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X-treme Wrestling Federation »  RP Archive » Archives » News, Rumors, Hype, etc...
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—and I am not flattered— Imitation: the sincerest form of immaturity in this land
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Egyptian Snow Pharaoh Offline
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#1
06-22-2014, 01:24 AM























†he§e¯finªl¯hºur§


part: ¯∟¯















Face remaining veiled; her kind wary of being seen in the same light as impurities of the simplistic fleshes and parasites therein.

"In this land of righteous pigs, your envy still runs deeper than any lustful human experience I've embodied."

"I,        
       
       
       
       
       

live.
evil.
live.
evil.
live.
evil.
live.
dine
evil.
live.
evil.
live.
evil.
       
       
       
       
       
       
"

"Let us play a game... shall we? I would like to have one of the imposters step forward so they may be exposed as nothing more than a child in comparison to this power that drives me—this force so vastly superior to any blade carved, human ideologies your pliable minds may have been trained to worship during your time as uninfluential mongrels."

"Come, XWF; for I have not a desire of meaningless wins; we all observed last year that I cannot taste defeat by any of your self proclaimed legends, gods or devils. My want this round; much greater than any victory. Demand met; set and matched ahead— humiliation, torment, unanswered calls for abandonment your sentence. Collect me; invite nascenced hope but please, please, oh please beg for release from this ravaged cell you've awoken within; ends touching to your temples, allowing flight to cease its anchoring of your heels. To come alone into this frayed line of egotism; your greatest error— my triumphant acceptance as such with returned corrective enlightenment; for my time is not isolated to my lone vessel. We've come... come to glorify your gored showmen and dangle them from our finger tips."

"You've had your six months to prepare; a half year spent yearning and impersonating. Now prepare to learn just how grave of a misstep that truly has been. Bring your imposters so that their handlers—the frightened, weak puppeteers behind those closed doors backstage—shall see their own future enacted by their toys before swallowing that blessed curse whole. Die; only for me to rip you asunder and cast away your cold comforts so that I may slaughter you again, again, again, and again. Rot for me as impressively as you pride envy in my image."



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