AS THE DAWN CREEPS IN…
As the sun rises on a new day, the light crisp warmth of the new dawn inches across the frozen lands and waters of Old Harbour, a certain spring feeling is in the air. The rough weather of late has eased and each day has brought new joy with its clearer skies and well-needed warmer temperatures. Across the village people work the lands, the seas or the towns for their income and trade so a blissful morning of sunshine is enough to spur the village into an early rise.
No sooner has the warmth of the sunrise hit the town that the familiar sound of fowl activity rings through the air, the shrill song of a rooster happy to wake and take in the day. Slowly his song is joined by the motion of doors opening and closing, footsteps going to and fro, engines igniting in the harbour and the commotion that comes with every Monday morning. Old Harbour is awake, and it is ready for what is to come.
As many rise from their beds, their peaceful warm slumbers others are not so fortunate. Or perhaps, fortune is ill-used to describe Ozymandias’ situation. Awake for several nights now he toils to achieve rest, to sleep and slumber with his neighbours but is unable. His mind, racked with confusion and intrigue since his last drowning. The voice beneath the waters speaks to him, only when he is close to death, and often it gives him guidance and direction. This time, it offered him nothing.
“Nothing…”, the voice had instructed him, when questioning what steps he must take next. His path in the world of combat is clear, his challenges wain in opposition to his strength and skill in the ring. His focus now is on rebuilding a new world for his God, the Sunken Great One beneath the ocean. “Face your challenges as they come… soon all will be clear”. He did not fully understand the sentiment of these words then, and less so now. They keep him awake at night, confused, irritated. He will abide, obey, continuing along this new path. He will work the circuit of Wrestleworld and accumulate some accolades within the ring, some easy victories to merit a decent monetary reward. This in turn shall fund the rebuild of the village lighthouse, along with preparing vessels and ships for an extended journey to sea. The ultimate goal is to help pull the sunken city of R’lyeh from the depths of the ocean, but how he would achieve that is still unknown.
But now is not the time to consider the return of the Great Old one from below. Now is time to focus on the present, the current. If only he had a bit more forethought. With heavy eyes and aching bones Ozymandias forces himself to do his morning rounds despite his fatigue. He aids the local butcher by carrying in the fresh stock from the freezers, able to carry four times that of the butcher's strongest man. He aids the market stalls, pulling up rafters and signs for the fishwives and fishermen selling their wares to passing customers. He circles the bay, checking on each boat docked and moored to ensure no harm had come to them over the night, no foul play had been committed. His presence around the village is always met with two sides. Like a good book, the cover is judged immediately, almost with a fearing eye. The back exposes more character and meaning however, more depth to this person. A monster amongst men, born of goodness and love. His world has been brutally taken from him but he still stands vigilante, still works to be a man of the people. Without his penchant for violence or his determination to bring about the end of the world as we know it, one might even paint the man as an angel.
Once his rounds are complete he makes his way towards the Agnar household, as always. Meredith manages the villages coffers, making sure that they are within budget and stock for whatever project they face, or what challenges might be presented with the next oncoming storm. The lighthouse rebuild has taken most of her focus as of late, but with good reason. She builds it not for the fishers or those travelling by sea, but as a beacon to the Slumbering God. She believes that when he wakes, he will spare those who help light his path. An offering of sorts, but a symbol of something more. The townsfolk that aid her are fully aware and understanding of this and continue to work unabashedly of the preposterous motives. For most, they are loyal to the Agnar household and will work tirelessly to honor the town mayor. For others, they do not confirm nor deny that there may be an uprising of power, with the rebirth of a God as Meredith so claims. However in an act of self-preservation they would rather work with her than face whatever might come alone.
