Post by forgottengod on Oct 21, 2018 9:02:13 GMT -5
It is not my intention for the new warriors to fall – only to respect what the old God's have left behind.
---
Ah, the Viking Spirit. I have always had respect for the warriors of Odin. They have been known to have the respect of true men. They did not care to die in battle as they were assured entrance into the halls of Valhalla on the wings of the Valkyrie. True saints of war who stood their ground without hesitation, fearing no life lost as they held their swords out and marched into battle. Foolish they were to believe in a God who stood not just for war, but by lore, drinking. Much blood has been spilled of those so naive to think that fighting for a belief was stronger than fighting for a reason.
You are much the same, Rumpke. You have the tenacity of a warrior without reasoning. You charge head-first into a battle with a giant, believing you could chop it at the knees before it struck you down for a final time. Still, you may slash at my knees and force me down, but a God never succumbs to a mortal. My will of this fight will be to destroy you entirely for only the reason of leaving behind your mangled corpse to serve as a reminder to the New Warriors that they still have many mountains to climb before stepping into the halls of the Gods.
As for you to stand toe to toe with me in a realm I've called mine for so long? Bravery suits you, but it suits dead men too. The fact is, I've shown countless times that I am a force to be reckoned with. Those who know me have a respect for my ability that shows through my fighting spirit and my pure adrenal strength. For a man my size, I have unmatched speed and have been known to turn a man into a pretzel with a single blow from my shoulder.
Still, I mark down your willingness to stand to me despite those who hold your fate showing reason to have you destroyed. They want you to not only hold your own in a match, but to also survive it with weapons involved and a giant swinging them at you. At first glance, it looks like an unfair match, but you are akin to fighting, so too am I. We are survivalists of this trade. We try to come out a winner no matter how beaten down we've been. I remember being covered in my own blood from head to toe in a match here, thought to be defeated only to inch out the win.
And then the fall of Gary Mac. Our conclusive battle came atop three cages, where I tossed him from the heavens to the depths below. Not only did I win the match, I dove from the cage and made sure he'd be finished off. Since that very moment, he had never been the same again.
Flash forward to now. I come to face you and the only thought I can't seem to shake from my head is how I want to leave you in similar fashion. I don't want to just make an example. I want to make a statement. You've done nothing to wrong me though. Oh wait...
```
The large, hollow building laid barren. His vision of the Temple was just as it had been in his head. Gray stone walls, torn tapestry, even the remains of pews that were once resting comfortably in front of the altar. He could see how large this building was and the alterations made by Siler to create a peaceful place for meditation and potential practice. He grinned and took a few steps deeper and sat down, crossing his legs. He rested his elbows on his thighs and closed his eyes to focus.
“To find my potential I must first calm my mind,” he said aloud. “To unlock my abilities I must first concentrate on nothing. Find that peaceful void in my mind where the calm exists. Then, at once, focus on everything. The motions of the wind, the living around me. Find the current, the ever-flowing river of life which is the essence of everything.”
“You speak the words of the creators.”
Dale held his breath as he slowly opened his eyes. In front of him, not far from where he sat, was a small, horned imp standing next to a pillar. The imp held his palms to it and was leaning out from behind it, as if scared but peeking. Dale didn't move, he slowly inhaled as he stared at the being.
“What are you?”
“I don't know what I am, creator. My master calls me nothing so maybe I'm a nothing?”
Dale began to relax his tense body.
“Surely you are something if you exist, right? Do you have a name? How bout a family?”
The imp looked at him as if he were confused. “I do not have a name or a family. Only a master. He owns this ground and everything in it.”
“Your master is Siler?”
“WE DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME!” The imp squealed and began to quiver, looking around frantically as if he were in danger. “Master does not speak the name of his shell. He does not acknowledge his shell. If you mention that name, consequences are held.”
Dale seemed to be the one confused now.
“What's most curious is you showed up. Master never sends humans to this realm unless he is present. You must be the one he is giving to the Horde.”
“Sounds like something from The Walking Dead,” Dale replied, still somewhat confused.
“Oh no. The Horde are very much alive and can probably sense your presence at this very moment! If I could sense you, so can they. I'm afraid you are in dire trouble, Creator.”
Dale stood up, hearing what sounded like wind to pick up outside.
“These are solid stone walls, right?”
“Yes, Creator.”
“Then how the hell do I hear wind?”
“That's not wind.”
The doors flung open as many large beings stood at the opening. They began to fight each other to enter the room while Dale stood there helpless. In that moment, as the beings began to inch their way through the door, Dale could only mutter one word.
“Lionel...”
```
You bring up a good point, Rumpke. I didn't hold every title Strike Towers had to offer. But I did hold EVERY TITLE that was offered in my time. Check those history books. See, in my actual tenure here, we had no Xtreme championship or Trios. In fact, the Triple Crown that Nirvana has under his belt wasn't even an option! Back in my day, you couldn't hold three titles. That had been written out of the rules, which you probably know. The United States Championship? Might wanna reread the history, if it even exists anymore. We lost a lot when the original towers went down.
