Name: Inga Karkhuul Haw'kohd Dis'nahm Bi'ahni Lawga Ormo Pohmpus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Khura'in III
Vehicle: The Dodge (Sure, Inga's rusty 1973 Dodge is ugly, barely works, and almost melted in the rain once, but he can't bring himself to get rid of it despite possessing enough wealth to buy several modern, high-end vehicles. When asked why, the Minister of Justice replied, "This car and me share a bond, see? It's as if it understands my hopes, dreams, and pain.")
Vehicle Armor: 5/5 (On more than one occasion, Inga hid in his car to avoid a night of passion with Ga'ran, and surprisingly, neither the queen nor her royal guard were able to pierce its impeccable defenses. However, things would quickly take a turn for the worse once the Minister of Justice finally vacated the vehicle.)
Vehicle Speed: 1/5 (Sure, the transmission fails nine-out-of-ten times and Inga ends up pushing his car, but it can at least go down hills like a champ… that is, on the rare times when the brakes actually work.)
Vehicle Handling: Sluggish (Many people would say that axels so rusted that they prevent a vehicle from turning are a bad thing, but Inga believes that they make the car a straight-shooter with a dream, just like him.)
Special Attack: 5/5 (Police Raid- Using his power as Minister of Justice, Inga orders his secret police to strike down any driver that attempts to harm him through a plethora of different methods, ranging from the subtle precision of a snipper riffle to the overt mass destruction of an RPG.)
Bio: Do I really got to do all this jazz? Can't we just get to the part where I kill my wife? *Sigh…* Fine! If you mooks won't stop bugging me about it, I'll do it! … Wait a minute, what's that green light supposed to mean? Are you filming? Well, shi- *Mechanical beep*
Hello, viewers at home, the name's Inga, Inga Karkhuul Khura'in III. If that name sounds at all familiar to you folks, it's because I'm the king of Khura'in and the guy who keeps everything in order while my wife sits on her lazy ass barking out orders. I- Hey, camera guy! What's with the goofy smirk…? Just because Ga'ran's the country's leader doesn't mean that I'm not king! I had to marry that overgrown spider-whale woman and, Holy Mother dammit, I'm going to squeeze every little positive I can get from it!
I swear, you don't know how often I have to deal with that sort of crap, even from the mooks working directly under me! Well, the days of me playing second fiddle to Ga'ran are numbered, because after I win, I'll claim the throne and finally get what I want for a change.
From a puff of smoke reeking of fuel and crushed dreams, Inga, with confident smirk, emerges from his dilapidated vehicle and saunters over to Kristoph, who has been patiently awaiting the Minister's arrival.
"Excuse me, girlie, I'm looking for a guy named Kristoph Gavin who's gonna give me a free wish." Inga states, leaning forward as he chomps down on his cigar stamp.
"I'm Kristoph." The demented host wryly says with a scowl on his face, irritated by the fact that even with his new powers, people still mistake him for a girl.
"You are?" Inga asks with a look of confusion, scratching the back of his neck out of awkwardness. "See, I thought you were a lady- what with your long, flowing hair, purple suit, flowery perfu-"
"I assure you, Minister Inga, I always have been, and will be, 100-percent male. And for the record, my suit is periwinkle, a shade of blue, not purple." Kristoph snaps with crossed arms, unable to comprehend how a man wearing a purple cape could possibly make the mistake of confusing the elegant, soothing, subtle shade of his suit with one that would be at home in his foppish dandy of a brother's garish wardrobe.
"Geeze, calm down, Goldilocks. I didn't mean to insult ya, see? It's just where I'm from, guys look like, y'know… guys. Whereas you have nails that are on par with my wife's, except yours don't resemble talons."
"Minister Inga, if you don't stop commenting on my appearance and make your wish, I won't hesitate to use my powers to make you less of a man." Kristoph wryly comments as he pushes his glasses up.
"Ha! Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?" Inga scoffs, smirking at Kristoph while holding his cigar stamp. "Because if it is, that ship sailed long ago, fruit loop. Ga'ran dedicated 27 years of marriage to doing just that. There's nothing you can do to me that can compare to the hell I had to go through since the day she forced me to marry her."
"I'm very much aware of your home life, Minister. After all, it's one of the reasons why these episodes are aired on a monthly basis." Kristoph states nonchalantly with a grin.
"What's that supposed to mean? Am I missing something?" Inga asks with a look of confusion.
"Oh, nothing… So, Minister, what is your wish? To relive your life before you were married to Queen Ga'ran?" The psychotic host of Debauched Steel asks with a sinister undertone.
"Nice try, fruitcake, but I'm wise to how you slimy attorneys work." Inga sneers as he chomps down on his cigar stamp. "I'll tell ya one thing, and you'll twist my words into something else for a sick laugh. Like if I took your suggestion, I'd probably be warped back to the exact moment when Ga'ran got her hooks in me and dragged me off to my wedding."
