Some mild explanation: I have a fascination with miscellaneous and little known characters throughout the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles multiverse. Two characters I have loved the best, crediting them with my early love of the multiverse along side the actual turtles, and they are Ninjara and Katmandu from the Archie Comics. In any case, lately I've been trying to really look into the development of these characters and I kind of experimented with this one. So here's Katmandu in a mock epic borrowing elements from several religious parables.
TMNT © Viacom
Katmandu, Charlie Llama © Archie Comics
story © Turtlefreak121
Among the Gods
I
At best he found that running granted him a lot of time to think. The more he contemplated the less time he found to concern himself with the fact that he was being ruthlessly, uselessly chased through the small Hindu sect of Kathmandu.
He was a child of numerous contradictions. The most basic was that he was the love child of a Hindu woman and the local tiger god who provided evidence for the polytheistic religion in a predominantly Buddhist setting. He was young, nearly twelve, and had recently surpassed the height of an average, grown woman. He was upright and sentient with a rippling body lined with the pattern of the most feared jungle predator. In his mind he could not help but wonder why this was so feared in a world where he wished to someday be liken to a protector.
In his very matured reflection, however, he still came to a small and distressing conclusion that his problems all stemmed from the two extra limbs by his side.
At last his brain paused its tumultuous thoughts and realized that there was a certain lack of chase behind him. He stopped and breathed, taking in the sight of the garden around him.
He had seen the likes of a Zen garden before and here, among the perfect ironies, the Beast of Kathmandu did not appear surprised in the least to find it. Rather, he was shocked to find who was in it.
Sitting in the pool of reflection, a creature not so unlike the beast was upon a rock. He was dressed in formal robes but even they were not enough to hide his long neck and hoofed hands and feet. He had a nose not too unlike a horse and woolly fur like a sheep.
To say the least, the tiger was confused.
"You are naked in my garden," the creature said very unenthusiastically. "This is among my stranger interactions."
"You are clothed as though you are hiding," the beast countered. "Though, I do apologize for invading your garden."
The creature cocked his head to the side and smiled pleasantly. He was not afraid of the four armed tiger. The four armed tiger could not feel the same sentiment.
"You look intelligent, answer my riddle," the creature continued playfully. "Two hands offer you the same fruit, which do you take?"
"I don't like riddles and you obviously cannot tell," the beast said with a cross of his arms. "You also should know that I am Hindu."
The creature smiled. "This does not mean you cannot think on it."
He stared at the strange creature before sitting on the bank of the pool. He sat there for the rest of the night and neither said a single word.
II
He watched the llama fold linens and hold up a tunic for him yet again. The Beast of Kathmandu scowled and turned his face away. He had already bathed for Charlie and was not willing to do much else.
"It was merely a suggestion, my son," the llama chuckled before putting it away. "In the garden everything can be seen. So you refuse yet another hand's offer. Very interesting, young Katmandu. You are quite a hard man to figure out."
The tiger's mouth curled into a snarl and he looked back to the old llama. "I have already told you, old man, I am not named. I am merely the Beast of Kathmandu."
"You are no more a beast than I am," Charlie Llama reasoned just as some of the monkey faced servants entered with a prepared snack of fruits and vegetables.
Katmandu overlooked the fruits, their succulant nature was unappealing to the carnivorous force. The llama seemed uninterested as well as waved off the small creatures. Instead he folded and ignored the bowing of the monkey faced men.
The tiger scowled, wondering what magic surrounded Charlie and kept him there at the palace and Zen garden. Already he had seemingly wasted a week or more at the retreat already. For what, though?
"Who are you?" he questioned.
The llama never answered. The beast knew the way things worked by that point. He could hear the unspoken question in his ears. Two hands offer you the same fruit; which do you take?
He still did not know. Instead he moved to the side of the old creature and helped him fold.
III
He was not completely alien to the concept of meditation. Ever since he was young his mother, for what little time she had dared to keep him around, would beckon him to meditate on their situation.
It was there among the gods, that the beast realized he was haplessly lost between the realms of animal and man. He fit nowhere in the earth that birthed only one or the other.
"Have you decided what hand to take yet, Katmandu?" questioned Charlie. "You have never answered me."
The beast ignored the monicker and looked upon the llama. Charlie sat upon his rock amongst the water and the tiger had to ignore the beautiful distractions of the Zen garden. "I suppose this is liken to how you never give me any answers."
