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Solidarity

odin is like “when thor was born the sun shone bright upon his beautiful face. i found loki on the sidewalk outside a taco bell”

Day 1 - Ring

I can’t draw for Inktober, and it is unlikely I will be able to do a REAL NaNoWriMo, but I still want to try challenging myself. SO! I will take the Inktober prompts and write little blurps to do some on-the-fly world building for a random idea I had a while back. A Giant-Monster themed WWE/UFC fighting league. Enter the KFL, Kaiju Fighting League. Let’s see how this goes. Wish me luck.

----

Prompt: Ring

Title: In The Ring

“Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between!” The announcer cried. He stood in the center of the massive battle pit. The impressive, gilded microphone he clutched glittered in the spotlights aimed at him. “Welcome to the opening night for the Kaiju Fighting League’s 30th anniversary!”

The crowd roared. People, beasts, monsters and things without names all stomped in the grandstands to chants and cheers. Their voices rattled the cage surrounding the pit. The announcer let them roar for a bit before continuing.

“Years ago, when humanity fought the calamity, it was through teamwork with strangers that led us to victory! And when the calamity was destroyed, we did what we do best.” He put his hand to his ear to wait for the audience.

They rewarded him with a unanimous cheer, “WE FIGHT!” Followed by more roaring applause.

The announcer pumped his fist in the air, “Hell yeah! That’s why our founder, Thrash Flexman, the Ragin’ Stallion himself, founded the KFL and brought the strongest warriors together to enjoy that most traditional of past times. The Brawl!”

At his call, the monitors high above him blared to life. Dancing across the screens were images of the highlights from the last year. The names of champions rolled by alongside their best fights. King Carnage, the colossal apeman with a crown crafted from fighter planes, knocking his opponent so hard it sends him flying through the protective ring. Kill-ogram, the titanic metal beast, charging against the blows of his opponent to send a strike that causes the poor warrior to crumple into a heap. Cassidy Quake, a monstrous catfishman with whip-like whiskers, grabs his opponent and cheers to the crowd before leaping into a flying suplex. 

More heroes flash on the screen and the crowd whoops to each cherished memory. The screen then darkens and shows several silhouettes.

“But no one can reign champion forever! It’s time for new blood to step up to the challenge!” The announcer calls out. “You hear that?”

The gates leading to one side of the arena open up and the newcomers wander out. They march, beasts, dragons, monsters all, out to one side of the ring. Out front, a rather lithe monster leaps onto the cage and cries out, “Bring out my meal!”

The announcer barely manages to keep his feet as the 20 ft tall raptor claws against the cage, rattling the whole battle pit. The crowd is eating it up and start to chant for the kings.

The announcer steadies himself. “Ha, I can tell you’re hungry for the Crown. But it won’t be that easy.”

The lights go out and the music clicks on to play a rocking theme. Spotlights flash to the opposite gate which rattles open. With prestige, pride, and confidence, the Kings enter. Top of their brackets, they march to the cage. Fans wave banners, swing merch, and throw bananas. They stay focused on their new opponents, except for King Carnage, who attempts to catch the bananas. 

Cassidy Quake makes it to the cage first, he signals to the announcer, who runs over with the mic. Cassidy takes the mic gently between his fingers and swishes his wild whiskers before speaking.

“I don’t care who you are, or where you came from.” He points to the raptor still clinging to the cage and wearing a manic grin, “If you want this crown, we meet in the ring as warriors!” He dropped the mic, the announcer did his best to catch it. His fellow Kings respond with a resounding battle cry that makes the whole arena shudder. The crowd goes absolutely wild. Bananas are flying everywhere.

The announcer gets back to the center of the pit.

“Alright KFL Fanantics! That wraps up the pomp and circumstance. Now comes the fun part! Are. You. Ready?”

The crowd explodes in applause and cheers.

“Then let’s get started, KFL 30, LET’S ROCK!”

Music flares to life as newcomers and Kings alike head back through their gates and the games prepare to get started.

how did they learn to translate languages into other languages how did they know which words meant what HOW DID TH

I think the worst kind of writers block is when you aren’t blocked in the conventional sense, like you know what you want to write and how to write it, you just cant put words on the page because of a crippling sense of what’s the point? 

