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| Official Summer of Sin '07 Cookout; Joint RP, every body may Read & Reply | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 21 2007, 01:25 PM (524 Views) | |
| Crimson Shards | Jul 21 2007, 01:25 PM Post #1 |
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(O.O.C. Note: Brought to you by Wight and Oni...and the letter I) Our scene is the sand filled desert that features very little else in the way of scenery, a few cacti here or there. It is a day that is similar to Hades, with the sun out and no clouds in the sky making it unholy in how warm it is at this point. Though, luckily the heat's edge is taken off just a little bit by a very gentle breeze that is blowing by. Off in the near by distance is the looming monstrous figure that is the city of Las Vegas, even in day light it bears an odd sort of glow to it. Another looming monstrous figure happens to be much closer, though not nearly as big as the city. It is the outdoor arena and seating for the up coming Full Intensity Wrestling event Summer of Sin, though the stage and ring are only partially set up. Near by it are several large white tents, each one containing some thing different than the one before it. The first contains press made up of wrestling magazines from around the globe and local news, the second tent contains food and beverages, and the third contains a make shift General Manager's office. Off to the side of all of this is a gigantic line of tour buses, every single one of them bears the FIW logo on each side of them. Presumably where all of the FIW wrestlers are staying for the time being and is their make shift locker rooms given the sign by them that read "FIW Wrestlers & FIW Authorized Personale Only". Each one is so massive it looks like they could easily house five or more wrestlers in it per tour bus. A steadily growing number of fans stands near the very end of the line, clearly some kind of fan gathering or meet and greet about to take place any minute now. The majority of FIW's staff along with the bikers hired to be security for this are hanging out near the tent that contains the food and drinks. Clearly it is the FIW workers break time by the way most of them look like they've been putting in some hours and are trying to relax. While a few of them shoot the breeze with a few of the bikers and most of the bikers are just huddled around themselves talking in circles. Every one looks to be enjoying themselves over all, aside from two lurking figures in the shadows of the tent. These two are quite the odd couple, one of them being hulking and a mountain of a man if there was ever such a thing. While the other is clouded in a cloak and a coat, giving his form a very vague ideal of what its true form really is, though he's quite a bit shorter than his friend. One of the bikers leaves his little inner circle to walk up to them, and looking rather laid back about it despite these two's appearance. His eyes flick upward to scan Lazaro's towering figure for a moment behind his sun glasses before focusing in on the other man. Garbonzo: You wanted to see me, brother? FIW's General Manager stares blankly at the biker in front of him for a few moments before gradually he starts nodding his head. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Yes… kssshhhhhk... I wanted to thank you for your assistance…kssshhhhhk... A gloved hand rips through the shroud that is his cloak and motions to the entire set up that FIW has out here. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... All of this wouldn't have been as easily done… kssshhhhhk... without your help in finding men for security and to be extra roadies…kssshhhhhk... The friend of Graver waves his hands and shakes his head a few times. Garbonzo: Don't even mention it, you've given us drinks and some grub for our services plus are paying us. As far as I'm concerned, we're squared brother. Lightly and in a friendly manner the biker gives the General Manager a pat on the shoulder, causing Krähe's attention to be drawn to the hand. Garbonzo: Just make sure you look after Graver for me, he may not hang with me as much any more but he's still my bud. With that said Garbonzo waltz away from the duo and back over to some of his biker buddies, striking up conversation. A few of the bikers are distracted by the appearance of a man in white face paint wearing a crimson red trench coat walking by. Lazaro: ...He's a strange man, sir. The Chief of Security says this as he looks down at the man he serves beside him. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Yes… kssshhhhhk... Yes he is…kssshhhhhk... The two continue to watch others mingle as more and more FIW wrestlers start filtering out from their assigned buses... |
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| Jo | Jul 21 2007, 05:20 PM Post #2 |
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Worst One
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One door pushes itself open as Stan places one foot down on the metal steps and keeps the other in the bus. With both arms extended outwards as if trying to look like a certain legend killer. Though the gut gives him away as the fat ass Stan Stevens. Stan: Bright light city gonna send my soul--huh? Stan's eyes open for the first time and he is instantly forced to squint them back down momentarily. When he becomes more accustomed to the bright sun, Stan steps off the bus and looks around. Sand, sand, and more sand. Oh, and a giant arena set up. But even that is surrounded by sand. Stan walks forward slowly almost tripping over the fact that his feet are practically buried beneath him. Steadying himself, Stan decides to remain still to get a better view of the surrounding area. Crackerjack walks off the bus behind him and looks around as well. He is certainly not dressed for such an occasion. His long black leather jacket and dark pants attract the light giving the big behemoth more heat than he can stand. He tries not to show it though as he walks past Stan and a crimson trench coat wearing man, more towards the arena. Stan: They'd build an arena in this? Crackerjack turns around and looks at Stan through his dark mask which, like the coat and pants, does not react well in this amount of sunlight. Stan just stands there shaking his head in disbelief of what presents itself in front of him. Stan: At least your get together had a pool. And grass. Stan kicks the sand that has piled over his feet into the air. Stan: GRASS!!! It seems that even the state of Nevada is against Stan as it's casual breeze sends the loose sand towards his open, screaming mouth. Coughing a little, Stan desperately tries to remove the wayward sand from his tongue. Crackerjack, on the other hand, walks back towards the bus to sit in its shade before attempting to go back out into the heat once more. After a few more spits, Stan waves his hands to the bus and begins to walk to the other side of it. He's still pretty damn pissed about his sand experience but it soon changes when he sees what he sees. His eyes glow like the radiant city before him. A small twinkle appears in the corner of his welling up eyes. It's beautiful to Stan. So beautiful that it can't be expressed through words. Instead, he drops down to his knees crying as he shoots his arms out towards the very city of sin before him. After a little while of crying, Stan looks up again with a few whimpers, but when he sees the lights he can't help but break out like a baby again. Crackerjack, not really shocked by his behavior, rests his head on the side of the bus and lets out a relaxing sigh. Crackerjack: Why did he come here? Chester: So you could ditch him. Shaking his head, Crackerjack turns and finds Chester leaning through the closed bus window looking down at him. Chester: Look at him. Crackerjack takes the advice and turns his attention towards the sniffling Stan who still openly weeps a the sight of Las Vegas. It gets to the point now that he needs to cover his eyes from it's radiant, yet angelic (to him at least), glow. Chester: He's so fat that he would waste away to nothing after a few hours alone in the desert. So we just have to send him on his merry way after the event, because he's not going anywhere before that since he's bought himself a ticket, and pray that no one offers him a ride. Send him out saying you say a talking camel or whatever. Crackerjack: Well, I'd love to get rid of him...but kill him? Chester: Man, you were never like that when-- Crackerjack: Shut up! Chester smiles down at the irate Crackerjack who stares upwards at him. Crackerjack knows exactly what he's talking about, and it's not something he likes to discuss openly. Especially with his closest confidant. Chester: You never know. He might get picked up by some Mexicans or something. He'll be okay. Crackerjack: I'm still not sure... Stan: STOP *sniff* BEING SO *sniff* BEAUTIFUUUUUULLlll! Crackerjack: So this camel...does he have a hat? Chester smiles down at him as Stan continues weeping at the very sight of the city. Still. |
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| Wigumoto | Jul 21 2007, 05:36 PM Post #3 |
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NPC
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Ah Las Vegas. Shiny, sparkly Las Vegas. Where aging lounge singers go to die. Where a man can arrive with nothing and leave with everything. It’s a city of dreams, be them of winning big, of rubbing shoulders with the stars or of doing a hooker in a cheap motel room. Las Vegas has it all. So why are we in the middle of the stinking desert? Seriously, it’s like ninety degrees out here. Of course, the heat doesn’t bother everyone, those born of Australian/Mexican ancestry for example. Surely that’s a breed cut out for this kind of blistering heat. And it would seem so too as we are graced by the presence of the one and only La Lesbiana Fan-TAS-tica! She skips off one of the oversized novelty tour busses and throws her arms out in a mighty stretch. Apparently she’s just got up. Perhaps she was up all night playing the slots…if you know what I mean, wink, wink. Anyway, she skips off the bus with a smile on her masked face and takes in a deep breath of desert air. Strangely, a near by man wearing a crimson shaded trench coat looking in her direction when she takes that deep breath. Ahh, refreshing. Nothing like getting up at the crack of noon. Of course since she’s just got up she’s going to be feeling a bit peckish. She scratches her rumbling stomach and surveys the scene for any signs of food. What’s this? A cook-off? Well it looks like she got up at just the right time. She sets off toward the smell of food, and suddenly feels a tad uncomfortable as she finds herself amidst what seems to be some kind of biker reunion tour. Lustful eyes trace her bronzed flesh as she walks through the camp. Lesbiana: Urgh. Where are all the biker chicks? She wonders to herself as she tries to ignore their stares. Biker: Hey, chica! Come wrestle wit’ me some time. Not the most poetic of pick up lines but then what do you expect. Lesbiana turns her head to glance at the offending biker, and also flip him the bird. Lesbiana: Get bent, Fonzy! Rather then offend him her comment only seems to make him laugh. Apparently he likes a girl with attitude. This little distraction however has drawn Lesbiana’s eyes away from her path, and causes her to walk right into the back of…someone. Lesbiana: Ooof! Hey! Watch it ya… She trails off as she looks up and takes in the imposing figure of FIW’s General Manager, Krähe. Lesbiana: Erm, I mean, hey boss! A sheepish grin flashes from behind her mask as her boss glances down at her, his Darth Vader like breathing sending chills down her spine. Fearing that she may have pissed him off, and that he may have Sith like powers, she tries an old distraction trick she once learned from a guy named Ben...something. She waves her hand and says… Lesbiana: Erm, this isn’t the lesbian your looking for. Without being able to see his face it’s hard to tell if that worked, so just to be on the safe side she tries an even older distraction trick. She points behind him and yells… Lesbiana: Oh my God! Is that a wookie!? …and legs it toward the food. |
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| Lita Maivia | Jul 22 2007, 02:37 AM Post #4 |
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Legend
