Post by Kaven Drell on Dec 16, 2019 22:39:46 GMT -5
All encompassing darkness bears down upon the audience, and yet in spite of that heavy weight it is clear by the tension in the air that there is something more there. Heartbeat after heartbeat passes with nothing happening, but the tension causes that heart rate to accelerate. Quicker. Quicker. Quicker. The rapid drumming in the ears of the audience only heightens the awareness of the overbearing weight of darkness that envelops and surrounds. And then…
Laughter.
Soft, melodic, unhinged laughter. It’s unnerving and that rapid, rhythmic heartbeat stutters and skips for a moment. With nerves on high alert, a sudden single flame ignites a few feet away, illuminating the muscular, bare forearms of the figure who had chased away the darkness with one flick of his hands. But then the figure takes a step back, out of small area that the tiny flame was illuminating. As he does so his voice instead cuts through the silence, but allows the audience to focus simply on the light before them. Something that it seems the Trench Warfare champion greatly desires.
“This little light of mine…”
His voice is sing song as he speaks, almost as though he’s leading a childrens bible class. And that is, after all, what the fans of the professional wrestling industry essentially were. Hungry children, starving to be fed the truth. If they were looking to learn about Gods and Messiah’s, however, they had come to the wrong place. A fact that is emphasized by the eerie snicker that intervenes as the sing song notes fade into the distance.
“Dear John….”
Drell cackles more, though this time it’s stifled as though from out of sight of those who were watching, he had clamped his hand over his mouth.
“I regret to inform you that you have willfully walked into the midst of my battleground. Oh, that bravado is quite the delicious morsel for a man like me. To see someone so brazenly, and with such ego, step forth into the unknown. Careful now, Johnny. You might make Leela jealous with what you’re doing to me. And you won’t like her when she’s jealous.”
The laughter returns, amused at his own joke.
“Into my battleground, into the trenches, comes the resurrected savior Johnny Vachon. It’s a shame to know that, given a second chance at life, you’re willing to throw it away so casually. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny. At the end of the night at Guerilla Warfare no one is going to be leaving in a body bag, at least not physically. But the irony in your willingness to speak so boldly only to have the core of who you are torn out by my own hands. Mmmmm my friend it warms my cold, black heart.”
Somewhere in the darkness, Kaven Drell smiles with a deranged warmth that would turn the hearts of even the most stout to mush.
“So many before you have come, having made the same promises. Having been so self assured. Everyone always wants to chase the pretty golden trinkets, but nobody ever remembers the dragon that has taken them for his own simply because he can. I am that dragon, Johnny. And when you walk into my battleground, and you crawl into my trenches, you find yourself in a world unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You come into my trenches thinking that this will be like every other war you’ve ever fought in your life. But soon… soon… so very soon, you will come to understand that I am unlike any other man.”
Almost as if on cue the small flame that held the audiences attention as Kaven spoke grew in height, with and ferocity. From a short distance behind the flame, Drell glowered toward the camera, the flickering flames having the added effect of emphasizing the intensity of his words.
“All of your glad-handing. All of your glory-hounding. All of your desperation to make something of yourself at my expense? In the realm of ordinary men and women that might take you somewhere, Resurrected One. It might even get a few of the sheep to chant your name, and to cheer you onward. But when you stand in the ring across from a man who cares nothing for the championship trinkets that men, even risen ones like yourself, devote their lives to, I thrive in setting fire to those aspirations. I delight in setting dreams ablaze and watching as the dreamer looks on in horror as their hope burns before their very eyes. That is where being in the ring with me begins. Standing across from a man who couldn’t care about a belt labeled with my name on it, but one who will take great joy and pleasure in ripping the very thing you hope to claim for yourself from your greedy hands.”
Slowly the flame begins to die back down to its initial size, and the illuminated Drell fades back into the shadows, a glimpse of his sneer catching the eyes of his viewers before all that is left is the sound of his voice and the flicker of fire.
