Post by Kaven Drell on Nov 1, 2019 16:42:22 GMT -5
Tiny flecks of sunlight weave their way through heavy forestry, finding their way through the cracks and crevices of an old church building. From the outside it is clear that it’s in disrepair. White paint is cracked and peeling away. A steeple that once stood tall has toppled and lays haphazardly, broken pieces scattered here and there. But for those who have been following the Trench Warfare champion wherever he goes can recognize the building before them. It’s one that Kaven Drell has become familiar with in recent weeks and months.
Inside, he sits on the front pew, having made the journey back from another place that held meaning to him. It was important for him to revisit his roots, and to remind himself of why he was so determined to do the things that he relentlessly pursued. That mission had been accomplished but it had left him feeling a bit unsettled which had lead him to a place of penance. A place of meditation. And, perhaps more than anything else, a place of proclamation.
Upon the altar rests the shining golden championship that he had ripped from Kimitsu Zombies grasp by force. A reminder of a promise kept in the place that he felt most at home. Within the Battleground, at War of the Worlds, Kaven Drell had cemented himself not as a champion to be feared. Not as a competitor to test oneself against. But as a force of nature that one had no choice but to be reckoned with. It was in the Battleground that the foundation of his movement, of his revolt and rebellion against the status quo, was built.
All one had to do was look around at the carnage that had been wrought at his own hands. Elena DeDraca, the pale queen herself, had been dethroned and sent packing. Legends. Greats. Upstarts. So many had followed her in a collision course with him, standing opposed to the message that he preached. Even the Union Battleground champion herself had lost her voice, growing silent in the face of an ever growing storm.
The congregation was his. The Battleground belonged to him. Come what may, there was no taking the pulpit from the man who had waged warfare across every avenue and every single line of battle drawn.
In Valor, he searched for those who would seek to free themselves from the chains of oppression and the weight of a society that demanded everyone behave in one way or another. Within those halls a movement had ignited, growing steadily, week by week.
But within the halls of Union Battleground, the universe was already ablaze. It had been for months.
And it was in the midst of those figurative flames that their minister, their messenger, their very own apostle, stepped up into his pulpit and began to preach.
“Look around you, my brethren. Look around you, my flock. Your Shepherd has returned home once more.”
Having gone completely unnoticed up until Drell approached the pulpit and began to speak, a crowd that was noticeably larger than the one that had been present a few weeks earlier when he had first broadcast a message to his followers. Attentively, they kept their eyes fully focused upon him, listening to every word he was saying and nodding their heads in approval.
“For too long I have stayed away from the place where it all began. The Battleground. My Battleground. Yet once more I stand before you. Once more I stand here in defiance of injustice. In defiance of corruption. In defiance of society. In defiance of all who would try to tell us how we must behave, and how we must speak, and how we must live our lives.”
A rumble ripples through the audience. Murmurs of “let it burn” echo in response to his words.
“Even now the world doesn’t understand. The world looks upon trinkets like the one before us today..”
Drell gestures with his palms to the Trench Warfare championship sitting upon the altar at the base of the pulpit.
“As a symbol of true power and success. But we have never measured our success in such ways, have we my friends?”
Finding themselves stirred up, the audience answers with a resounding NO! Approvingly, Drell nods his head and smiles something that hints at the rebellious nature within him, and perhaps something a touch more sinister and unhinged.
“We don’t measure success in victories and losses within the wrestling ring, or by championships held, but rather by the chaos and destruction that is unleashed within. It is through shock, and horror, and excruciating pain that we seek to open the eyes of the wayward sheep lost in the darkness of the shadow cast by the machine.”
His smile fades into one of sympathy and pity for those who have not yet found their way to him, or those who have rejected the freedom he proposed to them.
“The forces who would oppose us, who would seek to bury us underneath the weight of their own expectations and demands, have not stopped working. Even now as Your Shepherd returns to his field, someone new is being handed an opportunity they have never had to earn. Adelmar Saur seeks to come to my home, to my kingdom, and take something he has no right to. This man is the new face of greed. The new face of corruption. The new face of materialistic aggression. Another vapid black hole seeking to consume and claim everything in his path. But, my friends, he hasn’t a clue has he?”
Another round of responses with the crowd echoing the expected response of no, and Drell nods his head in appreciation of them.
“He speaks without knowledge, like any fool in his great pride would do. Mister Saur, I will gladly provide you with the education you have yet to realize you need. No awakening, no revival, no genuine revolution of mind and body occurs without a hefty price. My dear, blind sheep I will reach out and lay my hands upon you. I will free you from your ignorance. It will not be painless. No, that is the price you pay for your folly. That is the price you pay when you seek to take from me. That is the price you pay, Adelmar, for your vanity.”
Amen’s ring throughout the building in support of their evangelist. Stepping away from the pulpit, Kaven moves off to the side to address one side of the flock that sat before him in the old pews.