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While Lesbian does her best to evade Obi Wan Krahe (yes, I know nothing about Star Wars), her Summer of Sin opponent finally makes it onto the scene. Did she come from the tour buses? Did she just arrive at the desert in her own transportation? We don’t know. What we do know, is she’s still not in a mood to be messed with. And she’s looking fab-u-lous! Dressed for the temperature ahead, Jaime has opted for a red tube top (which is nothing more than a strapless red bikini top) and flowing black skirt. The rest of her legs are covered with knee high spiked heel black boots and fishnet stockings. Those heels carry her across the desert, through the mass of people (ignoring the comments biker dude throws in her direction and the man with face paint that walks in front of her) and directly to one of the many tables set up for FIW autograph signings. This one obviously has a Jaime Lee logo plastered on the front of the table and on a stand behind the chair so everyone knows where to go for their right signing. The heated hellcat takes her seat and pulls the chair into the table. She crosses her legs under the table and then props her elbows up on the table. Did I mention she has a companion sitting to her left (and to her right but we aren‘t paying attention to whoever that may be yet)? She does. It’s J.J. How low does she rate? Sat next to a referee for an autograph signing? Then again, at least he used to wrestle and has held a championship. And he’s her bud, so lay off! J.J.: Where have you been? Jaime holds her fingers out for the international “stop right there” sign. It can also be used as the “don’t go there” gesture. Either way, she slowly curls her fingers back up into that tightly clenched fist. Jaime: I didn’t have a good night. And I don’t really feel like talking about it. J.J.: Um, okay. But you might want to try at least putting on a smile for the fans? Jaime takes a deep breath and fakes a big ole smile. J.J. isn’t impressed. Actually, the “smile” brings a frown to the referee’s face. J.J.: Jay? Jaime sighs and the “smile” turns upside down into a frown. She drops her arms down onto the table before craning her head in his direction. Jaime: What am I supposed to do, J? I can’t even think straight right now after everything that happened. And everything that’s going on. J.J.: Are you still hung up on what XK did to you? Jaime, I don’t know what’s going on between you two but you have to let it go. Whaaaaat?! Jaime is appalled at this notion. Jaime: Let it go? Let it go?! How am I supposed to let THIS go?! Jaime holds her right hand up, showing a cut on her palm. Now it’s J.J.’s turn for his eyes to nearly pop out of his head. She actually has physical harm on her? This isn’t emotional? Granted, the “injury” is nothing severe and is already closing up. But it’s the principle here. J.J. grabs her hand and inspects it closer. J.J.: Did this happen when you fell? That bastard! Jaime jerks her hand away, apparently not thrilled with XK being called a bastard. What the heck does she want her? Sympathy for herself or XK? I don’t understand her. Jaime: It’s not even all that important. It’s just… if he can hurt me… She takes a look around at their surroundings. She is checking to see if anyone can overhear this, in case you’re wondering. Nope. Coast is all clear. Jaime: How can I go into this Trial By Wire match with my BFF and… what if she hurts me too? This is a dangerous match, J! And I wasn’t worried about it at first because, well Lesbiana’s my BFF. But if XK can hurt me, after everything we’ve shared together… Jaime starts to stare off into space as she speaks. J.J.’s brow furrows with both intrigue and concern at Jaime actually hinting at the rumored illicit affair between herself and Dual Crown Champion. The concern probably comes from the new information hinting that XK hurts her. Jaime: I don’t know. This match with Lesbiana has changed so much in just twenty-four hours. I was so excited to finally go one-on-one with her. To show everybody an awesome and fun match. But Trial By Wire… and now I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore. She shakes her head solemnly, glancing up to check and make sure the fans haven’t been given the go ahead to flood the autograph booths. So far, all clear. So for now, Jaime keeps her grim expression and all her worries weighing on her shoulders. J.J. takes on a similar expression, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. His only form of comfort since he’s at a loss for words, at least for the moment. |
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| Jo | Jul 22 2007, 02:45 AM Post #5 |
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Worst One
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Crackerjack opens his eyes after dozing off for a couple of hours. He blinks a couple times and finds that the shade is no longer in his favor. Therefore, he is blinded for a quick moment and is damn near overheated because of the sun. Pushing himself against the bus, Crackerjack begins to stand up where he lets out a big stretch. As he does, he looks to where Stan was. Keyword; was. No longer seeing him there, Crackerjack looks around to see if he could spot him. Crackerjack only spots the man in face paint wearing the trench coat out of the ordinary lot. Chester soon wakes up on top of the bus and begins to look around. Sitting up becomes his first task as he looks around at all the goings on surrounding him. One of these things is Crackerjack looking around. Rolling off the bus, Chester falls face first into the heated sand. But does he feel the heat? Kinda hard to tell as Chester props himself back up to his feet. Chester: What's up? He doesn't get a response from Crackerjack who continues to walk around. Not run, he's a little heated to do something like that. After watching him for a little while, Chester finally finds spots that Stan isn't on his knees before the city. His eyes widen and begin to water up as a small sparkle takes the corner of his eye. Dropping to his knees, Chester begins doing what Stan was doing only moments earlier; weep in happiness. Chester: Oh thank god. He's gone. Crackerjack stops long enough to question Chester's statement of praise towards the very deity he'll likely bad mouth later on. Crackerjack: Yea, but where? Chester: Who cares! A passing stagehand hears what Crackerjack was saying and figures that he was talking about his friend. Is it a convenience that he figured that? I'm no psychologist, I'm just a guy trying to tell a story. Stagehand: Hey, man, that dude is like out there. Crackerjack turns towards the stagehand. A teenager who was only there to make money for dates with his girlfriend or whatever. A red cap turned around, white t-shirt and black shorts with a bottle of water clipped to a belt. His hair was longer than most females on the roster and his complexion...well, let's just say the guy should stay away from chocolate for, let's see, the rest of his life. Crackerjack: What? Stagehand: Huh? Oh, yea...he like just got up and walked, man. With that, the stagehand hears his name being called and turns after giving Crackerjack a wave. Clearly, the kid couldn't be a fan or else he'd be all star struck at someone his age to be surrounded by so many athletes in the FIW. Instead, his casual demeanor suggests that he is in fact only there to be paid. Enough about him though, he's gone. Crackerjack turns back to where Stan was and thinks for a moment. Finally it hits him. Two possibilities. Either he couldn't stand the sight any longer and ran the opposite direction into the desert, which would be a plus in Chester's book. Or he's gone to the very city he's set his sights on which would be a plus in Crackerjacks book. Probably Chester's. Chester: A speech? I-I'm not prepared. Oh, there's just too many to thank. Satan, for one. Probably Chester's. Crackerjack looks into the desert towards the city and catches a black spec off in the distance. Gotta be Stan. Relieved, a little, Crackerjack decides that it's best to leave Stan to his own life. His own life. ???: Jackie-kins? Crackerjack, having never heard that name before, instantly turns. Maybe he just heard "jack" and figured it was Suzy coming in. Big mistake as Crackerjack spots Rebecca Hunter running towards him. Clearly dressed for the weather in a short light blue bikini top and what looks like a sheet tied around her hips, Rebecca runs up to Crackerjack. What's really freaky is that she doesn't trip. She runs with such light feet in this instance that it's like she's running on short, dry grass. A smile on her face as she lunges towards Crackerjack into a hug with such force that she ends up spinning Crackerjack to face the other side. Rebecca: Oh my god, it's been like too long! Crackerjack: Huh? Chester: You almost fucked her. It was around the time you thought Lane had the hots for you. ... She tried to remove your mask. Crackerjack turns towards Chester. Crackerjack: Huh? Rebecca tightens her grip on Crackerjack and buries the side of her head deep against his chest. Rebecca: Oh, Jackie-kins, I know when we departed last time it was on bad tersm and we both said things that were hurtful... Rebecca pushes her face away from Crackerjacks chest to look up into the red stain on his mask. Rebecca: But I can forgive you. Crackerjack: Huh? Still shocked, Crackerjack tries to piece together just what happened the last time they were together. He remembers a room, Hunter trying to remove his mask, and things she said. He remembers she said something...but can't recall what. Frankly, he never really cared enough about her to even try and remember. But he tries to make something up when he notices Rebecca looking up at him with her doe like eyes. Crackerjack: Oh...yea, well...yea, that's great. Rebecca: That's so cool! Rebecca goes to hug Crackerjack again as he looks towards Chester who motions with his head that it's time...to...RUN! Crackerjack nods and is going to say good bye, but decides to just shove her aside instead. Running deep into the desert, Crackerjack doesn't look back. Hunter, on the other hand, tries to catch up with him but stops. Rebecca: Jackie-kins, I can't run through this! I'll get sand in my shoes! Crackerjack doesn't respond to her yelling as he continues running. Not knowing where he's going, he finds that he is coming closer to-- Stan: Hey guy. Crackerjack stops in front of Stan...well, five meters away from Stan. Looking over his shoulder, Crackerjack can still see Rebecca standing by his bus waiting for him to return. Looking back at Stan, he realizes that it'll be harder to lose him if he follows him. That's when he notices Chester walking towards the city. Chester: It's a big city. maybe we can lose 'em both. Crackerjack can feel the reluctance in his voice. Even he isn't sure that it's true or not. Crackerjack takes another look over his shoulder at a possible waving Rebecca before turning back towards Stan who offers a smile. Crackerjack shakes his head and steps towards Stan who throws his arm over his friend. Stan: I knew you'd want to come with. Crackerjack again looks over his shoulder but decides it's best to go to the city. It is large and chances are high that he can still ditch Stan there. Therefore, he looks back towards the city. The city of sin; Las Vegas. |
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| Willie | Jul 22 2007, 07:43 PM Post #6 |
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-=Badd Breed=-
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Next off of one of the tour buses happens to be the Prince of Pain himself, Nightmare, immediately shielding his eyes from the heat once the big man is off the bus. He's apparently decided not to wear any black clothing until he absolutely has to, sporting a white tanktop and blue jean shorts, a watch around his wrist and a dark purple baseball cap, worn backwards. His green eyes scan the arena setup, Nightmare remembering this setup from a couple of years ago as he competed at the last Summer of Sin that was held out here, but this time...This time the stakes were much, much higher. This time he had a chance not only to help The Revolution get their final revenge against the Tanaka Zaibatsu, but also to help The Revolution regain their Tag Team Championships...and redeem himself for submitting in the first place. He had to redeem himself, he thought quietly. The blame sat squarely on his shoulders as far as he was concerned, submitting to the Blondiegatame which lost them the Championships in the first place. It had seemed like the Zaibatsu knew how to get The Revolution every step of the way, how he and Grant always seemed to play right into their hands. Nightmare (thinking to himself): Not this time, though. Nightmare smiled to himself, walking over to his autograph table (so artfully noted by the Neverwinter Eye hanging off the front of the table) as he thought about how this was the right time, the right place to get his revenge, to help Grant get his revenge. On his way to the table bumping shoulders with a man in face paint and wearing a red trench coat, the man keeps walking not giving him the chance to say any thing. It was in his mind still so freshly, the mist being sprayed in his eyes and in the eyes of his ex-manager Chris Sanders, nearly being blinded for life, being screwed out of a couple matches with the Zaibatsu thanks to the underhanded tactics of Daisuke Tanaka, all the attacks after The Revolution's matches...It would end here, finally, whether Revolution left with the belts or not. He also had to worry about the Team with No Name, too. He was aware that Ash and 'Jacko had his back, but at the same time he knew they were competitors first and foremost, therefore they'd be trying their damnedest to become the Tag Team Champions, too. Nightmare sighed now as he sat down, opening a box and exhuming a stack of 8x10 glossies and another stack of t-shirts, setting them on either side of him. One way or another The Revolution was gonna' have to ruin somebody's party. One thing he wanted to know, was where the hell Priest was. He has been almost non-existent ever since Priest helped the Revolution last week. Nightmare looked around now, especially focusing on the buses as he waited for the fans to arrive, talking to himself a little bit. Nightmare: "C'mon, Priest...Show up. I have a few questions for you, that I need answered if I want my brain to be anywhere near clear...Why'd you help us? What are you gaining from it? And why are you here?" All of his questions, and maybe more, he hoped would be answered soon. For now though, it was time to pander to his fans, which he joked often was his favorite part of the job. |