Then you want to kind of nip at my loyalty for SFT?
Let me take you back to a time when the Towers briefly died. No one was here. People did mock matches for the sake of keeping a little cash flow going and at one point, I wasn't even wanted here by the majority. My loyalty never swayed. Myself and friends always, ALWAYS dropped Strike Towers in any promo we did, no matter where we were. Kiba, Xavier, me, some more forgotten names that you'd never heard of still keep the flame of SFT in our hearts. We told the stories of old. We told the stories of winning, losing, bleeding, damn near dying for this company. We spread the love and let Strike Towers prosper from our words. But I abandoned ship?
Let me tell you a little something else. When Nirvana ran this place for a short stint, I'd have been BARRED from competition. We have a huge rivalry and no matter how many times I try to make amends, he still holds this grudge. Reno Destiny and I butted heads years back. We never recovered from that. I'd have been blacklisted from The Towers. I came back when I felt it safe to come back. I was literally a topic of discussion when Icon and Dave ran this place. They didn't want me here and thought my talents weren't worth my attitude. I fought with EVERYONE.
But I don't bleed SFT, right? I lie about how this place is my home, right? I was waiting for Joey to contact me with the all clear. Instead, I kicked down the fucking doors, not knowing Reno had just left. I was going to be here whether he wanted me here or not. So, let's just solidify that right there.
You want me to retract my statement? You want me to say that I didn't hold every title? I did. I made a change. It was what was available to me. So throw stones at my accomplishments. Throw these vile things at me as if it would break me. You can be the new soul of Strike Towers if that's what you want. I am an old GOD. That you can't take from me. If you want to be the new God, then strike me down. I'll shake your hand at a later date and give you the nod you deserve.
BUT DON'T THINK I'LL BE HANDING THIS TO YOU.
You want a fight? I can give you a fight. Just like you, I'm not here to hold the title that I am. I'm here to fight, to cause pain, to destroy and mangle. I AM the LION. I am the hunter. I don't care about shiny objects or extra accolades. The fact is, I'm a fighter that has done everything I needed to do to solidify my spot as a possible Hall of Fame entry. And they can deny me that right. That's fine. I'm still here. I'm still kicking and roaring.
You can question me all you want, Rumpke. You can even state that I am a fraud on all accounts. You can tell that to the jury of steel chairs, barbed bats and sledgehammers. At the end of the day, if you want to plead your case through broken teeth and crushed organs, you can. They will be your judgment. I will be your executioner.
Be careful. This snowflake has blades attached and isn't afraid of a little bloodshed.
FADE.
---
Ah, the Viking Spirit. I have always had respect for the warriors of Odin. They have been known to have the respect of true men. They did not care to die in battle as they were assured entrance into the halls of Valhalla on the wings of the Valkyrie. True saints of war who stood their ground without hesitation, fearing no life lost as they held their swords out and marched into battle. Foolish they were to believe in a God who stood not just for war, but by lore, drinking. Much blood has been spilled of those so naive to think that fighting for a belief was stronger than fighting for a reason.
You are much the same, Rumpke. You have the tenacity of a warrior without reasoning. You charge head-first into a battle with a giant, believing you could chop it at the knees before it struck you down for a final time. Still, you may slash at my knees and force me down, but a God never succumbs to a mortal. My will of this fight will be to destroy you entirely for only the reason of leaving behind your mangled corpse to serve as a reminder to the New Warriors that they still have many mountains to climb before stepping into the halls of the Gods.
As for you to stand toe to toe with me in a realm I've called mine for so long? Bravery suits you, but it suits dead men too. The fact is, I've shown countless times that I am a force to be reckoned with. Those who know me have a respect for my ability that shows through my fighting spirit and my pure adrenal strength. For a man my size, I have unmatched speed and have been known to turn a man into a pretzel with a single blow from my shoulder.
Still, I mark down your willingness to stand to me despite those who hold your fate showing reason to have you destroyed. They want you to not only hold your own in a match, but to also survive it with weapons involved and a giant swinging them at you. At first glance, it looks like an unfair match, but you are akin to fighting, so too am I. We are survivalists of this trade. We try to come out a winner no matter how beaten down we've been. I remember being covered in my own blood from head to toe in a match here, thought to be defeated only to inch out the win.
And then the fall of Gary Mac. Our conclusive battle came atop three cages, where I tossed him from the heavens to the depths below. Not only did I win the match, I dove from the cage and made sure he'd be finished off. Since that very moment, he had never been the same again.
Flash forward to now. I come to face you and the only thought I can't seem to shake from my head is how I want to leave you in similar fashion. I don't want to just make an example. I want to make a statement. You've done nothing to wrong me though. Oh wait...
```
The large, hollow building laid barren. His vision of the Temple was just as it had been in his head. Gray stone walls, torn tapestry, even the remains of pews that were once resting comfortably in front of the altar. He could see how large this building was and the alterations made by Siler to create a peaceful place for meditation and potential practice. He grinned and took a few steps deeper and sat down, crossing his legs. He rested his elbows on his thighs and closed his eyes to focus.
