Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-28-2024, 10:37 PM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » TURNING POINT 2018 RP BOARD
PlaceMarker My Beginnings
Author Message
Alistair Sørensen Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Hardly anyone to be honest

(booed by most fans; hurts people even when not supposed to; often angry and shitty)


#1
03-03-2018, 11:59 PM






Everywhere in life, there are stories. Stories that follow us around, stories that can make us or break us. Stories of injuries, death or loss. Stories of friendship, love and victory. These stories help shape us and the future.

So what about me? What's my story?

Well...

- February 14th, 1993 -

[Image: bokken-tanto-3d-model-V0yisLoaB_200.jpg]

I caught the wooden bokken in my tiny, pristine five-year old hands, my eyes in pure awe and wonder as I studied the wooden sword in my hands. It was small, small enough to be wielded as good as it could be in my inexperienced hands. It couldn't have been any other model than a tantō bo, in hindsight.

I looked up towards my mother, my eyes gleaming as I softly spoke. "Takk skal du ha."

My mother nodded as she knelt in front of me, softly speaking back to me so as to not to wake the slumbering giant known as my father in his room. "Så Alistair, hvordan ville du føle om sparring med meg med ditt nye sverd?"

At first, I was ready to jump for joy. A chance to use my new birthday present? Awesome! But then, I stopped myself from becoming too over excited as I tried realizing the situation.

My mother was a careful, precise person. She wasn't the type to make unsafe choices. Slowly, thinking she must have some sort of plan, I raised the bokken.

"Jeg antar at det betyr ja?" my mother smiled, however she didn't raise her own bokken that I noticed in the corner of my eye. "Ikke her, skjønt. Din far sover fortsatt."

Nodding, I followed my mother as we walked down the creaky hallway, trying our best to be as quiet as possible. With another small creak, she opened the door and held it for me to go through.

The bone-chilling Norwegian air hit me like a shotgun blast as the dirt crunched beneath me with every step. I clenched my bokken tight as I heard my mother crunching right behind me. As soon as we were a sufficient length away from the house, my mother spoke again.

"Vel, Alistair, er du klar?" Like in the house, I raised my bokken in response. My mother smiled as she raised her's as well. "Vel, Alistair, den første streiken er din."

Time slowed for me as I began to finally process the situation. My mother wanted me to strike her. To harm her. It seemed surreal, and yet her countenance was grim as she looked at me with steely eyes.

I lunged, bokken at the ready as I knew I was going to wipe the slight smirk off her face as--

Almost effortlessly, she parried my strike and WHACKED me on the side of my head. I could feel my ears ringing as I stepped back, trying to collect myself.

"Du må overvinne din svakhet. Det vil ikke være noen fiende som vil gi deg barmhjertighet på slagmarken, Alistair. Kom deg opp og prøv igjen."

I gritted my teeth as I lunged again, trying various sweeping bokken shots but again, effortlessly, one after the other, my mother parried them all as my eyes flashed in horror, with another swift WHACK to the head.

Time and again, no matter how hard I kept trying, my anger pouring out more and more and there being definitive signs of something great that could truly show itself, my mother continued to dominate me as if it were child's play, her honed skills being evident. But this... it was plain to see that this was the beginning of something great.





"Denne historien var for tjuefem år siden nå. Tjuefem år, og jeg kan definitivt si at min mor var den mest dyktige og farlige motstanderen jeg noensinne har møtt, og uansett hvor mange ganger vi sparer, har jeg alltid følt en uoverstigelig utfordring, selv med min overlegen høyde og vekt."

"Dessverre vil mine motstandere ikke engang gi meg selv en eksternt utfordrende konkurranse i forhold til det jeg har vært igjennom. De eneste som har plaget seg med å vise seg, er Drezdin og Mezian, av alle mennesker."

"Drezdin, jeg synes det er spesielt ydmykende fra din side å si at vi er alle bedriftsklowner, og hvor mye vekt legges på hvordan vi snakker i dag. Men du er ikke på et sted å kritisere dette aspektet. Du er en ydmykende, lumbering russisk brute som knapt bryr seg om å stryke sammen en sammenhengende setning, enn si, få faktaene dine slik som at folk som Vincent Lane og Scully bryte i ungdommen dine, til tross for at det var minst et solid tiår siden. Hvorfor skal vi høre på hva en løgner har sagt? Ingen bryr seg om denne meldingen. Disse fansen betaler for å se den mest spennende og fengslende brytingen i denne bransjen, og det er nok å si at du ikke hører hjemme. Du kan enkelt bli kuttet løs når som helst. Og likevel, din mest ideelle tingen å gjøre ... er å fornærme selskapet som så nådig har holdt deg. Du klarer ikke å innse at folk har blitt halshugget her for FAR mindre. Han vil, jeg kan til og med være den som skal avlede mine motstandere som har syntes å ikke vise seg så langt."

"Du er et håpløst naivt, dumt og petulant barn. Du er det spesielle barnet i skolen som blir mobbet. Fordi alle vet at det uansett hva, til tross for din freakishly gigantiske størrelse ... kan du ikke vinne en kamp for å redde livet ditt. Og du vet hva de sier, Drez? Jo større de er ... jo vanskeligere faller de."

"Mezian. Du har vært rolig om meg, og sa bare hvordan jeg spiste i å forvente en kamp med Scully, som ideelt sett skal være normen når noen gjør en åpen utfordring. Jeg prøvde å hevde min mulighet, og ledelsen gikk på den. Nå, jeg drar ikke på det lenger. Den triste tingen er, men det er at du tydeligvis lever i en slags illusjon. Men virkeligheten er, jeg handler om fakta. Engler, daemoner ... de eksisterer ikke. Den eneste demonen du trenger å bekymre deg for når vi går i den ringen, er meg. Jeg vil sørge for at du spiser ordene dine og gir deg ydmykhet, du prikker. Ikke vær så høy og mektig når du ikke kan klippe den."
Edit Hate Post Like Post
[-] The following 2 users Like Alistair Sørensen's post:
Isabel Mercier (03-04-2018), Vincent Lane (03-04-2018)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)