Nick Name: Commander Rhorus, Commander, 'That Gorram Spess Mehreen'
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 260lbs
Hometown: Barton 4, a colonised planet of the Invictus system.
Entrance Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuOh5FW48es - A New Beginning
Entrance Moves:
The lights dim, fading to blackness. On the titantron, an image of the galaxy is displayed, with thousands of stars swirling through the cosmos. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuOh5FW48es ]A feint music begins to play[/url], a solemn song to match the final frontier. After a few seconds, something begins to come into view - a hulking metal monstrosity, somehow bulky and sleek. A true ship of the stars. Along the side is a name: "MARINER." The grandest ship in all the skies.
Inside the ship, a skeleton crew scurries to their positions. Hundreds of screens, filled with miles of code, numbers and letters which mean nothing to the unlearned, adorn the walls of the ship, failing to hide the cold military grey of the walls. Despite the hubbub, a clear voice booms out over the dry mumbling of the marines:
"Launch Sequence Initiated. Launch in five..."
A single pod emerges from the front of the ship, propelled by a burst of flame. It hurriedly speeds towards a nearby planet. A small, pale blue dot.
"BREAKING ATMO. GET READY."
Back in the arena, all power seems to cut off. Sparks fly from the sides of the titantron, seeming to signal something. Before anybody knows what is happening, something falls from the ceiling, landing with a hard thud. The lights slowly turn back on, revealing what it was: the pod from the ship has landed. And it landed in BBW! Smoke slowly begins to rise, shrouding the ground.
Suddenly, the curtains are pulled apart, as no less than nine men pour out of the backstage area, surrounding the pod, as if to guard it. They are wearing helmets, and what appears to be some sort of high-tech SWAT uniform, in a dark shade of grey - the kind of uniform you see in science fiction. On their arm was a badge, a symbol of their allegiance; these were space marines, men of the Galactic Dogs! Armed to the teeth with laser rifles and an assortment of other weapons, they stood ready to defend, aiming their shooters at the crowd.
The door of the pod slowly opened, more smoke pouring out. After agonising seconds, a tall, strong-looking man emerges, dressed in a distinct manner; gone are the dark colours of the marines, in their place a less palatable, but more distinct array of earthly colours, topped by a distinct brown coat. The Galactic Dogs turn to him, standing to attention, and salute. This was the leader of their troupe. This was Commander Rhorus!
He stepped down from his pod, arms behind his back, before coming to attention. He saluted, his gaze fixed on the ring. He broke his salute, marching down the ramp. His marines, in formation, followed. They all stepped in time as they walked. Upon reaching the ring, the formation split, and the marines surrounded it, armed and alert. The good captain headed to the steel steps, up to the ring apron, where he wiped his feet before entering the ring. He was, after all, a classy sort of gent, who did not wish to tread space dust all over people's property. He walked to the middle of the ring, offering a salute to the audience, his hard stare still piercing those before him. He dropped the salute once more, turning to face the entrance ramp. He took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, preparing for his match.
Inside the ship, a skeleton crew scurries to their positions. Hundreds of screens, filled with miles of code, numbers and letters which mean nothing to the unlearned, adorn the walls of the ship, failing to hide the cold military grey of the walls. Despite the hubbub, a clear voice booms out over the dry mumbling of the marines:
"Launch Sequence Initiated. Launch in five..."
A single pod emerges from the front of the ship, propelled by a burst of flame. It hurriedly speeds towards a nearby planet. A small, pale blue dot.
"BREAKING ATMO. GET READY."
Back in the arena, all power seems to cut off. Sparks fly from the sides of the titantron, seeming to signal something. Before anybody knows what is happening, something falls from the ceiling, landing with a hard thud. The lights slowly turn back on, revealing what it was: the pod from the ship has landed. And it landed in BBW! Smoke slowly begins to rise, shrouding the ground.
Suddenly, the curtains are pulled apart, as no less than nine men pour out of the backstage area, surrounding the pod, as if to guard it. They are wearing helmets, and what appears to be some sort of high-tech SWAT uniform, in a dark shade of grey - the kind of uniform you see in science fiction. On their arm was a badge, a symbol of their allegiance; these were space marines, men of the Galactic Dogs! Armed to the teeth with laser rifles and an assortment of other weapons, they stood ready to defend, aiming their shooters at the crowd.
The door of the pod slowly opened, more smoke pouring out. After agonising seconds, a tall, strong-looking man emerges, dressed in a distinct manner; gone are the dark colours of the marines, in their place a less palatable, but more distinct array of earthly colours, topped by a distinct brown coat. The Galactic Dogs turn to him, standing to attention, and salute. This was the leader of their troupe. This was Commander Rhorus!
He stepped down from his pod, arms behind his back, before coming to attention. He saluted, his gaze fixed on the ring. He broke his salute, marching down the ramp. His marines, in formation, followed. They all stepped in time as they walked. Upon reaching the ring, the formation split, and the marines surrounded it, armed and alert. The good captain headed to the steel steps, up to the ring apron, where he wiped his feet before entering the ring. He was, after all, a classy sort of gent, who did not wish to tread space dust all over people's property. He walked to the middle of the ring, offering a salute to the audience, his hard stare still piercing those before him. He dropped the salute once more, turning to face the entrance ramp. He took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, preparing for his match.
Appearance:
Rhorus:
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/62/49/ee/6249ee3254135f505c731cd1ecd26381.jpg
Galactic Dog uniform:
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4e/c6/d3/4ec6d325ca18788937850fc819f20bf3.jpg
Common Moves: Clothesline, DDT, Suplex, restholds aplenty. Very much a traditional sort of wrestler - not particularly polished, but hardy enough.
Signature Moves: Orbital Strike (Missile Drop Kick)
There Are No Laws On The Outer Rim (Throws the opponent over the top rope, before turning to the ref and yelling about respecting the troops. At this point, the nearest Galactic Dogs start to beat them, occasionally clubbing them with their rifles, before throwing them back into the ring).
GALACTIC DOGS! SOUND OFF! (Not so much a move as a taunt - a simple shout incites his marines into a frenzy of noise designed to intimidate and confound the opponent).
Finishers: Orbital Drop (Cradle Piledriver) - sometimes done off the top rope or through a table (coded as 'from the atmosphere' and 'breaking the atmosphere' respectively)
Sands of Mars (throws a powder-like substance in the opponent's face, before a small cradle. Sometimes it is drugged).
MOVE OUT (The Galactic Dogs on the outside bum rush the ring, causing a No Contest)
Gimmick: HE'S A GORRAM SPACE COMMANDER
Alignment: Kind of heelish.
Match Type Expertise: Any where his Galactic Dogs are allowed ringside (Lumberjack matches, no DQ).
Match Type Weakness: Cage matches, HiaC
Weapon Expertise: Fantastic with a laser rifle, but lasguns and other 'shooters' are fine, too.
Title History: None
Short Bio: Rhorus Maximus was raised on a small colony world, far from Earth. Upon becoming commander of the Galactic Dogs, a hardy, ragtag bunch of space marines, he has come to the motherworld to live out one of his dreams - he's always wanted to be a pro wrestler. His crew are determined to see their commander live his dream, and will loyally follow him anywhere, even standing outside the ring to ensure his matches go well. He's nice to his own, but he's never one to fight fairly, not if he can win instead.