More of my wonderous work! Gaze in awe as Baron Von Blight sets about his joyous work. #inktober2016 #doodles

The Wreckers - Cashing In

Another round of thugly antics. Again, check out Puckarooni for her Pokemon Superhero AU. Cool jams, friendos.

Alolan Joe - Alolan Ratata Leader and self proclaimed mousestache afficianado

Ben - Spearow Brawn of the group of Bachelor of Thuganomics

Zach - Zigzagoon Dunno what he’s doing, but he’s doing it well

Sherman - Sentret Newbie, but he makes up for it with heart

~~~~~

Zach handed the sturdy box to Ben, who nodded and set it in the center of the table in the backroom of the Thrifty. He crammed the edge of the crowbar under the lip of the metal lid.

“Alright, you got it, Sherbet?” Ben said to Sherman, who took hold of the bottom of the box.

“Sherbet?” Sherman said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Said Ben, inclining his head down. “You. Got. It?” He held a stern face.

“Uh,” Sherman adjusted his grip and help tight. “Yeah, I got it, Be–uh. Bu…,” He looked around the thrifty and his eyes settled on a row of candies. “Bu–ttercup?” He looked back to Ben.

Zach snorted from the couch he had plopped down on. Ben shook his head, “You got a lot to learn, rookie.” He squared his shoulders, “Just, hold onto the damn thing.”

“Yes sir,” Said Sherman, his punctured ego dedicating itself to his task.

Ben worked at the crowbar, prying a little more of the lid back and setting the crowbar deeper. Once he was satisfied, he gave the crowbar a swift jerk that popped the edge of the lid off. The shrapnel flew across the room. Joe stepped into the doorway with impeccable timing.

“Gentlemen, I- Gah!” Joe squeaked as he narrowly missed the chunk of metal box that zipped past him.

“Oh, I see now. So it has come to this,” Joe straightened up and put up his fists. “Mutiny. I knew this day would come. But you’ll have to best me in combat, fiends. Come on then, let’s do this!” Joe began to hop around, waving his fists in front of him.

Sherman popped up, “Whoa wait! It was an accident, Boss. We were just trying to–”

“Finally,” Ben said, shouldering his crowbar, “Been waiting for a chance to knock that cheesy smirk off your face.” 

Ben charged at Joe, swinging the crowbar down towards Joe’s head. In a flash, Joe brought up his hands to catch the blow, the two locked eyes and grit their teeth.

“Oh, Heck Yeah!” Sherman said, eyes sparkling. He scurried over to the couch and hopped into the spot next to Zach. “This is gonna be epic. Don’t you think?”

Zach shrugged, “Maybe.”

Joe and Ben tussled for a bit. They wrestled and rolled and tumbled, finishing with Joe having taken the crowbar from Ben.

Joe pointed the crowbar at Ben, who crouched on the ground catching his breath.

“Will you yield?” Joe said.

“Yeah yeah,” Ben said, bruised ego kinda killing the mood. “I will honor the code of the thug and serve your blah blah blah.”

“Perfect,” Joe said and tossed the crowbar back to him. “Whew, almost got me that time.”

Ben caught the crowbar and stood up, “Oh blow me sideways, bristles. You hold back every time.” He scoffed out his nose and went back to the table. “Hey, Sherbet, we opening this thing or what?”

Sherman, stars in his eyes got up from the couch, “You guys are so cool. Like, when you were like, ‘Whapam! Take that’ but then Joe just did that thing where he, you know, just ‘Whoosh, bam!’ and you went flying and…” He flailed his arms. Zach leaned away to allow Sherman room to embellish.

“That’s enough, Sherman.” Joe said, “What are you opening anyway?”

“Dunno, Zach found it in the junkyard and couldn’t open it.” Sherman said “He even did his–” He wiggled his fingers and flip flopped his wrists. “Stuff.”

Zach also wiggled his fingers and then shrugged.

Joe stroked his ‘stache, “A rather tricky treasure trove, it would–” He paused, “t-uh, tantamount to tremendous tantalizing trophies for this team.” He smiled at his cleverness.

Ben scoffed, “You are such a dork.” He glared at Sherman. “Come on, hold this sucker down before I use this crowbar to vent all that hot air in your head.”

Sherman hustled over and gripped the box again. Ben got the edge into the lid again and gave it a adrenaline-fueled push. The lid peeled back like a tuna can and revealed the contents within. Ben tossed the crowbar aside as they all gathered to peek inside the box.

“Oh,” Said Zach with a neutral voice.

“Whoa,” Said Sherman with a hint of wonder.

“Hmm,” Murmured Joe, contemplating.

