Ozymandias
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Posts : 48
Join date : 2020-04-13
 |  Subject: A New Chapter 1/2  Thu May 07, 2020 6:41 pm | |
| OLD HARBOUR
The winds have been growing in strength the last few moons, gathering up clout and vigor as they howl and blow across the small fishing village. The recognizable sound of wooden shutters clattering can be heard across the town, almost musical in their sound. An orchestra playing to the anger of the winds. As the night grows late, the residents of Old Harbour have taken shelter in their homes, avoiding the colder shrill grasp of the oceanic air as it scythes through the town. Tonight, the seas are furious and their thrashing is fearful to most. But not all.
As the waters slam and crash against the stone pier of Old Harbour, one man braves the conditions to venture forth to his favoured spot. His place of peace and solitude, at the far end of the stone platform. A finger, cold and ice veiled, pointing into the large expanse of the ocean. Pointing towards the deep dark beyond, the unknowing and blind horizon. Standing on the edge, watching the fury unleash below him is the town protector, the figure of brawn the town has grown to admire, trust, fear. Ozymandias, fearless of the elements, encouraging the waters below him to give him their best. To show him the true animal the sea can be, to test him.
With his back to the town, his focus firm on the horizon, he slowly removes his heavy woolen coat, and the cardigan below it so that he stands topless. He reaches to his head, and carefully unlatches the metallic mask attached to his face. With the light of the moon above, his bare head is left exposed as he drops the mask onto his jacket. With his garments removed, he raises his arms to the beast before him, the waves crashing towards him in an attempt to grasp him. With one loud shrill cry at his foe, Ozymandias lurches forward to the last step available on the pier, and launches himself into the waters below. The storm scares him little, the waters merely a test.
There is a great storm coming, and he needs to be ready.
THE VOICE BENEATH
Many find tranquility in their homes, perhaps their serenity is when they are wrapped in their beds or sat in front of a roaring fire. Basking in it’s glows and warmth. Others find peace with music, some in silence. Each person varies, each person leans towards another vice however one common ground is fair. Peace and serenity is subjective. For Ozymandias, he is at peace when death is close.
As he slowly sinks beneath the frigid waters, the cold quickly forcing its way into his very being through eyes, ears and mouth, he becomes aware of everything. The temperature, the motion of the waters, the pressure quickly surrounding him, the air escaping his lungs. His world growing black around him, his life essence slowly being squeezed from his lungs as the firm grasp of the ocean holds him down. He allows himself to slowly sink further, the darkness now surrounding him, the moonlit surface disappearing. A place where up becomes down, where the nothingness around you grows bigger, larger, until you are a part of nothing also. With one last exhale he releases the last of his air in a stream of bubbles, and begins to swallow the icy cold water.
The cold, the salt, the pressure tears him apart, his throat and lungs igniting in pain and agony. He begins to drown, but fights the will to survive. Fights the animal reaction of adrenaline coursing through his body, everything telling him to swim. To climb. To breath. This is what he set forth for, this was his goal, to put himself into a place where nothing else matters except survival. His sinking faith. You do not truly know what it means to be alive, unless you are in Death's grasp.
The water surrounding him begins to ease as he sinks further, the pressure of the water now nothing more than an endless drum in his ears. He sees nothing but black, close and far to his eyes. He truly is nowhere, in the void of nothingness. He is nothing, a sinking vessel, another gift to the God below. Ozymandias is no more, but merely a drowned body at sea.
But he is not alone, not in these waters. For many years he has repeated this same practice, drowning himself only to be reborn again, a new man. A person of torment and suffering enters the waters, a man rises anew. Each time he allows himself to drown, he does not do so alone, for a voice enters his mind below. A voice familiar, yet unrecognizable. A voice that bears great power, but of unknown substance. He knows not if this voice is that of his own body, his mind, or something else. But he voyages to the depths to speak with the voice, and tonight is no different.
“You have done well”, the voice says, a low and deep boom to the words. “You have survived your first test, and given the world a glimpse of your power”, trailing off into a delayed hiss almost. He listens for more, but nothing comes. He begins to feel a warmth entering his body, a feeling of waters changing, and sunshine upon his skin. Further he sinks.