“But there will be a cost. A cost for your audacity. A cost for you walking into my cathedral so boisterously. It’s a price that all who enter my battleground must pay. There will be no negotiation, Johnny. Bartering will avail you nothing at all. The white queen herself, through her own folly, thought that she could stop me all those months ago. I warned her that there would be a cost. And she paid it, though unwillingly, as my flock took up the call. Kill. Drell. Kill. And kill I did. That night I didn’t simply take the War Horse championship from Elena, but I took the memory of what she was. Of what she had meant to this battleground. From her grasp I tore what she had come to represent and made it my own. Not because I desired it. Simply because I could. Simply because that was the price that I had determined was required of her on that night. And now, where is Elena DeDraca? Resigned to the life of a housewife. A shadow of who she once was, all because of me.”
Soft whispers of those three words that have taken been taken up around Union Battleground for many months now. Kill. Drell. Kill. From every angle it seems that the whispers cry out for Drell’s chaos to be unleashed again, growing louder and louder with each passing moment until finally Kaven silences them with his own voice.
“Yes, indeed. And a price equally as costly will be required of you. There is no joy to be had when the storm that I am swirls around you, Johnny. There is no shining trinket waiting for your name. You can only hope that there is some semblance of the man that walks to that ring left when I am through. I have broken better men, and I am going to break you too. But that is not all. You see, Johnny, all that you were, all that makes you the man risen once more to walk headlong into my presence, will be required of you. The days of the Filth Parade are done. Even the gutter trash that you equate yourself with. That identity will be required of you. I will break you. And while you may retreat to places of greater comfort. You may call upon friends and allies elsewhere and they may rally to your call. But in the back of your mind you will always remember the night that you stood before Kaven Drell. The cries of my flock will haunt your dreams. They will radiate and permeate your every waking moment. And there will be no peace for you for the remainder of your days.”
Once more Kaven emerges from the darkness to stand before the tiny flame burning where it had first been lit. Extending his right hand outward, he lets the back of his palm rest a few inches from the flame in an inviting gesture.
“There is another path that you may walk, though. Instead of being bound by the shackles and the expectations that you hold yourself to, instead I can offer you freedom through the suffering you will endure. There will be no escaping the consequences of your words. No escape from the consequences of your actions. No escaping the consequences of challenging me in my battleground. Before I deal that final blow, however, before I finish stripping you of the identity that you cling to, I will offer you my hand one time. One time, Johnny Vachon. Instead of the resurrection to a pathetic life, a miserable existence of disappointment and failure. Instead, I will offer you the chance of rebirth…”
The single finger of a flame heightens and licks off the back of Drells hand, though he doesn’t seem to notice the pain. If anything it magnifies the intensity of his smile, and the glimmer in his eyes.
“Through fire and flame, I offer you the chance to be born again…”
Slowly, the flames begin to increase in size again.
“Through chaos, I offer you the opportunity to break free of the worlds expectations, and embrace the man you were meant to be.”
The grow further but still Drell doesn’t remove his hand, his upper lip curling from the sinister smile that had been present to a snarl.
“Embrace the call. Kill. Kill. Kill the man that you are today. Ignite him and embrace freedom. Freedom from materialism that weighs you down. Freedom from the opinions of others around you. Freedom from the chains that bind you. Or...”
Drell withdraws his hand and lowers it to the side, the flame spreading from just a single intense flame to a more widespread fire, quickly cutting the room in half as it rages
“Turn away. Remain bound. But I warn you, Jonathan… if you choose that path…”
Smirking as the flames roar, the camera is just barely able to catch glimpses of him through the fingers of flames that now dance greedily, seeking to devour more and more. Drells voice returns to its sing song tone.
“This little light of mine… I’m gonna…”
Suddenly the flames go out, all but the single solitary one that had been burning from the start. Heavy footsteps can be heard as Kaven Drells voice emphasizes three more words.
“Let.”
A beat.
“It.”
And another.
“Shine?”