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| Crimson Shards | Jul 22 2007, 09:13 PM Post #7 |
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Both the General Manager and the Chief of Security watch the masked lesbian bolt for the food tent as fast as her little legs can carry her. Neither falling for the trick that an actual living and breathing Wookie was any where within the near by area. Gently Krähe shakes his head in what might just be embarrassment over the fact that he actually hired that person at one point. The man formerly known as the skull cowboy looks down at his master that is still standing beside him and cocks his head to the side. Lazaro: ...She's a strange woman, sir. In mid-shake the General Manager starts nodding his head, his hand disappearing back into the nothingness abyss that is his cloak. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Yes… kssshhhhhk... Yes she is…kssshhhhhk... The hulking undead warrior looks back up towards where La Lesbiana Fantastica ran off to. Lazaro: ...Do you wish that I crush her, my master? Abruptly the enigmatic figure pauses and actually seems to consider the thought of having one of his wrestlers crushed by his massive muscle. Though, in the end he waves his hand in a manner to signal he doesn't and that Lazaro can relax. The duo remain standing in the shade under the tent, looking like two wall flowers at a party or some thing similar. FIW's General Manager watching an odd man in face paint walking by, shrugging it off as if he mistook him for some one for a moment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Upon entering the tent, La Lesbiana Fantastica would find, besides it being full of people, that it is a eater's paradise. Nearly an entire row of barbeques and other items of cooking food on, steam hiding just who the cooks are that is managing the food. Every thing from traditional American food to Mexican to Chinese and Japanese cruisine and even rice in a rice cooker is there. Suddenly a scream on the brink of insanity and sounding distinctly foreign rings out and a clattering of metal objects is heard. With all of this commotion some of the steam starts to blow away, revealing a familiar face (least to the luchador). Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [Stupid! You don't handle the meat like that you good for nothing drunk!] A middle aged Japanese man stands behind them, his attire making him look like he just walked off of the set of the Iron Chef. Threateningly he shakes a butcher knife at whoever he is yelling at, his few other helpers scattering while they can. ??????: I...*hic* Can't understand...*hic* you when you talk like that! Whoever is yelling back sounds like he's gotten an early start on getting wasted out of his mind today. Shokumotsu doesn't take kindly to his low level helpers yelling at him in his own kitchen clearly, because he throws the butcher knife at the man's head. As the blade cuts through the air to behead the drunk, more steam is pushed back revealing as he ducks down... Thomas Moore: You're nuts! *hic* If I didn't need this job I'd tell Herrrrrr Krähe right now that you tried to kill me! *hic* I used to run TNT with Madison Lee you know! I ran it god da-*hic*-mn it! Much like all the other helpers, Thomas Moore is wearing an outfit similar to the Grandmaster's just not quite as impressive looking. Sadly, or perhaps luckily for him, Shokumotsu's attention turns to one of his other helpers screwing some thing up. The grandmaster chef storming down the path way screeching out Japanese curse words as he goes along. Leaving the poor drunk and former commentator to attend to the various foods cooking on the near end of the food set up, and leaving him to be the one La Lesbiana Fantastica must deal with... (O.O.C. Note: Words in [] = spoken in Japanese.) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eventually the referee's arm starts to tire out from all of the pictures and posters, and many other items he is signing. To a few disappointed groans, mostly from female fans, J.J. takes a break and just sits behind Jaime Lee as she continues on. For a few moments that is all he does, watching her sign various things and silence falling between the two of them. A thoughtful look on his face as he mulls over some thing in his mind, finally after a while deciding on some thing and leaning back in his chair. J.J.: Hey Jay, I know you have a lot on your mind with every thing going on right now, and I'm not the best when it comes to advice...But, I'd say don't let it get to you too badly. For a moment it looks like that might be it, but J.J. decides better and decides to say a bit more. J.J.: It's a pretty dangerous business, wrestling that is, and some times you can get hurt even by those close to you. Heck, I got my nose broken by... The light hearted mood in his voice and on his features goes flat for a moment as he tries to decide what exactly to refer to that man as. J.J.: ...Some one close and it took me out of it completely. And sure, some times things happen and those we thought we could trust end up hurting us the worst. It's apparent the former wrestler is starting to have trouble finding the words, and scratches the back of his head as he leans further back. J.J.: But, not being able to trust any body, keeping every one at a distance from yourself...That's not really living. Least, that's not a life worth living in my opinion. With a small thud the front legs to his chair plops back down onto the floor and he cracks a smirk, patting the Hellcat on the arm. J.J.: Besides, just remember how cute of a gigantic outer space robot Bumble Bee was in the movie and that should bring a real smile back to your face. Partially he is joking about that, though it would seem he does think to some degree Bumble Bee was cute in the Transformers movie they saw with Ninja. |
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| Lita Maivia | Jul 22 2007, 09:38 PM Post #8 |
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Legend
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With the autograph signing under full swing, Jaime’s pen never seems to stop moving. She manages to produce a half real smile for all of her fans, making small chit-chat when it seems necessary. Otherwise, letting them just babble incoherently about meeting her. And then the women and children seem excited too. Through all this, Jaime manages to listen to every encouraging word J.J. speaks to her. And from all of that… she picks out one thing that’s so important she has to respond. Jaime: You had your nose broken? Is that why it looks like that? Huh. Those aren’t so much questions than Jaime concluding that is indeed why it looks like “that”. J.J. subconsciously reaches to his nose, wondering what she means by it looking like “that”. But he never actually comes out and asks, probably because he doesn’t want to know if it’s a bad thing. Jaime: How am I supposed to just not let it get to me? I mean, if you care about someone you don’t hurt them. It’s not about the business. It’s about life. If you love someone, you don’t do things like that to them. Love? J.J. has all forgotten about his nose and it looking like “that” when he hears this. He perks up, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Is she trying to say that she and XK love each other? J.J.: Are you-- He doesn’t get to ask the question though because a group of young men in their early 20s come up to the table, hooting and hollering their excitement. Jaime grins at the reaction, taking all of their glossy promotional photos and signing them. Neither notices a man wearing a trench coat getting near their booth from the side of it, his features covered in face paint. J.J. opens his mouth to try again, just as Jaime turns towards him. Jaime: Besides, I’m not so sure I want to care about people who would intentionally hurt me. Regardless of the reason. J.J.: I understand that, but Jay-- Jaime: No buts. How are you supposed to love someone who can hurt you? How is that even possible? The question cuts J.J. deeper than Jaime realizes. So deep in fact, he has moved on from Jaime’s possible hint that she and XK are more than just fooling around in the showers. J.J.: The heart wants what the heart wants. You can try to change it all you want, but it doesn’t always listen. The words nearly take Jaime’s breath away. Hitting too close to home, maybe? She finally exhales, almost in a huff as if she isn’t happy hearing this truth. Guess it really does hurt. Finally she turns away from him, turning her bright and cheery expression to more fans. J.J. opts not to press it anymore and returns to his own fangirls. |
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| Dai | Jul 23 2007, 09:42 AM Post #9 |
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Captain SPARKLE~!!!
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There is, it seems, a clown in the queue to see Nightmare; juggling to pass the time; but not balls, or even bowling pins or even flaming chainsaws, because as all good jugglers know, it is so much harder when the three items are different. In this particular case, it's made even harder by the fact that cigarillos don't fly particularly well. Cigar cases do, and sliver plated lighters do, but not cigarillos. This juggling act brings the attention of a man with ghostly features thanks to face paint, who is wearing a crimson trench coat. Anyway, it's just enough to pass the time, and as he reaches the front of the queue, he catches the cigarillo in his mouth, and the cigar case flat on the back of his hand to slide it into the breast pocket of his creamy white [with red pinstripes. Always pinstripes;] jacket. He looks at a child, possibly a teenager, with an older brother and says to him, in a harsh drawl: ???: Wha'sa matter, kid? Ain't ya never seen a real wrassler before? The Juggler is, of course, Mr. Blond, quiff and all; with his lighter about to bring fire to his thin cigar. He does, however have a better idea, and holds up long enough to get to the front of the queue whereupon it would seem that he wants an autographed picture, which he waves in his face. Mr. Blond: Can ya have it say "Dear Blondie, sorry Ah wasted ya taime at Summah o' Sin. Won't never happen 'gain; love from ya biggest fan; Long, Tall and Uhhh-gly." But not on the picture he's waving about. The picture he's waving about gets twisted up into a spill. It takes a bit of effort, but eventually it catches, and Mr. Blond uses it to light the cigarillo; taking a deep drag, sets the still burning picture on the table and blows steel-blue smoke into Nightmare's face... |
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| Mike DeWatt | Jul 23 2007, 10:43 AM Post #10 |
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Then, from out of the tourbuses comes another person. Are they glittering with sweat, amazing muscles shining in the Vegas sun, looking like some sort of Greek God? No...they're wearing a tweed jacket with a woolen V-neck sweater, shirt and a tie on, all in veyr unfashionable browny-green colours. He wears trousers of a similar nature, and black shoes. His sweat does not make him appear better...in fact he is quite profusely sweating. His face seems quite red. He has sunblock on his nose and almost stumbles out. It is of course Sir Colbert Tottington. Colbert: For Christ's sake, why are we in a desert?! General! Fan me! The General, comes out, also sweating a lot. In fact, he appears to be even hotter, seeming as his costume probably has more layers and is heavier. He is carrying a portable electric fan in his hands. General: Fan you sir? Yes, right away. He runs, half stumbling over to an FIW fan, grabs him, and quickly pulls him over to Colbert. General: Here, sir. Colbert: No! Fan me! With the fan! General: Fan you with the fan... The General then turns on the electric fan and hands it to the FIW fan. General: Walk with us and fan him! The two begin to walk towards the signing tables, being followed by this man and his fan. Confused yet? I bet you are... Colbert: Quickly find my chair on there. The General quickly stands in front of the table, looking at the name tags on the front. Quite a few of the seated wrestlers look up and him and roll their eyes. Near by the booths is a man with face paint on, the man raises an eyebrow to the presence of the General. He then spots it, right at the end of the table on the other side, where the fans are lined up. General: It's right at the other end, sir! Colbert: I can't make it all the way over there! And anyway, I deserve to be at the end, where the crowd can take pictures and so...so...so...on. General: Are you alright, sir? Colbert: It's this damn heat! Colbert quickly sits down at the nearest chair to him. Colbert: That's better. Who's seat is this? General: Umm...Xtreme Kitten...sir... Colbert: Don't know the lad. Quickly swap our name tags before anyone comes along. And get me a drink. General: Yes sir. The General grabs the name tag and runs down the table, pushing past the fans getting their autographs signed. Colbert turns to the fan fanning him. Colbert: Who are you? Fan: I was told to fan you... Colbert: Why on Earth are you wearing a penis suit? Fan: ...What? Colbert: Why are you dressed as a penis? Is it a tribute to a favourite wrestler of yours? Dressing up as Nightmare is a hobby for you perhaps? The fan, wearing an Xtreme Kitten "I'm a cunt" shirt and jeans begins to look confused and worried as he holds the fan by Colbert. Just in time, the General arrives back with Colbert's name tag and a jug of water with ice in it. Colbert: It's about time, Terrance! General: Terrance? Colbert: I give you the dogs for a quick walk and next thing I know you're sleeping with a hussy in a barn. General: ...What sir? Fan: Umm I think the heat's gotten to him. He's...well basically he's lost it. Colbert: Lost it?! I didn't lose it! I parked my car right over...over...WHO STOLE MY CAR?! General: Sir we got here by coach, do you remember? Colbert: I bet it was that damn pirate. Thinks he can taunt me with his parrot...WELL I FED IT WITH MUSTARD! SEE HOW HE LIKES THAT!!! The General and the fan look at eachother worried... |