“What would you ask of me next?” he asks, his own voice clear and crisp, unnatural for the circumstances. “I took my first steps into a familiar world, as an unknown. I have shown them what I am, what I might be. What task do you wish of me next?” He drifts, slowly, awaiting the answers.
“Nothing”, the voice says, spoken in a very tame manner. Confused, Ozymandias tries to comprehend what this voice is seeking from him, if anything at all.
“Nothing? We have only just begun our new voyage, we have just removed the veil on our existence”, he exclaims, a sound of concern in his voice.
“Nothing…”, the voice repeats. “Face your challenges as they come… soon all will be clear”, the voice now trailing off. Ozymandias searches the waters, hopelessly seeking a source or beacon of the voice but still nothing but darkness before him.
“I will march forward, as planned”, he says, his own voice now beginning to sound a bit complicated, almost like his words are garbled. “I have shown the world my power, I will repeat this until they all know my name. And yours…”, he says, but his own words begin to trail off, as his voice vanishes.
“Then you know what must be done…”, the voice says, but fainter than before. This has happened before, each and every time they speak. As Ozymandias frantically searches for the speaker, his vision and surroundings fail him. He tries to call out once more, but again his own voice has vanished. The waters around him grow warmer still, and the darkness begins to lift.
“No, I seek answers still!”, he gasps, but it is too late. The voice has left him, to drift aimlessly beneath the surface, a drowned messenger of the Gods. As the darkness lifts more, Ozymandias thrashes to find the speaker but it is in vain. Rising rapidly, the waters push and pull around him returns, the thrashing of the storm above reminding him of where he is. Despite his best efforts to remain in the deep waters, his body rises to the surface above, slowly inching in on the world above. His fight is in vain, and he accepts his faith as the surface approaches him faster and faster, a reverse of how he entered this world.
Coughing and spluttering, his head breaks the surface of the water, bobbling and being tossed around by the aggressive weathers above. He fights now, as his life above rushes back to meet him. He crawls across the high waves towards steps, the waters doing their best to hold him back, but slowly he makes it to them and places his hands on solid land. Climbing, he makes his way up the short steps to the pier surface, and collapses on his side, coughing and spitting out the seawater his lungs captured. He heaves in cold air, drawing it through a torn and scratched trachea, his pupils dilating as air pours back into his blood.
The drowned man died, his worries and fears dying with him. Upon the pier rests a new man, born of strength and determination. A man who knows what must come next.
THE LIGHTHOUSE
As the days pass slowly, the storm subsides and releases its terror on the town of Old Harbour. Its wrath has been acknowledged, but it’s fury remains. The folk of Old Harbour are familiar with storms blowing in, and they begin their ritualistic errands of performing repairs to homes, stores, boats and infrastructure. The sky even shows them kindness, separating its clouds to allow the warmth of sunshine through. A storm without a name comes and goes, for all except one being a mere inconvenience. For one man, that storm brings words, wisdom and guidance. From the voice below.
With the town resuming normal activity, Ozymandias takes his leave from his home to join his friend Meredith in the village center. Mayor of Old Harbour, her routine following every storm remains the same. Guiding and ordering the trades work that needs to be performed, giving instructions to those that might be mindless elsewise, and ensuring the town can brave the next storm posthaste. As Ozymandias approaches her, he does so with curious and aghast looks from villagers. Many know his face from his arrival many years back, but for some new to Old Harbour, they are yet unfamiliar with his appearance. More so, they have not seen him without his mask, and fear the man beneath.
“...and make sure the nets are checked too, last time they got loose and we lost a good catch.” She gives the words of guidance to the fishers alongside her, only pausing to acknowledge Ozymandias’ appearance with a small nod. “And the lobster cages too, I’m sure some got pulled up or washed away with the storm. A lot of strange things can happen beneath the waters during a storm... isn’t that so, Ozymandias?” She turns to face him, but the look from his eyes speak volumes that words cannot. “Alright, chop chop everyone”, she says, clapping her hands to get everyone moving. Just her and Ozymandias remain, he eyes transfixed on his. “I saw you leave your home, a few nights back. Watched you make your way to the pier.”