“That is what this world has come to, though. I have seen it everywhere I have travelled. In Rebellion, all the way across the big blue ocean, so many find themselves lost in the mind numbing cycle of chasing trinkets and bobbles in an effort to validate their existence. Name after name of no significance emerges and then dissipates into the shadow never to be heard from again. It is those sheep that I mourn for. I mourn for them because they never stood a chance. In Valor Pro I have offered my hand to so many but most would rather turn away and be stuck in the same endless cycle, chasing for something that would never be theirs, rather than embrace the freedom that they could have.”
As the far side of the audience responds to his words, Kaven nods his head and moves to the other side of the pulpit to speak more directly to the opposing side of the flock that was in attendance.
“Now, they come to our doorstep. The Kaelan Laughlin’s, forever stuck in the shadow that her husband casts, too afraid to break free from him and stand on her own. The Will Neilson’s, too lost in their own ego to see the truth right before their very eyes. The Adelmar Saurs, too ignorant and greedy to recognize the storm that awaits him in the unknown they walk headlong into.”
Pityingly, Kaven sighs and shakes his head.
“You have been handed a death sentence and you don’t even know it, do you my large, oversized friend? Every person who steps inside my Battleground, who stands across the ring from me, must pay a price. This shiny golden belt that you think to make your own? It is meaningless to me. I possess it simply because it was what Kimitsu Zombie was clinging too most dearly. It was what was keeping her afloat. In a world that was crashing down around her. A world where she was losing everything she hoped for, being crushed underneath the weight of those whose greed and ambition exceeded her own, this shiny golden belt needed to be taken from her to give her the chance at freedom that no one else had the courage to offer her.”
He moves back behind his pulpit, looming large over the men and women who were listening attentively to him.
“You have so little that I want, though, Adelmar. All you possess is desperation to make something of yourself. Validation. But you came to the wrong place, my dear friend. You came hunting the wrong man. And now, because you have nothing to pay the price that is required, I will take the only thing that remains. I will take your pride and make you kneel before me. I will tear the ego that infects you to shreds. I will be your cure, Adelmar.”
Bringing both hands up, he rested them gently over the left side of his chest.
“And I am going to take great joy in doing to you what I have done to everyone else who has stepped to me in my Battleground. There is no salvation for you, Adelmar. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I am not your savior. I am your reckoning. But through the fire and the flames that I will subject you to. Through the fire and the flames that will burn away your arrogance and your self assuredness. Through the white hot heat that will humble you to the utmost, rebirth can await you.”
Reaching out his hand beyond the pulpit, so that it hovers a few feet above the championship belt that was going to be contested, Drell speaks not to his flock now, but to his opponent personally.
“I will offer you my hand but once, my friend. When the battle in the trenches subsides and you have been brought to heel, there it will be. The choice will be yours, Mr. Saur. To embrace what no one else has ever extended to you.”
Around the building, lighters ignite as tiny little flames flicker in the hands of his flock.
“Or if all that you are will be left to burn.”
Inside, he sits on the front pew, having made the journey back from another place that held meaning to him. It was important for him to revisit his roots, and to remind himself of why he was so determined to do the things that he relentlessly pursued. That mission had been accomplished but it had left him feeling a bit unsettled which had lead him to a place of penance. A place of meditation. And, perhaps more than anything else, a place of proclamation.
Upon the altar rests the shining golden championship that he had ripped from Kimitsu Zombies grasp by force. A reminder of a promise kept in the place that he felt most at home. Within the Battleground, at War of the Worlds, Kaven Drell had cemented himself not as a champion to be feared. Not as a competitor to test oneself against. But as a force of nature that one had no choice but to be reckoned with. It was in the Battleground that the foundation of his movement, of his revolt and rebellion against the status quo, was built.
All one had to do was look around at the carnage that had been wrought at his own hands. Elena DeDraca, the pale queen herself, had been dethroned and sent packing. Legends. Greats. Upstarts. So many had followed her in a collision course with him, standing opposed to the message that he preached. Even the Union Battleground champion herself had lost her voice, growing silent in the face of an ever growing storm.
The congregation was his. The Battleground belonged to him. Come what may, there was no taking the pulpit from the man who had waged warfare across every avenue and every single line of battle drawn.
In Valor, he searched for those who would seek to free themselves from the chains of oppression and the weight of a society that demanded everyone behave in one way or another. Within those halls a movement had ignited, growing steadily, week by week.
But within the halls of Union Battleground, the universe was already ablaze. It had been for months.
And it was in the midst of those figurative flames that their minister, their messenger, their very own apostle, stepped up into his pulpit and began to preach.
“Look around you, my brethren. Look around you, my flock. Your Shepherd has returned home once more.”
Having gone completely unnoticed up until Drell approached the pulpit and began to speak, a crowd that was noticeably larger than the one that had been present a few weeks earlier when he had first broadcast a message to his followers. Attentively, they kept their eyes fully focused upon him, listening to every word he was saying and nodding their heads in approval.
“For too long I have stayed away from the place where it all began. The Battleground. My Battleground. Yet once more I stand before you. Once more I stand here in defiance of injustice. In defiance of corruption. In defiance of society. In defiance of all who would try to tell us how we must behave, and how we must speak, and how we must live our lives.”