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| Token | Jul 23 2007, 03:28 PM Post #11 |
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Shaun Wilson
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Next to walk off the tour bus is one to the contenders for the Flycore title. It's Shaun Wilson decked out in nothing but some blue denim jeans and a pair of white tennis. He has a white towel draped over his shoulder in case he gets to sweating. A gleam can be seen from his necklace, skull belt, and wallet chain. Look's like someone's been spending some money on some bling. Shaun walks toward the set up for the wrestlers, receiving a mixed reaction from the fans. He notices a pack of nice looking girls and cracks a smile. They're all screaming for him to come take a picture with them. Their screams getting a roll of the eyes from a near by man wearing face paint and a trench coat. Female Fan: Shaun come and take pictures with me and my friends. We think your so sexy! Come hurry up please! And Mr. Wilson isn't the kind of guy to turn down hot girls. Shaun made his way over to them nonchalantly, as the crowded around him. Next a flash from the camera, as they all stay around him as he whips out a Sharpie. After signing a few photos he bids them goodbye as he makes his way back over to the setup. Shaun finally passes the waves of females as he nears the tent. He glances over and notices Krahe. Shaun smirks as he finds his space. It's full of live action shots, entrance photos, and Summer of Sin t-shirts. As takes his seat as fans start to pile in his line. I guess his recent surge has garnered him some fan support now. Shaun smirks as he begans signing photos. Flashes can be seen from cameras as fans snap shots of the pint-sized Texas bad boy. A little kid stands in front of Shaun with a picture in his hand. Little Boy: Mr. Shaun you are my favorite wrestler! I like it when you do that spinning backward flip thingy. Shaun hops up from his seat and poses with the kid as his mom takes the photo. He plops back down in his seat as he signs a t-shirt and hands it to him. All excited the kid hops around as his mom nods at Shaun. A few seats over, Shaun sees Colbert Tottington. He raises an eyebrow, because of the fan holding a fan. Shaun shrugs it off as he continues to sign autographs and pictures. |
[align=center] [/align]<center><select style="font-family: Tekton Pro; font-size: 10pt; background-color: 336699; font-weight: bold; color: ffff00"> <option style="color:ccccc">Full Intensity Wrestling's MVP</option> <option>NAME: Shaun Wilson</option> <option>HEIGHT: 6'1</option> <option>WEIGHT: 228 lbs</option> <option>HOMETOWN: Houston, Texas, now residing in NYC</option> <option>THEME SONG: Jay-Z "Thank You" <option>WRESTLING STYLE: Hybrid</option> <option>FINISHERS:</option> <option>- Watch The Throne - Electric Chair Driver</option> <option>- Fade To Black - Triangle Choke into Omo-Plata</option> <option>SIGNATURE MOVES:</option> <option>- Ode To Malenko</option> <option>- Texas Two Step</option> <option>- Shaun Wilson Express</option> <option>- Lone Star Splash</option> <option>QUOTE: GIVE ME HEAVEN, OR I'M GONNA RAISE HELL!</option> <option>TITLE HISTORY:</option> <option>- 1x FIW UNDISPUTED INTERNATIONAL CHAMP</option> <option>- 2x FIW FLYCORE CHAMP</option> <option>- 2x FIW TAG TEAM CHAMP</option> <option>- 1x FIW FIGHTING SPIRIT CHAMP</option> <option>- 1x UWF US CHAMP </option> <option>- 1x EWW TAG TEAM CHAMP</option> <option>- 1x EWW XXX/CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMP</option> <option>- 1x nCw X-DIVISON CHAMP</option> <option>- 2x nMw EUROPEAN CHAMP</option> <option>- 1x NPW TRANS-ATLANTIC CHAMP</option> Rosa Parks sat so Martin Luther could walk, Martin Luther walked so Barack Obama could run, Barack Obama ran so all the people could fly, so I'm gonna spread my wings, and i'll meet you in the sky [/align] | |
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| Willie | Jul 23 2007, 04:08 PM Post #12 |
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-=Badd Breed=-
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Nightmare seems not to recognize the smoke initially, although the offending odor is entering his nostrils he waves it away angrily, knocking the cinders from the ruined picture off the table and rises out of his chair, coming eye to eye with Mr. Blond with rage in his heart. However, though, he composes himself in front of his fans and spits these words through clenched teeth. Nightmare: "If you're the intelligent, upstanding human being you make yourself out to be, Blond, you're gonna' turn around and walk away from this table...right....now. Unless of course, you DON'T want to save your ass-kicking for tonight, when The Revolution is going to embarrass you and that rat Daisuke in front of a worldwide national audience, beat you from pillar to post and take our belts back on top of that. Or are you gonna' tuck and run from us the same way you and Momoko ran like the dogs you are from Priest last week?" He seems to either be waiting for Blondie to answer him, or for Blondie to get the hell out of his line so he can get back to his REAL fans, the ones he actually gives a damn about. ======================================================= Meanwhile, though, Nightmare's 'guest' shall we say finally arrives, Priest stepping off the bus clad in a grey muscle shirt that reads "IRELAND" across the front in dark green, camoflague shorts and a pair of temple-less black sunglasses, hiding those very unnerving grey eyes from the rest of the FIW world. He looks around, silently, possibly looking for the Tanaka Zaibatsu, mainly so he can ask them what spooked them so badly last week that they felt the need to cut their gang beatdown short and run through the crowd from him. All he can spot is a man in face paint that is for some ungodly reason wearing a trench coat in this weather. Priest: "By God's Grace, is it hot out here.." Priest mutters to himself, gently brushing a hand across his brow as he strolls forward, his white hair almost blindingly bright in the sun. He heads towards the tents now, a couple fans spotting him and waving to him, not really sure who he is as he hasn't wrestled yet but nevertheless they wave, Priest returns the wave as he finally makes it to the food tent, scoring himself a water bottle. God's Most Blessed Soldier now heads outside once again, taking a long drink from the bottle before looking around again...and finally his eyes fall on Mr. Blond, eye-to-eye with the man Priest rescued last week, Nightmare. Priest could only smile to himself. Priest: "Already startin' trouble, lad? And in front of the fanbase, too, no less...how very cheeky of you.." Priest now goes to stroll over to break up the impending fight, and brother, although we haven't seen him compete yet, he's plenty capable. |
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| Dai | Jul 23 2007, 08:17 PM Post #13 |
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Captain SPARKLE~!!!
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Nightmare's response is quite possibly the funniest thing that the Peroxide Outlaw has hear all month long. It certain sparks the loudest and longest guffawing that Blondie uses in lieu of a laugh that has ever been caught on an FIW camera. It passes... ... As I was saying, eventually, it passes, with the aid of a calming drag of the cigarillo, and the blowing of a few smoke rings. This process isn't much respite from Blondie's irritating laugh, because his jaw makes a clicking noise as he does it. It is a little change though, and can probably be counted as a good thing; at least when compared to the laugh. As proven by a man with his face painted looking towards them to try and find what the source of that noise was. Mr. Blond: Aww man, ya crack me up, ev'ry tahme. Upstandin', Ah aint, and Ah ain't never even pretended ta be tha', but Ah outsmart yew at ev'ry turn, don' Ah? Y'all not gon' gi' me mah autogra- He stops when he claps eyes on a certain Man of God, and reacts in a strange manner. With a smile. Mr. Blond: I's Yew! Tha Preachah Man. Looks'a lahke Ah beat ya ta some real gold then. None'a that tin-pot indy shit, we talkin' Tag Champs o' Tha World, bru. He spits the last word at Priest's feet, taking another deep drag, and letting it slowly out into Priest's face during the next sentence Mr. Blond: Ya see, Ah ran out on ya the'other day 'cause Ah want y'all in one piece, 'cause we still gotta li'l bit'a business ta sort out, or have ya forgetten ya old mate Blondie? 'Cause ya know, ya ol' man really cut up mah ol' man wi' some real harsh words, an' since he's vanished back ta the peat bogs a' Ahrlan', he ain't been able ta git his ret-ri-bew-shun. He's gettin' a li'l old these days, so he's gon' left it for me, one last favour to him, ya know; and since Ah don' much fancy beatin' up some enfeebled ol' man, Ah 'ken me 'n' yew gon' hafta resolve his matter ahselves at some point... He drags deep some more, motioning to Nightmare. Mr. Blond: 'Course ya don' mind if we's wait a week o' two, me an' this lumberin' wreck have gotta li'l business o' our own. Under this sad dee-lew-zhun tha' ahh belts are his, when Ah distinctly remember him tappin' on mah leg as a ges-chur o' submission. 'Course, once me an Ol' Dah-skay git him kicked lahka tha dog he is, then Ah'ma gon' be freed up ta settle mah 'count wi' yew... And you know, he's not leaving just yet... |
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| Willie | Jul 23 2007, 09:36 PM Post #14 |
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-=Badd Breed=-
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Nightmare's eyes are still alight with a bright fury at Mr. Blond's response, but has remained silent thus far since Priest, the man he's been looking for all this time, has finally appeared, it seems. Priest: "So...You're still as clever as you always have been with your excuses." Priest's eyes are hidden behind the glasses, yes, but his eyes behind them show a cold, smoldering hatred for Mr. Blond, remembering that the Peroxide Outlaw was indeed a thorn in his side in Tri-State Wrestling. Priest: "Settle your business with Nightmare tonight...IF...you are able, Blond. Because your job will be no easier once you are through and have to deal with me. He submitted to your hold, yes, he was the one you earned the fall over, yes, but it is time for him and his partner to earn some retribution, I feel, by perhaps making you submit in kind? Or perhaps...Nightmare cares little for the Tag Team Championships now, only for crippling you, only for shutting that foolish mouth of yours once and for all? I don't know, for I shan't speak for the man. He can show you himself EXACTLY what he aims to do to you, tonight." Priest looks behind Blond to Nightmare, a non-verbal note that yes, he is here, yes, he has been watching him. Nightmare remains like a black-and-purple Colossus, his face stern now, wanting to see what Priest will say next. Priest: "We have a lot of problems from the past that we have yet to settle thus far, aye, some of them having to do with that lecherous joke of a father of yours...perhaps it is unlucky for you that you are 'resolving his matter' for him, because I would much rather enjoy making him submit to the very hold my father could have easily made him submit to, to teach him a lesson never to cross the McConnaigh family, the patriarchs of Irish pro wrestling...I would have certainly loved to defeat your father, yes, one-on-one in the middle of the ring, just as I am supposed to. However, it seems I'm going to have to settle for the scraps." Priest gives Blond that sort of 'snooty look-you-up-and-down' glare as he says this, deserved of such a criminal the likes of Mr. Blond. Priest: "As for your 'request', I can easily wait a week or two, my friend...Retribution knows no time, knows all patience that it needs. All I can tell you is that when we do meet, it will be as exactly as we met when we were in Tri-State Wrestling together. You without a belt, myself, with something to prove. I will pray for you tonight, Blond, so enjoy yourself while you can. For I come to claim thee.." Priest touches Blond with his pointer finger, right in the middle of his chest, Blond straightening his tie afterward. There is a mysterious man wearing a crimson trench coat near by all of this making an almost "gagging" expression and rolling his eyes at Priest's little speech. Priest: "...Soon." Now what will Blond do? Will the Peroxide Outlaw respond with more of his tongue-in-cheek wit? Or will he finally get the hint and leave? |
