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| Remy Lavoue vs. El Santo Del Mal; Non Title | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 19 2011, 04:23 AM (212 Views) | |
| Allocco | Dec 19 2011, 04:23 AM Post #1 |
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Majestic Owner
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/Deadline: 12.30.11 @ 11:59:59 PM EST RP Limit: 3 Venue: Royale Majestic Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada Please post your RPS within the match thread. |
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| El Santo Del Mal | Dec 20 2011, 07:45 PM Post #2 |
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MW Camaraderia Champion
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A divine king? There are no such kings among men. Throughout the history after our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, left the world because he paid for our sins… many attempted to claim their right to domination of others by God’s wills, but in honesty… they were all corrupted, sinful, and tainted individuals who were spoiled by the comforts of being king. So Remy, are you one of those kings who believe that it was God’s will to place you on your throne. I see your eyes when you look over your supposed kingdom, and they are one filled with the devil’s own ire. To you, your subjects, your inferiors are nothing but playthings. The women are potential sex dolls for you to have your earthly needs met. The men are simply punching bags for you to gain the satisfaction of such rudimentary thrills, such as the rush of power to your head when your hand is lifted into the air by the referee. But in reality, you’re no different than the next man. You’re no different the typical professional wrestler, whose strives to get those moments of victory as if he sniffs some paint thinner. The high is unbelievable, isn’t it? Remy Lavoue, this high of you is going to come to an abrupt end when your undefeated streak comes to an end. Why do I want to knock you off the pedestal? It’s because you are not a good leader of the people. You’re by far not a great example of a ruler. You are distracted by the traps which the devil had placed in this reality. The alcohol you abuse. Your disrespect towards women, the constant womanizing and lustful activities, they sicken me. You’re a hardcore gambler, who tosses money, either wasting your own cash or damaging the lives of those you reap the rewards from. You have called yourself the hero of New Orleans, you compare yourself to the Saints, but you’re nothing but a disgrace. You’re a shit stain across their reputation. You’re just some kid, which was still suckling on his mother’s teat, given a break by Lucifer himself to test my patience. Now it’s God’s will, yes I said it, God’s will, that I’m pitted against you. For I might be a sinner like you, I might be a terrible person like you, yet I’m still superior, because I try to better, and I commit those sins out for my own amusement, or perhaps in your case… out of sheer ignorance. I drive people onto the proper path, and this week, once against I have to be a good shepherd. Majestic is my flock, and I don’t need a title… I don’t need a crown. I just need trust in myself that I’m doing a favor to those I affect. Once again, that’s major disconnect from your activities. You use, you burn, you suck the life out of, others. You’re nothing more than a parasite. You’re a mere tick, attached the living organism that is Majestic Wrestling. I’m going to be that flame that will remove your fangs from the flesh of this company. And what is “Ol’ Remy” going to do about this threat? Are you going to laugh it off like you did the ones in the past? Don’t you see, you were placed up so high for me to knock down? I might have been short of conquering the Infinity Eight match, but let’s be serious here. God placed another loss in front of me a continuation of a test. I don’t win or lose for pride. I don’t need a magnificent record like your own to continue on in this battle. I can take the pain of losing. Can you? We will find the answer to this grandiose question when I serve you with your first loss. My stock will go up, fast towards the roof. Yet it won’t matter to me, as long as that you see your road of self-destruction is the wrong path to take. I’ll take that as a good reward for my hard work. Better yet, if the fans of Majestic and the other wrestlers in the back, if they see what happens to a false king, and what happens when he engages in such sinful activities… perhaps it will convince them to better their lives, and to follow the way to salvation, presented to us by the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. So enjoy your little tainted life for the time being, because like the heretics placed to the stake, there is going to be the roasting of flesh when I face you. You are going to burn like the sinner you are. Which reminds me of a tale, from my past… In Mexico, the government is corrupted, infested by the rat criminals; it oftentimes burdened the very same public it was supposed to protect. As a student of the bible, I often found myself on the verge of ejecting whatever contents I held in my stomach prior to that point when I heard them speak. I laid eyes on the homeless in the cities of Mexico City. Their plight bothered me, and when I turned to see those rich, plump, comfortable politicians speak their lies… I shuddered