12-02-2014, 02:25 AM
Billy the Master Commander had only just received the title weeks ago. It was an illustrious position within the Minas Tirith army, one that came with respect, adoration and the perceived notion that you were a competent soldier who fought and lived through many glorious battles. Billy had no respect from his peers, no one adored him and his military achievements were less than admirable. He was a soldier who often hid in his fox hole, stood behind his compatriots as they were mowed down, overslept and avoided entire massacres and overall was a cowardly, incompetent man. So how did he get this position? Simple, everyone died around him and he rose in rank as the only survivor until the previous Master Commander died in a decisive battle against the forces of Bowser. Billy, who had a severe psychotic aversion to both Goomba and Koopa Troopers alike, managed to crouch behind a wall and effectively evaded detection as the platoon was slaughtered by a mass of slow side-scrolling servants.
Upon return, Billy found that he was going to be honored with the title though it was made clear that he'd never be as great a leader as their previous Master Commander. Billy was fine with that. He knew he didn't deserve any of it. He never even wanted to join the army. Clearly fighting was not his thing, but surviving was. Even if his idea of survival was seen as pathetic and cowardly and dishonorable, at least he was alive. Fortunately for Billy, the MC position meant little combat initiation. He could order people to do the fighting. But therein was his catch-22. Billy did not have a tactical bone in his body other than to hide and wait until it was all over. Luckily no pressing matters had come to his attention since taking the title, meaning he didn't have to send wave after wave of men to their deaths with the orders of “Uh, well, you see we should...uh...who are we fighting again?”
But today ended his lucky streak. Before the stuttering fool of a leader sat a flyer. It was a simple piece of paper with the drawing of a large serpent that looked more like a blind worm the more he looked at it. He held the paper in his quivering hands and read it for the fifth time that day. It was the cult. It had come back. Every now and then it would resurface and try to involve innocent people in its worship. He'd never had to fight them himself, but he heard the stories of those who did. They never put up much of a fight and they were easily chased out of Camelot a while ago, but on occasion they would hold what they claimed to be a tournament for glory and honor.
Little did anyone know that this tournament involved sacrifice in a weird, to say the least, manner. Historically they would have champions battle one another while trying to steal ground from their opponent. Whomever made it to the altar of the opposing contestant was very unceremoniously eaten by the giant worm depicted on the flyer. The Nidhogg they called it. Now if there was one thing Billy knew, it was history and cultures. He was like a walking encyclopedia. Everyone just called him an idiot-savant. But at least he understood the origins of the Nidhogg. He just didn't want to think about doing battle with it or dealing with the cult that worshipped the monster. But he did know of someone who would...
Yoshimitsu sat at the bar with the soldiers he had been teamed with since his arrival in Camelot. He didn't drink, but he partook of the good times all the same. His time with this crew had been an enjoyable one as well as a lesson in his growing humility. He had been so preoccupied with the glory that came from being Yoshimitsu that he forgot what it was like to be equal with another human being. Buddha had taught that so long ago and like most impious people, he had forgotten the basics and focused on what benefited him. But since coming to the Omniverse with much of his spiritual abilities taken from him and the fact not a single person knew what a Yoshimitsu was or what Manji Ryu even meant, he had a sobering experience. Now he had to actually rely on skill and honor and relearning the basics he had been taught as a child. A lesson he harshly learned when he and the troop went into those caves soon after his induction into the army.
“Bartender,” Yoshimitsu patted the woman on the shoulder as she walked by, “I have a test for you!”
“Oh lord,” She said as she stopped what she was doing. “What is it this time?” He had played many tricks on her over the course of his visits to the bar, much to the delight of the men he fought alongside. They were never harmful, just funny jokes you play on gullible people or those willing to entertain your stupid tricks.
“Okay, okay,” Yoshimitsu stood from his stool and put his hands on her shoulders once more, “For this test, I need you to look down your blouse and spell attic.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her shirt open slightly, the troop cat calling and howling as she did so. Yoshimitsu put his hands to the mouth of his mask and snickered with glee. He bounced from foot to foot as the men started quieting down to hear their bartender spell.
“A-T-T-I-C...” She looked up red in the face, “Really?! I've had enough of your stupid jokes!”
