Post by Winthorp Darkrites on Dec 19, 2009 14:38:05 GMT -4
The fans within the arena sit and scan the ring carefully, awaiting the beginning of the next bout, the bout that has gained severe attention since it's announcement; The Asylum Streetfight.
Lizzie Morna stands within the squared circle with a microphone in hand, smiling for the cameras and awaiting the soon-to-be silence of the crowd. Lizzie raises the microphone up to her lips as the crowd's silence arrives shortly after.
~ Lizzie Morna
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match up is scheduled for one fall and is to be competed in an Asylum Streefight. The rules are simple, the two competitors will fight within the compounds of an abandoned Asylum till one is unable to break the ten count. Whosoever is unable to break this ten count will be declared the loser and the winner will either have defended or won the Dragon's Rage title. Everything within the Asylum can be used as a weapon as a No Disqualification rule is in place for the match, now direct live transmission will take place from the Asylum itself with a cameraman in the vicinity."
The ButcherTron blurs for several seconds before focusing in an instant, the scene displaying a dark and dismayed Asylum. The doors on each holding cell appear withered and damaged or completely removed from their hinges. The lights flickering and faltering as well as the mixed sounds of pigeons and owls can be heard over the sounds of thunder and dripping water. However the sounds of footsteps can be heard overpowering all of those sounds, strong footsteps making their way through the Asylum hallway.
Winthorp Darkrites appears from the shadows and into the light, wearing his wrestling attire and a smug look on his face as he finds himself at home. The Italian Goth looks around at the place he used to call his sanctuary and keeps his smug expression on his face, sure of his victory due to his conditions. With ease, Darkrites throws his arms back and allows his trench coat to fall to the ground softly, stepping forward into the light and allowing it's somewhat warm glow to bask upon his body. His muscles appear more toned and a little bit more built than usual, to show the training put forth for this match. As The Goth stretches his arms, a referee also appears from the darkness, awaiting for the champion to show for the match. The Goth simply steps forward once more and stares directly at the camera, the shadows now cover his face slightly as he leaves the light.
~ Winthorp Darkrites
"Brian Brooks, you now enter my territory and into my yard. A yard that I've been playing in since my birth as The Goth, a yard that will be your demise. Tonight, I shall do more than take your title. In fact, I will take you through the boundaries of this very arena and take you through hell and back. The reasons for this are simple, to make you sample the pain that I was put through when those guards tore at my flesh with thick whips and nightsticks. Brooks, tonight your very soul and sanity will be at stake in this Asylum Streetfight, in which I will be claiming your title in my name.. The Italian Goth Way."
As The Goth holds his arms up in a crucifix pose, he turns his head both ways as he hears some sudden noises in the air.
~ Winthorp Darkrites
"I hear pigeons, why do I hear pigeons?"
~ Brian Brooks
"Those aren't pigeons, bitch."
A sweeping clotheslines out from the darkness brings The Italian Goth crashing onto the cold hard concrete. The sound of the crowd can be heard as well as some mild commentary from the announcers themselves.
~ Sang
"Looks like the match now begins, eh Trix?"
~ Trix
"Indeed it does!"
Brian Brooks gets back up to his feet as he watches The Goth squirm and roll on the ground, the sound of groaning escaping Winthorp's mouth as his opponent stands above, waiting.
TBC: Brooks
Lizzie Morna stands within the squared circle with a microphone in hand, smiling for the cameras and awaiting the soon-to-be silence of the crowd. Lizzie raises the microphone up to her lips as the crowd's silence arrives shortly after.
~ Lizzie Morna
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match up is scheduled for one fall and is to be competed in an Asylum Streefight. The rules are simple, the two competitors will fight within the compounds of an abandoned Asylum till one is unable to break the ten count. Whosoever is unable to break this ten count will be declared the loser and the winner will either have defended or won the Dragon's Rage title. Everything within the Asylum can be used as a weapon as a No Disqualification rule is in place for the match, now direct live transmission will take place from the Asylum itself with a cameraman in the vicinity."
The ButcherTron blurs for several seconds before focusing in an instant, the scene displaying a dark and dismayed Asylum. The doors on each holding cell appear withered and damaged or completely removed from their hinges. The lights flickering and faltering as well as the mixed sounds of pigeons and owls can be heard over the sounds of thunder and dripping water. However the sounds of footsteps can be heard overpowering all of those sounds, strong footsteps making their way through the Asylum hallway.
Winthorp Darkrites appears from the shadows and into the light, wearing his wrestling attire and a smug look on his face as he finds himself at home. The Italian Goth looks around at the place he used to call his sanctuary and keeps his smug expression on his face, sure of his victory due to his conditions. With ease, Darkrites throws his arms back and allows his trench coat to fall to the ground softly, stepping forward into the light and allowing it's somewhat warm glow to bask upon his body. His muscles appear more toned and a little bit more built than usual, to show the training put forth for this match. As The Goth stretches his arms, a referee also appears from the darkness, awaiting for the champion to show for the match. The Goth simply steps forward once more and stares directly at the camera, the shadows now cover his face slightly as he leaves the light.
~ Winthorp Darkrites
"Brian Brooks, you now enter my territory and into my yard. A yard that I've been playing in since my birth as The Goth, a yard that will be your demise. Tonight, I shall do more than take your title. In fact, I will take you through the boundaries of this very arena and take you through hell and back. The reasons for this are simple, to make you sample the pain that I was put through when those guards tore at my flesh with thick whips and nightsticks. Brooks, tonight your very soul and sanity will be at stake in this Asylum Streetfight, in which I will be claiming your title in my name.. The Italian Goth Way."
As The Goth holds his arms up in a crucifix pose, he turns his head both ways as he hears some sudden noises in the air.
~ Winthorp Darkrites
"I hear pigeons, why do I hear pigeons?"
~ Brian Brooks
"Those aren't pigeons, bitch."
A sweeping clotheslines out from the darkness brings The Italian Goth crashing onto the cold hard concrete. The sound of the crowd can be heard as well as some mild commentary from the announcers themselves.
~ Sang
"Looks like the match now begins, eh Trix?"
~ Trix
"Indeed it does!"
Brian Brooks gets back up to his feet as he watches The Goth squirm and roll on the ground, the sound of groaning escaping Winthorp's mouth as his opponent stands above, waiting.
TBC: Brooks
