher were enough, and as they met him atop the pier and received his acknowledgement, they were honored with his respect, they grew invincible. They became empowered. They saw the light of the mission at hand, the bright emerald glow of R’lyeh was evident. This was their new beginning.
But to show that respect to Petey, to give him that power or satisfaction now? To give him courage and motivation to fight on, and potentially perform the greatest upset in modern combat?
“It worries me that this bothers you. Today we baptized a new era of warriors for the Sunken army, we gave more souls to our ever emaciated God, and we washed away the weaknesses of Old Harbour. We fought the storm, Ozymandias, and we live to fight another day.”
“You jumped from the pier earlier… you dove in without thinking. Why?”
“Why? Why do any of us do what we do, why does anyone take a leap of faith? To find themselves, to walk the path rarely taken.”
“You were supposed to remain on the pier, to be the voice while I was the enforcer.”
“Sometimes the pen is not as important as the sword. And today, I needed to show these people that fighting your greatest challenge is a mere case of ‘do or die’.”
Do or Die.
Funny that she phrases it that way, as if it’s a simple choice of black and white. Ozymandias is no stranger to choosing people's faith, or to deciding how their story ends. He has taken lives before, and has been directly involved with many more tragic losses. But to view the higher purpose they fight for and to know what could come next, drowns out all other actions.
Sacrifices must be made, in the pursuit of greatness. Today Ozymandias watched a number of people lose themselves in the aggressive depths, slowly succumbing to the power of the ocean. Some will come home for their eternal rest, others will find their way to the depths. But some, and just a few, will live on from this day to achieve so much more than they ever dreamed.
When Mark Hunter defeated the incredible, unstoppable Dickie Watson I am sure the feeling of elation was unmatched. To conquer such a dominant foe, to beat such a versatile and successful fighter in one on one combat is no easy feat. But to do so with such finesse. With such grace.
Do or Die.
That is all it boiled down to. Hunter had the change to cement his name in the history books, or become forgotten history. He had the opportunity to dethrone a veritable King, and seize the throne for himself. And yet while he stands atop the mountain, he does not lower himself to the despicable levels of others.
A cheating coward that hails himself a Tyrant.
A boy rising the ranks that merits himself a King amongst men.
A raven Queen on the precipice of immortality, proven to be mortal and disposable.
Project Honor has its characters, and each have their flaws. The common trend it seems however, is their ego. Their arrogance. They deserve to be the best, to be the top. To hold a moniker behind their name that merits some form of distinction from the rest of the rabble.
Tyrant. He fell, as easily as expected.
King. Sitting atop a brittle, fragile throne.
Champion. A brief spotlight for a fleeting memory.
“Hunter has a lot to prove in this fight. Not to himself, but to the world. To lose his newly acquired belt will be an upset, but a moment of humility he won’t soon forget. To seize his prize from him, to look down on his defeated face and simply laugh… is to break him more than anything I have ever done to a man before.”
The expression on Meredith’s face comes alive, the spite and vile in her eyes apparent.
“I have broken men before, I have relieved them of their gold and their careers. Today I relieved them of their lives. But for each one it matters differently, matters greatly how I do so. Mark Hunter might continue as the face of the business, but I will not allow him to walk unscathed from this fight.”
“Good... good! Mercy is for the weak, we do not offer condolence nor sympathy for those below us. As soon, the world will be below us. This fight, this golden prize, it is the key. To utilize the power that comes with that belt, to treat that disposable trophy as a key to the empire before us… to get our seat center stage and spread the word of the Great Old One…”
She bites her lip and rolls her eyes, aroused by the prospect of turning more of the population into devout followers.
“Do not consider this brawl a test. Do not enter this fight seeking victory or accolades. We care little for the title, for the belt. We only want what it represents.”
“...Power above all.”
She nods, her eyes positively alive with fire.
“The Grand first, then the Legacy...and then we burn their world around them.”
The fork in the road.
The turn of events, where a one on one prospect has become a three way circus. Where a Champion versus Challenger battle now evolves into an all out War. Mark Hunter is outnumbered and outmatched, knowing his defeat is the only thing we will desire. Petey and Ozymandias united, he is sure to fall. But to whom?
Petey understands he enters this fight as the underdog, unqualified to be involved in the first place. But it would be foolish to state he did not work his way to this point, or at least find the backdoor to this fight. Standing alongside Ozymandias, he will be unstoppable. Standing against Hunter, he will be unstoppable. The true wild card.
But walking into this fight towering over the competition, and relentlessly crushing any and all who stand before him, Ozymandias understands the target on his back. He will not find allies in this fight, at least not immediately. Both men would revel in having the Butcher as their ally, but there can only be one victor in this fight.
This is quickly spiraling into an all bets are off situation, and once where any man could seize the win with ease. But the true question lingering on the lips of Ozymandias… what happens afterwards?
Do we herald a new era where Petey reigns supreme over the federation?
Do we mark the calendar for yet another season of Hunter standing tall above the rest?
Or do we welcome the dark clouds above us so that the Butcher can rain and reign triumphantly?
“Ozymandias… do not worry over this fight. Whether we win or lose, the wheels are already in motion. Our power and might is known and is felt, from your skills in the ring to my presence behind. We are unwelcomed and we are reviled, which means we are doing something right. They do not bow to us yet, but soon they will have no choice but to bend the knee to their Champion.”
She shoots him a sincere look, which he merely nods to in response.
“This fight marks the beginning of our next phase… golden belt or not, the world will remember the name Ozymandias and the actions I perform. There will be no escape or rescue for Petey. And much akin to what I did to another that resembles him, I will break Hunter in half if given the opportunity.”
“We fight for them… but we win for Him.”
“...I will fight for me, and I will win for us.”
A moment passes as they look at one another, their eyes locked and unbroken. The wind gushes behind Meredith, the break in the storm but strong enough to push her towards him. Just a step, but enough to close the gap to very close contact. They remain to lock eyes, two friends from many years apart, sealed together on their path of violence and power.
For a moment it looks like Ozymandias is about to lean forward, tempted for her embrace but quickly corrects himself.
“Another has shown themself… make sure to pull them ashore for their family to reclaim.”
As Ozymandias turns to leave Meredith looks to the water at her ankles, and the body of a follower that has washed up on shore. Face down, the brown robes a tangled mess all over them, she ignores it but grabs the brooch alongside them. The bright green emerald stone gleaming, the signet of R’lyeh.
“For us, Ozymandias.”
