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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
◖ M | D N | G H T ◗
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#1
10-16-2017, 01:01 AM

M | D N | G H T


It's midnight; when night crawlers look for prey to devour. The witching moment for all who acknowledge it's timely power. In torment, the scared run for safety by the hour. Unaware the inherit danger has already surrounded them whether or not they cower. Sickness seeps out of every kind of prowler. Feeding off the silence of heavy breathing getting louder. Panic to clean it, these stains don't wash away in a sink or shower. Nothing you do can erase the taste of bitterness and adrenaline being sour. Even if you find help, it is only temporary that you feel prouder. A mistake will be made, when you stop evading to flounder. Indecision decides what the future of Warfare will unflower. Ashes to ashes, the dust that was Chris Chaos will be now scoured.


Sounds of nothing take over the evening. Calm like before a storm or a vicious animal breeding. Eeriness looms in the shadow of trees; panning all kinds of still nature through tall grass and weeds.

About now, I bet you wish you had listened. Instead of doubling down on your ignorant losing visions. Of me being some type of rabbit- hell of a group you must go to for that bad habit. When they tried to get you to take a brochure... I bet you tried to nab it; the leader came over with bouncing titties, telling you that you that, FUCK NO, couldn't spit on or grab it! And if you're honest with yourself, there's still a few bad habits that you don't keep exactly... stealth.

For one, you remind me of Tracy Ullman after she was done- always trying to be funny but in the end, I still wanted to ask why it's not a rerun. For another, you still call poop a 'number two'; and do you know how childish it is when you pull down your pants at a urinal in the men's room? Those are just personal things that still bother... not nearly as much as the cross-eyed Dutch gypsy who claimed you were her "fächer". Professionally, you're still figuring it out- early success made you not work out of droughts... and worse, started causing those chaotic pouts. GAAHHH! Don't even get me started! The last time we were in the same locker room I felt like I had to lie like Matt Damon in the Departed. It was my only defense or you'd ask how your ass looked in those tights looking, so broken hearted, I made some shit up so I wouldn't get fucking completely bogarted. Your wrestling style resembles more of a dinner being moonlit. Like star-crossed lovers... you say what's good about you but still omit; the terror inside that made you pick out these snug ring outfits.

It's not so bad, you can just say you're a fan of misfits. Put some paint on your face and fake a personality split. If that doesn't work make sounds with your armpit, disguise the fact that between your legs is really a big slit. Closely pay attention to where in the room there's a first aid kit; you might need it after they discover that you're missing a cockpit. Evade them if you can, point 'over there' and then sprint- away before they see it was a distraction you didn't want to admit.

If you still fail- I still won't give a shit. People hold trials and force others to submit. Like me, they might even tell you to sit, and like you, you'll probably try to entice them with horrifying tales from the clit.


Willowing leaves in the deepest dark of night's rest, dropping their dew on a pile of the same dead crumpled up likeness: the ones that have rottenly fallen, becoming part of the forest nest, while others whisper in the somber winds out of rooted righteousness. Over the pile, a scroll finds mismatched torn shoe tips; moving back up a human shaped group of bundled up red tidbits. Pupils open between a set of stiff old branches; the body sits up in fear, while the wind and a few renegade leaves finish cool midnight dances. Terrified eyes patter back and forth, in a head full of questions, in a mindset unsure of its next course. Looking up at the sky, then at the tree line, imagining whoever put you here will be back in no time.

The first time around you seemed surprised. Hit too hard with tears in your eyes. All in all, you put up a good match- though reading isn't your strong suit, but a plan you did hatch. Plotting and waiting is more of your game- the problem then became that I'm better at the same. Not much has changed, you're still not on the level. Cry if you must, or just walk out like fucking Neville. Ultimately... I'm gonna chop you into pieces for the Devil, but it will be neat, with a classy 45° bevel. I'm not one to brag, but my skills have gotten sharper, meanwhile the light has dimmed on your career protractor. Even most of your wins are EHHH and followed by immediate laughter. Being a joke is just not amusing. That's why I've studied up for a fast paced abusing. Not impressed yet? AW SHUX; I could always resort to some gifted engraved brass knucks! "To my partner, Iconoclast RULES"- you've never been good an inscriptions, or punctuations, or... duels. I know, I keep dwelling on the mistakes, we should all just gloss over the blonde smelly decay. It wouldn't have to be like this if you had obeyed; if you had any common sense, or could win even a modest debate. You're not real kind either, less we forget... you have called me many names, and when you lost at a game you tried to hit reset.