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| Crimson Shards | Jul 24 2007, 07:10 AM Post #15 |
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Unregistered
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Before Mister Blond or any one else can react and speak, a massive hand lands on the shoulder of God's Most Blessed Soldier. This baseball glove sized hand belongs to the Chief of Security, the man formerly known as the skull cowboy. Those empty voids for eyes that are on his mask stare down at the tiny man in comparison known as Priest. His gaze leaving him briefly to give a chilling and stern masked look towards Nightmare and the Tanaka Zaibatsu's Hired Muscle. Lazaro: Gentlemen, this is meant to be time spent preparing for the battle ahead in any possible way you see fit to do so. It is also time set aside for the fans to meet and possibly hold a conversation with those that entertain them. It is not however a time for grown men to act like little children and get into pissing contests amongst themselves in public. Remember, your battle is inside that ring several feet away from where we are standing right now. Suddenly his hand's grip on Priest's shoulder tightens, to a painful degree that causes the newly signed wrestler to flinch slightly. Lazaro: I would also like to bring to your attention that Herr Krähe is willingly to strip you of your pay for your efforts on the pay per view...should you decide the need to make fools out of yourselves while representing our company. The tone Lazaro is using is a booming and commanding one, with a hint of a edge of threatening to it. Abruptly the skull cowboy releases his hold on God's Warrior, letting him finally no longer have to try and endure the pain and hold the extra weight up. Lazaro: So...do we have a problem still? There is a cheap air of pleasantness to this question, though really it is quite clear he is ready to dump all three men on their asses in a moment if needed. There are a few fans near by looking a bit frightened by the Chief of Security and even more wondering how such a big man was so quiet in getting over here. Only near by person who doesn't seem really that interested in Lazaro's presence is a man sporting face paint. The ghostly skinned man wearing a red trench coat's attention appears to be on some thing else at this time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Filtering out of one of the many tour buses is a familiar masked face to any one who’s watched Full Intensity Wrestling. The man is wearing his ring gear consisting of black ninja gi attire with a blue dragon design spiraling along it upward. Only difference between his usual in-ring clothes and this is he isn't wearing the Extreme Ninja mask, rather wearing the black cloth around the lower half of his face. As well as he's wearing the matching black robe with the blue dragon design, though after experiencing the heat he's probably regretting that decision. With the gentle breeze the slightly shaggy dark locks of the former referee blows along, getting in his face a bit. Ninja ignores it as he moves forward, going the long way around the bus and towards the public eye of the fans in attendance. But the second generation of ninja stops in mid-walk and leans against the bus, he hits it skull first. Using his forehead to lean against the steel monster, his crystal blue eyes stare intensely into his reflection in the metal it is made out of. Extreme Ninja #2: You may have come close, but you can't let it dishearten you...Remember what One-sama always spoke of... Gradually the intensity in his stare starts to waiver and his body starts to relax, his breathing slowing down as he closes his eyes. EN #2 let's out a small exhale and opens his eyes, staring into his reflection on the bus yet again. Extreme Ninja #2: One does never truly fail until one stops trying to succeed... For a few moments it looks like these words of wisdom might be helping him, before a sigh creeps out from beneath the black cloth. Extreme Ninja #2: Though, that doesn't really help the fact it's my fault she was seen as being in the way and got hurt... Another small sigh and limply Ninja presses the palm of his hand against the bus, using it to push his body back up to a completely standing base. The former champion nods his head a few times and finishes his walk around the bus, walking into the public eye finally. Quite a few of the fans greet him with cheers, with the handful that dress like him that attend every show greeting him with written greetings. Though, they aren't the only one wearing the Extreme Ninja mask, a few of the kids is wearing cheap plastic versions of his mask that are sold by FIW. The second Extreme Ninja looks over the fans and waves to them, walking through them to get to the booths. As he files through them they all try to touch him like he's some sort of second coming, he takes the time to slap a few hands and pat a few others. Eventually the referee turned wrestler pops out from the crowd and notices the situation going on with the Chief of Security further down. He shakes his head and decides to stir clear of that, looking for his booth in this sea of utter humanity. It doesn't take long for him to see where he's been assigned, over closer to oddly enough Xtreme Kitten of all people. The ninja cocks his head to the side and ponders why the top champion's been placed so far at the end, oblivious to the earlier shenanigans. None the less he shrugs it off and moves on forward, bowing his head in thanks to the fans that help let him get through to his booth near the end. It is as Ninja nears it that he realizes who else is in the general area of the booth he's been assigned to by FIW's upper brass. By the general area, I mean the person that's been assigned to sit to the left of him in the booth. That person being the woman he's befriended in recent weeks and one of FIW's top Hellcats known as Jaime Lee. This seems to slow down his pace and a hint of worry enters his body language, though Ninja doesn't stop completely. Each step up the stairs to the main deck of the booth is unusually heavy ones for the former Cruiserweight and Flycore Champion. These foot steps bring the attention of J.J. as he resumes his duties of taking and signing people's merchandise. A eyebrow being cocked at Extreme Ninja #2's down state and a shake of his head before looking down at what he's writing on. Carefully EN #2 maneuvers behind J.J.'s and Jaime's chairs to his, pulling it out when he gets to it and sitting down. Quickly he scoots it back into place and picks up a marker, a decent number of fans starting to form a line for their stuff to get signed by him too. Extreme Ninja #2: ...How are you Jaime? I mean...after what happened last week... J.J. looks over behind Miss Lee at the ninja and looks a bit sympathetic at how he sounds genuinely concerned and perhaps a bit guilty. While at the same time he shortly there after slaps his forehead, knowing what that question might stir up again... |
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| Willie | Jul 24 2007, 03:39 PM Post #16 |
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-=Badd Breed=-
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Although Priest winces slightly from the grip on his shoulder, he relaxes and turns his head in the general direction of FIW's Head of Security, reason flooding into his brain once more. Priest: "No, sir. We do not have a problem anymore. I am mainly here to speak to Nightmare in private, as I know he has many questions of me that he wants me to answer. My apologies for escalating the disturbance." Nightmare: "Me too, Lazaro. Lost my temper there for a moment, I apologize." Nightmare, now silent, has been looking at Priest with an odd air the whole time, not even putting his eyes on the Head of Security as he speaks. How'd he know that? We haven't even had two words between one another.. He watches as Lazaro now is standing like an undead monolith for the time being. Priest: "Nightmare, I'll let ye' finish up here. You'll find me at the food tent if you want to find the answers you seek." At that point, Priest makes his exit towards the refreshment stand, as now Nightmare, wary of the Head of Security, retakes his seat and continues to sign autographs for the fans that are starting to stream in again, getting his mind off that somewhat embarrassing moment Mr. Blond caused. The man in face paint looks over his shoulder at the situation with a disinterested look before looking else where. He had a feeling that he should worry about this first, as he had a great many things to ask of Priest once they finally spoke to one another. |
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| Lita Maivia | Jul 24 2007, 10:27 PM Post #17 |
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Legend
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The question brings a dark scowl of Jaime’s face. She holds her hand up to Ninja’s face, as if telling him to talk to the hand. Hopefully Ninja doesn’t jump to conclusions and take it that way. Because she’s just showing him the cut on her palm. Jaime: I’m over it… sort of. Jaime lowers her hand and forces another friendly smile to her fans as she continues signing autographs. Meanwhile, J.J. leans his chair back and shakes his head, informing Ninja that she is not in any way sort of over it. Jaime: And don’t you worry, he is being severely punished. I’ve cut him off. No lovings from me. No smooches, no scratching his tummy, no cuddles. He’s been cut off. J.J., still leant back in his chair, gives Ninja the eyes. The ones that say “I kind of feel bad for XK now” even though he doesn’t like the guy and isn’t happy with his apparent behavior towards FIW’s Sweetheart. Jaime: At this rate, I don’t think I’m even going to deal with him anymore. There’s hope! She has seen the light! Jaime Lee has moved on from the monstrosity that is an illicit relationship with the Dual Crown Champion Xtreme Kitten. All praise the Lord or whatever deity you prefer. Jaime: At least not until Summer of Sin is over. I have far more important things to deal with right now. Like winning the Hellcats Championship and just SURVIVING this torture that’s being passed off as a match. Amidst all this ranting, Jaime flashes a smile here and there to her fans wishing for an autograph. The ghostly skinned man wearing a crimson trench coat looks on bemused at the antics of FIW's Sweetheart. Jaime: Not to mention, trying to figure out whether or not I can trust my own BFF not to hurt me the way XK did. I mean, she wants this belt just as much as I do, I’m sure. Who’s to say it isn’t more important to her than ME!? Her own BFF’s life! Jaime shakes her head in near defeat, seemingly accepting that Lesbiana is already plotting to slice her up in the Trial By Wire Match. After a sigh, she raises her face up again and grins. Jaime: Hiya! She takes the Jaime Lee poster from the next fan. Jaime: Who shall I make it out to? |
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| Willie | Jul 25 2007, 12:01 AM Post #18 |
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-=Badd Breed=-