SOMEWHAT UNCONVENTIONAL
“How were things this morning?”, she asks of Ozymandias, almost immediately as he enters her abode. An open space home, like a large cabin setting however converted to resemble that of an office setting now. Desks littered in files and drawings, cabinets full to the brim of unknown documents, bursting forth, and a whiteboard against the far wall, with detailed drawings describing a new construction project. Sat at her desk, Meredith looks as far from her natural display as conceivable, her hair tied in a tight bun above her head with her pale face now decorated in a pair of spectacles. Instead of her classic flowing silken dresses, she wears a warmer looking woolen cardigan, almost itchy on the skin to envision. She sips from a cup of steaming coffee, awaiting Ozymandias’ reply but is gifted with a soft shrug and nod instead. “No news is good news I suppose”, she says, sipping slowly from her mug. Ozymandias loosens his heavy coat and removes it now that his is comfortably indoors, wearing nothing but a tanktop beneath. His muscles exposed, Meredith can see some slight yellowish bruising from his previous bouts at Dominion.
“How’s the body? Feeling yourself?”. Her inquest is met with a deadpan look in return, almost insulted at her consideration of his well being. Instead of rolling her eyes, she lets loose a soft snicker instead, followed by a lowly, almost purring “Good”. She lowers her mug and double-hands her laptop before her, frantically typing on its board in search of something special. Ozymandias paces the room, a man of boundless energy and turmoil, unable to sleep yet starving for his slumber. “Looks like you are in the clear for the next Wrestleworld show, only Kennedy Matthews has shown interest in this fight. And even then I don’t know if I would call it that. Sounds like she’s afraid.” Meredith takes a glance to Ozymandias, adjusting his mask on his face, with each movement of the tightly sealed mask seemingly causing him great discomfort. His arms flex and pop as he pulls and yanks, veritable tree trunks for limbs. “Can’t say I blame her concern…”. Meredith continues to type, and without pausing she spins the laptop to face Ozymandias, and hits play on a video. The volume is low, the cabin is spacious so only a low, synth sound fizzes from the device. The clip is recognizable as the previous Dominion show, where Ozymandias garnered his first victory in Wrestleworld, but also his first pinfall. The clip shows the total dominance of Ozymandias over his opposition, but also his team standing alongside in, basking in his shadow.
“Kennedy Matthews is looking for blood it seems. She has referred to you as a blow-in, saying she was ‘bred to be here’. Charming, that a girl of her intelligence and prowess could still say something so foolish and amateur. She refers to herself as a ‘Queen’...”. Meredith pauses for a wryly smirk, hoping to get some reaction from Ozymandias but he stares back, stone faced. His eyes move from the screen to Meredith, as she rewinds and replays the clip. “It’s apparent she respects you, and that you are more than just a threat to her. Perhaps you are a role model of sorts? Possibly a future mentor… or if the tides would have it, a partner to her. In the ring, and maybe more…”.
“Enough”, Ozymandias says, through a restricted mouthpiece. His voice is deep, gravelly. Meredith chuckles, dry and sinister almost.
“Well, she does have her eye on you it seems. Just make sure to do the same in return. The bigger the statue, the harder it crumbles. Lest not forget the story of the great Ozymandias-”
“I know the story… I bear his name”, he says, regarding his naming after the infamous Percy Shelley poem. Ozymandias approaches the laptop, watching with close attention the clip of him alongside his team, yet standing tall alone. “What of these two?”, he asks, pointing at Shawn Lockheart and Joel Dante. His voice sounds painful, almost agonizing to listen to despite speaking.
“Nothing…”, she says. Ozymandias looks to her, her face before him but his vision blurring. “Nothing…”, she repeats, but this time her voice is darker. Deeper. Almost from the depths. The voice from below, that spoke to him, that guided him towards… nothing. He falters slightly, reaching for the nearby desk to gather himself and maintain balance. Meredith steps forward to him, but he halts her with his free hand.
“You do not look well my friend, have you been sleeping well? Or at all?”, she asks but receives no reply. “Can I get you anything, some tea or a meal?”. Again, no answers, just Ozymandias holding himself. “Take a seat, I’ll pour you some tea and- ”
“No.” That’s all he says, a sharp refusal. “No… I'm fine.”
“Well sit down either way, you look exhausted. What have you eaten today?”
