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Atara Raven · (10-14-2022)

The King Is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the Queen

The Queen is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King Is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

The King is Dead
Long Live the King

Praise be to Anaduomenê. Praise be to Apatouria. Praise be to Apotrophia. Praise be to Areia. Rejoice do we in the gifts of our Lady Kuthêrias. Aspire do we the splendor of she called Morphos. Fear we, the wrath of Melainis. Praise she Nikêphoros, Pande'mos, Peitha, Ourania, and all the names of her estate!

From sunrise to sunset temple altars and been ablaze permeating the air of every street and alley with the smell of sacrificial meat and bread. It was a day if celebration, a coronation of a new king and by his decree no temple fire would go out so long as he reigned. A million self inflicted castrations would be made this day to appease the Goddess from which divine right was passed down and should a king fall from favor the world would become war torn once again. This had been the practice since the religion was founded, the belief being she drew her power only from the dicks of men.

It was from the mouth of the Millers who made the grain for the phallic bread used by women in worship, that if they praised in similar fashion, the the divine Succubus would give them the power to control even the greatest of men and change their stars. Just as she had done with the great god king, the one eyed Raven of the North before she claimed her throne. They would even say it was the Goddess that gave this Raven the power to pluck the eyes from the harvest god and that's what beer made from his barley tasted like horse piss. Myths started long before and only continued through the Relentless Wars, there was little to argue these tales.

Another king had fallen out of favor. A new one had been crowned.

Like prideful men do however, while they would shower their Goddess with praise, they to would demand recognition and respect for the actions of themselves be it warranted or not. King Flintlock was no exception and for every worshipper sacrificing at the temple there were two at his palace offering tribute. Little did he know that today would mark both the beginning and start of the end of his reign. An unshapely blabbering drunken fool would ruin the kingdom, a son of the very family of Masons that had laid the first BRICK of the palace.

A failure in every walk of life, a village idiot of the highest order, a disgrace to his name, in a desperate attempt to regain lost valor had brought a gift indeed like no other for the feast of his new liege. Prancing into the throne room, drunken on Miller's Grain, he had over his shoulder a beast for the spit. All eyes on him, all the nobles and peasants of note in the land, it was his chance. At the feet of Flintlock, the Mason threw down the carcass of a great horned GOAT. Beaming in pride he looked to his king as a hero of legend and expected gold to reign down and the roar of a adoring crowd only to be met with complete silence.

Instead they looked in horror. All faces gone deathly white and every eye on the dead animal on the ground. Noticing the trepidation, the Mason began stammer excuse after excuse and none being pertinent. He had tried to find riches through our all the kingdoms and had came up short each and every time. He admitted it was a small goat that wouldn't go round, but he couldn't really capture what he thought to be the oldest and most out pasture of the beast.

He didn't have loot from war because he couldn't soldier, he didn't have gold for the coffers because bricks were dated technology and everyone used concrete and steel now. He couldn't hunt particularly well and had no daughter because.....even in a medieval context he couldn't hold a relationship together. It had completely slipped him what he had actually done.

A goat. A creature sacred as Ravens and Doves and Rabbits to the Goddess. Prohibited from the huntsman bow.

The Kings voice would boom in reprimand, guards called and removal of Mason and his tribute was ordered but it was too late. The sky had already turned red.

Hello Doves.

Hello Bam.

sighs

So, where do we start, oh right, WHAT MALAKA BOOKED THIS EFFIN SKATA? Like, seriously it's down right insulting and not just to me but half the roster. I mean Bam, ella......you think if I held any other belt it would be up grabs Saturday. Maybe the TV title because rules but mainly also mine because rules. I gotta defend every match no matter the opponent.

Is Flynn defending his, no. It's not a deserve thing it's a policy thing and quiet frankly I feel I deserve a better opponent. I mean, I take a year off, have a baby come back and gas out the Universal Champ for Mark to vulture off and then turn around and Atty Smash at effin Relentless for the number 2 belt and they give me you.