with anger. Then to hear them make religious references, such as those kings of the past that I spoke about, I was filled with sinful rage. I turned to the bible, constantly for support, to refrain myself. This was back when I attempted to follow the righteous path, before I fully realized my nature and my destiny. Yet one day, I stood in a plaza. A local politician was on his soap box, once again vomiting his fabricated speeches. I was in the plaza, buying fruit from a local vendor. His words echoed in my head, garnering a ever larger presence amongst my thoughts. Then there was a commotion. An orphaned child tossed herself across his feet, begged for food. I turned to see what this commotion was. Seeing the small daughter clawed at his legs as he kicked her away. Some of his thugs dragged her out of the plaza and he continued as if nothing has transpired. SICKENING… DISGUSTING… He was a pathetic excuse for a life. So this was when I walked over to the sobbing child, handed her my bag of fruit. Without saying another word, I turned to the politician. I began stalk him like a predator did to his prey. As he left the plaza, walked to his limousine, sign of his decadence, I followed. As the limousine left to bring him home, I followed furiously on a borrowed bicycle. Once I knew where he lived, I paid him the visit the next night. After he was finished with fucking his mistress, I entered the bathroom where he attempted to physically clean the sin from his body. With a rope, I choked the life out of him. His hands reached back, trying to scratch and dig his dirty fingernails into my clean flesh. The man almost lost consciousness but I didn’t kill. Instead, I took the back of his head and repeatedly slammed it into the mirror. By the time I was finished, he was scarred for life. I left the bathroom, allowing him to sob as I turned my attention to the whore. As the whore cowered in the corner, I grabbed her by the throat. She looked through the potatoes sack I wore as a mask. I whipped her dressed wide open to reveal her exposed chest. With a knife, I carved a large A, the screams was blocked from my mind as I focused on marking her for her sin. “By why?” She asked. “Because you are a sinner, my dear whore. Both you and your lover will bear the marks of your sin, so everyone will know of your shame.” “I’m just a poor housemaid!” “Then you should have kept to your honest work, whore.” “I’m calling the cops.” “If you do so, and I ever escape from jail, I’ll kill you,” with that I tossed her hard onto the floor. I left thought the bedroom window, and on the bike, I fled the scene. I removed the mask and I found refuge in a nearby church. There before an idol, I prayed to god for my sins I just committed. I was driven by a mad animalistic force within. I repeated the same prayer, over and over, until I passed out from sleep exhaustion. In my dreams, an angel visited me. The angel told me that I was never meant to enter the gates of heaven, but I still had God’s work to perform. I was to be a shepherd, and to continue to stain my hands of tainted sin, only to better the lives of other. Only then my life would have meaning. So I decided to begin preparations to work on that life. And now, years later, here I stand. I in front of a endless sea of sin, attempting to light that lake on flames, to eradicate the evil from this world. You’re such an evil, Remy. I’m going to remove you from the face of this company this Sunday! |
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| Remy | Dec 30 2011, 06:21 PM Post #3 |
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Cajun Spicy
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OOC: Remy is a very naive and racist southerner so don't get offended by the words he uses in this rp. They're just part of the character and not meant to be hurt full or taken seriously by anyone. ------------------------- The scene shows Remy and his somewhat considered girlfriend Cheryl laying in his bed in a Vegas hotel room. The Premier Championship is placed on the nightstand. There are cigarettes all over the floor as well as clothes as far as the eye can see. The entire room is trashed and almost unlivable. Remy: I just don't get it chere. Why would someone willingly wear a mask? Is he hiding some sort of disfigurement? Is he a super hero? Is he Spider-Man or Batman? Remy just doesn't understand. Cheryl: It's part of his culture Remy. Lucha masks are taken very seriously and have become part of their identity. Remy: That logic doesn't seem to keen to Remy's liking petite. Why doesn't he just take it off? I mean that thing has to be uncomfortable? For all I know I might not be wrestling who I think I'm wrestling. Someone could easily just take his mask and stroll down to the ring. What if it's Chloe or Ashley huh? What if they put that mask on and try and beat on this ruggedly handsome face? Cheryl: Well if you didn't notice the boobs then I think you'd be having a more serious problem. Listen, the guy wears a mask because it's part of him. You're not going to get Aires to force him to take it off just for your match. That Mexican stuff is pretty serious. Being a wrestler I'd think you'd know that. Remy: Well I'm sorry that Remy's Mexican knowledge stems from the Taco Bell menu. Right then the door to the hotel room is kicked open as two large men with baseball bats stand in the door way. Cheryl screams as she sits up clearly scared as Remy turns to