Of course her threats and anger were drowned out by drunken laughter. She shook her head as she turned from the group and glared at Yoshimitsu. His electronic eyes flashed a wink at her as he returned to conversing with his team. Yoshimitsu had been adjusting well and working (moderately) hard to take care of things around Minas Tirith. Apparently as a Prime he had more utility than these beings called “Secondaries”. It made sense why they looked to Primes to do certain tasks since Omnillium was readily available for use by them whereas Secondaries could only extract and hoard it. To Primes it was a valuable resource to grow and develop and summon. To Secondaries, it was a form of currency that they could use to sway Primes to do tasks. Yoshimitsu had been sitting on a pile of the stuff as he figured all he really needed to get his job done were his weapons and skills. That being the case, he didn't lord his power over those around him, which led to the citizens finding him that much more of a companion than a higher being to fear.
After a couple hours at the bar, Yoshimitsu and his team went their own ways. The men going home to families and Yoshimitsu left to wander the streets until he decided to either sleep at the barracks or an inn if he wanted a real bed for the night. Life had a funny way of making other plans, though. A man disheveled in nature, unshaven, tousled hair and red eyes came toward him. His uniform however led Yoshimitsu to believe he was someone important. The sun had yet to set so the orange glow cast a gold halo on the buildings around them and left shadows shrouding the stranger as he walked closer. For all intents and purposes, Yoshimitsu should have seen this approach as sinister or aggressive. Instead he felt an overwhelming indifference. He didn't even put his hand on the hilt of his katana. Something that was normally instinct for the warrior.
“Yoshimitsu? Sir?” The man stammered before straightening, as though he remembered his position, “Uh, I mean...Yoshimitsu!” He drew closer, the light revealing a weak and seemingly scared officer of high rank. Yoshimitsu crossed his arms. While he was learning humility in this new realm, he still couldn't bring himself to respect someone who obviously didn't respect themselves.
“Yes? Should I know you?” The stiff indifference hit the man in front of him like cold stinging breeze.
“I'm Master Commander Billy.” He pulled the hem of his decorated jacket down and pulled his narrow shoulders back, fixing his posture. Embarrassingly he was still shorter than Yoshimitsu by a few inches. “I have an important mission I'd like you to go on.”
“Oooh?” Yoshimitsu asked with a dash of feigned interest, uncrossing his arms to put his fists on his hips, “And what mission would that be Billy MC?”
“Ah...right...” He reached into his jacket and produced a crumpled piece of paper, moist from sweaty palms, “It's uh...up to you if you want to do it. I mean, it's kind of important and I'd like someone skilled on the project, but I mean, I understand if you don't want to. You know, I could uh...I could probably get some freelancer? Mercenary? Uh...bounty hunter? One of those guys to do it...it'd just cost a lot...”
Yoshimitsu stood in complete shock. He was in the presence of a “Master Commander” and the guy rambled. And mumbled. And trailed off. It was like listening to the awkward boy ask the prettiest girl in school to the prom. He was spinning. And crashing and burning. And Yoshimitsu could do nothing but listen and force himself to not laugh. It was a struggle to stand there and listen to this train wreck happen in front of him.
“You're the MC, Billy MC...sir,” Yoshimitsu added hesitantly, “I'll take the mission, just please...pleasestoptalking.” He spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn't fully catch his disdain. Though by the look of the guy, he was probably keenly aware of any and all disdain.
“Right...right.” Billy handed the paper to Yoshimitsu, the warrior grateful for his thick gloves so he wouldn't have to feel the damp file. He smoothed it out and looked it over. It was interesting. He stroked the chin of his electronic mask as he let it all sink in, his mind racing with all kinds of plans and ways he could get the mission done.
“This cult...they have fliers put up everywhere?” Yoshimitsu folded the intel sheet and tucked it into the inner pocket of his long coat.
“As far as I know, here in Camelot their all over the place,” He pushed his hair back, his confidence seemingly rising, “They might be in other Verses. Should we pull them down to protect people here at home?”
“No, no,” Yoshimitsu rubbed his hands together as he imagined all the possibilities of how this could play out. “Leave them up. I might be able to recruit some other Primes if they see these fliers...who doesn't want to slay a giant monster for glory?” Yoshimitsu smiled beneath his mask, his own mask pulling an ear to ear grin in something reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat.