YES YOU DID!

YOU CLOSED THE LID!

THEN, you tried to say once that I make stuff up, THAT I DO! MEEEEEEEE?! Well, of course I do honey-cup- I also stand when I pee. It's how I occupy my time... what else would I do with it, listen to you try to match my rhyme... PFFTTT, YEAH, THAT'S IT! That'll be the day, when hell freezes over, or on a 'tab' you actually pay without using the term, "it's a little over". Don't insult me- it makes you look like a bum; and you don't need help to do that... no really, it's not just a pun.

Have some respect- do you know what it is? Are you still trying to focus after my last exploding jizz? OH GOD, I AM SO SO SORRY- I just figured you could take a load from the way you handle joy sticking on Atari. Don't worry Chris, none of this will be on the quiz. It isn't a test, I'm really gonna own you, bitch. Take off those panties, spread yourself out- oh yeah, just like that, now talk again about your "championship clout". OH FUCK, I think I'm gonna blow! Why say yes, when it feels so good to say no?! Ohhh! OHHHHHHH! Here it comes! Don't back up, you might slip and end up with Radical dick in your lungs.


Escape through natural barriers in the absence of light. Unforgiving cold chills all the way down your already yellow spine. Looking back to make sure you're not followed. You can't run for long because your chaotic endurance was used all those times you swallowed. The wind picks up and a gust carries away that thing you tried to get behind; like a buffalo in heat humping anything he can find. Quick! A house up in this instance, it's your only chance before the kidnapper closes the distance.

Let me tell you what's gonna happen, ya know, so you're on the up and up. Shhhh, shush, shush, just listen, AND shut the fuck up! You're getting fucking kidnapped, for the greater good. Since you wouldn't kill yourself after I begged, I found someone else who would. He was right here with us... all along! His name is YOUR OWN finger, he was just stuck holding a cracked Jenny Myst bong. I promise it won't hurt- well, okay that's not entirely true. The wood chipper machine I'm using can get stuck on "he doesn't want to". Blindfolded and bound, but not the kind you prefer- this is jagged piano wire, so you may want to start thinking about calling me "sir"...

In the front door, finally a second to breathe. Maybe they have food, or a phone for calling someone else who can lead. The captor's head slowly walks in front of the window. In your subconscious, Jenny's voice screams "FUCK NO!" He's pulling on the doorknob, at least you think it's a he. Not sure about gender, but instead you just... close your eyelids so he can't... see? What a cunt, you might as well not even breathe. Bold strategy, maybe it will pay off if you plead. If he's blind as a bat or has other needs, or doesn't wanna waste his time on some stupid jerk-off with worn out knees.

Okay- okay, now I've read the manual... it says chaos only happens when you suck cock more than annual. WAIT! FUCK! IS THAT YOU?! Well at least be polite and let Myst have some too. The gloves are off- you've been exposed. Hey are you gonna finish that Hepatitis test, mmm, you must love those. That explains the outbreak... IF only they had known- that it all would start an epidemic, by you hiding from my throne.

Must have fell in with some pretty bad dudes, whatever the case, you shouldn't just let people gang rape you- this isn't the zoo.

Dignity may be lacking, in literally... all that you do- but there's always tomorrow... oh, I guess there... actually won't be... for you...

Uh, well, looking back on all your awesome achievements... wow, that doesn't help either, what does with bereavement- a game of follow the leader?

I don't know, I'm no fucking expert... it seems when I try to help it just gets messier. I don't want this to come across as a lecture - I, in no way mean to be one of those hecklers. You know the kind, trying to pretend shit is sunny... then run out of cash... and with no ability to sell their body for money.

Oppss, also a sour note- I keep forgetting where you found Jenny- back under that greedy bearded goat. Ah, I see this isn't helping, I keep describing all of your faults when the point is that there are too many to be telling.

Protection can't help you- and even if this wasn't so hairy, it didn't seem to help your dad; Chaos fuck ups appear hereditary. What bro- you're STILL mad?! It will be over soon, Gabe Reno's your huckleberry, comrade!


Footsteps lead down a hallway full of red leaves. A trail left for the captor to read. You're tucked inside, whimpering amongst yourself- the very sound of breathing has become bad for your health. What does he want and is it out of spite, he looks so familiar but it's fucking midnight. A hand full of blonde hair, a chop at the seems- the captor pulls you up to face him to end the scene.






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