|
Welcome to PRW!
Information
PRW.com
Upcoming PPV
PRW Champions
Affiliates
|
|
| Welcome to Professional RPG Wrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit.
You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use.
Right now, we are set to Admin Approval for all new members. This means that if you sign up, you will not be allowed to post until an admin has approved your account. We are sorry for the inconvenience but it has become a necessary step to stop the flow of spammers joining our boards. For increased chances of joining us, please do not sign up with a disposable email address as these accounts will be banned instantly, again, a necessary step to stop the flow of spammers joining the boards.
Please be patient. We will approve your account ASAP.
Join our community!
If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:
|
|
Time To Say Goodbye
|
|
Topic Started: Jan 19 2018, 12:25 PM (88 Views)
|
|
KingsMan
|
Jan 19 2018, 12:25 PM
Post #1
|
Amateur
- Posts:
- 260
- Group:
- Superstars
- Member
- #2,131
- Joined:
- October 11, 2016
|
Sitting in a rough looking leather chair at the end of long table, Kevin Mordrad is glowering at some unseen figure; his eyes narrowed behind a scarlet half mask that lets with coal black hair hang loosely behind his head.
Since time recorded, man has asked about the nature of his existence. Since he first emerged from his stick lit caves; he looked to the heavens and amongst himself for answers. In all this searching man has learned much and reached far but we really are not much different than the savages that first dragged their knuckles from those caves. We still blinded by the most carneal and animal of emotions: fear.
Reaching just out of frame with his left hands, Mordrad seemingly pulls a large decanter of murky red liquid into frame. Reaching out with his left, he does the same seemingly magic act and produces a large crystal glass of a similar make to the decanter. He continues to speak as he slowly pours himself a drink.
Fear is seemingly unconquerable. And what is that we as man fear the most? Adversity. We fear being stricken down by our enemies and by things from the outside. All of man’s advancement has been an attempt to combat these “adversaries”. A million years of warfare; rifted with tools of wood and stone that gave ways to metal and pure cays;cmic energy. Probes of medical nature seeks to heal our bodies, steady our minds and strength our hearts have washed over us. A brilliant march of progress driven by one thing: fear of defeat.
Finishing the pour, Mordrad takes a long sip from the goblet. It is slowly and heavy into in progress; his throat pulsing with pleasure and satisfaction. He drinks deeply till the red mystery liquid dribbles from the upturned corners of his mouth. Finishing the glass; he starts to pour another.
Man fears what we cannot control. We fear enemies that seeks to harm us. We fear diseases of the body and mind. We fight vigorously to overcome these things yet it is none of these things that is truly our enemy. No; the greatest enemy we ever will faced; one we will lose against every time is time it self. Nothing resist it systematic death march. Mountains turn to dust; forest become wastelands; flesh of all creeds,coluors,genders,makeup and means rot then wither then decay into nothing but dust and worm food. It is inevitable and unavoidable.. Time never stops moving; it eventually catches up to everyone. Even you Ata my dear.
This time Mordrad drinks just a short drag from his glass. His has satiated his thirst with the first. Now he drinks only so that he may consume what is before him for pleasure; greed and gluttony for what he feels like he deserves.
You may have forgotten but a little over a year ago, a trifling bit of time in the grand scheme of things, I promised you I was coming for you. A great deal has happened since then. I’ve freed myself from under Gates's mournful idiocy and you...well you have not only won the Undisputed title but you step forward as the glue of your little group: Onslaught. Another pause is followed by another sip of the scarlet liquid; lines of it still sticking to the curves of Mordrad’s mouth as drips of it nestles in his well trimmed facial hair.
But that is not all of it though. You have been an admirable champion but your reign has been...tainted. You never really had a challenge befitting a woman of your caliber. Many have tried but none have succeeded. Well the time has come for your to face the facts: you are not the queen of the hill. You are not some conquering hero or insurmountable wonder. You are relic of the past; a saber rattling fool that stands at the top of a parade of fools. At one time your family gave you strength. They scattered to the wind. In-fighting and disillusion has warn them thin. Time has destroyed that lifeline. While I...*Scar and Maxwell emerge from the shadows behind him* have only surround myself in glory.
Mordrad finished his drink and stands; his shadow looming over the table.
The mother hen has strive to keep her Onslaught chicklets in line but they seemingly flown the coop. And now; it is time for the slaughter. The Scorned Samoan has softened; been rendered smooth by the rigor of time. Now is the moment for my greatest conquest. Ata; come time for Salvation you have two options: face me for the title or watch the world you have built be burnt to the ground. Time is coming for you Ata. I pray you use it well.
With a sudden rush; a howling winds blows through the air; darken the room till the only thing that can be seen is the sparkling scarlet mask of Mordrad and his seemingly blood stained teeth; locked in sinister grin.
Edited by KingsMan, Jan 19 2018, 01:26 PM.
|

HARKERN TO MY RECKONING!
Former: 1 x Internet Champion, Current: Undisputed Champion
|
| |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
|
|