“To find my potential I must first calm my mind,” he said aloud. “To unlock my abilities I must first concentrate on nothing. Find that peaceful void in my mind where the calm exists. Then, at once, focus on everything. The motions of the wind, the living around me. Find the current, the ever-flowing river of life which is the essence of everything.”
“You speak the words of the creators.”
Dale held his breath as he slowly opened his eyes. In front of him, not far from where he sat, was a small, horned imp standing next to a pillar. The imp held his palms to it and was leaning out from behind it, as if scared but peeking. Dale didn't move, he slowly inhaled as he stared at the being.
“What are you?”
“I don't know what I am, creator. My master calls me nothing so maybe I'm a nothing?”
Dale began to relax his tense body.
“Surely you are something if you exist, right? Do you have a name? How bout a family?”
The imp looked at him as if he were confused. “I do not have a name or a family. Only a master. He owns this ground and everything in it.”
“Your master is Siler?”
“WE DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME!” The imp squealed and began to quiver, looking around frantically as if he were in danger. “Master does not speak the name of his shell. He does not acknowledge his shell. If you mention that name, consequences are held.”
Dale seemed to be the one confused now.
“What's most curious is you showed up. Master never sends humans to this realm unless he is present. You must be the one he is giving to the Horde.”
“Sounds like something from The Walking Dead,” Dale replied, still somewhat confused.
“Oh no. The Horde are very much alive and can probably sense your presence at this very moment! If I could sense you, so can they. I'm afraid you are in dire trouble, Creator.”
Dale stood up, hearing what sounded like wind to pick up outside.
“These are solid stone walls, right?”
“Yes, Creator.”
“Then how the hell do I hear wind?”
“That's not wind.”
The doors flung open as many large beings stood at the opening. They began to fight each other to enter the room while Dale stood there helpless. In that moment, as the beings began to inch their way through the door, Dale could only mutter one word.
“Lionel...”
```
You bring up a good point, Rumpke. I didn't hold every title Strike Towers had to offer. But I did hold EVERY TITLE that was offered in my time. Check those history books. See, in my actual tenure here, we had no Xtreme championship or Trios. In fact, the Triple Crown that Nirvana has under his belt wasn't even an option! Back in my day, you couldn't hold three titles. That had been written out of the rules, which you probably know. The United States Championship? Might wanna reread the history, if it even exists anymore. We lost a lot when the original towers went down.
Then you want to kind of nip at my loyalty for SFT?
Let me take you back to a time when the Towers briefly died. No one was here. People did mock matches for the sake of keeping a little cash flow going and at one point, I wasn't even wanted here by the majority. My loyalty never swayed. Myself and friends always, ALWAYS dropped Strike Towers in any promo we did, no matter where we were. Kiba, Xavier, me, some more forgotten names that you'd never heard of still keep the flame of SFT in our hearts. We told the stories of old. We told the stories of winning, losing, bleeding, damn near dying for this company. We spread the love and let Strike Towers prosper from our words. But I abandoned ship?
Let me tell you a little something else. When Nirvana ran this place for a short stint, I'd have been BARRED from competition. We have a huge rivalry and no matter how many times I try to make amends, he still holds this grudge. Reno Destiny and I butted heads years back. We never recovered from that. I'd have been blacklisted from The Towers. I came back when I felt it safe to come back. I was literally a topic of discussion when Icon and Dave ran this place. They didn't want me here and thought my talents weren't worth my attitude. I fought with EVERYONE.
But I don't bleed SFT, right? I lie about how this place is my home, right? I was waiting for Joey to contact me with the all clear. Instead, I kicked down the fucking doors, not knowing Reno had just left. I was going to be here whether he wanted me here or not. So, let's just solidify that right there.
You want me to retract my statement? You want me to say that I didn't hold every title? I did. I made a change. It was what was available to me. So throw stones at my accomplishments. Throw these vile things at me as if it would break me. You can be the new soul of Strike Towers if that's what you want. I am an old GOD. That you can't take from me. If you want to be the new God, then strike me down. I'll shake your hand at a later date and give you the nod you deserve.
BUT DON'T THINK I'LL BE HANDING THIS TO YOU.
You want a fight? I can give you a fight. Just like you, I'm not here to hold the title that I am. I'm here to fight, to cause pain, to destroy and mangle. I AM the LION. I am the hunter. I don't care about shiny objects or extra accolades. The fact is, I'm a fighter that has done everything I needed to do to solidify my spot as a possible Hall of Fame entry. And they can deny me that right. That's fine. I'm still here. I'm still kicking and roaring.
You can question me all you want, Rumpke. You can even state that I am a fraud on all accounts. You can tell that to the jury of steel chairs, barbed bats and sledgehammers. At the end of the day, if you want to plead your case through broken teeth and crushed organs, you can. They will be your judgment. I will be your executioner.
Be careful. This snowflake has blades attached and isn't afraid of a little bloodshed.
FADE.