“...I don't.” Billy said sheepishly. Taking the question seriously.
“I...I don't even...” Yoshimitsu dropped the grin and his hands and just bowed to the Master Commander, “...Yeah, I got nothin'...I have to go get ready. Good night, Billy MC.”
“Good night, Yoshimitsu!” Billy waved to Yoshimitsu as he turned and quietly fled, not even acknowledging the good bye protocols.
Upon return, Billy found that he was going to be honored with the title though it was made clear that he'd never be as great a leader as their previous Master Commander. Billy was fine with that. He knew he didn't deserve any of it. He never even wanted to join the army. Clearly fighting was not his thing, but surviving was. Even if his idea of survival was seen as pathetic and cowardly and dishonorable, at least he was alive. Fortunately for Billy, the MC position meant little combat initiation. He could order people to do the fighting. But therein was his catch-22. Billy did not have a tactical bone in his body other than to hide and wait until it was all over. Luckily no pressing matters had come to his attention since taking the title, meaning he didn't have to send wave after wave of men to their deaths with the orders of “Uh, well, you see we should...uh...who are we fighting again?”
But today ended his lucky streak. Before the stuttering fool of a leader sat a flyer. It was a simple piece of paper with the drawing of a large serpent that looked more like a blind worm the more he looked at it. He held the paper in his quivering hands and read it for the fifth time that day. It was the cult. It had come back. Every now and then it would resurface and try to involve innocent people in its worship. He'd never had to fight them himself, but he heard the stories of those who did. They never put up much of a fight and they were easily chased out of Camelot a while ago, but on occasion they would hold what they claimed to be a tournament for glory and honor.
Little did anyone know that this tournament involved sacrifice in a weird, to say the least, manner. Historically they would have champions battle one another while trying to steal ground from their opponent. Whomever made it to the altar of the opposing contestant was very unceremoniously eaten by the giant worm depicted on the flyer. The Nidhogg they called it. Now if there was one thing Billy knew, it was history and cultures. He was like a walking encyclopedia. Everyone just called him an idiot-savant. But at least he understood the origins of the Nidhogg. He just didn't want to think about doing battle with it or dealing with the cult that worshipped the monster. But he did know of someone who would...
Yoshimitsu sat at the bar with the soldiers he had been teamed with since his arrival in Camelot. He didn't drink, but he partook of the good times all the same. His time with this crew had been an enjoyable one as well as a lesson in his growing humility. He had been so preoccupied with the glory that came from being Yoshimitsu that he forgot what it was like to be equal with another human being. Buddha had taught that so long ago and like most impious people, he had forgotten the basics and focused on what benefited him. But since coming to the Omniverse with much of his spiritual abilities taken from him and the fact not a single person knew what a Yoshimitsu was or what Manji Ryu even meant, he had a sobering experience. Now he had to actually rely on skill and honor and relearning the basics he had been taught as a child. A lesson he harshly learned when he and the troop went into those caves soon after his induction into the army.
“Bartender,” Yoshimitsu patted the woman on the shoulder as she walked by, “I have a test for you!”
“Oh lord,” She said as she stopped what she was doing. “What is it this time?” He had played many tricks on her over the course of his visits to the bar, much to the delight of the men he fought alongside. They were never harmful, just funny jokes you play on gullible people or those willing to entertain your stupid tricks.
“Okay, okay,” Yoshimitsu stood from his stool and put his hands on her shoulders once more, “For this test, I need you to look down your blouse and spell attic.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled her shirt open slightly, the troop cat calling and howling as she did so. Yoshimitsu put his hands to the mouth of his mask and snickered with glee. He bounced from foot to foot as the men started quieting down to hear their bartender spell.
“A-T-T-I-C...” She looked up red in the face, “Really?! I've had enough of your stupid jokes!”
Of course her threats and anger were drowned out by drunken laughter. She shook her head as she turned from the group and glared at Yoshimitsu. His electronic eyes flashed a wink at her as he returned to conversing with his team. Yoshimitsu had been adjusting well and working (moderately) hard to take care of things around Minas Tirith. Apparently as a Prime he had more utility than these beings called “Secondaries”. It made sense why they looked to Primes to do certain tasks since Omnillium was readily available for use by them whereas Secondaries could only extract and hoard it. To Primes it was a valuable resource to grow and develop and summon. To Secondaries, it was a form of currency that they could use to sway Primes to do tasks. Yoshimitsu had been sitting on a pile of the stuff as he figured all he really needed to get his job done were his weapons and skills. That being the case, he didn't lord his power over those around him, which led to the citizens finding him that much more of a companion than a higher being to fear.