“... nothing.” Even saying it himself makes his world spin, as he staggers once more. Refusing his rebuttals, Meredith grabs his arms and coaxes him to a nearby sofa, laying him on it. She turns to leave him and walks towards the kitchen, open plan so she can still see him.
“Tea and some fish will help you. You can’t survive on seawater and anger unfortunately. Not now at least, we need you in fighting shape.”
“For Wrestleworld…”, he says, his voice somewhat weaker. Still coarse, harsh and raspy, but softer.
“No. For Him. Wrestleworld funds his return, but we do this for Him. For the Great Old Ones.” She pours a kettle of steaming liquid into a cup, and opens a nearby fridge to pull out something. A plate of dried mackerel. She grabs the cup and plate of food, and crosses the room to give them to Ozymandias. He waves her away, which she is not accepting. “Baldur Magnusson, you are no good to anyone dead. Now, eat.” Her manner, her tone of voice, something in it coaxes Ozymandias to accept the offerings without hesitation, almost as if being instructed by a parent. He takes both items and places them on a side table alongside him, and begins to work his mask loose. Meredith moves away, back to the laptop.
“...thank you”, he says, though his words still are obstructed. He loosens the mask and takes it off, placing it on the sofa alongside him. His face, worn and rugged from the years of sea looks almost sad to Meredith, a battered and bruised animal finally released from his cage. But quickly she gathers herself, and realizes the simple truth- that cage is keeping everyone safe from the beast within. Without that cage, without that support there is no telling what the agony of simply breathing would cause the monster before her to achieve. “What of the others”, he asks again.
“So far, we have seen nothing of Lockheart to merit any kind of concern. His performance at Dominion was… lackluster. A man of such bravado, such verbal skill. And yet when it came to performance, he disappointed. Like most others who see this as a sport, as a stage, he failed when required to perform. A shame, truly. However this sings well for us, for the little bird may be recovering in his nest now, but will be easier to pluck. He will soon see this as a conquest, a trial of combat. And in this game, there is no second place. Only those who are victorious, and those who fall short.” She takes up her mug, followed by another drink of the liquid.
“Joel Dante on the other hand… I had such high hopes for this one. His look, his attitude, his somewhat able performance at Dominion. Now he faces a crushing defeat, one which he may not recover from. I looked upon him as a shining light in the dark, a chance for us to truly be tested. A chance to show Him, the Slumbering One, what we are made of. I wanted Him to see that we may grow our legion, our family, and bring Dante into the fold. But he disappointed us then, and inevitably he will be sure to disappoint again.” She takes another sip of her cup, and walks it to the kitchen to rinse it under tapwater and puts it into the sink. She turns her back onto the counter, and leans on it, her arms behind her, her head hung low. “I know these battles wear on you, and returning to conquest was not on either of our horizons, but now with the New World firmly in our destiny, and the road ahead meandering as it does, we must take on these challenges and face them head on. Matthews, Lockheart, Dante, none should pose much of a threat to you or stop your progress. If anything, consider them fodder for what is to come. This week they are foes, competition, but down the line they might become more. Followers, worshippers, maybe even sacrifices. Who is to say what He demands from us. But for now, let us give him victory at least, and I will do my part to help.” She looks to Ozymandias, but doesn’t get a reply from him. “Hey… you still with me?”.
She crosses the room back to meet Ozymandias… who is now fully passed out on the sofa, asleep in the upright position. The half-drank mug of tea in one hand, the emptied plate of fish in the other, his head cocked back as he drifts away into slumber. “Oh Baldur… we’re supposed to be animals, monsters. And now we look like a rustic housewife and husband. I bet somewhere, our folks are looking upon us, laughing.” Her words trail off as she helps the giant out, taking away his cup and plate as he continues to drift off towards his state of peace.
“Rest up my friend… for soon we need you to unleash your power on the world. Dominion was only the start, soon they will write a new chapter for you… the great Berserker of Reine.” She walks to the kitchen once more, leaving the items atop the counter before retreating to her laptop to continue working in the new-found silence, comfortably and peacefully striding towards her goal.
Sat Dec 03, 2022 4:36 pm by 
Subject: A New Chapter 2/2 
