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The Secret Origins of Kalinda Kriegsdottir
Part One of God Knows How Many
By Kalinda Kriegsdottir
I get asked stupid questions all the time on Twitter. Am I a real dragon? How long do I have to sit in the chair to put the blue makeup on? How the heck does the whole prosthetic tail thing work, is there a remote control? Magic isn't real, I am dumb. That's not a question.
And then there are the fedora-wearing diaper babies with no social skills, an entitlement complex, and absolutely zero misogynistic intentions (no he-man woman haters here, nosiree!) that think watching women wrestle is gay and that I shouldn't fight guys. So they can get back to their totes heterosexual watching of oiled up dudes in underpants writhe against one another and swap sweat.
That last one was totally not a question either, @BongPrinceBlazeIt420SmokeWeedE'eryDay.
[We open to a shot of Kalinda kneeling on the floor before a big picture window, beyond which a heavy snowfall billows and blows and cascades down, covering the world in a frozen white blanket.]
[Before her, seemingly drawn in blood, is a series of sigils and geometric shapes; a summoning circle. We've seen her do this on camera once before. This is Kalinda summoning the consciousness of the Manyfold Matriarch into being so that she may hold a proper conversation with her divine patron.]
[But instead of five different colored candles, this time the ritual is sporting five of the same sickly green candles, which begin hissing and sparking and billowing thick green smoke into the air as Kalinda speaks, completing the ritual to call the dragoness into ethereal being. We're missing out on the audio, and thus a goodly portion of the summoning ritual.]
Kalinda: Aspect of the Great Matriarch, Devourer of Pain, your servant calls to you! Come forth!
[The candles seems to almost explode, filling the air with a toxic level of smoke. Or it would, if the smoke were going anywhere. Instead it all flows inward, writhing around itself to from a long, serpentine neck and a draconic face. The Matriarch's green head sports a massive yellow-green frill, looking rather like a mohawk that continues down her long and elegant neck. The top of her head is adorned with numerous tiny, conical, spiky horns and a single set of massive, spiraling ram-like horns as well.]
Manyfold Matriarch: Mmm, interesting. You never summoned me in only one of my facets before. May I ask the occasion?
Kalinda: I wanted carnage. I wanted destruction. I wanted pain and agony unimaginable brought down upon my foes. But your prime aspect is more concerned about matters of pride and draconic superiority than carnage.
Victory is her goal, and she craves triumph and domination above all else, in this case to the exclusion of the sadistic assault that I had asked her aid in helping me to deliver.
[Once again we find ourselves in the apartment or condo or whatever of ULW's resident dragoness Kalinda Kriegsdottir. Most tHings are to the scale that the seven foot behemoth would find comfortable, things that don't require larger size to be more useful to her look positively tiny amidst the overgrown furnishings.]
[The place is decorated without rHyme or reason, seeming more organically grown from collected bits and bobs that made their owner go "Oh, I like that thing!" rather than with a cold, impersonal design aesthetic, theme, and product line. Well, at least some sort of theme an interior decorated would charge you more than the furniture for crafting. Kal DOES seem to have a running theme in her collection of stuff, and that tHeme seems to be pizza parlors.]
[Her hanging ceiling lamps are stained glass chandeliers, brightly colored and emblazoned with the names of Happy Joe's, Shakey's Pizza, and Pizza Hut. Looking back into her kitchen through the open design of the place we can see cooking pans on the wall emblazoned with their measurements, their diameters corresponding to various sizes of pizza. Where someone would typically have a rack of knives on a magnetic strip, Kal has several different sorts of pizza cutters, all with varying construction and grip. There's even a pile of pizza boxes with various local and national chains adorning them by her trasH can, the greasy cardboard packages too large to fit.]
[Whatever isn't pizza related seems to be brightly colored, her furniture blazing in radiant Hues of blue or orange reminiscent of oversaturated desert levels in bro shooters when the theme of the day is lens flare and the wonderful world of brown. There's even several pallets of various orange-flavored sodas stacked up in a corner of the apartment, with a little vase with brigHt orange fake flowers set in it sitting atop it with a ludicrously small doily seated atop the stack of pop, trying and failing to make it appear like a piece of furniture and less like fizzy drinks HapHazardly being stored in a corner.]
[The lady Herself is seated in a bright blue plush leather recliner, her feet propped up on a makeshift ottoman comprised of a couch cushion and what appears to the skull of a horned, carnivorous beastie that looked to be capable of swallowing middle school students whole.]
[Kal is looking at something on her laptop and noisily muncHing on a crouton-crunchy breadstick with a number of its siblings piled on a nearby tray like cord wood. She lets out an annoyed snort and scowls, finishing her mouthful before bellowing for her muse.]
Kalinda: Spark, you diminutive little shit! You lied to me!