After a couple hours at the bar, Yoshimitsu and his team went their own ways. The men going home to families and Yoshimitsu left to wander the streets until he decided to either sleep at the barracks or an inn if he wanted a real bed for the night. Life had a funny way of making other plans, though. A man disheveled in nature, unshaven, tousled hair and red eyes came toward him. His uniform however led Yoshimitsu to believe he was someone important. The sun had yet to set so the orange glow cast a gold halo on the buildings around them and left shadows shrouding the stranger as he walked closer. For all intents and purposes, Yoshimitsu should have seen this approach as sinister or aggressive. Instead he felt an overwhelming indifference. He didn't even put his hand on the hilt of his katana. Something that was normally instinct for the warrior.
“Yoshimitsu? Sir?” The man stammered before straightening, as though he remembered his position, “Uh, I mean...Yoshimitsu!” He drew closer, the light revealing a weak and seemingly scared officer of high rank. Yoshimitsu crossed his arms. While he was learning humility in this new realm, he still couldn't bring himself to respect someone who obviously didn't respect themselves.
“Yes? Should I know you?” The stiff indifference hit the man in front of him like cold stinging breeze.
“I'm Master Commander Billy.” He pulled the hem of his decorated jacket down and pulled his narrow shoulders back, fixing his posture. Embarrassingly he was still shorter than Yoshimitsu by a few inches. “I have an important mission I'd like you to go on.”
“Oooh?” Yoshimitsu asked with a dash of feigned interest, uncrossing his arms to put his fists on his hips, “And what mission would that be Billy MC?”
“Ah...right...” He reached into his jacket and produced a crumpled piece of paper, moist from sweaty palms, “It's uh...up to you if you want to do it. I mean, it's kind of important and I'd like someone skilled on the project, but I mean, I understand if you don't want to. You know, I could uh...I could probably get some freelancer? Mercenary? Uh...bounty hunter? One of those guys to do it...it'd just cost a lot...”
Yoshimitsu stood in complete shock. He was in the presence of a “Master Commander” and the guy rambled. And mumbled. And trailed off. It was like listening to the awkward boy ask the prettiest girl in school to the prom. He was spinning. And crashing and burning. And Yoshimitsu could do nothing but listen and force himself to not laugh. It was a struggle to stand there and listen to this train wreck happen in front of him.
“You're the MC, Billy MC...sir,” Yoshimitsu added hesitantly, “I'll take the mission, just please...pleasestoptalking.” He spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn't fully catch his disdain. Though by the look of the guy, he was probably keenly aware of any and all disdain.
“Right...right.” Billy handed the paper to Yoshimitsu, the warrior grateful for his thick gloves so he wouldn't have to feel the damp file. He smoothed it out and looked it over. It was interesting. He stroked the chin of his electronic mask as he let it all sink in, his mind racing with all kinds of plans and ways he could get the mission done.
“This cult...they have fliers put up everywhere?” Yoshimitsu folded the intel sheet and tucked it into the inner pocket of his long coat.
“As far as I know, here in Camelot their all over the place,” He pushed his hair back, his confidence seemingly rising, “They might be in other Verses. Should we pull them down to protect people here at home?”
“No, no,” Yoshimitsu rubbed his hands together as he imagined all the possibilities of how this could play out. “Leave them up. I might be able to recruit some other Primes if they see these fliers...who doesn't want to slay a giant monster for glory?” Yoshimitsu smiled beneath his mask, his own mask pulling an ear to ear grin in something reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat.
“...I don't.” Billy said sheepishly. Taking the question seriously.
“I...I don't even...” Yoshimitsu dropped the grin and his hands and just bowed to the Master Commander, “...Yeah, I got nothin'...I have to go get ready. Good night, Billy MC.”
“Good night, Yoshimitsu!” Billy waved to Yoshimitsu as he turned and quietly fled, not even acknowledging the good bye protocols.