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Priest: "...Priest." Priest watches now as Jamie signs the poster, giving it back to him and smiling brightly at God's Most Blessed Soldier. Priest smiles at her and offers his hand. Priest: "Thank you very much, Jamie, and it's certainly a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you since I got here." Another bright smile from Ms. Lee, and then Jamie shakes Priest's hand enthusiastically after he collects a rubber band to keep the poster rolled up with. A sneer finds it's way onto the painted face of the mystery man standing near by the booth at this interaction. Jaime: Oh, well, okay. Welcome to FIW! Priest nods his thank-you and continues on his way toward the food tent, once he arrives there he sighs gently and grabs a hamburger, putting no condiments on it as he returns back outside to await Nightmare's arrival, he doesn't have to wait long though as the big man is spotted making his way through the crowd to Priest. Priest: "Finally got away, did you?" They start walking as Priest munches on his hamburger, Nightmare looking at him for a moment before he says anything. Nightmare: "Yeah, the line finally thinned out over there, so they're giving me a break until more of my merchandise gets here." Priest smiles, not looking at Nightmare as he finishes off his burger in a couple more bites, depositing it in a trash receptacle as they continue towards the buses albeit slowly, walking away from the chaos of the cookout. Priest: "I know you have questions, lad. I know you're confused as to why I saved you last week, you're confused as to why I'm here...so...let me answer these questions before you ask them." Nightmare nods, running a hand through his hair. Nightmare: "That'd be good. I've had so much shit going on lately that I have hardly been able to keep track of you, where you've been since you got here and all. I mean...I thought you were through with pro wrestling when TSW went under." This illicits a gentle chuckle from Priest as they're now finally at the buses, Priest leaning against one of the buses while Nightmare stands a couple paces away from him. Priest: "Nightmare, honestly, my friend, do you believe that a McConnaigh would just rein it in and leave after one federation's worth of work? Nay, lad, there's still a great many things I need to do. Not only has my being charged with the Lord's work brought me here, I came because I believe I have yet to realize my full potential as a pro wrestler. And to be honest, Nightmare, you have yet to realize it as well." Nightmare: "But I--" Priest: "I know, lad, you've accomplished a lot of things here during your career, there's absolutely no question. You've accomplished amazing feats, you've defeated the biggest names FIW has produced--It will be a matter of time before you are enshrined in the Hall of Fame, I think. But, before that time you must realize your full potential as a pro wrestler. Your full potential as a human being, as well." Nightmare looks a little confused at this as Priest pushes up the bridge of his temple-less glasses. Nightmare: "What do you mean?" Priest nods, as if expecting that Nightmare would answer in that way, then finally removes his sunglasses, giving us all a good look at those grey eyes that cut right into Nightmare, seemingly--enhanced of course by a little bit of artfully applied eyeliner. Priest: "Well, for starters, although many would question my sanity when I say this, but those fans could love you more than they already love you now. They could become the point where all you have to do is merely look at them, and they'd be rocking in the aisles. Have you ever wondered why they love you?" Priest says this as he looks now at the cars starting to pile up at the parking lot near the arena setup, some of the fans having arrived very early to stake out their spots for tickets. Nightmare: "Haven't paid it a whole lot of mind, really. I know they love me because I stick up for them, I go out there and I give my body for them, and I stand up to anybody who talks down to them. Been doing that these past five years, and when you do that you tend to blank out exactly WHY you're doing it. It becomes routine almost." Priest nods, crossing his arms in front of him. looking out at all the people around the cookout area.. Priest: "They love you because you are a hero to them. Larger than life, Nightmare, is how they view you. No matter what hardships have faced you, God has given you that optimism, the hard-nosed take-no-prisoners attitude that has gotten you this far, although at times I'll admit you have had some dark periods.." Nightmare nods, remembering all the dark periods he's experienced in life and his career, even though we're pretty sure he'd like to keep those locked away, thank you. Priest: "You've persevered through the thick of it all. And that, I believe, is the reason why those fans look up to you. Because you are the poster child for never saying die, my friend. That is why I saved you last week, is because I would not allow the fans' hero to be overwhelmed by those who shouldn't even be in the same ring as him. Not to say I'll be kissin yer' behind from now on, of course.." Both men chuckle at the joke Priest made, the man using some of his trademark Irish humor. Priest: "But I simply felt as though that the Zaibatsu should not be allowed to attack and cripple the fans' Superman. In due time, I feel that I will deal with them myself in the ring as you are tonight with Grant Rice at your back." Nightmare shrugs his shoulders now, listening carefully to Priest as he does so. Nightmare: "Speaking of Grant and I, that's another question. Are you here to join The Revolution?" Priest shakes his head. Priest: "No, lad, I'm not. I feel as though with this latest stint in FIW that I need to be...oh...what's the American term...yes, a 'lone wolf' for the time being. I didn't have much in the way of allies in TSW besides me father, and now that he's home taking care of my family in Ireland, it is down to only me. I'd like to keep it that way for awhile, I think, although I don't mind the hospitality." Nightmare nods sagely now, almost a little more at peace since he now knows Priest's intentions--He wants to protect Nightmare, it sounded like. Nightmare: "Maybe it'll be a little less stress on my mind to know you are here, Priest. It's like...it's like you're far different from when I saw you in TSW. You have this aura about you that...I don't know how to describe it, but everybody around you seems more at peace. Maybe that'll help me get this stress out of my brain and focus on what I need to do to make that final leap." Priest nods, pyramiding his hands in front of his mouth. Priest: "I beleive you can start by fixing a few bridges you've burned. Yes, I know you have no idea what I mean, so look closely at the autograph tables. Particularly, the one with the young lady Lee at it." Nightmare looks close...and spots Extreme Ninja #2 sitting at the table with her, a former Revolutionary that fought alongside Nightmare in the Red Cell war. Nightmare: "Ninja?" Priest: "Yes...I would begin your journey to a higher understanding by speaking with the Ninja, one of my many potential opponents upcoming. Talk to him, discover why he has distanced himself from you..and fix whatever has been brought by your hand. Do not fret, he will listen to you. Repeat the process with Mr. Nakahata, the Judo Sensei, as he's been rightfully named...I feel as though you've wronged him too, albeit unknowingly. Fix these bridges, Nightmare, and your future will be very bright." Time around Nightmare seems to slow down a bit as Priest talks, explaining exactly what Nightmare knows in the back of his mind. How's he do it? Nightmare smirks to himself, realizing how special his friend is. Nightmare: "Right. Let me go talk to Ninja, he's over there just polishing off the last of the autographs." Priest: "Go with the grace of God, my friend. I will be here when you return." Nightmare walks offscreen now, and Priest's face cracks a proud smirk as he watches the Purple and Black Attack leave, knowing that he has now set Nightmare to make the first step on the right road. |
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| Dai | Jul 25 2007, 10:17 AM Post #19 |
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Captain SPARKLE~!!!
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Cigarillo finished, Mr. Blond has no more business at Nightmare's table, after he stamps it out, and nonchalantly throws a business card, shuriken style at the big guy, telling him to mail him the picture. After turning on his heel, the next mission for him is food... ~~~~~~~~~~~ Meanwhile, a new face has come out to join the fan-appreciation circus: Mr. Fighting Spirit, the Judo Sensei, Kiyoshi Nakahata enters the scene, in a snow white suit to match his hair - since it is a Pay Per View week - sunglasses, and a large cardboard box, adorned only with a black wing pattern, which he has to carry on his shoulder. He throws it down onto his table, as it weighs nothing at all, and pulls out a box-cutter knife and opens it. Inside the box, yet more packaging awaits him: he pulls apart a sealed polyethylene bag, no more than eight inches tall. Upon hearing the sounds of the box being opened, a enigmatic man in face paint strolls behind the booths and over to the Judo Sensei's with mild curiosity. With that open, Kiyoshi reveals tangible proof that he has reached the so-called 'big time,' and slips it into the outer breast pocket of his jacket: Kiyoshi Nakahata plush dolls, available in black wrestling gear, white wrestling gear,* black, white & red combat fatigues; all of which come with a matching entrance coat. Alternatively, there is Kiyoshi in a black hakama with a pair of drumsticks or Kiyoshi in a black suit with sunglasses. The box contains 100 of each - one less for Kiyoshi himself - free to anyone that wants one** today. Despite this, the polaroid camera, the case of marker pens and the adoring fans, something troubles the White Haired Warrior as he sits on his table***. Not so much troubles, but behind the warm smile, the pretend sleeper holds on people's parents, something lurks, and even though he tries; he can't quite keep it out of his manner. His heart, it seems, just isn't quite in it. Questions on his main event billing are shrugged away with half a smile, and this is just passed off as his modesty. There are quite a lot of pictures, autographs and stuffed toys to get through before he can really dwell on it... [size0]* This is the one Kiyoshi has staring out of his pocket. ** Retail Price: $10. The extra 5 cents goes to charity. *** Other people sign photographs, and shake hands and whatever else. Kiyoshi gives out toys and poses for pictures. At one point he holds up the line with a spirited discussion on the relative merits of Yoshiki Hayashi and Lars Ulrich. |
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| Mike DeWatt | Jul 25 2007, 12:09 PM Post #20 |
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Colbert notices Shaun looking over at him. (Yes my descriptions are vastly smaller than everyone elses. But it's not the size that matters...) Colbert: HEY! I KNOW YOU! YOU'RE THAT GUY THAT I SHOT! General quickly sees who Colbert's shouting to. General: Umm Mr. Wilson, I appologise. Sir Colbert is not feeling too well, the heat is getting to him. Colbert: I sense the Pirate is near by... General: Umm Sir Colbert Tottington will not be signing autographs today! Appologies to all of those that lined up for it. The fans lining up do not seem to care that Colbert's off the menu. How kind...Our face painted guest, who is now sporting a Kiyoshi plushie in his trench coat's breast pocket, looks towards the duo. Colbert: Come on let's find that damn peg-legged bastard! Colbert suddenly gets up and starts running towards the press tent. The General grabs the portable fan off the fan and starts running after Colbert. Colbert has now drawn the attention of some of the people at attendence here at the SoS Cookout. Colbert bursts into the press tent and rushes through the photographers and reporters to the front. He stands behind the podium, and speaks into the mic. Colbert: Ladies and gentlemen! It's is I, the king of the mermaids! The kingdom is in peril! Through the shameful act of my son, the large metal fish of the surface have spilt the black water of death, and it his heading towards our glorious civilisation. Our only hope is for us to flap our tails in the same direction at the same time, sending the black water in the other direction. The General then bursts into the tent, to see what Colbert is doing. Colbert: The floor is now open to questions. Yes you, octopus! Colbert points to a random reporter. Reporter: Umm Mr. Tottington, what has this got to do with your match? Colbert: A very good question. What are we going to do if it goes all the way around and attacks our otherside? Well I'm afraid we'll have to play some sort of black water tennis with it, fending off side after side. Yes, seahorse? Colbert points to another reporter. Reoprter: Is this some sort of mind game, to confuse Graver? Colbert: I believe that the colour was originally red, yes. Yet another reporter speaks. Reporter: Mr. Tottington, what are your thoughts on the supposed allegations that you are in fact just Maj Tahal, using this to avoid your under-performance against Xtreme Kitten? Colbert: What do you mean how to mermaids have sex?! Through a complicated system of squirting and swallowing, of course! General: Umm excuse me, people! Please no more questions to Sir Colbert Tottington, he is not himself. The General, during his announcement has pushed his way to the front of the press. Colbert: Silence you pitiful flounder! I must tell these people of the battle that is soon to arrive here. How I alone must fight off the evil hoardes of mythical creatures that soon I will face. General: Sir, please, you are not well. Colbert: The people have a right to know. I, your king, will soon be facing 6 creatures of the mythical realm. Firstly, Wilson the Minotaur. Half man, half bull, I fear that this creature may be the only one of it's kind. But that will not deter me from stopping it from destroying our great civilisation. Next is the Japanese Demon creature known as Extreme Oni. Oni's are very dangerous, yet I do believe that it's own culture may lead to it's downfall, as I have researched into their methods. Then there's Vampire known has Phyllis. Well documented are the methods of destroying such creatures, so I have no fear of this undead corpse. The Siren that calls itself Zebosca draws men in, only to their death. Thankfully the mermaid's advantage that we have no genitles means that her entancements will be wasted on me, and she will be easily disposed of. Next I will either be facing a Dragon, or an Angel. Neither of which are creatures that are to be messed with. Thankfully the Dragon's fire will be wasted in our watery kingdom so that worries me not, and this Angel is in a World without it's God. What is it's point of existance without it's creator? In a land of mythical creatures, no higher beings exist. Finally though, the most dangerous and deranged creature, Graver the Centaurus. The man that was born deformed, and lead his life having sexual intercourse with horses, leading to the race of Centaurs. How can such a disgusting man lead to this noble race? Because somehow beastiality is the answer. I mean look at us. Someone down the line had to have had sex with a fish... There is a very long silence after this. General: Right Colbert come with me... Colbert: I say! There's that pirate! Colbert suddenly climbs onto the podium. He leaps off it, doing a fowards flip into the air and landing behind the General (obviously doing the 630 splash has helped him perfect such a nice little stunt). He runs through the press once more and out into the open. The General once again follows. Colbert: Oi! You! Colbert shouts and points at a person. The person turns around to reveal it's no-one else than... (Anyone feel free to write yourself in here.......if not, I'll put something totally stupid and ruin it for everyone......you have 24 hours people )