“Oh, goodie. More junk.” Ben said, his shoulders slumping down.

“What? This isn’t junk,” Sherman reached inside and pulled out a handful of the contents. Play cards. A bunch of them, haphazardly scattered inside the box. They had colorful pictures of monsters on one side and a big logo plastered on the other. “Don’t you remember Pouch Gremlins? For the Game Lad?”

Joe snapped his fingers, “Ha, I knew they looked familiar.” He took a few of the cards out of the box. “I used to play a shared copy of Powgrem with my brothers and sisters way back when.” He started flipping through the cards. Zach also began to dig through the contents of the box.

“Feh,” Ben said looking over the couple that Sherman had fished out, “That baby game about little kids making friends with super powered monsters and battling them. All the designs looked so lame.” His sharp eyes landed on a shiny card in Sherman’s hand, he snatched it and nodded. “Except this guy. He was awesome.”

Joe and Sherman looked at the card. Sherman smiled, “Oh yeah, Psycat. The legendary survivor of psychic experiments. The lore said that he was a loner Powgrem who killed off his old master. Pretty dark stuff.”

“Yeah, super edgy and took no shit. I liked him.” Ben said.

“My favorite was the one you could start out with, Grassasaurus Rex!” Sherman said, pulling out the relevant card, “His solar cannon attack was unbeatable!” He looked to Joe, “Oh, who was your favorite, Joe?”

Joe dug into the box and nodded, pulling out another shiny card, “This one.” He held it up, “The trickmaster, Ghostgar.” He laughed, “When I would play against my siblings, they would actually ban me from using him cause he was too good.”

“How about you, Zach?” Sherman asked, “Did you have a favorite?”

Zach was organizing the cards by color and rarity. Without looking up from his work, he muttered, “Yup.”

Joe chuckled. Sherman pressed on, “Such as…?”

Zach paused, looked over the stacks of cards before grabbing out a fairly common looking card and holding it up. “This guy.”

“Oh,” Sherman said, a little disappointed, “I guess Joltling is pretty popular.” He looked back to Joe, “I mean, it was the mascot of the series.”

Joe nodded and regarded the box again. “Hmm…what do you suppose these were doing in such a secure box?”

Ben scoffed, “Loser probably wanted to hide his shame when he moved on to something better.” He was gathering up all the copies of Psycat and silently judging the edginess of each one.

Sherman looked at the box, “Maybe they were special and he wanted to keep them safe?”

Zach finished sorting and stacking and said, “Resale.”

Joe, Ben and Sherman all looked up, struck by the idea.

Joe caught it first. “How much do you think these cards are worth?”

Ben smirked, “I hear things get more valuable over time, if you collect enough.”

“And look at all of these shinies.” Said Sherman, “They’ve gotta be worth a fortune.”

“Zach, gather up those little treasures,” Joe said, stroking his mouse-stache, “We’re headed to town!”

Ben and Sherman cheered, Zach packed the cards away.

“Gentlemen,” Joe said, “Let’s go make some money.”

…

“50 bucks?” Ben said incredulously. “Are you serious?”

He leaned over the counter of the hobby shop, making the cashier back away slightly. From behind the counter, he gave his big, friendly, Snorlax smile, “Yup, 100 even. Pretty—impressive collection, though.” He said through a yawn. “So, will that be cash or store credit?”

Joe managed to pry Ben away from the counter. “Uh, excuse my friend here. I am pretty certain there were quite a number of rare cards in there. Surely they would fetch a handsome price?”

The cashier shrugged, “Maybe a bit ago, but not anymore.” He turned in his swivel chair and grabbed another box of cards. “Everyone’s moved on to Data Goblins.” He showed them the box. Though the designs were slightly different, it seemed like the exact same game. “People just aren’t buying Powgrem anymore.” He set the box back, “So, 50.” He smiled again.

Ben wrestled out of Joe’s grip and got uncomfortably close to the cashier. “Listen, tubby, how about you grease these pockets before I grease up your face?”

The cashier held his smile and opened one of his eyes just enough to glare at Ben. The sight sent a chill down the young thug’s spine. “Fifty. Dollars. Even.”

…

Ben and Joe shuffled out of the hobby shop.

“Hey guys,” Sherman said, hustling up to them. “How’d it go?”