Every word was seething with sarcasm and yet it did not phase the benevolent Charlie Llama. The creature grinned knowingly and closed his eyes.
"Answer me this, Katmandu; will you allow me to die?"
The tiger-man raised a heavy brow at such a question and tilted his head to the side. He was not sure if he heard the llama correctly. "What are you talking about?"
As usual, the llama did not respond. However, crackling in the canopy above gave away the secreted positions of the assassins. The Beast of Kathmandu's eyes widened as Whirling Dervishes fell to the ground with blades readied.
"No!" the beast screeched before releasing his thunderous roar.
His four upper limbs outstretched, the tiger lunged toward the surprised assassins. Catching the sweeping blades of two attackers, he reared back and struck in return to the men, taking their weapons with them.
He watched as the four mercenaries laid their lives before him. Soon the black earth ran red.
"Tell me, Katmandu," the llama spoke up as the enraged and disoriented tiger looked upon the horrendous things he had done, "from what hand do you take the fruits?"
IV
All night he envisioned the death of men by his clawed paws. He saw the rolling of their whites and the slothful swelling of tongues in their throats. It made him sick. No wonder, he thought, I am considered the Beast of Kathmandu.
He entered Charlie's room only to find the monkey faced servants scurryingabout gathering Charlie's belongings and carrying them off as if they were nothing. The beast was confused and terrified. He quickly rushed to the llama as he stood in the midst of the chaos.
"Are you leaving?" the tiger man questioned.
"It is that time, yes," Charlie responded. "I must retreat to the Crystal Palace. My followers believe some danger follows me and that if I remain among the people I love I shall not be alive much longer."
"Then I will follow you," the Beast of Katmandu lied. He knew he could never leave again, not after how human he felt at the Zen gardens. "I will confront the danger for you like I did in the garden, Charlie. You won't have to run."
At this the llama laughed and turned his long face toward the young warrior. It was the first time the tiger realized just how old and tired his mentor looked. It made him feel strangely vaccant and tremendously scared.
"Tread lightly here, Katmandu, for you are among the gods of your people. I have lived many lives over and I sense in you a rebirth of knowledge beneath the surface," Charlie explained diligently. He held up his hoof. "I know your heart and I suggest that before you consider traveling with me to the Crystal Palace, you speak to your gods if you feel they must be the ones to decide. If they do not respond do not come to the palace in the far corners of Tibet until you can tell me from which hand you take the fruit."
His expression soured and he lowered his head. "I cannot, Charlie. I have tried to but I don't know what you're asking me."
"It is expected, my student," the teacher stated before resting a feeble hoof on the beast's shoulder. "Find me at my palace when you have found your answer."
The tiger somberly watched as his closest friend and confident walked away. The tiger slumped and snuck into the garden so he could think like a man.
When he returned to the palace that night there was no soul there but his own.
V
What had once been marvelous melding of unblemished marble and jade united had broken and decayed into an unforgiving fortress. It appeared that no one had occupied the palace for years yet the Zen garden just outside was tended to daily with the greatest of care.
The lone inhabitant watched quietly as a village man approached his domain bearing the spices and meat of a year's harvest. He fell to his knees, holding the dishes above his head.
The four armed tiger approached, his shadow looming over the shaky farmer. The beast was more than double the size he had been so many years before when he first occupied the Zen garden and its adjascent palace. At that time the villagers assaulted him. Currently they were crawling to him.
Sighing, the tiger knealt beside him.
"I will say to your village again, I have no quarrell with you. Take your food home and break bread with your neighbors," the animal man pleaded. "You all have barely the year's harvest for yourself let alone myself."
He frowned as the liitle man tremored, unmoving.
"Tell your village to not freight, I am finally moving forward. You will not need to be scared by my presence anymore," he stated kindly. "My pondering time among ruins and tranquility is over."
With that, the large beast moved past the whimpering and thoroughly surprised village man.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
The robust tiger paused and turned, a calm, knowing look in his eyes. "I am Katmandu. I have sat here among the gods themselves and sought for knowledge outside my own frame of mind for many years, looking to others for direction. Now I know better and will look for my old friend to thank him for teaching me such graces."
The villager cocked his head to the side and frowned, his monkey shaped face scowling. "Do you know the hand from which you accept the fruit?"
"Neither," Katmandu responded simply. "I will pick the fruit for myself."
With that, Katmandu left, knowing he owed his friend Charlie Llama very much for his renewed wisdom.