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| CallMeTA | Jul 26 2007, 02:58 AM Post #21 |
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Unregistered
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(Hang on Mike DeWatt... I'll post this as my entrance, and be with you shortly...) *Cutting briefly back to Rebbecca hunter, we see the unforetunate interviewer limping over the sand back towards the Cookout... it quickly becomes apparently why she was limping, she's almost certainly sprained her ankle as she tried running over the sand after Crackerjack... in high heels... As she slowly gets closer to the buses we see someone else, hanging out on the edge of the action because he knows some people but isn't really at home with the fetivities, even in the open he's managed to find the equivilent of a corner to retreat to... Toby Bostock, FIW's resident nerd.* Toby: How'd it go? Rebbecca: Shut up Toby. Toby: Just trying to be polite Rebbecca: Toby, if i wanted your opinion, i'd get my head checked by a Shrink, because i'd suddenly caught a terminal case of Stupidity. *Toby looks moderately offended, but doesn't appear to have a comeback* Rebbecca: Jackie was running off towards Las Vegas, i'm going to take one of the vehicles so i can catch up with him ther- Toby: Wait - Take? You can't just pick up one of the cars and run off down to Las Vegas! Rebbecca: Toby, SOME of us managed to obtain a licence to drive before you crawled your way out of your parent's basement or whatever you did... unh... My foot's stuck Toby: That hurts Rebbecca... i try to be nice, and you- Rebbecca: Toby Help, I'm sinking! Toby: What? Rebbecca: It's Quicksand! *Toby looks confused for a second, then acquires a look of uncertain determination* Toby: Don't be silly, you don't.. get... *Now Toby is panicked too, because as Rebbecca's foot slowly shifts down into the sand a large mount as expanding next to her, like something out of a B-Grade horror film* Rebbecca: What the hell are you looking at you worthless Dork, Help Me! Toby: Rebbecca, look out! *The sand mound continues to expand til it achieves larger than human proportions, and Explodes flinging sand everywhere! This entire ruckus brings the attention of the painted face of the enigmatic visitor wearing a crimson trench coat. Rebbecca: Aaiiiiiiiiii! Toby: Aaaaaaaaaaaah! ???: Alalalalala... Rebbecca: Aaiiiiiiiiii! Toby: Aaaaaaa- Wait, Phyllis? PHyllis: Alalal- Oh Wait, you were screaming, not doing the traditional Muslim greeting? *Rebbecca Finally wrenches her feet out of the no longer sinking sand, and is in a blind panic* Rebbecca: Toby! What's Going On!? Toby: It's ok Rebbecca, it's just Phyllis Rebbecca: PHYLLIS!? *Obviously hasn't heard of him* *Rebbecca finally turns to face with shock the mystery man, who is plastered in thick white paint, covered in a heavy black overcoat and wearing glasses that hide his crazy eyes without making him appear any more sane, and covered in a thick layer of dry sand that got EVERWHERE...* Phyllis: HI! *Phyllis thrusts a hand towards the woman who retreats in horror as Phyllis generates a worse dust cloud than The Mummy.* Phyllis: Yeah, sand gets everywhere, huh? Brbrbrbrbr *Phyllis shakes himself like a dog and spontaneously fulfills his previous comment by putting the sand everywhere but himself... Rebbecca is still to shocked and confused by the strange apparition to even speak* Toby: *wiping sand from his face* Very 'Dawn of the Dead', huh? Phyllis: Huh? Oh yes, thank you very much... but to be fair Vampires have been clawing their way out of the grave long before Western Culture appropraited the Haitian Hoodoo concept of a soulless animated corpse as a villain. Toby: I thought you went missing... Phyllis: Nah, after i found out that FIW was coming here, i buried myself to wait out the- *Rebbecca has been staring from left to right, taking in both Toby and Phyllis as they talk as though this has been an almost normal occurrance, finally she gathers enough of her composure, or has finally had her daily dose of insane stupidy because she finally...* Rebbecca: You guys are a pair of Freaks and DESERVE one another! *Toby turns as she leaves, about to protest when a sudden perplexing thought occurs to him, and he turns back to Phyllis to say...* Toby: You were burried here an Entire MONTH!? *Phyllis just looks confused by the suggestion, then breaks into cackling laughter as comprehension dawns* Phyllis: HAHAHAHAHaHaHaHahahaha.... Oh no, Nonono... I Thought i'd dig myelf a comfy grave to wait until the next Sunset. Toby: Wait, Wouldn't you run out of Air!? Phyllis: Huh? Toby: You'd've run out of air and pass out... if Rebbecca hadn't disturbed the sand you would've burned up the last of your oxygen! Phyllis: No no, i passed out because of the Daysleep, Vampires don't need to breathe... and i think having high heels pressed into your spine would wake even the dead... speaking of which, what time is it? Toby: Uhm, some time after 1... Phyllis: Really? Man is my biological clock screwed up after all that training at Escuela de Lucha Gattito... Toby: Escuela de Lucha? The GATTITO School of Wrestling!? PHyllis: You've heard of it? Toby: Xtreme Kitten performed a Promo there just week last week! Phyllis: Well obviously... i caught a lift BACK with him! *Phyllis suddenly yawns hugely and then smacks his lips* Man, waking up in the middle of the Day sucks... Toby: Wait, is IS the middle of the day! Phyllis: Yes? Toby: *Jogging Phyllis' Memory* You... open air, sunlight... Vampire? Phyllis: Oh right... No wonder it feels like a furnace out here Toby: You mean Vampires don't burn in Sunlight? Phyllis: Like hell they don't! Just don't touch my face... Yeah, it's not face paint, it's zinc sunscreen... SPF 70+... cuts out 70% of Solar Radiation, but it still feels like a burning building out here... Toby: You sure that doesn't have something to do with being in the desert just outside Las Vegas... at Noon? PHyllis: Pff, to you maybe... Vampires don't feel heat or cold, but sunlight still burns like a Bitch... You mind if i head somewhere cooler and grab something to eat? Toby: *slightly disturbed by the implications of talking to a Vampire about this*Something? ...Eat? *A Giant manic grin spreads accross Phyllis' Face* Phyllis: Metaphorically speaking... |
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| CallMeTA | Jul 26 2007, 02:39 PM Post #22 |
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The scene cuts to Phylis after what has probably been a historic interview with Sir Colbert... Phyllis stealthfully moves allong the strip of shadow arround what is... yes, the tent housing all of the cooking equipment, and judging by the screaming in what is almost certainly Japanese, also currently housing Grandmaster Shokumotsu... Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [Fool! You are an Incompetant not fit to sweep a Kitchen!... Out of my Sight!] All of the sound of cooking allone would be enough to cover Phyllis' silent footsteps over the sand, the screaming just serves that much better... however all his stealth is about to be for Naught, because... Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [OUT!] With that, the tent flap explodes as a man, probably an Apprentice is suddenly hurled through it into the sand... He eventually gets to his feet, attempts to regain some level of Dignity back then turns arround to address the closed tent flap.. l Apprentice: Can i atleast have my Tools back?... AGH! *The Apprentice suddenly drops to the Ground as a set of knives are suddenly hurled through the tent flap* Phyllis: Excuse me... Do you mind if i get a bite? Apprentice: Huh? Oh Right, just g,et it yourself... Phyllis: I Wouldn't have it any other way... *The Apprentice starts collecting his knives scattered accross the sand, and looks up only just in time to have Phyllis latch onto the fleshy part between his shoulder and neck* Apprentice: ARRRRRGGGGH! LetgoLetgoLetgoLetgoLetgo! Phyllis: Mmn? *Not actually using words because that would be speaking with his mouth full, Phyllis atleast opens his eyes and loosens his grip so that it's no longer [/i]complete agony...* Apprentice: I, i, i... I meant from the Food tent.. Phyllis: *releasing the man* Oh... OH! Sorry about that... no, it's just a flesh wound, not even bleeding that much... just make sure you disinfect it, right? Apprentice: Uh.... right. *Taking the opportunity to get as far away from Phyllis as Possible as Quickly as Possible, the apprentice doesn't seem capable of taking his eyes off the madman as he runs... looking over his shoulder as Phyllis approaches the tent* Phyllis: [Greetings, could i-] *At this point Phyllis reacts with genuine cat-like reflexes, because he ducks in time to avoid a Meat Tenderiser.. thrown at Head height* Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [Oh. I Appologise, you do not appear to be my good-for-nothing Apprentice.] *Phyllis takes a few seconds to soak in what's going on before diplomatically replying* Phyllis: [Yes. I think i have good reason to be glad i'm not.] Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [Is there any way i can be of assisstance?] Phyllis: [Are these apprentices of yours butchering good meat are they?] Grandmaster Shokumotsu: [I'm afraid that they infact are] Phyllis: [Perhaps i can liberate some before they fail to cook it correctly?... again.] Grandmaster Shokumotsu: *slightly surprised* [You mean Raw?] Phyllis: [I Do] Grandmaster Shokumotsu: *All of a sudden Smiling like a man who has discovered a long lost friend* [Ah, it does my heart good to see a European who appreciates Sushimi... Fo you want much rice to go with it?] Phyllis: *Not expecting this responce* [Rice?] *then deciding to go with it* [That is most generous of you* *About three seconds later Phyllis walks through the tent flap, throws the rice to the side, starts mauling the raw stake like a Dog, or a Bird of Prey. A man in face paint wearing a trench coat with a Kiyoshi plushie in it walks into the tent... then, with his mouth full...* Colbert: Oi! You! *Attempting politeness Phyllis turns to the voice... and then failing at politeness because of a full mouth PHyllis makes perhaps the most unforetunate sound he could make... something that comes out Vaguely sounding like-* Phyllis: Yar? |
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| Crimson Shards | Jul 26 2007, 09:52 PM Post #23 |
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Unregistered
