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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
I certainly didn't hit the jackpot!
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Unknown Soldier Offline
HAIL SATAN!



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#1
02-26-2015, 11:30 AM


A glitter of light sparkles in the distance as a vortex of energy swings one into action like a tornado gravitating reality back into focus. Quickly gaining pace and distance as it spins ones view of the light closer and closer. A panoramic view of the city of Tampa Bay, Florida now magnifies after the whirlwind has sufficed. Slowly gliding in to a more specific location, like a floating lens shot in a Law and Order episode, one soars past streetlights and sidewalks. Onward one flies past planes, boats, trains, and cars in that exact order. Past the people and animals gleefully skipping across the sunny streets. The happy part of town seems to slowly lose it's appeal as the skyscrapers and towering condominium homes begin to deplete into a view of a now souring stable of suburbs. The overwhelming feeling of sadness, and the dissipation into a dementia of a dilapidated corner of one of the most beautiful cities in America, now come before you the most sickly and sinister of strongholds. A lonely and run down shanty of a circus shack, falling to pieces in the middle of the road. A road that had obviously not been used in quite some time apparent by the distinct fading in it's markings down it's middle and sides.

The structure itself held the consistency of a wood that had been welded together by metal and now the two held together like glue. Size was not large, but of a kitchen and bedroom or two and it stretched indefinitely all the way across the street, from which everyone would consider a normal city block. The decorations and wall coverings on the outside barriers are deplorable and both hideous in nature. The foul and putrid stench of feces and urine that smears these outside walls now crawls up the back of ones nose and tickles the hairs feverishly as if pleading for one to abandon and depart from it's premise. Symbols of satanic worship and sadomasochism are outlined on the building's posterior, drawn in sketches with both the excrement and what appears to be, oddly enough, a red crayon? The malodorous shelter stands now but a mere ten feet away. Although the paintings and symbols outside the door warn of evil and unwanted trespassers, inquisitiveness of the mind somehow yearns for passage inside and one can't help but give in to interest when the nature of its existence is so abnormal.

Circling around the exterior of the building, progressing closer and closer to the outside of the hut in question searching for an entry, the feeling of dizziness comes on strong as doorways seem to be of a nihility. Spinning and confusing the wanderer just as the vortex that brought one here in the first place. Round and round one goes like a child on his merry-go-round until imminent collapse if inevitable as the pacing becomes too accelerated. Albeit the body has fallen; however, the brain now continues to spin as if it were injected by a shot of cocaine. Staring now at the sky with the clouds and endless blue ever pounding up and down as the vision inside ones head. The bouncing vibrates in the skull like a basketball being dribbled from above on top of the forehead. When the ability to come to beseeches one, the eyes meticulously meander their way back towards our questioned entrance. A straggler you see, and a destructive young beast is exactly what you perceive. His resemblance is human in nature but disfigured and handicapped. Walking on all fours and slobbering like some kind of dog zombie. His wardrobe of short pants and tank top seems precise for his location geographically by state; however, the bitter and overwhelmingly freezing temperatures of immense cold emancipates from both his body and our destination in tow. The hammering inside the head has now ceased, as the creature crawls closely to our side to assist one to his feet.

"Careful now, the boSsSsSsSsSsSs doeSsSsSsSsSsSsn't want you wanderin' around here now!"

The scars and cuts around his face are heavily infected along with a slew of warts on both his hands and feet to what we can now certainly attribute the "28 Days Later" look from afar from earlier. A large slime of his saliva trickles from the bottom of his lower lip and smears across one's shoulder leaving behind a snail like trail of grit mixed with spit. Ignorance to it's existence is bliss as the hunchback slumps and limps towards a large door that magically appears now on the north side of the shack. In long strides one follows struggling with each step as the vortex outside spins wildly trying to bring us back up and away. The world outside miraculously sucking in towards a black hole that ironically rests behind a doorway on a crack house in the middle of the road somewhere in Florida. This portal seems risky and gives one headaches, stretching the thralls of rationality from a neurological think tank. Into the dark and cold abyss of the mind where little is actually known one shall go. The chills coming off the doorknob as one turns the brass round knob sends a shiver down the spinal cord that slithers to the mind and shakes both the senses and ones sanity.

------------->
<-----------

Inside the home it seems much larger then expected from the outside. In fact, to a degree so abnormal that it would seem impossible. The decoration is quite different then expected from the architecture out front. It seems quite normal with gorgeous wall paper and various household knick knacks and such. That is, only considering anything above eye levels display; however, the floor would tell of a quite different horrific display. From the ground and stacked up approximately four feet tall is an array of sprawling bodies stacked in all sorts of stages. Some live and while others deep in the decomposition phase. The few that are active are quite interesting indeed. You remember of course, the slobbering fool, and a deranged preacher of sorts, sits far across from him perched up on a stool. Interesting how he might make his way into this equation with his full robe and holy bible in hand. His eyes are so wired and pupils fully dilated with what seems like rage. His blonde locks of hair are both tattered and worn like a pack of gnarly dreadlocks. At the sight of ones prescience he stands up to chant with a deranged look on his face.