Joe looked at Ben, who scoffed, “Waste of time.” He looked away and folded his arms.

Zach and Sherman looked at Joe. Joe pulled the 50 dollars out of his pocket.

“Oh,” Said Sherman. Zach gave a resigned shake of the head.

“Well, you win some, you lose some.” Joe said. “But I still think 50 dollars for free is a win.” He smiled.

Sherman nodded, “Still, it would have been nice to at least keep–”

Zach zipped around in front of him and held up the Grassasaurus Rex card. “Here.”

Sherman lit up and took the card, “No way, you held onto my favorite. You’re the best.”

Zach shrugged and walked around to the other two members and held up their favorite cards.

“You sly devil,” Joe said, taking the card and slipping it into his pocket. “Should have known.”

Ben snatched his card, “What the heck? Isn’t this thing super rare? We might have gotten more cash for this.” He glared at Zach, who returned with an indifferent quirk of the eyebrow.

Joe nudged him, “You’re welcome to head back inside to trade it in.”

Ben looked back at the shop, then down to his Psycat. “Yeah, never mind. Psycat is too cool for that.” He also tucked the card into his pocket.

Zach also tucked a card into his pocket. The picture looked like a Joltling, but was a little off. It appeared as though it was merely wearing a Joltling costume…

Day 5 - Husky / Enchanted

Couldn’t help but notice that some of the prompts could do with a little overlap. So to make things a little easier on myself, I fused some concepts together. Should be interesting from here on out. Wish me luck.

...

Mal Mute, a Husky Kaiju famous for his wicked fighting style, pushed the door of the locker room open and tumbled inside. He ripped off this muzzle-mask and heaved heavily. His lips trembled, fangs dripping with saliva, muscles clenched and his body quaked. He dropped to his knees and clutched his head. Fighting to get control of his heart and his breathing, he curled into a ball on the locker room floor. The collar around his neck was glowing an ominous red light, radiating heat and digging into his furred neck. He gasped for air, fighting to get under control, fighting against a darker desire.

The locker room door pushed open. A looming figure in a long, dark cloke, stepped into the locker room and presided over the scene. He looked down the bridge of his beak, the master of the Dark Arts, Psychopomp. He tapped his crooked staff on the linoleum floor. Mal Mute brought a blood-shot eye up to him and a sweeping, clawed hand lashed out at him. Psychopomp didn’t flinch as the raking claw missed his face by mere inches.

“Good to see you again, too,” The Raven Kaiju said. “And how have you been?”

Recoiling his strike, Mal Mute shrank back against a locker. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, his color was white hot. His voice eeked out in choked whining.

“Okay,” Psychopomp said, “Let’s try this again.”

He tapped his staff on the ground again. The crystal at the top radiated a black energy that released a purple vapor. Snaking through it air, is slithered over to Mal Mute’s collar and encircled it. The blazing accessory began to cool, falling limp as if it had lost some kind of manic power it once held.

Mal Mute slumped against the lockers, dropping his head to his chest and heaving a sigh of relief.

Psychopomp stayed a relatively safe distance away, but spoke up, “Feeling better?”

The wolf Kaiju Fighter continued to focus on breathing. But managed to clear his throat to respond. “Much better. Thank you, Psy.”

At this prompt, Psychopomp set his staff aside and went to Mal Mute’s side to help him to a bench. Once seated, Psychopomp pulled out a small bone-shaped treat. 

“Here, Mal Mute” He said, “Eat this. It should help.”

Mal Mute nodded and took the treat, scarfing it down. 

“You know,” He said, licking his fingers, “When I’m out of the ring, you can just call me ‘Buster’. Mal Mute is just the ring name.”

Psychopomp sighed, “I am well aware of your name, Mal Mute, it is more a matter of keeping this relationship professional. I am, for lack of a better term, your caretaker, as of now.” He glanced at the collar around Mal Mute’s neck. “You said you had it under control.”

Buster scratched at the collar around his neck. The source of his power and the reason he was a Kaiju in the first place. “I did.” He said, his voice meek, “But then the guy got a second wind. I had to raise the stakes to take him down.”

Psychopomp shook his head, “I warned you against using that...what did you call it?”

