Corona ex Dolore III: The Centurion - Printable Version +- X-treme Wrestling Federation (https://xwf99.com) +-- Forum: Pay Per View Boards (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=125) +--- Forum: War Games 2025 RP Board (https://xwf99.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=227) +--- Thread: Corona ex Dolore III: The Centurion (/showthread.php?tid=49478)

Corona ex Dolore III: The Centurion - Centurion - 11-12-2025 Corona ex Dolore III A humble warrior fights all his life Bleeding and toiling for the strength of others Thousands look up to him And through them, he finds purpose. Because he is of honor, loyalty,  and more The Centurion’s War never comes to an end Even when his era fades, His blade swings still against his foes. By magick hes turn from the past Thrown into the depths of another tyrant’s wrath He seeks the moral, yearns to serve a cause Will the House of Thorned Crown Be the hope that restores him? It was one of the few times he wished his knowledge was not as vast as it was. We begin on the forest estate of Sir Andrew Cortinovis, known the world ‘round as the Centurion, one of the bravest warriors to have ever fought in the Xtreme Kingdom. In his time, he was feared, and slayed the greatest warriors that had been seen on the battlefield. But that was a bygone era. The Centurion is old now. He has stepped away from war, allowing for a younger generation of hungry warriors to step up and show their bravery in battle. Sir Andrew was happy with this new life. It was quiet. Peaceful. And fulfilling. And yet, he knew it would not last. As the War approached, the call of battle would once again echo through the Centurion’s heart, and he would find himself making a decision he did not wish to make - shall he continue to stand on the sidelines and ignore the allure of the battlefield, or shall he risk life and limb once more for a war which does not pertain to him? Sir Andrew stood by his forge, hammering away at a sword that he was looking to perfect. While he may know much about swords, the crafting of them was not something the Centurion was overly familiar with. As he lifts the red hot blade and looks at it, he sighs before tossing it into the water, causing a loud hiss to emanate from the basin. “How much iron do you plan to waste?” Sir Andrew quickly looked behind him to see his daughter, Lady Nellie, leaning against a tree. She had a mischievous grin as she mocks her father’s failure with the blade. “How much oxygen do you plan to waste?” Sir Andrew quips in return, causing Lady Nellie to laugh. “What are you doing out here anyway? Don’t you and Erin have another secret love affair to engage in with some noble’s wife?” “Later.” Lady Nellie replies as she steps closer to the Knight Centurion. “Everyone on the estate is concerned about you. You have been spending so much time out of the keep that we are beginning to wonder if you have decided to take up arms once more.” The words that come from Lady Nellie’s mouth hit the Centurion like a dagger, as he does not have an answer to her inquiry. “It is not my wish to do so.” The Centurion says as he finally finds the words to speak. “I wish for my fight to be over. I wish for my life to be filled with the comforts of home. And yet…here I stand, debating on whether or not I shall dawn the armour once more.” “Why not join the War?” Lady Nellie asks. “It’s not my war.” The Centurion quickly responds. “Not my fight, not my place.” “Are you telling me that?” Lady Nellie inquires. “Or are you telling yourself that? After all, you seem to repeat these words every fortnight.” “And one of these days it will be true.” The Centurion says in disgust as he angrily tosses his blacksmith tools onto the anvil in front of him. He runs his hands through his long silver hair as he paces away from his force and further into the woods. This causes Lady Nellie to follow him. “Do you think I wish to continue these long, brutal battles? You do think I wish to continue to put my body through the horrors of war at such an old age? Believe me, I do not; however, despite my best efforts, there have yet to be suitable warriors to take up the fight for righteousness.” “And you believe yourself to be the only one who stands for good in this world?” “I believe I exist for the purpose of eradicating evil.” The Centurion calls out, both to Lady Nellie and to whoever shall listen. “I believe, as long as there are forces that wish to do harm to the world, that I must continue to do battle. I believe I need a purpose to remain alive.” The haunting, depressing words that come from Sir Andrew’s mouth reverberate like an echo into the woods. Lady Nellie is unable to comfort him at this time, and is only able to take a deep breath before turning away. The Centurion turns back to his force and grabs another piece of iron, which he tosses into the molten fire. Wait…where the hell am I? I thought I returned to the XWF. That is what it said on the ring aprons when I stepped into the ring anyway. And yet, I take a look at the team that stands across the ring from The House of the Thorned Crown, and I no longer recognize the company I’m competing in. I mean, you have Sebastian Everett Hyde-Smith Villa Mamdani The Sixth, who was a stalwart of the UGWC. You have Corey Black, who was best known for his time in Fight! NYC. Even Betsy Granger did the rounds in multiple companies around the world before vanishing off the face of the earth. I saw this match up and I just automatically assumed there was some mistake and I accidentally signed up for some multi company super show or something. Then I see Barney Green, and it brings me right back to reality. Of course this is still the XWF. Barney Green is here. Honestly, I do not say that as a disrespectful shot at Barney. There’s two people in the XWF who always seem to stick around long after their expiration date, and who return to action mere months after their retirement because the prospect of just sitting at home is something that drives them crazy. One of them is Barney Green. The other is me. Hell, you could say Barney and I have the same role on our respective teams - the old veteran for decades of experience in this company who is