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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
Silence | ThE WiTcH DoCtOr
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ThEWiTcHDoCtOr
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#1
10-23-2016, 08:34 AM


OOC | Reading Dazed and Scratch character development pieces on the News/Hype will help you understand the entirety of the situations more.

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Welcome,

What you are about to witness...

Behold...

Is the once beckoned calls of...

A mad man without concepts of time...

A force without limits...

There will be no heartache...

Mercy is what you make of it...

No matter how it looks...

[Image: ff02cc5636afca8b78baa6638e36f8a0.jpg]


ThE WiTcH DoCtOr | BEAR BRADDOCK | 'Silence'

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Prelude. ||



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Burning piano keys engulf the screen. The dark hut in the middle of nowhere sorrounded by trees and rot is present once more. The empty bloodied hole that once hosted the dazed man is shown, without him. Empty and shallow the shot pans up to reveal a stake with a sharp point on the top drenched in dripping red. Bear Braddock enters the hut through a filthy dark cloth covering one entrance. His face covered in crimson red and pale white. His feasting eyes sing like a familiar lullaby into the camera. He speaks softly, gazing undistracted at the top of the stake as if speaking to it.

Sadness comes and then it goes, for those we have loved and who lived with us through our woes. Common places and dirty spirit... give way to freeing of it. When the soul seeks to call, it gives the end to all... all the things that ever came before. To open a door you must close two more. Spite in judgement can pretend, but hollowed voices bring you in. Steady torment in the face of glory, within every one of us variations exist, but we live the same story...

He turns back to exit the hut, revealing a gigantic fresh gash as if he was sliced with a sword or equally potent blade across his back, left shoulder to right hip.

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Scene. ||

Inside the XWF dwelling restless fans take their seats. Sipping their cola and fighting over kernals of leftover popcorn from the bottom of the bag. Wearing their Halloween costumes and favorite competitors masks and shirts. Scanning the crowd of signs, props, and people assuming, looking at their cell phones for the time looming. The show was scheduled to begin minutes ago when the lights dimmed to a soft white ambiant glow.

[Image: PSX_20161020_204941.jpg]

Smoke begins to billow in from the floor. The screen illuminates with "You must know...", before Bear Braddock's familiar voice echoes the words below...

Pretend to be civil,
For unrest is familiar,
Actions by the shrivel,
Accompanied by the peculiar.

Tell me lies,
And truth will follow,
Straighten the ties,
That bind you so hollow.

Swayed by blindness,
In love or thereafter,
Washed out tenderness,
Your eyes reflect laughter.

When you call me to vent,
I call you a martyr,
Straight lines with dents,
Not quite so dapper.

Even in intimidation,
Your voice begins to fade,
Like a song that was sung,
On the edge of a blade.

Like a bullriders saddle,
XWF hosts deviants in our trade,
Men come to battle,
A victory for all they gave.

In sections of hope followers ask,
About outcomes in gest, and,
Who will prevail in mountains of last,
No matter the colors of the mask.

Just like that it happens,
The quick and the dying,
A better competitor feels,
The others loss calling.

On their knees beggars in sin,
Finish them fast for mercy is here,
Don't you dare feel bad for them,
When the foolish fall in fear.

The screen goes to black, the lights come up and flicker and then fade altogether to black. Moments pass, anticipation grows, when they return no one can know. Another few seconds, dastardly waiting, with another flicker they rise, ThE WiTcH DoCtOr in the ring flat on his back laying...

Let me tell you the answers that all who ask seek. It may be long or it may be brief. Entering the dwelling of XWF tonight, I noticed many shirts and props to commemorate us who fight. Costumes to cause jealousy and fright! Some even had the name Kennedy sewn into sleeves left and right. Choose those you follow with precision and mite. Kennedy is the type of man who will leave you dangling in the night. Looking up at the stars wondering why, he could never live up to expectations... could never be more than alright. Through the throughways and hallways in back, a few fans wore Kitt Kennedy backpacks. Some were excited, others seemed lost, all the money they had was the ultimate cost. An experience worth having, material means so much to you. The essence of why we do what we do. Alas, Bear face paint now available, plus shipping and handling. Sheep.


[Image: 20161020_211648.jpg]

He points up with both hands then backward over his head. The Xtron reels begin to rotate in the projection room. Switch to a man with a badge lanyard reading "Projection: Dale" spilling hot coffee fighting through fans back from concession to an 'Employee Only' empty hallway. He sips a little and accidentally dribbles down his shirt. Cursing to himself under his breath he cleans it with a thin paper napkin he had held with the coffee, then finally pulls on the handle to the labled 'Projection Room'. It is locked, he spills the coffee again, then puts his ear to the door. Realizing the projector is playing.

Shit!

The screen slips to black then rolls seemingly backwards to show a woman levitating in a room facing the corner with her lower back shaped like the face of a skull. The crowd in the arena gasps.

[Image: 20161020_210602_1.jpg]

The woman turns toward the lens revealing a beautiful upper face and a horribly disfigured lower face below the nose and a partially missing jaw. For a moment the crowd in the arena is breathless. Slowly boos begin as children scream and cry, parents unsure how to stop it or react. She raises her hand to reveal a tattoo on the back in a demented but delightful type of smile.

[Image: 20161020_215851.jpg]

Back to the hallway where 'Dale' has security trying to open the door. The key will not turn, so he nudges the guard out of the way in desperation and turns it until it breaks off. Holding the keys up in disbelief, he accuses the guard of having the wrong one; the guard pushes him against the wall and pats him down asking if he has been drinking noticing the dribbles on his shirt.

