Tornado Tag Match for the Solid Core Synchronicity Titles

[privateers]

Coming up we’ve got a tornado tag match for the Solid Core Synchronicity Titles.

And the debut of the Privateers.

Exactly, for those of you who might not know them from their days in GHW, we’ve put together a video package. Roll it…

The video rolls, beginning in a moderate-sized arena somewhere in the Great White North. Scores of fans are hanging from the rafters as the Logging Crew do battle with Davidson and Blake. Outside the ring bounds Charlotte Taylor, decked in a Union Jack inspired leotard that compliments her slender figure. Big Jim and John Blake duke it out in the ring, while Bill Davidson and Cletus battle on the floor. As the referee turns to break up the brawl outside, urging both men to return to their corners, Jim hits a low blow and Russian leg sweep. Fearing the end is near for her men, Charlotte climbs the apron. Jim takes a wild swing at her, but she ducks and manages a low blow of her own. Jim staggers into a superkick from Blake. He climbs the ropes, motions that this is indeed the end, jumps, flips forward and lands his leg on Big Jim lying beneath him. The cover and count follow, with a rabid Cletus being restrained by Davidson. The building erupts in celebration and the new champions are announced. The belts are presented and the streamers envelop the ring. Davidson mounts the top strand, belt waving in the air, while Charlotte jumps into John’s arms in elation and shares a tender kiss; the spoils of victory. Meanwhile on the outside, the Logging Crew is brooding and licking their wounds, shouting curses rendered inaudible by the roar of the crowd.

They are the Stars of the Sea, the Plymouth Pitbull, John Blake, and the Tartan Terror, Bill Davidson! In 2011 they overcame all the odds and beat the dreaded Logging Crew for the British Commonwealth Tag Team Titles. It should have been the greatest night in their careers…

Sometime later, we catch up with the Privateers, as they come back to their hotel room. The revelry ends all too quickly at the sight of John & Charlotte’s hotel room door, now seen to be chopped down and ragged. The two men rush inside, but find no Charlotte to greet them, only a pulp hook embedded in the in the wall and an axe having taken her place in the bed. Bill rushes out for help, screaming at the top of his voice, and poor John collapses on the ground, holding his head and looking about, as though this were all some elaborate rouse.

They sent the Logging Crew away, but no matter how far they ran, the Privateers aimed to run them down.

GHW footage begins as John propels himself off the ropes and flies into Jim, knocking the man from Black Rapids completely off his feet. He mounts him and begins attacking the birler’s face, his fingers gouging at Jim’s eyes. The woodsman swings wildly, trying to grasp the face of the Englishman, but receives only a fierce bite to the hand as his recompense. Now, John moves his hands to grasp Big Jim’s throat, throttling for all he’s worth. Across the ring, Cletus and Davidson exchange haymakers, the impact of the blows drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Cletus turns the tide with an eye gouge and a gutbuster, before exiting the squared circle only to re-enter brandishing a steel chair. With a mighty swing, he clocks John Blake so as to set his partner free. Turning to strike Bill, he’s met with a big boot, which mashes the chair into his face.

Yet the battle was unresolved, and now John & Bill have followed their enemies to EVPW, and heaven help anyone who gets in their way.

The Video concludes with a montage of shots: Bill and Jerry Nate swapping punches, John executes a tilt-a-whirl head scissor takeover on Legionnaire Joaquin, and finally a Broadside on the beaten form of Johnny Simpson as the Privateers are crowned the final GHW tag champs.

Back to live action and Ray White is swooning

They get me wet.

What? I’m not even sure that makes any sense at all. Anyway, let’s go to our colleague, Abigail Geoffrey, in the back with Davidson & Blake.

The prim, librarian-esque, Ms. Geoffrey looks into the unblinking eye of the camera, nods her head slightly and begins.

Thank you JP, I’m here with the Privateers, en route to their first match here in EVPW and already with a title on the line. Gentleman, we all know you’ve unfinished business with Cletus & Big Jim, but tonight you’ve got Chris Dolmeth and Krytops to worry about. How is it that you plan to separate them.

Abby dear, it’s business & pleasure is all...

It’ll be our pleasure to square things with the loggers in our own good time.

Bill slips an arm around the lady

And it’ll be my pleasure dear to maybe see you for a little celebration after the show?

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes speak volumes

Bottom line is, we’ve got priorities and tonight it’s the gold.

If we get that, Cletus and Jim won’t be too far behind. So, Dolmeth and Krytops , you’re tough as nails, and we got plenty of respect for ya.

But tonight, you’re standing on the quay when the waters are rough.

That means we gotta take the wind outta yer sails! See ya darlin’

A swat on the arse leaves Abigail visibly shaken.

Well I never! Um…back you gentleman on the floor.

Well Ray, looks like you might have some competition from Ms. Geoffrey.

Prissy bitch.

Alestorm hits the speakers and the crowd stands in expectation of the Privateers. As the ragged words of Christopher Bowes come in over the rush of the guitar, Bill Davidson and John Blake emerge, ready for battle.

The following contest is a tornado tag team match for the Solid Core Synchronicity titles. Introducing first, John Blake & Bill Davidson, The Privateers!