A rumble ripples through the audience. Murmurs of “let it burn” echo in response to his words.
“Even now the world doesn’t understand. The world looks upon trinkets like the one before us today..”
Drell gestures with his palms to the Trench Warfare championship sitting upon the altar at the base of the pulpit.
“As a symbol of true power and success. But we have never measured our success in such ways, have we my friends?”
Finding themselves stirred up, the audience answers with a resounding NO! Approvingly, Drell nods his head and smiles something that hints at the rebellious nature within him, and perhaps something a touch more sinister and unhinged.
“We don’t measure success in victories and losses within the wrestling ring, or by championships held, but rather by the chaos and destruction that is unleashed within. It is through shock, and horror, and excruciating pain that we seek to open the eyes of the wayward sheep lost in the darkness of the shadow cast by the machine.”
His smile fades into one of sympathy and pity for those who have not yet found their way to him, or those who have rejected the freedom he proposed to them.
“The forces who would oppose us, who would seek to bury us underneath the weight of their own expectations and demands, have not stopped working. Even now as Your Shepherd returns to his field, someone new is being handed an opportunity they have never had to earn. Adelmar Saur seeks to come to my home, to my kingdom, and take something he has no right to. This man is the new face of greed. The new face of corruption. The new face of materialistic aggression. Another vapid black hole seeking to consume and claim everything in his path. But, my friends, he hasn’t a clue has he?”
Another round of responses with the crowd echoing the expected response of no, and Drell nods his head in appreciation of them.
“He speaks without knowledge, like any fool in his great pride would do. Mister Saur, I will gladly provide you with the education you have yet to realize you need. No awakening, no revival, no genuine revolution of mind and body occurs without a hefty price. My dear, blind sheep I will reach out and lay my hands upon you. I will free you from your ignorance. It will not be painless. No, that is the price you pay for your folly. That is the price you pay when you seek to take from me. That is the price you pay, Adelmar, for your vanity.”
Amen’s ring throughout the building in support of their evangelist. Stepping away from the pulpit, Kaven moves off to the side to address one side of the flock that sat before him in the old pews.
“That is what this world has come to, though. I have seen it everywhere I have travelled. In Rebellion, all the way across the big blue ocean, so many find themselves lost in the mind numbing cycle of chasing trinkets and bobbles in an effort to validate their existence. Name after name of no significance emerges and then dissipates into the shadow never to be heard from again. It is those sheep that I mourn for. I mourn for them because they never stood a chance. In Valor Pro I have offered my hand to so many but most would rather turn away and be stuck in the same endless cycle, chasing for something that would never be theirs, rather than embrace the freedom that they could have.”
As the far side of the audience responds to his words, Kaven nods his head and moves to the other side of the pulpit to speak more directly to the opposing side of the flock that was in attendance.
“Now, they come to our doorstep. The Kaelan Laughlin’s, forever stuck in the shadow that her husband casts, too afraid to break free from him and stand on her own. The Will Neilson’s, too lost in their own ego to see the truth right before their very eyes. The Adelmar Saurs, too ignorant and greedy to recognize the storm that awaits him in the unknown they walk headlong into.”
Pityingly, Kaven sighs and shakes his head.
“You have been handed a death sentence and you don’t even know it, do you my large, oversized friend? Every person who steps inside my Battleground, who stands across the ring from me, must pay a price. This shiny golden belt that you think to make your own? It is meaningless to me. I possess it simply because it was what Kimitsu Zombie was clinging too most dearly. It was what was keeping her afloat. In a world that was crashing down around her. A world where she was losing everything she hoped for, being crushed underneath the weight of those whose greed and ambition exceeded her own, this shiny golden belt needed to be taken from her to give her the chance at freedom that no one else had the courage to offer her.”
He moves back behind his pulpit, looming large over the men and women who were listening attentively to him.
“You have so little that I want, though, Adelmar. All you possess is desperation to make something of yourself. Validation. But you came to the wrong place, my dear friend. You came hunting the wrong man. And now, because you have nothing to pay the price that is required, I will take the only thing that remains. I will take your pride and make you kneel before me. I will tear the ego that infects you to shreds. I will be your cure, Adelmar.”
Bringing both hands up, he rested them gently over the left side of his chest.
“And I am going to take great joy in doing to you what I have done to everyone else who has stepped to me in my Battleground. There is no salvation for you, Adelmar. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I am not your savior. I am your reckoning. But through the fire and the flames that I will subject you to. Through the fire and the flames that will burn away your arrogance and your self assuredness. Through the white hot heat that will humble you to the utmost, rebirth can await you.”
Reaching out his hand beyond the pulpit, so that it hovers a few feet above the championship belt that was going to be contested, Drell speaks not to his flock now, but to his opponent personally.
“I will offer you my hand but once, my friend. When the battle in the trenches subsides and you have been brought to heel, there it will be. The choice will be yours, Mr. Saur. To embrace what no one else has ever extended to you.”
Around the building, lighters ignite as tiny little flames flicker in the hands of his flock.
“Or if all that you are will be left to burn.”