What no, that's coffee man! Come on! Badge!? I work here!

The angle returns to Braddock now kneeling in the ring with a mic tucked between his hands looking down at the mat.

Meet my right hand... Miss Percy. And before you jump to conclusions, no... her beautiful features are not my doing. You see she came to me in a state of misery, not unlike many of you. Same job, same life, same problems daily she fought and clawed through for years. Then one night I performed a ceremony in a small village. She was there against her will dragged by a friend because she wanted to stay in and relish her awful circumstances, as complacency often causes... but fate had other plans for her that night. Not unlike Kitt, she was lost in the nature of who she THOUGHT she was... but not who she was meant to be. But like Kitt, she was forced into a situation where there was no option, there was no escape, it was time to face the most frightening fear of all... one's own insignifigance. Fate realigned with plans of being attacked by a vicious hound that emerged from the treeline for Ms.Percy, tearing at her, knawing at the fabric of who she was until it finally ripped a hole, foaming at the mouth with disease and pride. Many people would have perished under such perrill... but not Miss Percy. You see, she, is a survivor, and though her will had been burried under mundane nothings... it lived on waiting for a moment to take hold of what was rightfully hers... the future. Kitt Kennedy has an opportunity at his feet, but before you can take control of what will happen, it is necessary to get humbled, and torn in half to reveal weakness... and let it seep out and evaporate. Look at Ms.Percy... now after several... improvements... she is happier than ever. Like many of you would be if you... LET GO...

The arena lights go out, a white spotlight hits Braddock who is centered in ring standing wearing a white carved smiling mask.

[Image: 20161020_224312.jpg]

LET GO! OF YOUR DEAD END JOBS! LET GO! OF YOUR ABUSERS! LET GO! OF A LIFE THAT NEVER DID YOU ANY FAVORS! LET GO! OF THE THINGS THAT ARE TOXIC AND KILLING YOU DAILY! LLLLETTTT GOOOOOO! HAHAHAHAHA! LET IT ALL!

The arena lights begin to pulsate, the fans jumping back in their seats and into their mothers bosoms.

GOOOOO!

Indestinct chanting begins, the screen fades to black. Miss Percy can be heard laughing uncontrollably as white smoke fills the entrance stage. Men in white masks and black robes meander down the stage lining both sides chanting "KENN-ED-Y". Miss Percy emerges from the entrance area in a black veil. She holds a tall thin oddshaped item sheathed with a large cloth, walking slowly through the smoke and martyrs toward the ring.

[Image: PSX_20161021_224024.jpg]

Bear reaches over the side and pulls the item from her hands quickly. The lights dim for a moment then reignite with a sharp stake burning in the middle of the squared circle topped with the dazed mans simmering head. An overwhelming moan and screams are heard throughout the lower seating; crackling sounds of bone and flesh melting are second only to the putrid stench. Echoes of laughter fill the arena.

Hee, Haa, Haa, Whoo, Hee. THE BEAR IS ALL YOU NEED! HAHAHAHA!

The sound of latches big and small can be heard around the forum locking. People panic and begin running and fighting toward the exits to no avail. The stake splattering embers all over the ring, as the flames pick up... ring attendants quickly going for the nearest extinguishers only to find them all missing. Crying and whailing fill the hearing spectrum with smoke and coughing causing some to tuck their noses into their shirts. As the level of panic continues to skyrocket, the soft sweet lullaby eyes appear on the XTron and the full candered voice of ThE WiTcH DoCtOr comforts the audience.

Sometimes in the dark,
I see them break a part,
With furry or straight hair,
Into pieces of never there.

I light a match and think back,
To when parlour music played,
People laughed and went home,
So happy that they came.

Then merch wearing pretenders,

They found it funny,
To make our profession a mocked joke,
No respect for the matches,
Or wardrobe sales we envoke.

Anyone with money can buy a mask,
But it doesn't mean you deserve it,
I earned my makeup after years past,
Now earn yours to grin and bare it.

Posting triumphs,
You smug limey fans,
How dare you make a mockery of us,
Your joy was in our hands.

Burnt one running up the aisle,
Two sneaking up the fire escape,
A few more throwing water into the ring,
And one by the exit posting a homicidal selfie.

So as souls fly into the air tonight,
Don't let it get you down,
And multicolored costumes are filled with third degree burns,
Don't run from a fate that never made you frown,
Remember that like you can buy masks, I can buy matches for fun,
Pretending to be what you aren't offends me, the real, dangerous one.


People line the top outer edges of each section, the entire ring and barrade area now in flames. Some kneel to pray, others yell for help. The commotion becomes one loud noise. One last word of comfort as they all prepare to 'let go'.

[Image: 20161021_233432.jpg]

SILENCE!

The lights go out and the audio feed is cut off, the only view of the increasing fire licking up closer and closer to the top of the auditorium. The zooming angle at the top of the fire makes the flames almost appear as a hand. Forming more clearly after moments with pointed fingers; the hand plays on burning piano keys an enchanting melody... then quickly rises snatching the camera lens.

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Fade. ||








[-] The following 6 users Like ThEWiTcHDoCtOr's post:
(10-23-2016), Doctor Louis D'Ville (10-23-2016), The_Franchise Michael Graves (10-27-2016), Tommy Gunn (10-29-2016), Unknown Soldier (10-23-2016), Vincent Lane (10-29-2016)




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