"He wants your sin and sacrifice. He wants your sin and sacrifice. He wants your sin and sacrifice. He wants your sin and sacrifice. He wants your sin and sacrifice. He wants your sin and sacrifice."

Bobbing and weaving his brain as the banter grows louder and longer with each repeating phrase. His head now tucked between his knees with his head still shaking up and down slightly, as if he were attempting to orally pleasure himself. His colleague and our former companion who found our entrance, lets out a cackling bit of laughter before the crackling of crystal methamphetamine can be heard. Tucked back between his legs and cuddled next to the wall it is out of sight but certainly not out of mind, sound, or smell. A small cloud of brown smoke trickles towards the ceiling as our crank fiend exhales indubitably. His eyes now twice as dilated and red as the preachers. The two exchange the smoking mechanism and the crackling continues until it is abruptly interrupted by a loud voice coming from the other room.

Unknown Soldier: "Barnabus! Bartholomew! It's about to start Peter is coming on now! Hurry!"

A voice familiar to the XWF universe calls for the two crack fueled drones. Whose names one can now assume as Barnabus the street walker and Bartholomew the priest. Both of them diligently arising to the beckoning of what we can now conceive to be the 'boss'. Quickly the two and the one being you, go trampling off menacingly into the other room. Like a pair of giggling baboons the two skip merrily into the room opposite where the most sadistic and wicked of all XWF wrestlers past, present, and future awaits them. This room is renovated much like the outdoor décor of the home. Covered in similar markings referring to the desolate one otherwise known as the beast. The floor is no longer a display of a dug up grave yard, but rather of an enormous pentagram engulfed around a smaller circle in the direct center. Soldier turns a wooden chair around to face the group of characters filing in one by one into his room. Straddling the chairs legs with two of his own and wrapping them around the wooden beams that stretch down to the floor. The bone structure of our villain mastermind pulling the strings on the two slaves, must have disappeared over time as his legs are able to wrap twice around the wooden beam infrastructure of the chair. Holding his body in place so he can lean outward in different directions while giving his speeches. Stretching his arms, chest, and face like a snake hanging off a branch in a tree.

Time and crystal meth has aged our demonic little freak quite horribly. It's quite obvious that any amount of muscle structure that once existed on his already depressed body has gone completely. His frail and anemic looking frame couldn't weigh more than a hair over one hundred pounds while soaking wet. His normal long and flowing blonde hair is less abundant, as only now a single patch of about forty hair follicles from the peak of his crown at the top of his head trickles down the side of his face like a long ponytail. Teeth as expected are also more spare, like a veteran hockey player but more diseased looking and stained. About the only thing that is similar about the last time we saw him is the clothes on his back. Still mangled and blood stained in the same fashion as we saw last. The crank king let's out an enormous cloud of black smoke reeking of battery acid combined with both ammonia and bleach. The release is a calling to the two other crank heads in company as both come crawling to their boss' feet in a heap of panic. Bartholomew arrives first and is put out with great rage as immediately Soldier saw him attempting to invade his boundary.


Unknown Soldier: "Away with you preacher of the foolish choir! Why do you think that this circle exists? You think I'd let you stay here without my means of protection?"

Soldier backhands him across the face and then throws a block of crystal into the corner where the priest begins using the drug and hoarding it like a rat with its cheese. Barnabus now kneels before the gift giver, inside the circle, and begs like he's some type of even sadder version of Oliver Twist.

Barnabus: "PleaSsSsSsSsSsSse SsSsSsSsSsSsir. I want SsSsSsSsSsSsome more."

The sinister drug dealer scoffs at the pathetic plea with a large and elongated bit of laughter, and then proceeds to give in to his futile requests. Barnabus reacts in a similar fashion as Bartholomew did but is interrupted by another command from his preacher.

Unknown Soldier: "Who in the fuck is this trash you dragged in with you, Barnabus?"

The preoccupied drug abuser mumbles something under his breath after taking a solid look in this direction.

Barnabus: "He came from the SsSsSsSsSsSsky! I SsSsSsSsSsSswear it boSsSsSsSsSsSs!"

Soldier laughs wickedly and sadistically as fuck at the same time. Peter would be proud.

Unknown Soldier: "They do that from time to time. Much more frequently then before the three of us all met. It is the work of our great lord of darkness that I've been preaching to you about all of this time."

Barnabus: "HAIL SATAN!"

Bartholomew: "HAIL SATAN!

Unknown Soldier: "Yes, praise him!"

Soldier exhales another enormous ball of smoke from his lips, although one knows that never did he inhale anything in. His glares and now enormous smile after computing his thoughts with Barnabus' reply to his question are now directed forcefully into ones attention.

Unknown Soldier: "Hi ya Vern, let me show you my massive meth lab I have set up in the kitchen."

Bartholomew immediately interjects.

