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 Posted: Mon Jan 06, 2014 11:49 pm
"The following contest is scheduled for one fall! The winner of this contest will move on to the next stage of the Sanguine Invitational! Introducing first..."
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Posted: Tue Jan 07, 2014 8:08 pm
Quote: Just so you know, I will be moving. My activity may dwindle but I will make every effort to post when I have the chance. Foxy Shazam- A Dangerous Man“ Bring your lips into my kiss tonight
Like my life depends on this here roll of dice
And when their gaze is straight
We're going to sneak behind
We'll catch the cold hard truth of being a crook
Thief, rat, no good rabble-rouser
Thief, rat, no good rabble-rouser
Thief, rat, no good rabble-rouser
Thief, rat, criminal…” The speakers that circled the arena began playing the vocal track for Foxy Shazam’s “A Dangerous Man” as the lights dimmed to a level where the crowd could barely make out the shape of a man strutting to the center of the stage. A red light powered on beneath his feet, illuminating his features in a manner that was enough to make any man’s skin crawl. The house lights were raised as the beat of the drum grew stronger to make the man known as Machiavel visible to all in attendance. “ I thought you said I never could, well I did
I did it right in front of your face
So next time just remember
Never say never
Never say never again
Hands in the air it's a robbery
You'll be lucky if you make it alive
If any of you heroes wanna speak up (speak up)
I suggest you do it now or forever hold your peace
Cause I'm a dangerous man
I'm a dangerous man
I'm a dangerous, dangerous, dangerous man” Machiavel began strutting down the ramp toward the ring as the arena was bathed in the same crimson light that had appeared at his feet moments before. He stopped about three-fourths of the way down the ramp before turning to the crowd as he ran a hand across the stubble of his chin then spat at the crowd stretching out their arms to greet him, laughing as they recoiled and dispersed. Machiavel’s grin remained on his face as he continued to round the corner and neared to the steel steps. “ And if they ask you hold your tongue tonight
Don't tell them what I told ya
Don't tell them what I told ya
When their gaze is straight
We're going to sneak behind
We'll catch the cold hard truth of being a crook
Hands in the air it's a robbery
You'll be lucky if you make it alive
And in the end just remember, never say never, never say never again
I'm a dangerous man
I'm a dangerous, dangerous man
I'm a dangerous man
I'm a dangerous man” Machiavel circumvented the steel steps in favor of making laps around the ring, ripping items out of the fans hands only to throw them further into the crowd or shove small children away from the barricade. All of these misdeeds were just a foretaste of what was to come once the match was well underway. Machiavel got a sick thrill out of deconstructing every mental barrier he could find just so he could use weaknesses and faults against their owners. Superiority was the name of his game and it was a game he played very well. “ I thought you said I never could, well I did
I did it right in front of your face
So next time just remember
Never say never
Never say never again
Hands in the air it's a robbery
You'll be lucky if you make it alive
If any of you heroes wanna speak up
I suggest you do it now or forever hold your peace
Reach for the sky
Reach for the sky
Reach for the sky…” The red tint began to give way to the fluorescent house lighting as Machiavel bounced up the steel steps and made another round on the apron of the ring, gripping the top rope with one hand as he leaned toward the crowd. He eventually slipped through the ropes on the side facing the ramp and sauntered toward the center where he stopped to take his red vest off, throwing it to the floor at ringside and running a free hand through his thick, black hair as he walked in circles around the ring while he awaited the start of the match.
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Posted: Tue Jan 07, 2014 9:09 pm
 After Machiavel's enthusiastic entrance, a piano was wheeled out onto the stage. A man dressed in a formal concert tuxedo sat down and began playing "Blood" by My Chemical Romance. The music filled the arena, and the pianist began singing.
Well they encourage your complete cooperation,
Send you roses when they think you need to smile.
I can't control myself because I don't know how,
And they love me for it honestly, I'll be here for a while
A dashing man, dressed in a dapper suit stepped out onto the stage. He walked with a cane, the head of which was a large stone skull. He walked out further onto the stage his gait shifting completely out of sink with the music. He stopped next to the piano at the top of the ramp.
So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff!
Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough.
So give them blood, blood, blood.
Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood!
His face was hidden from view by the bowler hat he wore low on his brow. But the wide sneer that stretched his lips was still visible. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife, and with a quick flick and a flash of metal he flipped the blade out.
A celebrated man amongst the gurneys.
They can fix me proper with a bit of luck.
The doctors and the nurses they adore me so,
But it's really quite alarming cause I'm such an awful ********>
The man looked to his pianist friend at the last line and happily chimed, (Oh thank you!) Then he pull his bowler hat off and threw set it on the piano. With a shrug of his shoulders his jacket slid down his arms, and using the knife he'd pulled, stuck it to the side of the piano.
I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff,
I gave you all that you can drink and it has never been enough.
I gave you blood, blood, blood,
I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!
Grabbing his cane the mysterious new wrestler strolled down the ramp, still walking with his off beat gait. He stared at Machiavel with that same sneer. His eye's were unsettling, one blue, the other yellow. As he reached the center of the ramp the music stopped, and as the pianist stood, he upturned the piano. It flipped forward onto the ramp, and a wave of blood rushed down the ramp from the backing of the instrument. The wave splashed around the man's knees as it continued it's way to the ringside. The man however sprinted forward, as if the wave unleashed whatever control he had over his blood lust.
He slid into the ring, leaving his cane next to the apron, and bounced up to his feet. He tilted his head, smiled, and leaned forward. "All right my unscrupulous friend. How's about Blackjack offers you the first shot. I'd take whatever chances you can get, the odds are always with the house.
What's it gonna be, are you gonna stay, or HIT!"