For Fucks Sake. I competed pregnant and won. Technically my 3 month old daughter has more wins than you in the past year. When this is done she will have spent more time on my and James chest than you will ever had! She's a more bankable commodity than you already and can't even hold her damn head up!

Why the hell does any company keep you around other than the laughs we get from all the Miller lite puns. Actually no, it makes perfect sense. We keep a steady supply of laughing stock here...but anywho.

CCPE tho? Thats about your only crowning achievement but like how? Chris doesn't doesn't do incompetence. He's got multiple champions and what, two former Universal, on the payroll and it's a major effin deep down to to Bam Miller.

The guy who couldn't get the Hardcore title at the Mickey Mouse Club Wrestling, MCW whatever federation. What was the Razzy at Fight NYC? The loser belt, didn't you hold that. I mean, I know I held the Brooklyn and the Islands when I was there ya know with no stable that is isn't stable behind my back.

Yes. No. Maybe.

You definitely could've and can kinda see where I would think it in the realm of possibility. Did you win the thing at OCW?

No. Dropped the ball?

Mmmmm, why wouldn't my husband, a man running a business give Bam the time of day I wonder?

Why the hell am I being forced to?

Could have gave me Kido. Reversed roles, and rewarded a fighting Champion with a shot buuuut no. We gotta carry the bottom feeders because their best wasn't good enough like it never is and we don't want to break spirits.

Well news flash, I kinda do. Especially when it's never was has been washed up waste of cap glossy eyed butt hurt fan boys who keep ringing my husband's phone off the hook and interrupting moussaka night!

I'll write your dream matches, your aspirations, and careers on my old shoes! Shit in your face, feed you a door and all the other Greek expressions you wont get because you're an unworldly half illiterate American who can't realize you're not important and is largely fuelled with liquid courage from a bottom shelf generic brand bud light.

breathe

You're not that good.

We would call you if you were.

We would tweet at you if you were.

We are not so desperate to be bricking people to get your attention.

I'm going to feed you that brick like the piss baby you are and then go make real fucking dinner right after. That's the threat you amount to Bam.

The world had went dark in that instant and the sounds of revelry outside the palace had turned to horrid screams of terror before going deathly quiet. The scene inside the throne room was no different and the mass of who's who huddled tight together. Even the fear of the guards, still alert, was made known by the clacking of their armour has they shook beneath. The King from his throne, the Mason from his place of I'll thought honor, and all the rest stared at the giant double doors waiting in trepidation.

Waiting...

Waiting...

Wait....

*Thud*

The sound reverberated throughout the room and came again and again. With each strike the walls shook and the door rattled from it's hinges. None were so bold to advance. Cracking wood, screeching metal hinges, all sounds that preceded the inevitable crashing all that blocked them from what waited beyond the threshold. What waited...what replaced that false sense curiosity was monstrous but not the Goddess they expected.

Taller than any man on two legs, horns spanning longer than any bulls, and patches of fur that did little to hide the salmon coloured skin of a minotaur stepped forward with hoofed feet. His snout aimed toward the ground and he sniffed the air while glowing eyes spanned the room before falling on the King.

Then to the goat, then to the Mason, then to assembled guard. It snorted as if affirming what it had come here to see and seemed more agitated than angry but even still it unleashed a fury of violence on the armoured guard in retribution of the inconvenience and perhaps as a contingency for what would come after the dismemberment of the useless kings protectors. Despite the maiming of this gargantuan beast, those left to live didn't panic or scramble. Not even so much as a squeal was passed through mouths.

Silence fell, the Minotaur turned and looking at the King, it would side step as another approached. Human but formless, faceless. Named but nameless. A walking flame that approached and touched the goat. It sprung to life and scampered off past the Minotaur. The room lit bright by flame and a blood moons glow still kept silent.

"Eat the Mason."

More inquiry than statement, the flame gestured to the Mason then to the king.

"Eat the Crown"

Instantaneously fingers pointed to the Mason and with all the protestation imagined, he was snatched up in the claws of the Minotaur. Unsatisfied and unmoved, the flame looked once more at the King.