"You're not as dense as I thought, Minister."
"Figures. See, we have a saying back in Khura'in: the only good kind of attorney is a mute one." Inga chuckles.
Kristoph rolls his eyes. "My, what a wonderful country you live in. Do your people also believe that photography steals souls?"
"Nah. We're good with photographs. See, we believe that a person's soul can only leave the body after it dies." Inga calmly explains, completely oblivious to Kristoph subtly insulting his homeland. "As for my wish, it has nothing to do with Ga'ran- I got what I wanted when my boys blasted her vehicle to kingdom come with a bazooka. But to make sure I get exactly what I want without any of your dirty tricks, I'm gonna tell you my wish step-by-step. First, I want you to bring Amara, my wife's bitch of a sister, back to life unchanged- not missing any body parts, not undead, and not fused with any other people or animals… Oh, and make sure she can't run away. I need her here for the next part."
"Fine. If that's how you want things…" Kristoph snaps his fingers, warping Amara, who is alive and unaltered in any way, in front of them with her legs shackled together.
"Good. Now for the second part of my wish; but first…" Inga punches Amara in the face, sending her tumbling to the ground. "That's for all those times you knew Ga'ran made me have sex with her and did nothing to help!" Inga yells as he kicks his former sister-in-law in the stomach.
"Are you done?" Kristoph asks, making sure to take a step back away from the irate minister.
"Yeah, just airing out some old laundry... Now for the second and most important part: I want you to force Amara to channel the spirit of Her'nahm Iz Empor'san T'sou Khura'in, a.k.a the Holy Mother!" Inga bellows at the top of his lungs with his chest puffed out and arms outstretched.
"Let me get this straight." Kristoph snarls as his left eye begins to twitch. "When given the chance to make a wish for anything in the world, and I mean anything- power, money, retribution, the ability not to speak like a stereotypical 40's mobster- you waste it by having me perform the ludicrous, unrealistic task of channeling the founder of your nation- a woman with a sickeningly forced pun for a name, none the less!"
"Watch your mouth, ya mook. That spiritual mumbo-jumbo's as real as you or me and I've seen it with my own eyes when my Rayfa does her dance of devotion, or when Snow Shit here would channel spirits to keep my viper of a wife in power." Inga states, glaring at Amara who continues to lie on the ground.
"Why do you think the Holy Mother's face is never shown or why her name isn't known to anyone outside of the royal family? For if her spirit's channeled, she'll bestow the first person she sees limitless spiritual power, granting them all those things you said and more- except the part about not speaking like a gangster. That's actually pretty fun and was one of the few pleasures I had in my hell of a marriage." The Minister states with a grin.
"Inga…" Amara sternly, yet softly, states, raising her hand towards the Minister of Justice in a futile attempt to appeal to his merciful side. "You must listen to me! The Holy Mother… There is a good reason why we made channeling her no easy feat, one that doesn't involve power!"
"Ha! That's rich, coming from you!" Inga scoffs with a venomous tone. "Your family has been running hotshot over our nation- making it a matriarchy where women are revered and the most a man can get from life is being a priest or a sad puppet to your kin- by riding on the coattails of your spiritually-powerful ancestor. Hell, you're no better than that Paul Atishon mook that I was working for me. Sure, he was an arrogant, greedy, cowardly, narcissistic bastard, but at least he didn't try to cover up the fact that the power he had was given to him, unlike you..."
"Inga, I will admit that the Holy Mother is an all-powerful being who is more than capable of doing what you have described to Mr. Gavin an more, but there is a much darker side to Her history that is only known by the queens of our nation and no other- a history that, if revealed to the public, would lead to the end of our fair nation. The Holy Mother is-"
"Save the melodrama for someone who hasn't been repeatedly sodomized by your sister, Amara!" Inga snarls before directing his attention to Kristoph. "Get on with it, Gavin! Force her to channel the Holy Mother!"
"Granted." Kristoph groans, disgruntled by the fact that he can't turn the Minister of Justice's wish against him, before snapping his fingers.
Suddenly, Amara is engulfed in a green ball of energy as dark clouds fill the sky, blocking out the sun and casting the area into utter darkness as numerous bolts of green lightning strike the ground around the two maniacal men.
"What the hell are ya doing, Gavin!" Inga yells over the roar of thunder with wide eyes filled with fear, which are quickly met with a glare from Kristoph who has used his powers to surround himself with a barrier for protection.
"None of this is my design! I only did what you asked, Minister!" The demented host of Debauched Steel responds with a tone of frustration. "If you want to blame something for the current mayhem, look no further than the freakish religion of your twisted, backwater nation!"