As one might expect, the reaction tonight is mixed for the newcommers. A few smarks decry the so-called “Sea-Faring Bastards,” while children cheer and ladies ogle the finely chiseled physiques of the sailors

The stars of the sea enter the ring, Davidson sliding under the bottom strand and Blake bounding over the top.

TBCB- Dolmeth and Krytops

[Angel Huerta]

The audience is still buzzing, only moments after watching Wyziner and Shawn go at it. Emotions begin to simmer down, as the official makes his way to the ring. He, himself knows that he has a rough match ahead of him, there are going to be four men in the ring at once! At this time, the fine piece of ass Lizzie enters in the ring, holding the microphone that any man would love to be, in her hand. He stands only a foot in front of the east corner and begins to speak into the microphone.

“The following team consist of Kryptops and Chris Dolmeth.”

“Y’ALL WANNA SINGLE SAY FUCK THAT!”

To the delight of most of the audience members in attendance, KtB’s music begins to blast from the cheap P.A. system. Even though they all know exactly who is getting ready to come from behind the curtain, Lizzie goes along with her introduction anyway, just as she’s been doing for the last five years or so.

“Introducing first, hailing all the way from West Lorne, Ontario, Canada and weighting in tonight at two hundred and thirty pounds, ladies and gentlemen give it up for the New Butcher, Kryptops the Best!”

And the fans do indeed “give it up” for the New Butcher, applauding him as he swipes away the curtain and steps out onto the stage. Kryptops is sporting his newest t-shirt; a black colored tee with a huge picture of his masked face printed on the front of it- his signature crazy smile looking larger than ever on it. He makes his way down the ramp, making sure to slap hands with as many fans that he can. Towards the end of the ramp, KtB spots a young boy wearing a replica of his mask and he removes his shirt then hands it over to the youngster, making the toddlers year. Kryptops’ entire body is scattered with bruises and it’s not too much of a surprise either, he was beaten to hell last week in his hardcore match with Nicholas Carson.

“I feel bad for this man I'll tell you, these last two weeks have not been good for him.”
“Not at all! He's hasn't gotten any luck, and certainly not a warm welcome either!”
“You can say that again, for Christ's sake Vlad pushed him into a moving car!”

Kryptops makes it up the steps, but as he reaches the apron, he has an epiphany back tracks down them. He shakes his head and makes it known that he isn't going into the ring with those two until his partner arrives.

“Wise move, very wise move.”

Kryptops folds his arms in front of his chest and waits for his partner.

tbcb; chris

[Ciles Gorey]

((OOC: For this match reduce Dolmeth's strength. Also; who's "nicky boy"?))

The crazy Canadian stands at ring side impatiently tapping his foot and occasionally checking the time on his imaginary watch before tutting and rolling his eyes. He continues this routine until the music finally hits.

"SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO, KID?"

And with the first words of the songs screaming through the gymnasium sound system the black curtain flies open and out steps the strapping young lad, and the third Brit to enter the match.

"And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and seventy eight pounds. He hails from northern England - the inglorious bastard; CHRIS DOLMETH!"

Having won over a few fans last week by putting on a show, there are a select few 'methheads' who cheer at this introduction, though the majority remember the lack of respect for the veteran Vlad that this young whipper-snapper displayed last week and appropriately boo. The black leather hides most of his torso, and the shadow from his overly-large hood shadows all but his stubble highlighted chin.

[colo=green]"And here comes the biggest competitor in this match by far Ray."[/color]
"Ooh I'm sure he's big. Meeeooww."
"You've taken that in completely the wrong context there partner."

Dolmeth walks to where his partner is standing and locks eyes with him. He curls his upper lip and nods his head in the direction of the ring. Both men move towards the ring, with Dolmeth mantling up onto the apron and Kryptops sliding into the ring underneath the bottom rope. Kryptops has his ever-present smile whereas the Adjudicator has a strange, humble expression on his face. It is soon revealed why as he unzips his jacket, revealing not his tattoo covered body, but rather pristine white bandages encircling his chest and supporting his left shoulder.

"Of course last week Christopher took a twelve foot fall from the ring side down onto ladders and tables on the cold hard gymnasium floor below, and you can see he's feeling the effects from it."
"I know Jimmy, if only he'd have let me kiss his wounds better, he may be in a better shape. Not saying he isn't a mighty fine shape in the first place..."
"That'll be enough of that, we've got another match to call here.

The ref holds the vacant Solid Core titles up in the air, showing them to all four sides of the ring so all can bear witness to them before handing this prestigious belts to ringside staff and signalling for the bell and thus the start of the bout.

TBCB: Privateers.

[privateers]

The lights come up on the ring, while the rest of the arena is in darkness. The ring bell clangs and the four men begin the contest. Blake & Kryptops move to the centre of the ring, while their larger compatriots hang back and take the lay of the land before deciding to take it to the outside.

We’re off to a quick start here; the four men are pairing off.