He waves his hand as if to stop her, but she presses on. “I have told you a dozen times, allow me to come with you. These ‘drownings’ should not be performed unsupervised.” She says it with an air of consideration, yet Ozymandias does not seem to think so. He simply shakes his head, as her attempt to care. “Regardless… did you speak with him?” The voice beneath, she knows about it and is aware of Ozymandias’ attempts to speak. He nods, but says no more.
“Good, I hope he told you what you needed to hear… come, walk with me. I need to make sure the lighthouse is being worked on.” She turns on her heels, beginning to walk towards the edge of town. “So, tell me… do we tide well, or worse than expected?”
Ozymandias walks alongside her, but faces forward, avoiding eye contact. “He said… nothing”, he says, his voice grizzly and harsh. The man adds a metallic effect to him, muffling it almost. “Only… all will be clear”, this time stopping himself to rub his throat. The drownings wear heavy on his body, straining and hurting his throat, lungs and everything else. The results that often kill lesser men simply strain Ozymandias, but today he has spoken enough to know he is not yet fully recovered.
“Nothing? How… vague”, Meredith says, a tone of mockery in her voice. “Still, ‘nothing’ is better than nothing I suppose. Then the plan will continue, and soon enough. I have heard word from our contacts in Wrestleworld, and they have enjoyed what they saw from you. You are booked again for another fight.” She looks up to Ozymandias, but his eyes are still trained forward. “We return to battle next weekend, which gives us some time to work.” They press on forward, holding all communication until they arrive at the destination, a lighthouse in a state of repair.
Ozymandias looks up at the structure, slowly being rebuilt after many storms and years have hamstrung its body. Some villagers are stood around the base, working on various tasks. A trailer full of lumber is parked alongside the base, with many beams of wood being unloaded by the tradesmen. “Tell me”, he says through agonized words. Meredith knows his mind too well, almost in sync with him. The words pour out like milk, her eyes on the lighthouse, undistracted.
“Two of your previous opponents return, in Kennedy Matthews and Shawn Lockheart. And Joel Dante, former partner-turned-foe. It’s a Four Corners match, which means the victory is anyone’s game. And with the show you put on at the last event, I have to imagine you are walking in with a disadvantage.” Ozymandias turns his head slightly, looking down to Meredith with a corner eye. “And what is life, without tests and challenges”, she says playfully. Ozymandias’ face flushes, as he quickly turns to the lighthouse again, hiding his bemusement.
“Tell me…”, he says, swallowing hard to salvage his efforts of speaking, “...are we concerned?” His question is clear and directed purely towards Meredith, as Ozymandias doesn’t even turn his face towards her.
She lets out a small, evil chuckle. “If you were not destined to be victorious… the Great Old one would have swallowed you whole. He spoke to you, he let you live. That did not happen for you to disappoint him, you breathe now as His messenger. Victory is inescapable.” She takes a step forward, to that she is now in front of Ozymandias. “You will be tested, however. You have been born anew, but with a target upon your back. You left that ring as their victor, but now return as their greatest threat.” She turns to face Ozymandias, his eyes darting down to meet hers.
“Lockheart and Matthews are destined to entangle themselves, as they did at Dominion. They show no love for one another, this is clear. Matthews may seek revenge on Lockheart for their loss, so you will have to keep a careful eye. A moment where one can capitalize upon the other is sure to mean defeat, and you cannot return to Him in failure.” His eyes glare, at the very mention of failure. “Joel Dante is likely to play Judas in this contest, aiding you in weakening the defense of your competition, however the dog looks hungry and may try to snatch up your meal before you. Beware the dagger in your back, for that dagger is Dante.” She stops her words, allowing the winds to blow between them, shaking hair from her face as she makes eye contact with Ozymandias. Fearless, she speaks unflinching. “Do you understand what you must do?”
He takes a step forward towards Meredith, placing his bear paw-like hand on her shoulder. His fist almost matches her entire face in size. “Nothing, apparently”. He gives her a slight nod, taking his leave and walking toward the lighthouse. Meredith watches him walk, a smirk on her face and her hands entwining by fingers hanging before her. The winds blow across the land, sending her hair into the air behind her like a cape. She watches Ozymandias approach the trailer of lumber, and hoists several beams onto his shoulder, out working those next to him as he begins to carry the materials to the lighthouse.
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