Kalinda:So Priesty-poos went and opened his big stupid mouth, exhaled some vile smelling air over his nicotine stained teeth, threw up the horns, shouted HAIL SATAN, and then while trying to be intimidating managed to accomplished the rare verbal equivalent of straining to give yourself a big mean snarling look, and managing to shit your pants in the process.
This is why I have him pegged squarely in the category of "dumb muscle." He went into the whole talk at the camera thing with a set of bullet points in his head, some ideas, some goals, maybe a few choice phrases that he wanted to say because they sounded totally and utterly badass in that swollen, yet empty melon of his.
Somehow I don't think "Make my opponent giggle like a giddy schoolgirl," "Give Kalinda eye strain with the sheer amount of rolling that her eyeballs have to do," and "Displayed beyond a shadow of a doubt proof of both minotaur heritage, being sired by Ben Stein, and irritable bowel syndrome by letting loose with the most utterly boring, clichéd, stream of bullshit my designated foe has seen thus far in her professional wrestling career," were the points that Priesty-poos wanted to get across.
The problem is that as the supposed avatar of a maleficent being of unimaginable evil he's stuck with an evil as comically inadept as whatever backwoods, retarded, hillbilly god put this place together in the first place.
[We open to the sad sight of Spark, Kalinda's kitten-sized dragon companion, all bandaged up with his diminutive frame covered in a full body cast. Tiny bandages have been wrapped around his head, and he's sporting a black eye.]
[The camera pulls back from the wee little bed to see none other than Dr. Alfredo Acula, Physician of the Supernatural, Attorney at Law looking worriedly over a clipboard. There's a rhythmic beeping as a heart monitor bleeps and bloops the state of normalcy.]
[Dr. Acula pulls a small case out of a pocket on his lab coat, removes a pair of spectacles, only to dramatically remove them and look sad.]
Dr. Alfredo Acula: The prognosis does not look good, I'm afraid. It looks like we're going to have to amputate. The damage is too severe. You'll loose all of your legs and one wing.
[We open to find ULW's Big Blue Brute, Kalinda Kriegdottir, in what we presume is her apartment, flopped down on her bed. Well, we assume it's her apartment because the bed is huge and sized for her seven foot frame, and the ceilings are high enough that she won't bonk her head.]
[The Deadly Dragonspawn isn't looking so deadly, nestled in a nest of pillows and blankets, staring up at the ceiling, pondering things and eating a sliced of recently cooked frozen pizza.]
Kalinda: We're not getting this one again, Spark. Tombstone. It's very bland and there's no crust to it, so you have to grab ahold of the cheese.
Spark: Or you could use a fork.
Kalinda: Blasphemy! You pick up a slice of pizza without the aid of silverware! Only when you've loaded it with so many toppings that the structural integrity can no longer be maintained, then and only then can you use utensils.
Something so skinny as a thin crusted frozen pizza does not meet this fundamental requirement. Thus I think I would much rather chew on an actual tombstone. There's like no flavor here, so terribly, terribly bland.
Spark: And speaking of terribly bland, how's your Twitter brawl with The Inbred Assassin Eric "Chocolate Rain" Huehuehuerrera going?
[We open to the sight of Kalinda's diminutive mascot/muse Spark. The kitten-sized blue dragon has got himself a palmtop PC set up, which in comparative scale looks like a giant keyboard and a very large TV screen. There's quite a bit of clutter on the table, tools, a few cans of soda, a water bottle or two, varying sorts of tools ranging from hammers and screwdriver to what appears to be a saw and several sculpting implements, and several paint brushes. There's also a half eaten Dagwood style sandwich that looks as if it may topple over at any point in time.]
[Spark nods and addresses the camera pleasantly.]
Spark: So hello all you pro wrestling peoples! I'm Spark, spirit of knowledge and wisdom, and I'm here to teach you about the foundation of magic on the world of Tathion. Which is where Kalinda and I come from. And also the stupid loudmouthed skull. It comes from there too.
So the easy way to do this is to imagine magic is a series of boxes. Well, actually they're more along the lines of gradients, but umm... this is kind of embarrassing to say, but I kind of have problems using a computer. I've never actually had to use a physical interface before. I'm used to just hopping inside in the form of electrical energy and just making things go the way I want.
But the computers and electronics I'm used to are a lot more advanced than the stuff around here. It's far more powerful and far more robust with the components. I've been trying to refine my technique, but thus far every device I've tried to hop in to has exploded spectacularly. And what's worse is that my innate technological knowledge is based on software that not only are you about 150 years too early for, but comes from a parallel world. So even the really really old archived junk I have is different.
I um... I couldn't figure out how to make transparent gradients in Photoshop, or pretty, even boxes. So I kind of made them in Microsoft Excel and took screenshots. They're good enough visual aids, I suppose.