“Malignant Assault,” Mal Mute said.

“Right, that. I warned you against using it more than once. If you tap into that power too much you will lose yourself to it. I don’t have to remind you what happened last time.” Psychopomp put a hand on Mal Mute’s shoulder. “You have to accept your limits.”

Mal Mute nodded along, as he had always done before. But when the hand touched his shoulder, he felt something inside crack a little.

“No, I refuse.” He said, his voice was dark and sinister. “I refuse to accept limits.” He lifted his head to look at Psychopomp, his eyes getting red. “I promised him. I promised I would always be the strongest. That I wouldn’t lose to anyone!”

He stood up, at his full height, he managed to tower over the raven Kaiju. Psychopomp stood, unruffled, but he had picked up his staff and the purple vapor was already swirling around the crystal.

“It was the last thing I promised him before they came for him. He was not the best guy in the world, I knew that, but he fed me and gave me a home and a name. I will never forget his kindness, even if it means tearing everything apart!” He flexed his fist and slammed it against the lockers, causing them to warp considerably. 

“And then you killed him,” Psychopomp said. His voice was flat and cold. The purple smoke lashed around his body, ready to defend.

Mal Mute grit his teeth. “Yes, yes I did! He should have listened to me! He should have gotten behind me! There was no need for him to run onto the battlefield like that. He shouldn’t have tried to…” His voice cut out. Red eyes clouded with tears and words failed.

Buster dropped his head, “He shouldn’t have tried to save me.”

The collar around his neck radiated heat, but in a dull ache. He let the pain bring his mind away from painful memories.

“I know I am cursed,” Buster said, “But what am I supposed to do?’

Psychopomp let out a relieved sigh. “Not cursed, not necessarily.”

Mal Mute looked up, “What do you mean?”

Psychopomp stepped closer, but hesitated. “Do you mind if I touch the collar?”

Mal Mute shook his head and craned his neck to expose the pendant hanging from the collar. Psychopomp grabbed it and lifted it up. On the underside, there was an inscription. Part boiler plate, part eldritch magic.

“Your entire form runs on forbidden eldritch magic, yes,” Psychopomp said, he fished a small treat-shaped charm from his robe and snapped it onto the collar beside the pendant, “But with a few alterations, it can be honed.” 

The heat of the collar died down immediately. Mal Mute’s eyes went wide. As Psychopomp stepped away, he gingerly touched his collar.

“I...I don’t feel it anymore.” He looked at the raven Kaiju, “How did you do that?”

Psychopomp grinned, “Your caretaker happens to be the greatest master of the dark arts, a little eldritch enchantment was no match for me.”

Buster rushed forward and lifted Psychopomp in a bear hug. The raven Kaiju gasped for the breath that was being crushed out of his lungs.

“Holy tennis balls, Psy! This is the best thing ever!” He put the ruffled raven back down. “I don’t know how to repay you! I got some tickets to a big party coming up. Do you want to go? We could go together? You wanna go? You wanna go? You’re such a good boy! You wanna go?”

Psychopomp straightened himself out, “For a Fighter named ‘Mute’ you really prattle on.”

“Oh, that’s just the stage handle. You know, cause, a husky is like a malamute. But I’m a heel, a bad dog, so it’s a play on words. I thought it was really clever. And I get to wear a cool mask. But it is hard to breathe sometimes. Maybe I should get a new one?”

Psychopomp raised his hand, “Alright alright, easy there, Mal Mute.” He cleared his throat, “You have been given a new chance. I wanted you to step down, but it seems you are hellbent on staying in the ring.”

Mal Mute nodded intently. 

“Then the medallion should help you remain under control. But try to keep the Melodious Assaults to a minimum.” He said, tapping his staff to summon a swirl of purple mist.

“Malignant Assaults.” Mal Mute added, helpfully.

“Whatever.” Psychopomp said. “Oh, and yes, I will join you for the party. Send me an email, would you?” 

With that, the grand master of dark magic vanished from the locker room in a swirl of mystical purple haze. Mal Mute smiled and gave a thumbs up to no one. He would later pay a hefty fine for busting the lockers.

Making long-form webcomics is like

the fight is harder each year.