there to provide some level of veteran leadership to the proceedings. If that’s the case…then the House of Wayward Wanders is fucked…not that that wasn’t obvious before. First of all, let’s be real - if Barney and I are matched up in any capacity, I win. Like…by a lot. I might respect Barney for all he’s done in this business, but I think I have proven on enough occasions that Barney is nowhere near my league. Also, let’s think about this logically. In the middle of the match, if Isaiah King needs advice, he can come to me. We can strategize over who to isolate, who to avoid, and which procedures we need to follow in order to best optimize our strategy in War Games. I can tell him who to pair off with whom, and which wrestler is vulnerable to which moves. If Betsy Granger needs advice, Barney Green will shit himself and talk about raisins for 20 minutes. Speaking of their fearless leader, where the hell have you been, Betsy? I honestly thought you were dead. Perhaps that is mean of me to say - I have no idea what you have been through the past several years - but still, seeing your name pop back up in the zeitgeist of the professional wrestling business sure has thrown me for a loop. I have to ask, Betsy - are you up for this? Because I look at the egos on your team and I wonder if they’re just going to swallow you whole. SEB and Corey have talent out the ass, but they’re also alphas that refuse to take a back seat to anyone…unless they’re fucking them, and I get the suspicion that isn’t the case here. Besides, Corey has a championship title, and it is on the line in this incredibly fucked up format. Do you really think Corey is standing there, trying to best figure out how to win this contest on behalf of his “team”, or do you think he’s planning every possible route he can take to ensure he doesn’t get pinned and lose that title? What I’m saying is, don’t be surprised if you’re in the middle of a grueling match and all of a sudden you see Corey booking it up the rampway. And here’s what’s funny - I don’t even know if Corey is going to deny it! It’s not like the dude gives off the illusion of a team player. He’s a tag champion out of spite. He holds the title because he wants something to hold, and while the prospect of killing the man he holds the title with is enticing to him, it’s not nearly as enticing as the opportunity to run away with the belt. By the way, the fact that Isaiah and Corey are in the same match? You’re not slick, XWF. I see you…and I love everything about it. Hell yeah, add some juice to this thing. I’m SO down for that. Speaking of juice, hello again, SEB. I was wondering when we were going to cross paths again. For those of you who only pay attention to one wrestling company, Sebastian Everett Kinkade Dominique Buechers The Ninth and I had quite the spirited rivalry in the UGWC. We were so evenly matched it was maddening, though I’m sure it was moreso for him than it was for me. After all, SEB was THE MAN over there. He was unrivaled. There were other people there that won titles, sure, but SEB was the consistent figure. More importantly, he was the only one who was consistently at the top of the company that wasn’t a complete dickbag. This is a direct shot at Donovan Hastings, by the way. So I’m sure it wasn’t fun for SEB to constantly be compared to me, the aging veteran that showed up to the UGWC “for fun” and found myself on top of the company. And while he kept a brave face and said all the right things, I could tell it ate at him a little bit. …I mean, it didn’t eat him up as much as it did when Lucy Wylde took over his spot at the face of the company and completely left him in the dust, but still, it hurt. Though I guess you could say being overshadowed and replaced is kind of a theme for the entire House of Wayward Wanders - Corey by Vhodka and the entire Black Family, SEB by Lucy Wylde, Betsy by Atara Raven, and Barney Green by…well, I guess there is no replacing Barney Green. Dude is one of a kind. I am confident in my team. Hell, I’m so confident that I can almost guarantee a victory - I say “almost” because this is pro wrestling and there’s always a chance all three of them shoot me with a rocket launcher. If this is a straight up match, though - I do not envy their chances. The blade of The Centurion clatters to the dusty floor. His knees follow suit, armor clanking against stone. Sweat drips down his scarred face, covering his eyes and lips. Blood drips from his gauntlets, thankfully not his. He looks up and across at a field littered with corpses and broken banners. It was his victory, and yet it stank with rot and sorrow. The groans of the dying still drifted up into the air. They were the only lullaby he had as exhaustion washed over him. The chorus mingled with the cheers of his own men. The Emperor had fallen, his armies crushed - was this, at long last, his peace? His breathing steadied, he slumped against his shield. The wind fell still. And then a whisper. “Seeketh, Scion, Revealeth, Alone. Champion. Revival. Warrior. Hope. See toma eractus portula” The words seemed to appear from thin air, The words curled like serpents inside The Centurion’s head. No mouth spoke then, yet the echoed whitin him. Multiplying until the noise was thunderous. The Centurion roared in agony, his hands clawing at the bronze helmet that suddenly felt like an echo chamber. He tore it free, letting it fall to the ground- That had vanished from beneath him. No mud. No blood. Only grass. Endless, whispering grass littered with flowers. Wildflowers swayed in golden light, and the scent of spring, long forgotten, met him. He staggered to his feet, looking to a sky unmarked by smoke and pain. The battle had vanished, the banners forgotten - it seemed like peace. “What in the world…” His words came out in an odd language he understood but could not name. “Welcome… ” The voice was raspy, a little shrill.. And filled with a mischief that The Centurion didn’t like. He turned sharply, hand to his sword. “You seem like a worthy warrior” The beautiful woman before him said, a glint in her eye. Every syllable dragged like silk over glass. “Do not be afraid, warrior of the past. You have been chosen to serve the Thorn.”