Then, as quickly as they began, the lightning and thunder cease while the sky remains dark, followed by the ball of light diminishing to reveal Amara back on her feet and her legs unrestrained. However, Her Merciful's appearance is not as it was.
Her hair, normally a pleasant shade of lavender light enough in shade to be mistaken for the pure white of the first snow of winter, is now a tone of black so dark that it would appear that no light could escape. Her eyes, once a warm, inviting teal, have been morphed into cold, desolate, glowing emerald green that could bore holes in one's soul with the intensity of their glare. And while her frame remains completely unchanged, Amara's body now radiates a bright green aura of abundant spiritual power as her regular markings have been altered to simply a small red flower on the center of her forehead.
"Who has freed us from the Twilight Realm?" A loud, booming voice demands in a tone that manages to send shivers down even the Coolest Defense in the West's spine, though he would never admit it.
"I have, Your Holiness." Inga proclaims, smirking as he leans forward while chomping down on his cigar stamp to look as imposing as possible. "Now make with your side of the deal and give me my spiritual powers, see!"
"And why in our name would we do that?" The Holy Mother asks.
"It says right in the Founder's Orb's riddle that you're obligated to give immense spiritual power to the person who had you channeled. Now get on with it! I'm not getting any younger here- at least not after Ga'ran took 20 years off my life!"
"We owe you nothing, worm." The Holy Mother growls, her eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. "Be grateful that we are feeling generous since you freed us from our prison, otherwise we would have already struck you down for your insolence!"
"Listen here, Unholy Hag, I don't care who in Ga'ran's palace you think you are!" Inga snarls, squeezing and nearly snapping his cigar stamp in in two with his ironclad grip. "I spent 27 years married to your cold, bitchy, sex-crazed sadist of a descendant who made every waking moment of my life a living hell! So I demand that you compensate me for all the crap that your family has put me through with spirit powers, a heartfelt apology, and a muffin basket, or I won't hesitate to send ya right back to where ya-"
Inga is interrupted as the Holy Mother raises her right hand, causing it, as well as her eyes, to glow a bright green as she absorbs Inga's soul, appearing in the form of a blue mist, into her body, leaving the Minister's corpse cold and lifeless as it falls face down on the ground.
"Unimpressive and disappointing- your soul feels just like how Ga'ran described you in her prayers to us, Inga." The Holy Mother sneers.
"What have I unleashed…?" Kristoph whispers to himself, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he witnesses just what the founder of Khura'in is capable of.
"And what do we have here?" The Holy Mother purrs, a sinister grin forming on her face as she directs her attention to the host of Debauched Steel. "Your soul… You are no ordinary being, are you?"
"Perceptive. But that trait won't do much for you where you're going." Kristoph remarks with a snap of his fingers in an attempt to send the Holy Mother's spirit back to the Twilight Realm, but is shocked to find that she is unaffected by his powers.
"What is the meaning of this? Why aren't my powers working?" Kristoph asks himself in frustration as he repeatedly snaps his fingers, only managing to make the Holy Mother utter a haughty, refined, yet unsettling, giggle.
"You foolish woman…" The Holy Mother sneers.
"Woman!?" Kristoph yells as he glares daggers at the founder of Khura'in.
"We are a being beyond this world- one that has mastered the living, the dead, and everything in between!" The Holy Mother boasts with outstretched arms. "Your meager abilities are like a light breeze to us. However, while they are useless against us, that does not mean that they are not of use for us."
Before Kristoph can react, the Holy Mother absorbs his soul as she did with Inga, causing her aura become larger and brighter as she gains the powers to bend reality belonging to the host of Debauched Steel.
"Yes…" The Holy Mother hisses, slowly clenching her fist as she savors her newfound powers coursing through her body. "With these new powers, combined with our unmatched spiritual abilities, nothing will stop us this time from conquering this world!"
Clapping her hands together, the Holy Mother floats into the air as she begins absorbing the souls of all the contestants killed during the Debauched Steel demolition derby before proceeding to use Kristoph's powers to morph the entire planet's surface into the mountainous landscape of Khura'in, covering the skies in foreboding clouds and spreading the current darkness to all corners of the globe.
"We are the Holy Mother, and we welcome you to out new world order!" The founder of Khura'in cackles as green lightning and thunder fill the sky and a large emerald palace resembling the one inhabited by Ga'ran, only bigger and more imposing, bursts forth and rises from the ground behind her.
A/N: I would like to thank JordanPhoenix for submitting the idea for this chapter. I would also like to give my most sincere thanks to everyone who has contributed ideas for this fanfic. And for those who have submitted ideas for characters who have yet to appear, I have read your suggestions and will integrate them with their respective characters to the best of my ability while also keeping to my vision.