No need to ask where the beef in this match is. Hubba hubba

Inside the squared circle Kryptops offers a Greco-roman knuckle lock and Blake obliges. A quick leg trip puts John on his back for a pinning combination, but he's up fast and pushes the Canadian to a vertical base with his legs before delivering a hurricanrana. Following through, he hooks the Ontario native's legs for a pin attempt of his own, but is reversed into a sunset flip, which he scampers out of. The two men link up again and Kryptops goes for a monkey flip. John hangs on to the hands of the masked man and switches into a body scissors, regaining control. Loosening up, he drags the opposition to his feet, and executes a tilt-a-whirl head scissor takeover. Both men nip up at the same moment and face each other and the masses applaud their efforts.

A real display of athletic genius; these two guys are something else.

This is what the pursuit of the top spot will do. These four guys aren’t going to hold anything back.

On the outside, The Brash British Bastard stares down the Hot Scot amidst an electric atmosphere and opts to take the offensive. A crashing blow from the six-footer sends Bill reeling backward, and Dolmeth manages to get a headlock, which he grinds in mercilessly. Bill tries an atomic drop but can budge the close to three hundred pounds. The Inglorious Bastard seems mildly amused by this, but doesn’t smirk long as Bill shoves him forward and into the ring post. Chris cradles his left shoulder and winces in pain. Unmoved and sensing a weakness, Bill Davidson spins the Englishman around, ducks a wild roundhouse, and scoops the big man’s legs to put him on his back.

There’s some dangerous and calculated offence on the outside by Davidson.

Don’t get fooled by that pretty face, he’s not leaving much to chance.

Davidson doing well in the early going, but there’s plenty of match left to go.

A lotta arms and legs flying around in there, looks pretty dangerous.

This is wrestling, not entertainment Ray.

Back inside, Blake turns a lockup into a top wristlock and then leg trips Kryptops to the mat. John’s joyless glare is evident as he mounts the opposition, he doesn’t want to mess around. The tag titles are the means to bring about his long desired vengeance against the loggers. Fist after fist collide with the Canadian’s skull as he faces the full brunt of Blake’s rage. The referee belatedly attempts to intervene but not before the Plymouth native manages to land a few more blows before being hauled away for a talking to. Anxious to give as good as he got, Kryptops charges at a full head of steam and cannons his forearm into the chiselled chest of his foe sending him back a few steps. Refusing to let the advantage slip from his grasp the aerialist throws himself against the ropes so that he may use the added velocity to accomplish that which his forearm could not. The resulting clothesline knocks Blake off his feet and over the ropes, the sight drawing a frenzied roar from the EVPW faithful. However, Davidson, having momentarily subdued Dolmeth, re-enters the fray and surprises the Best. A sharp kick to the spine causes the Canadian to sit up straight and come to attention. Dragging Kryptops to verticality, Davidson applies an abdominal stretch and even adds a claw hold to the solar plexus for good measure, but the man behind the mask manages to hip toss himself to safety. Just as the Plymouth Pitbull scoots back into the ring and primes to attack from behind, he’s caught with a huge lariat from the Strapping Young Lad. He drives the heel of his boot repeatedly into the sternum of his countryman, clearly looking to inflict serious damage. Soon the big man’s eyes darken, as he mounts Blake and drills his fist repeatedly into the wrecked voyager. Once again the referee finds occasion to intervene in the match up earning himself the audience’s wrath.

Stay out of it ref, let these four guys go!

John Blake has to be counting his lucky stars after that exchange. The Privateers haven’t found a permanent solution to the size and strength of Chris Dolmeth.

I’m not sure they can JP, that’s alotta man right there.

Meanwhile, Kryptops sets to work on the Scotsman. He slings off the strands, jumps over his opponent while falling backwards to land back-first and force the air out of the sailor's lungs with a somersault senton. He hops to the outside, waiting for Bill to stagger to his feet and then shoots himself over, aiming at a sunset flip. Finding himself stifled by the opposition, Bill manoeuvres himself on the ropes to hook his signature Tarantula. The house cheers the relatively uncommon hold, but Dolmeth is quick to break it up, lest the match end there.

Oooo, that could have been it right there. Kryptops is lucky that his partner made the save.

He certainly is Ray, the Privateers aren't wasting any time trying to score the victory in their debut match.

The crowd erupt as Bill Davidson steps through the ropes. Dolmeth, somewhat discomfited at the prospect of having lost, moves towards Bill with renewed vigour. Davidson drops to his knees, narrowly avoiding a wild clothesline attempt. Whilst he is at a disadvantage when facing the mammoth bloke, his agility and speed serve him well, as he transitions into a position behind him. A standing dropkick directly into the spine of the monstrous mercenary garners a cheer and sends Chris reeling. The Scotsman quickly leaps into the air wrapping his hands around the neck of the Tattooed Terror, ramming his knees into the recently bruised back, and crashing to the canvas. Dolmeth unleashes a giant groan fully conveying the pain surging throughout his body at the present moment. Davidson too is wounded by the weight that has crashed onto him.

TBCB – Kryptops/Dolmeth

[Ciles Gorey]

Yeah, I've missed two deadlines due to some personal issues, and though I do have time to RP now, I'm not going to. I feel it's too much of a dick move to do after missing out and at such short notice. Kryptops is more than welcome to post though if he likes/logs on.