His footsteps halt as the question hangs on the air. Chuckling to himself, he speaks once more.
“No no, Dear John. Little light. I’m gonna…”
As he speaks the audience can hear the smile in his voice, even though they can’t see him.
“Let. It. Burn.”
Laughter.
Soft, melodic, unhinged laughter. It’s unnerving and that rapid, rhythmic heartbeat stutters and skips for a moment. With nerves on high alert, a sudden single flame ignites a few feet away, illuminating the muscular, bare forearms of the figure who had chased away the darkness with one flick of his hands. But then the figure takes a step back, out of small area that the tiny flame was illuminating. As he does so his voice instead cuts through the silence, but allows the audience to focus simply on the light before them. Something that it seems the Trench Warfare champion greatly desires.
“This little light of mine…”
His voice is sing song as he speaks, almost as though he’s leading a childrens bible class. And that is, after all, what the fans of the professional wrestling industry essentially were. Hungry children, starving to be fed the truth. If they were looking to learn about Gods and Messiah’s, however, they had come to the wrong place. A fact that is emphasized by the eerie snicker that intervenes as the sing song notes fade into the distance.
“Dear John….”
Drell cackles more, though this time it’s stifled as though from out of sight of those who were watching, he had clamped his hand over his mouth.
“I regret to inform you that you have willfully walked into the midst of my battleground. Oh, that bravado is quite the delicious morsel for a man like me. To see someone so brazenly, and with such ego, step forth into the unknown. Careful now, Johnny. You might make Leela jealous with what you’re doing to me. And you won’t like her when she’s jealous.”
The laughter returns, amused at his own joke.
“Into my battleground, into the trenches, comes the resurrected savior Johnny Vachon. It’s a shame to know that, given a second chance at life, you’re willing to throw it away so casually. Don’t get me wrong, Johnny. At the end of the night at Guerilla Warfare no one is going to be leaving in a body bag, at least not physically. But the irony in your willingness to speak so boldly only to have the core of who you are torn out by my own hands. Mmmmm my friend it warms my cold, black heart.”
Somewhere in the darkness, Kaven Drell smiles with a deranged warmth that would turn the hearts of even the most stout to mush.
“So many before you have come, having made the same promises. Having been so self assured. Everyone always wants to chase the pretty golden trinkets, but nobody ever remembers the dragon that has taken them for his own simply because he can. I am that dragon, Johnny. And when you walk into my battleground, and you crawl into my trenches, you find yourself in a world unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You come into my trenches thinking that this will be like every other war you’ve ever fought in your life. But soon… soon… so very soon, you will come to understand that I am unlike any other man.”
Almost as if on cue the small flame that held the audiences attention as Kaven spoke grew in height, with and ferocity. From a short distance behind the flame, Drell glowered toward the camera, the flickering flames having the added effect of emphasizing the intensity of his words.
“All of your glad-handing. All of your glory-hounding. All of your desperation to make something of yourself at my expense? In the realm of ordinary men and women that might take you somewhere, Resurrected One. It might even get a few of the sheep to chant your name, and to cheer you onward. But when you stand in the ring across from a man who cares nothing for the championship trinkets that men, even risen ones like yourself, devote their lives to, I thrive in setting fire to those aspirations. I delight in setting dreams ablaze and watching as the dreamer looks on in horror as their hope burns before their very eyes. That is where being in the ring with me begins. Standing across from a man who couldn’t care about a belt labeled with my name on it, but one who will take great joy and pleasure in ripping the very thing you hope to claim for yourself from your greedy hands.”
Slowly the flame begins to die back down to its initial size, and the illuminated Drell fades back into the shadows, a glimpse of his sneer catching the eyes of his viewers before all that is left is the sound of his voice and the flicker of fire.