his end table. Remy: Shit! Where's my gun! The gun is seen in the ashtray on the table. One of the men see's it and grabs it. The other slams the bat against a lamp causing it to shatter. Thug One: Where's the money Remy? Remy: What money? Thug One: You owe a lot of money to the type of people that you don't want to owe money to. Remy: I...I, I don't know what you're talking about. Thug Two: Don't get cute here you swamp rat! You owe the House and the House always collects! Remy: The House? Wait...are you talking about little Dicky? One of the thugs puts the end of the bat right into the neck of Remy as it pushes against his adams apple. Remy scoots back against the wall as the bat pushes against his throat. Thug Two: He prefers to be called House! You'd be kind to respect that considering your position! Remy: Listen, listen....I don't have the money. Thug One: Well that's inconvenient because it seems you've been spotted down on the casino floor being more than casual with your money or should I say House's money? Remy: Well you must be mistaken bec- Thug Two: Are you calling us liars Remy? Because calling us liars would be very damaging to your health. Remy: N-n-n-n-No...Remy's not calling you liars trust me. Thug One: Trust you? Trust YOU?! A man that has lied and cheated his way into every single luxury he has in life? It seems as though the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Thug Two: We know all about the money that your mother has and exactly how she got it. Thug One: Now we also know that this sweet little tart on your arm is the heir to the Baxter fortune. Thug Two: Our guess is that you knew this day was coming. Much like hell hounds coming to collect your damned soul. We figure you were working your way right into this tarts heart in order to get a little lone. Cheryl: WHAT?! Remy is that true?! Remy: Course not! Thug One: Now listen here swamp rat! You've got a month! You've got one month to get House his money and if you don't...well let's just say you'll need to know how to swim. The thugs take their bats and walking out the door as Remy and Cheryl take deep breaths. Remy then turns to Cheryl. Remy: You alright chere? Cheryl: Yeah...I'm fine. Remy: That's good, that's good. So, the funniest thing happened apparently I'm in dept for a lot of money and it'd help me out a lot if you- Cheryl: UGH! Cheryl gets up and grabs her clothes before storming out the door. Remy: So...can I expect a check in the mail then? ------------------------------- The scene shows Remy with his fedora hat tilted down and the glow of his cigarette burning in the dark. He blows out some smoke before resting his hand on a table. A lamp shines down on his face. Remy: Well it seems as though Remy's vacation is officially over. I mean since when does Bossman book his Champion on Salvation? Ol' Remy was enjoying his relaxing vacation with his shiny belt just ready to coast upon the fame that my name was building. But alas it seems as though sweet times never last. From what I'm told I'm booked against some Mexican immigrant whose out here to try and steal our jobs. Here he is in Majestic trying to steal my job. He's trying to take food off of my plate with his dirty little fingers. Ol' Remy doesn't take too kindly to thieves and I see this little Mexican as a thief. It'd be a shame if someone were to call the authorities and report an illegal alien just before Salvation wouldn't it? I mean, I'm a fighting Champion and all and I'd hate to have yet another night off but what kind of example would I be setting for the little children who see me as their hero if I were to support such behavior? I mean, I'm not even sure what you look like hiding behind some mask as if that's going to help you hide from the police. You come to America searching for fame and fortune and you wear a mask to try and disguise yourself. Well I'm sorry mon ami but that just doesn't fly here in the US of A. We see some masked freak walking down our streets with grease and filth following him we'll be well aware of your wetback nature. Now...to be honest I would hate to have to do such a thing to a man whose just trying to make a living however when that living interferes with my living then we've got a problem. Now I'm going to give you a chance to just walk away. Go back to where you come from and ol Remy here will just look the other way no harm no foul but if you take the beaner hand of yours and slap the face of Remy then you'll be having cuffs placed on you faster than Taco Bell diarrhea. So listen here El Chalupa Supreme or whatever your stupid Mexican name is, you better heed my warning and praise the feet of everyone's growing hero Remy LaVoue while you thank me and walk your ass right back to Mexico City. I'm sure there are a lot of places like Las Vegas down there for you to gamble at. I hear there are card board boxes in some alley's that I'm told have great games to play. Maybe then you won't have to wear a mask to hide from your own wetback people. Now, being the generous man that I am. I'll be willing to do something else for you. I'll go ahead and find a Taco Bell, order a burrito, take it into the Majestic ring and have a little picnic. Then I'll just go ahead and shit all over the ring in tribute to you mon ami. Remy smiles as he takes another drag of his cigarette. The camera fades. Edited by Remy, Dec 30 2011, 06:21 PM.
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3:08 PM Jul 11