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Guilt seems even more apparent in Ninja's body language than before, lowering his head and thinking over every thing that's been said. He isn't left to these thoughts for long though, the fans calling to him causing him to look up and getting his attention. Ninja starts the task of taking random objects and signing them with his trusty marker, only stopping when some thing catches his eye. The next item placed in front of him to sign is the Summer of Sin poster featuring Xtreme Kitten. For what seems like an eternity he just stares at the photo of the masked man gambling and drinking in the image, it is actually just a few seconds. Whatever is going through the mind of the second generation Extreme Ninja comes and goes as he signs it. The grateful fan looking delighted at yet another name added to the poster out of the handful it has managed to get from varying active FIW wrestlers here. Once it disappears and another steps forward, presenting him with a photo featuring some match featuring him, Ninja looks back towards FIW's Sweetheart. Extreme Ninja #2: I know you didn't...but, if you ask me, I don't think you have much to worry about Jaime. Briefly he turns his attention back to the photo to hand it over to the fan, bowing his head to the fan before resuming his attention on the Hellcat beside him. Extreme Ninja #2: There may be some danger with all of the barbed wire involved in the match, I should know seeing as I was in one of them. For a second it looks like EN #2's gaze shifts from the woman sitting to his right and to a spool of barbed wire. It is a quite large one that some of the ring monkeys are handling with care as they bring it down from one of the equipment trucks. The man sporting face paint and a trench coat is standing near by them eating a bowl of rice. Extreme Ninja #2: That said, Lesbiana-dono and you are close friends with each other and seem to care about each other quite a bit. It is clear to see that she cares about your well being the same way you care about her well being. The referee sitting to Ninja's far right snorts a little while drinking from a cup of water he has, muttering under his breath so Jaime can't hear... J.J.: Probably in more than one way... Shaking his head at the snort J.J. gave, Ninja presses on with his point. Extreme Ninja #2: I mean, it might be one thing if the match involved a lot of other people like mine this coming Sunday does. But, it is just the two of you, so I think she'll give you a good and competitive match in this championship bout. To further get across his point of reassurance, Extreme Ninja #2 pats Jaime on the arm. Extreme Ninja #2: Though, I highly doubt she is going to aim to try and slice you up into little pieces of sushi rolls or any thing like that. The fan standing before him clears its throat, growing impatient with how slow he is going due to talking to Jaime Lee. Quickly the ninja hands the item back over and the FIW fan moves on, another one stepping up to take it's place and hand over an item. Extreme Ninja #2: You just...have to have faith in her and in yourself. FIW's youngest referee leans over and pats the Hellcat on the back with a laid back smile. J.J.: And, if it would help, Ninja and I will come down to ringside during your match to cheer you on. The smile swiftly shifts into more of a smirk at the potential new Hellcat Division Champion. J.J.: Never hurts to have friends by your side, ain't that right boy wonder? He nods his head towards Ninja, apparently dubbing him a new nickname of sorts. The second Extreme Ninja is so caught up in catching up on his signings he is caught off guard by J.J.'s suggestion. FIW's original ninja turns back towards the two with a deer in the headlights look by what is visible of his face. Extreme Ninja #2: Oh...um...well, if Jaime-dono wants us to I wouldn't mind doing it. It would seem he is so caught off guard by it that the old habit slips out too. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mean while the gigantic frame of the former skull cowboy stomps across the land, leaving the fan-fest booths behind him. It isn't before long that he is back near the refreshments tent, where his master and the General Manager of FIW is waiting. The General Manager tilts his head ever so slightly in the direction of his muscle when he nears before resuming his look straight ahead of him. Lazaro only ceases to stop when he's back right beside his master, standing on the same exact spot he was several minutes ago. Lazaro: It would seem Phyllis Bathory has returned. This is said as the Chief of Security eyes the interaction going on between Colbert Tottington and the fore mentioned Vampire. Even though he's yet to look in that direction, the enigmatic boss doesn't bother looking that way when it's pointed out to him. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... So it would seem...kssshhhhhk... For a few moments silence falls over the duo as Lazaro continues to stare at the two wrestlers with those empty void like eyes. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Don't worry, if they get out of hand… kssshhhhhk... I'll have to eject them from this gathering…kssshhhhhk... Seemingly he is reading his servant's mind, because Lazaro nods his head to acknowledge that comment. Very slowly the Chief of Security pries his gaze from them and it moves else where, searching through the crowd for some one or some thing. Lazaro: Have you seen our uninvited guest, my master? What almost sounds like a robotic chuckle seeps out from the General Manager's mask, it could almost be mistaken for one of his breathing patterns. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Once again, do not worry Lazaro… kssshhhhhk... It is not him…kssshhhhhk... Upon mentioning whoever they are discussing the formerly known as skull cowboy balls his hands into fists and tightens them. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... If it were, I would've seen to it myself that he was ejected quicker than this… kssshhhhhk... Besides…kssshhhhhk... Once again that robotic chuckle comes from the metallic mask of Herr Krähe. Krähe: kssshhhhhk... Ghosts don't exist… kssshhhhhk... Not under the Boss' regime…kssshhhhhk... Quietly and obediently Lazaro nods his head before lowering his base so that he can have a more private conversation with his master. Lazaro: Speaking of the Boss...is he still coming with the guest of honor to the show? Several seconds come and go with no response from the smaller masked man, eventually he casually nods as a answer. FIW's Chief of Security nods back and brings his body back up to a fully standing straight position, towering over nearly every one. The two return to simply just watching people from the comfort of the shade... |
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| Lita Maivia | Jul 26 2007, 10:26 PM Post #24 |
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Legend
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Jaime signs her last autograph for this session before glancing from J.J. to Ninja, a smile on her face. This one actually genuine for the first time all day. Jaime: You guys are too sweet. But I don’t want Lesbiana to feel like I’m ganging up on her or anything with my peeps being out there. She scoots her chair back and stand, putting a hand on Ninja’s shoulder. Jaime: Thanks, Ninja. I wish I could be as trusting as you but I’ve been burnt one too many times going that route. She moves away from Ninja, stopping behind J.J. to ruff up his hair. Jaime: Thanks for having my back, J. I’ll be back in a bit. Good luck Sunday, Ninja. With that, Jaime takes a break from the chaotic setting of the autograph booth. As he is finishing up his rice the face painted man watches her take her leave from the booths. Hmm. Now where is she going? Surely not to see XK, right? I thought she cut him off. |
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| Mizery Made | Jul 27 2007, 11:00 PM Post #25 |
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./\/\izery /\/\ade.
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Hey look, there's Toby! No, not Spiderman, this Toby only wishes he was that cool... Toby Bostock walks toward the parking area, his head shooting around in all directions. If I was to take a guess, you might say he's looking for someone. Toby Bostock: I KNOW I saw him somewhere over here earlier. Toby talks to himself as he continues his search, who is he looking for? No clue, maybe Spiderman? He stops and looks up and down a row of cars, he squints to look further and that seems to do the trick because he takes off down the row of cars. Toby passes a face painted man wearing a crimson trench coat with a Kiyoshi plushie in the breast pocket. As he hurries along, we catch a view of what looks to be someone laying on top of the hood of a car a bit down the way. As we get closer, it's clear that it is indeed someone, they almost blend into the black car with their black pants and black tee, even the black ball cap resting on top of their face matches the car almost exactly. The person seems to be tacking a nap, eyes covered with said hat, as their head is propped up by the windshield on the car. Toby nears this individual. Toby Bostock: There you are! Surprisingly, that doesn't even cause our mystery man to stir, let alone wake. Toby reaches down and places his hand on said man's leg, ready to shake to wake him, no need though. ???: I suggest you remove that hand right now. Toby's hand quickly snaps away, I guess he takes this fellow seriously. ???: What do you want? Hat remains on the face, body remains unmoved, only sign of life is the slight movement caused by the light breathing... and... of course, the talking, duh. Toby Bostock: Why are you over here sleeping, everyone else is over the other way having a good time. The hat finally is removed as our unidentified person slowly sits up, it is only then that we realize that it's Grant Rice. (Well... those smart enough to read who's posting this would... but shhhh, we won't tell anyone) Grant Rice: What reason do I have to be over there? None. I didn't come here to do any of the activities over there, I came here today for one reason and one reason only, everyone knows what reason that is, even you. Grant lowers back down, ready to get back to his snooze-fest, Toby has other ideas though, as we should have expected. Toby Bostock: I 'spose that might be your match. The one against The Tanaka Zaibatsu and, well, they don't have a name, so... With that, Rice slowly rises from his rest, you know... he keeps this up and he might burn some calories. Grant doesn't look to happy though. Grant Rice: You see, you know why I'm here, so answer me this... why the hell are you bothering me? I think Toby can take a hint, why? Cause for whatever reason, he's taken a step back, possibly afraid Grant may strike him for interrupting his nap time. Toby Bostock: Well... Uh... I was hoping to get some thoughts on the match. After all, it is your opportunity to reclaim your spot as THE Team in FIW, and after last week's events and all... Grant Rice grins as he shakes his head, possibly trying to hold back a laugh, who knows. Grant Rice: "THE Team?" You need to get it straight, Toby. Nightmare & I ARE "THE Team." You think just because we had one hiccup and let the Tag Team Titles slip through our tightly clenched fist that we are no longer the team to beat? Let me tell you, The Revolution doesn't NEED the titles. The Titles simply call to us, they are horrified after being carried around by The Tanaka Zaibatsu for this short time, they want us to reclaim them. "THE Team" ... poor clueless Toby. Grant has a light laugh at Toby's expense, doesn't detour Toby though. Toby Bostock: Alright, I guess I can see you still being "THE Team," even without the gold, but, what about last week? Grant's eyes roll. Grant Rice: What's there to tell? We walked in and did what we intended, win. The Tanaka Zaibatsu just as you would expect had plans of their own, but unfortunately for them, those plans were spoiled. By who? Some Priest or something, I don't care really, though Nightmare said he's cool and not to worry about it. That's all there is about it, Revolution doing what they do best, and The Tanaka Zaibatsu failing at what they usually do best. Case closed. Will you leave me alone now? Grant waits for an answer, Toby takes a rather long time to answer, likely thinking over his options. Toby Bostock: Sure, but first, what about the match? Grant is growing impatient, if Toby was smart, he would split. Guess he's just having one of 'those' days, meanwhile, Grant responds, reluctantly. Grant Rice: What of the match? Too many variables, as with most matches. From match to match, most variables are rather dynamic, though I always promise one to stay static, and it will in this match as well. I will Kick.Some.Ass. Whether it's The Tanaka Zaibatsu's ass that's kicked or The Team With No Name's, "Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend," I only have one friend in that ring from Bell-To-Bell, his name is not El Lumberjacko, not Ash Koopa. So if you name is not Nightmare, expect your ass to be kicked. Grant looks at Toby, an evil grin slowly creeps onto his face. Toby finally showing some intelligences as he quickly backs away. Toby Bostock: If you don't mind, I think that's all. Toby quickly begins to shuffle away, Grant's grin quickly changes to a smile, likely happy he finally chased Toby off... or so he thought. Toby turns back around. Toby Bostock: Say, I like that car, is it yours? Grant just stares at Toby. Bostock might be wetting himself right about now. Grant Rice: No... Toby looks around the parking area, why? Don't know, maybe he just doesn't want to look into the eye of Rice as he fears him? Maybe. Toby Bostock: Oh... Ok... Toby spins and walks away, his steps a lot faster then usual, Rice is finally left alone as he places his hat back on his face as he returns for some more rest. |
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