"Eat the Crown."

A threat. A promise. A warning. The flame moved out with Minotaur and Mason in tow.

I mean seriously Bam....yeah it's Halloween and I'm going for some spooky theme thing here but between you, Peter, Joe Montouri and every other shit stain copying his gimmick and throwing out insults for an iota of Raven attention I cancelled The Ravens for this because frankly...

...while a little couples back forth banter on who can put their ugly mug of Miller down fastest would have been fun, you've gotten a little too much rub on our behalf already so I figure fuck it. I've appealed to the front with less before and have definitely won in the ring with less effort than you require before so I can throw out some Alias-isque shit, mail it in Saturday and go home still Xtreme Champion and worry about that freak scary ass bitch Mercy running around.

She really hates pretty privilege, and sex apparently but she and Madison gave me an upgrade from uninteresting barbie to just midcard trash so I think I'm really making progress.

I mean, thats a whole other thing I excel at better than you. Changing perception, because were you fuck up and fail everytime, I only do it once in a blue moon now. Ya know, learning from past mistakes and evolving instead of reusing the same old tired out shit I always do.

What's Bam's solution to be a giant ass clown with no in ring ability?

A brick. Come on dude, You ain't John Wick out here killing people with pencils. We gotta Gorilla stealing spotlight and a caveman who prolly can use tools as effective as the Gorilla winning gold and you're throwing bricks with all the accuracy of a t-ball pitcher.

They don't pitch in T-ball Bam. They also don't understand the game and it devolves into chaos one inning in much like everytime you enter the ring but not the good kind of chaos.

The shit kind.

That fertilizes stuff. For farm animals to eat.

Poop.

Your poop Bam. Feel like I can't reiterate enough how poop you are.

Here's another Greek expression for you. If you can't dance. Quit the floor. You can't stay sober enough to fucking walk but look on the bright side.....maybe I'll bronco buster you.

You'll get that wish afterall, be great like James... ...and have your face near Atara's pussy. Now fuck outta my atmosphere back to jobber town for giggles, gargles and guh guh guh goodbye

Green and bountiful land turned to desolate wasteland. A vaste expanse of nothing of bone dust sands and the withering dickless bodies syphoned for the Goddess' power. Flame and beast carried Mason further into the abyss, the first of sacrifices for a king to keep his crown.

He wept.

He begged.

He pissed his pants.

None would hear. None would care. Their path would darken and narrow sink beneath walls of a blackened cliffs from which the fires of hell would glow. Just before the crevice, stood three wooden symbols. The Goddess' sign and on them hung three figures. Staggered one after the other the Mason looked up in horror and stammered in shock at the first.....

"Daddy.....Papa..."

Weeping now more of shame than fear, the Mason looked to the flame.Crucify me. Let my daddy down! I owe him everything! Let me do this!

"Eat the Mason."

"Eat the Crown"

To the next they passed the Mason looked up again in confusion and horror.

"Uncle! You as well?Are my cousins here?"

Confused ramblings of a long lost mind, the Mason would have no answer. To the next they passed and the brick layers eyes did one last time drift to a mangled body.

"Lane. Vinnie Lane?"

Peeved at this disrespect, a fiery hand whipped out and slapped the crucified's face.

"Eat the Mason"

"Eat the cro...

"Yeah yeah eat the Crown! Eat my ass rude ass symbolic Alias!"

The Minotaur snorted. It was funny. They continued into the depths. Further and further until the Mason found himself inside a throne room once more. Up to her chair he looked at the face of the Succubus. Of wrestling's great whore. But she stood with no man, ally or friend. She was all alone when the Mason met his end.

One man flailing to stay above water when I sank 3 ships to be here. Gassed out after Relentless, please. Atty Smashed minimum effort. Atty is going to smash again and again. Send me better to waste material on. Eat my ass Goth, I'll be shitting Bam Miller next time we meet.

Because he's poop.

Like poop poop.

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