Bartholomew: "Don't do that gay thing like in the Ernest movies where he talks to the audience, Soldier. You're going as far to rip that off as to call them the exact same thing he did.

Unknown Soldier: "What would you know, you're just some priest."

Barnabus and Soldier both have a good laugh at the childish yet damaging insult.

Unknown Soldier: "Quick Barnabus! The Lottery is about to begin! Fetch the SATAN!vision from the bathroom!"

Limping and crawling off into the bathroom Barnabus slowly returns after a brief stint with a giant box television set. He hangs the cord over a nail that is dripping from the ceiling and then plugs the cords opposite end into an outlet facing the adjacent wall. Peter's beloved face appears over the screen, and it's obvious that with the arrival of strangers to this story that the drawing is already into delay.

Unknown Soldier: "Come on Pete or Dim. Come on Pete or Dim. Come on Pete or Dim."

The other two members of the crank clown posse begin chanting the exact same thing and jump around doing all kinds of obscene ritualistic behaviors.

Peter Gilmour: "Team 6 will be...."

Unknown Soldier: "I'm sure this will be me. I mean Team 6, come on!"

Peter Gilmour: "Austin Fernando and Unknown Soldier!"

A picture of some super clean cut, blonde douchebag looking wrestler comes up onto the screen with snippets of videos of him in 3D performing his borderline homosexual moves in his various matches during his short stay in XWF. Then just one lonely shot of Soldier passed out ringside after a night with too much to drink.

Unknown Soldier: "Are you even fucking kidding me? So now I have to pair up with this Calvin Klein model lookalike that has the ring name of an actor who should be playing Zorro! What kind of idiot rich boys father bones the maid and then names their filthy offspring after it. For all the fucks sake of all the fucks in fuckville, is this some kind of joke to put me with someone like this. My sponsors like ISIS, the Westboro Baptist Church, and Starbucks certainly won't be happy to hear I'm paired with Los Justin El Timberlake!

Peter Gilmour: "Team 10 will be Dimallisher and Sebastian Duke!"

Unknown Soldier: "Well I guess it could be worse. I could be poor Dimmy boy."

Peter Gilmour: "Team 11 will be Peter Gilmour and Michael MCBITCH!

With Peter's anger so too comes Soldier's. He picks up and tosses a light bulb across the room that was sitting underneath his chair and was most likely being used as a smoking device. It shatters somewhere in the other room as Soldier then stretches out his arms leaning back and screaming up towards the ceiling.

Unknown Soldier: MCBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!

He takes a long, drawn out breath before lurching back up into the sky once again.

Unknown Soldier: MCBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!

Another breath before he gathers his thoughts and continues.

Unknown Soldier: By the bad luck of the Irish, Peter gets fucked the most by drawing the worst name in the hat. That green painted leprechaun fairy from Ireland himself, Michael Mcbride! I mean seriously, I take a look all the way down this list of sixteen and think to myself. Yup, definitely Mcbride is the worst person to get paired with. I look at people with names like Coco Mojo, a wrestler who's ring name better suits the looks of my partner. I look at this person with this incredibly strange and stupid name, and I still think to myself that a guy who hasn't even cut one promo or wrestled in even one match in XWF is better than Michael mother fuckin' MCBITCH!"

A few hours later, after Peter's ruggedly handsome face disappears from the screen, some tool with a 'Leave it to Beaver' hair cut appears on the television prompter.

Ozymandias: "Team 6 will be facing Team 11 in the first round."

Unknown Soldier: What kind of a conspiracy is this shit? Someone had better get to the bottom of this! Peter should hire some private eyes to spy on this Warfare management team and find out precisely why they think it's necessary to try and break up our long standing alliance. I make a return twice now and ironically I'm in a match facing him. Tell me again Ozymandias that the pairings were randomly generated. I suppose then after that you can try and convince me that 9/11 wasn't an inside job or maybe that Lee Harvey Oswald was the only person who was behind the death of JFK. Ha! You must think I'm as gullible as the girl who accepts the anal sex to avoid pregnancy. In the words of the infamous and one of the most prolific wrestlers the XWF has ever seen, to both you Ozymandias, and the rest of the competitors in Lethal Lottery. I will end u!"

The pissed off demonoid phenomenon smashes the television screen to pieces by repetitively pounding his fist into it while it swings back and forth off the nail. Barnabus takes ones hand and begins leading it towards the exit as a dark cloud begins to shadow itself over the room.

Barnabus: TimeSsSsSsSsSsSs to get going! Prayer SsSsSsSsSsSservice is about to begin."

After exiting the crack house one begins spinning again in a vortex out into the sky, watching the city of Tampa Bay, Florida go floating bye bye.


[Image: MGncwBi.jpg]

XWF Record
56 - 20 - 1

1 (X) Universal Champion
4 (X) Xtreme Champion
1 (X) Tag Team Champion (w/ Doctor Louis D'ville)
1 (X) Anarchy Champion
2 (X) Superstar of the Month
Hall of Legends member inducted 9/27/20 at Relentless

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