He left his chin exposed the entire time he spoke, but he watched Machivavel and his excited smile only grew more excited!
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 6:31 pm
Machiavel took in the spectacle from his perch inside the corner, his back to the commentators and the rest of the arena behind them. What held the Italian's attention was the show that the other newcomer in this match was making of his debut, from the creepy melody that played across the speakers to the entrance ramp being washed in blood after the piano was upturned. He shifted himself from against the turnbuckle to a standing position to meet his opponent as he arrived, crossing the ring to meet him in the center. Machiavel's signature sinister grin parted his face as Blackjack postured and begged him to make his choice, to remain or to make his move. Laughter rumbled from deep in his gut before it escaped from his mouth, parting his shock of white teeth further. When the guffaws ceased, Machiavel drew his hand across his eyes as if to wipe away a tear.
"I will give you credit; you're brave... but Machiavel is no dog, therefore he does tricks for no one."
Machiavel puffed out his chest as he moved forward into his opponent.
"Least of all, you."
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Posted: Sat Jan 18, 2014 5:47 pm
 Blackjack stared into Machiavel's eyes. His own eyes were different colors, one blue, the other yellow. Blackjack was disappointed to say the least. His generosity had been shoved back in his face. That didn't sit well with this unknown entity. What was worse, Machiavel was strutting around with his chest puffed up like some kind of posturing c**k.
With his eye's narrowed Blackjack raised his fists as if to defend himself, but when Machiavel neared, Blackjack would lurch forward as he aimed a swift kick for his opponent's nuts!
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Posted: Thu Jan 23, 2014 12:55 pm
Machiavel's expression relaxed into a sly grin as the words sunk into Blackjack's ears like a millstone into the depths of the sea. To see his words spoil on his opponent's conscience brought him great satisfaction, even teasing a grin out across his lips. The grin, however, was fleeting and disappeared the moment Blackjack's foot came colliding into the Italian's precious jewels. Machiavel stumbled backwards a pace as he rotated his head away from the rookie before he regained his bearings. It would seem as if the punch had stunned Machiavel but this was only a ruse, lasting long enough for the Italian to launch himself forward in a spear.
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Posted: Thu Jan 23, 2014 7:31 pm
Blackjack's kick connected with Machiavel's nuts, and it sent the man reeling. Blackjack grinned, he threw his arms up into the air to draw the crowd. Then he made a show of digging in his pocket. After a moment he pulled his fist free, holding up something metal. He slipped the brass knuckles onto his fist, turned back towards Malchiavel and WHAM! Blackjack was hit with a spear that took him off his feet and sent him crashing like thunder into the mat.
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Posted: Fri Jan 24, 2014 6:47 pm
Machiavel descended with his opponent to the mat, slamming Blackjack's skull down for effect to keep him grounded before heeding the referee's call to back off. He would have to keep a tight rein on his fury henceforth, meting out his anger in carefully measured doses that responded to the greenhorn's naïveté. Lumbering over the man only a moment longer, Machiavel lifted his foot from the mat and aimed it straight at the ribs of Blackjack.
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Posted: Sat Jan 25, 2014 7:32 am
Blackjack sucked at the oxygen that surrounded him, but with the wind knocked out of him he couldn't seem to get a breath back. The pain of the impact was negligible, but he needed to breath to be able to continue, not doing so was leaving him at Machiavel's mercy, or lack there of. This fact was driven home when Machiavel's boot came crashing into Blackjacks rib cage, making Blackjack grunt. The kick seemed to force a restart in Blackjack's respiratory system, suddenly he was able to inhale again. He sucked in a huge gulp of air and rolled, right out of the ring, looking to get some safe distance between him and his opponent.
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Posted: Sat Jan 25, 2014 6:05 pm
Machiavel roared in anger as he watched his opponent roll out to ringside in a desperate attempt to put some space between the two before the skirmish continued. Far be it from him to criticize Blackjack's escape attempt, he would have done the same but the Italian was more interested in mopping the floor with the rookie than he was a chase. What more was there for him to do? Machiavel wasn't about to wait like a damsel in distress on someone so beneath him but giving the greenhorn time to recuperate was just as reprehensible, leaving him with no choice but to pursue.
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Posted: Sun Jan 26, 2014 3:39 pm
Blackjack flopped to the floor outside the ring. He could breath again and he quickly scrambled to his feet. He Figured someone like Machiavel would be hot on his heels. Luckily for Blackjack the spear hadn't knocked his brass knuckles loose. Blackjack turned to see Machiavel exiting the ring, and would quickly look to catch his opponent with a packed right hook before Machiavel could continue his assault.
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Posted: Sun Jan 26, 2014 5:36 pm
Perhaps foresight was not one of Machiavel's strong suits, given that the right hook that forced his neck to swivel away from Blackjack's fist in a gruesome fashion. He had seen red when the rookie began to flee and in his pursuit, he had been blind to the possibility of his rival offering any resistance. The way his jaw ached, Machiavel suspected he must have had something to give his jab that extra oomph. He stumbled backward into the apron of the ring clutching his jaw, trying to regain his bearings after having his world rocked by Blackjack's punch.
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Posted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 7:34 pm
Blackjack hopped back a step, shaking his fist and grimacing. He slid the brass knuckles off his fingers and tossed it aside. The punch was hurt Blackjack, though not nearly as much as Machiavel. He spotted his experienced opponent staggered against the apron and smirked. The tall warrior dashed forward suddenly in an attempt to smash Machiavel's back between him and the apron!.
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Posted: Mon Jan 27, 2014 8:46 pm
[The winner of this contest was determined to be Blackjack.
This match has been requested to be kept open though by The Number Three. You two may continue if you wish.]
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