“But there will be a cost. A cost for your audacity. A cost for you walking into my cathedral so boisterously. It’s a price that all who enter my battleground must pay. There will be no negotiation, Johnny. Bartering will avail you nothing at all. The white queen herself, through her own folly, thought that she could stop me all those months ago. I warned her that there would be a cost. And she paid it, though unwillingly, as my flock took up the call. Kill. Drell. Kill. And kill I did. That night I didn’t simply take the War Horse championship from Elena, but I took the memory of what she was. Of what she had meant to this battleground. From her grasp I tore what she had come to represent and made it my own. Not because I desired it. Simply because I could. Simply because that was the price that I had determined was required of her on that night. And now, where is Elena DeDraca? Resigned to the life of a housewife. A shadow of who she once was, all because of me.”
Soft whispers of those three words that have taken been taken up around Union Battleground for many months now. Kill. Drell. Kill. From every angle it seems that the whispers cry out for Drell’s chaos to be unleashed again, growing louder and louder with each passing moment until finally Kaven silences them with his own voice.
“Yes, indeed. And a price equally as costly will be required of you. There is no joy to be had when the storm that I am swirls around you, Johnny. There is no shining trinket waiting for your name. You can only hope that there is some semblance of the man that walks to that ring left when I am through. I have broken better men, and I am going to break you too. But that is not all. You see, Johnny, all that you were, all that makes you the man risen once more to walk headlong into my presence, will be required of you. The days of the Filth Parade are done. Even the gutter trash that you equate yourself with. That identity will be required of you. I will break you. And while you may retreat to places of greater comfort. You may call upon friends and allies elsewhere and they may rally to your call. But in the back of your mind you will always remember the night that you stood before Kaven Drell. The cries of my flock will haunt your dreams. They will radiate and permeate your every waking moment. And there will be no peace for you for the remainder of your days.”
Once more Kaven emerges from the darkness to stand before the tiny flame burning where it had first been lit. Extending his right hand outward, he lets the back of his palm rest a few inches from the flame in an inviting gesture.
“There is another path that you may walk, though. Instead of being bound by the shackles and the expectations that you hold yourself to, instead I can offer you freedom through the suffering you will endure. There will be no escaping the consequences of your words. No escape from the consequences of your actions. No escaping the consequences of challenging me in my battleground. Before I deal that final blow, however, before I finish stripping you of the identity that you cling to, I will offer you my hand one time. One time, Johnny Vachon. Instead of the resurrection to a pathetic life, a miserable existence of disappointment and failure. Instead, I will offer you the chance of rebirth…”
The single finger of a flame heightens and licks off the back of Drells hand, though he doesn’t seem to notice the pain. If anything it magnifies the intensity of his smile, and the glimmer in his eyes.
“Through fire and flame, I offer you the chance to be born again…”
Slowly, the flames begin to increase in size again.
“Through chaos, I offer you the opportunity to break free of the worlds expectations, and embrace the man you were meant to be.”
The grow further but still Drell doesn’t remove his hand, his upper lip curling from the sinister smile that had been present to a snarl.
“Embrace the call. Kill. Kill. Kill the man that you are today. Ignite him and embrace freedom. Freedom from materialism that weighs you down. Freedom from the opinions of others around you. Freedom from the chains that bind you. Or...”
Drell withdraws his hand and lowers it to the side, the flame spreading from just a single intense flame to a more widespread fire, quickly cutting the room in half as it rages
“Turn away. Remain bound. But I warn you, Jonathan… if you choose that path…”
Smirking as the flames roar, the camera is just barely able to catch glimpses of him through the fingers of flames that now dance greedily, seeking to devour more and more. Drells voice returns to its sing song tone.
“This little light of mine… I’m gonna…”
Suddenly the flames go out, all but the single solitary one that had been burning from the start. Heavy footsteps can be heard as Kaven Drells voice emphasizes three more words.
“Let.”
A beat.
“It.”
And another.
“Shine?”
His footsteps halt as the question hangs on the air. Chuckling to himself, he speaks once more.
“No no, Dear John. Little light. I’m gonna…”
As he speaks the audience can hear the smile in his voice, even though they can’t see him.
“Let. It. Burn.”